After leaving Hawaii and stopping in L.A. long enough to do the Steve Allen show, we flew to Indianapolis for four weeks at the Holyoke club in Indianapolis, our first trip home since I had left for California three years earlier. Stark Naked and the Car Thieves was a big success by most considerations. Most of the guys from here seemed to bask in the admiration of friends and family. But whatever personal redemption I had hoped to find in Indianapolis didn’t materialize. No one in Indianapolis would recognize our name; to them, if they remembered us at all, it would have been as the Reflections. Our new record, apparently breaking in the east wasn’t getting local airplay. None of my school boy friends or antagonists came to the club, either moved away or indifferent. Despite the warm welcome from my folks and little sister there was unexpected turmoil as I revisited old landmarks and haunts reigniting bittersweet memories of my lost wife and sons; all complicated by the magnet that drew me four thousand miles away toward the islands we had recently left.
Nevertheless one of the highlights was the group visiting the 500 Mile Speedway just a few miles from the house where I grew up and could hear the race cars growling through each May as they circled the track. Les (second from left), me (Larry, second from right) and Dave (right) were excited to show this amazing facility to Mickey (left) and Leonard and Mac (not in picture), where nearly 300,000 people, less than a week earlier, had jammed into the stadia and infield for the 1968 race.