I`ve seen the future of gambling in Illinois, and it`s the Captain & Tennille.
Before Illinois lawmakers further consider the possible expansion of gambling in the state, perhaps they ought to take a political junket to Jackpot, Nev., a patch of casinos just south of the Idaho-Nevada border.
I recently did, joining an old friend and her parents on what we figured would be a surreal trip back to the 1970s. We weren`t disappointed.
So listen up, legislators and voters. This is what you can expect should legalized gambling in Illinois spread beyond riverboats and horse racing.
The marquee outside the lounge at Cactus Pete`s casino was our first hint. The sign boasted that other noted performers who had recently graced the stage included Charley Pride and Juice Newton.
Then, just as we were settling in with our two-drink minimum cocktails, there they were-the Captain (Daryl Dragon), decked out in his trademark cap, navy blue blazer and white pants; and Toni Tennille, glittering in a loose-fitting gold lame dress and swinging that pageboy haircut.
Her big, artificial smile seemed to crowd the small lounge at Cactus Pete`s, quite a feat in a place where the neon signs and jangling slot machines create a Vegas-in-miniature milieu.
The husband-and-wife performing duo opened with a few numbers that were, like much of the music from the `70s, forgettable. Indeed, 10 minutes into the show, I asked my tablemates to see if anyone could remember what the duo`s opening number was. No one could.
It was just the way I remembered it from all those evenings from my childhood spent in front of the TV, watching the Captain & Tennille or the other archetypal `70s pair, Donny and Marie.
In fact, I must admit that I came close-but not quite-to feeling guilty for my silent mockery.
For one thing, the Captain & Tennille did show a charming sense of humor about themselves.
In introducing ”Do That to Me One More Time,” Tennille insisted: ”Now that`s do that to me one more time, not do it to me one more time. That`s very important.”
What`s more, it was refreshing to see what appeared to be a Hollywood couple, however past their prime, still genuinely in love.
And when the two broke into their first hit, 1975`s ”Love Will Keep Us Together,” I was reminded how music, even pop Muzak, becomes an indelible part of people`s lives.
As they sang, I wondered whether that particular song might have held some romantic significance for my friend`s parents.
I asked my friend`s mother, who was sitting next to me. No, she didn`t think so. Then I looked across the table. An enormous grin had spread across the face of my friend`s father.
The performance also included more than its share of recent historical touchstones. Introducing ”Muskrat Love” to weak applause, Tennille said, ”I always think of Henry Kissinger when I sing this song.”
You see, in 1976, President Gerald Ford had invited the Captain & Tennille to play at the White House as part of the bicentennial celebration. Playing to a packed East Room, Tennille found herself performing up close and personal for several of the world`s notables.
England`s Prince Phillip was rocking along. His wife, Queen Elizabeth II, was snoozing. And, just a few feet away, stood a typically gloomy Kissinger.
”When Daryl played the muskrat sounds on the keyboard,” Tennille recalled, ”Henry wanted to be anywhere but where he was.”
Mr. Kissinger, I know how you feel.
In a recent column in this newspaper that opposed proposals to allow gambling on nearby rivers and Lake Michigan, Loyola University professor Eugene Kennedy warned:
”Moral wreckage is the only harvest of a wasteland. Make no mistake, one would grow rapidly on the shores of the rivers and lake as the gaudy casinos drift by. Have our civic and religious leaders so capitulated to the monetization of all life that they cannot raise a larger and more poignant cry of outrage before it is too late?”
I say don`t worry about the moral wreckage, Eugene. Fear the flood of 1970s musicians that widespread gambling would dredge up, performers from music`s wasteland.
