You're not supposed to be here
(excerpt from the book)

INTRODUCTION

I never wanted the audience to love me. I have enough love in me to love myself for another lifetime. Their respect would be nice. After all, I've practiced my craft for thirty-six years and became the best at it. I do respect myself and certainly respect some others, like the guys who work at my favorite cigar store, but most of time I get the feeling, that when I make my entrance onto the stage and the audience sees me and my xylophone, I should open with the line, "I know, you see this thing and you hate nie already!" So I. have to work like a Saint Bernard to win them over.

This apple fell far from its tree with me. My entire family is a "love me, love me, love me" group and they need that love to exist. And of course, they love their audience back..."madly"...and their successes prove it. Especially my father, Fyvush Finkel, the great actor, comedian and entertainer, he gives off his love like the beams of the Ambrose Light House in the night. People love him as soon as they see him, nay, hear his name. And I must admit he is a saintly figure, never a bad word about anyone. Why he'd do fifty shows a week for free if you'd let him.

Sometimes he tells me, "Last week I did great business." "What do you mean?" I say.

"I signed twenty-three autographs."

God he counts them!

"And I lost seven handkerchiefs."

"What do you mean, seven handkerchiefs?"

"Well, when I take the bus to see my agent, God watch over him, people come to talk to me and some times they take a souvenir."

"You take the bus?!!!"

"Naturally, that way I get to meet in person all the wonderful folks that watch my show on T.V."

"But some fans are nuts and could hurt you!"

"Nah, why would they do that?"

"Why? Because...some people are crazy! You should have a body guard." "On the bus with me? We'd both need a seat?

"No in a cab and... oh forget it!!"

When I was a boy my father would take me for walks with him and he'd stop and talk to some guy for two hours. After the guy would leave I'd ask my father "Who was that?" And he'd answer, "I don't know." This I never did with my children.

My father did instill a love of all forms of show biz in me and when 1 finally figured out what I wanted to do, I went into it like a crazed tiger that has been released into the wild after being caged without food and water for a week. But by the time I "got good" at playing the xylophone the whole shape of the music scene changed.

You see Vaudeville died. But like a Phoenix, with a whip cream pie on its face, it rose up from the ashes of legit and perched its claws on cruise ships. Before the "Love Boat" television show gave the cruise ship industry a new life, working as an entertainer on ships equaled a gig next to the two-headed goat in an old time Coney Island sideshow. Performing on ships in the days prior to the 1970's meant you could not get a gig in a bungalow colony in Hurleyville, New York. But all forms of entertainment change and as soon as nightclubs, hotel work and television variety shows dried up most entertainers went down to the sea in ships.

Through the 1980's, 90's and into the new century, the money and accommodations improved to the point that now the job is considered respectable though the audiences are perhaps not as show-wise as they used to be.

But all of us "acts", especially me, need the bread and where else can music acts, comics, joke tellers (not stand ups, they get sitcoms and make millions), jugglers, singers of standards and ventriloquists that move their lips work. (Unless they are under the age of thirty.) Then they might have a chance in pop music or Cirque de Soleil. Otherwise the acts wind up on cruise ships if they are decent and I've seen thousands of acts and most of them are wonderful.
I am one of those acts. I am Ian Finkel, the World's Greatest Xylophonist. No one plays the xylophone better than I do. And I'm cute. Everybody says so. But concerts dried up, no one uses the xylophone much anymore and so I had to add "entertainment value" to my already virtuosic performances.

But here is the bad part. Getting to the ships is a different story. Travel at this time is a nightmare especially if you have lots of luggage. And the ports of call are as ridiculous as they were in the days of Mark Twain when he traveled around the globe.

I became an "act" in the mid 1980's and I wound up on ships around 1993. Now I am the "World's Greatest Xylophonist" (that's how I'm billed) and I do a wild evening of jazz, Latin and classical selections. I'm funny and delectably charming. I wear shiny purple and silver suits (I have a guy polish them before I leave town for each engagement) and where the hell else am 1 gonna work?!! (Note: to all those booking agents who don't use me "You are just jealous of my talent!")

So here are a few stories of what I go through and what I've seen.

P.S.: If my Agent (who I love) reads this book.. wwell...ah "Anything happening? I'm open from April to August