If you’re here, you’ve hopefully started with 1970, followed by 1972. And if this note looks familiar, here’s where I admit I mostly plucked it “as is” from 1972.
As with 1970 and 1972, I feel it’s important to add the disclaimer that I was not alive at any point in the ’70s. I was raised on the music, values, and results of that period, coming up in the ’80s with a vision of the world that matched what my parents had experienced in that pivotal decade. My musical tastes, then and now, are highly influenced by the music my parents raised me on, and even today I enjoy Pink Floyd, CSNY, Carly Simon, and other artists who shaped this decade, more than just about anything else.
Yet, as with all my stories, it’s imperative to me that I get it “right.” I leveraged the experiences of people who did live through the time, including the memories of my father, George Klepach, and my dear friend Deborah Burst, who not only grew up in the ’70s, but in New Orleans, where this story takes flight. She’s been invaluable in helping me visualize those experiences unique to New Orleans in that period, such as the incredible music scene of The Warehouse (before there was a district of the same name), and the allure of the Playboy Club, for my own playboy, Charles.
Any errors, however, are entirely my own.
Beyond the setting, beyond the time, is the story, and the story is one only these characters can tell. I’m grateful they’ve given me the voice to find theirs.