Jan. 17, 1989: Guy here can’t figure out “Layla”

The afternoon was getting long and on the tired side, even for the ad guys, who can usually talk their way through little slumps in the middle of the day. Maybe the ad guys are feeling it because it’s Wednesday and all the guys who sell cards at shows and advertise in the magazines pack up their stuff on Wednesdays and head to Cincinnati or Plymouth or wherever so they can set up for Thursday night when the dealers sell amongst themselves or Friday when the show opens to the public. Sports ad guys can’t get anyone on the phone on Wednesdays, whether to sell them an ad or ask them where’s the money for the last ad, so they get kind of at loose ends in the afternoon, and that’s when they come over and talk to editors.

Sports editors won’t talk much to the sports ad guys on Wednesdays because Wednesday’s the busy day for the guys do the weeklies. They got to get all their stories written down to a length by Wednesday so Thursday they can polish them up and Friday they can put the paper together. Wednesday’s the work day, in other words, so no ad guy’d better come by making small talk. Won’t work, and even Baumer’ll be told where to go.

So you got a situation where the ad guys got nothing to do and the editors want nothing to do with them, and all the ad guys from the other magazines, those that’d want to talk to a sports ad guy with time on his hands, they’ve got calls to make so they don’t want to talk to sports ad guys. The only people left for sports ad guys to talk to are editors from the other magazines, like cars or comics.

For whatever reason, Baumer likes talking to Don the comics editor on days like these. It’s strange because Don doesn’t exactly suffer fools and Baumer doesn’t ooze intelligence. The way it winds up, works out swell all around. It’s getting-beat-up practice for Baumer, which comes in handy in his line of business, the sports guys who sit on the other side of Don think get a few laughs at Baumer’s expense, and Don usually strikes a blow for thinking men.

This is one of those Wednesdays, and Baumer ambles over to Don’s desk right on cue, steps right into it.

“So Don,” Baumer opens, “Got a question for you I been thinking about: Whatever happened to Derek and the Dominos?”

“Who?” Don expects pretty much anything from Baumer when he ambles over on a Wednesday afternoon, but this comes from a little deeper space than Baumer’s usual stuff.

“Derek and the Dominos. You know, had that big hit with ‘Layla’ then you never heard anything after that.”

“And what’s the reason you think I know anything about Derek and the Dominos?”

“Music, comic books – it’s all that stuff. It’s that stuff – pop stuff. I mean, it all kinda falls in together. Read comic books, listen to music.”

“Things you do when you sit?”

“Yeah, like that – things you do when you sit. Read comic books, listen to music, eat.” Don’s not the smallest guy in the world so you can see what Baumer’s getting at. Sounds too simple, sounds dumb actually, but that’s Baumer and even Don knows you just gotta let most of it slide.

“So what about Derek and the Dominos?”

“What happened to them? Where’d they go? Can’t have such a big song like ‘Layla’ and just disappear.”

Don spins around in his chair the way he does when he lectures people, and drops his glasses down on his nose so he can look at Baumer over the top. “First thing you have to realize is Derek and the Dominos didn’t exist. Didn’t exist, don’t exist.”

“Sure they did. They did ‘Layla.’”

“No, they didn’t exist. They were a made-up group. Eric Clapton, Duane Allman and some other musicians got together in the studio, made an album, called it ‘Derek and the Dominos,’ and after that album and another album they were done. No Derek, no Dominos, no Derek and the Dominos.”

“You’re wrong,” Baumer says, and that’s when we really start listening. Nothing good ever happens to Baumer when he tells Don he’s wrong, but he steps right into it, he always does. “I mean, Don, you’re a smart guy ‘n’ all, but you’re wrong. Eric Clapton was in Cream, and then he was just Eric Clapton. Just went from one to the other. He never was in Derek and the Dominos. That’s something else.”

“Did you ever listen to ‘Layla’ on the radio – perhaps after your softball game, in the bar, in the strip club, perhaps? That’s Eric Clapton singing. Listen to the voice; compare it to any other Eric Clapton record. That is Eric Clapton singing ‘Layla.’”

“That’s what I mean,” Baumer says, and now everyone’s confused. “Derek and the Dominos did ‘Layla,’ then Eric Clapton did ‘Layla’ right after that. I mean, the two versions are really close – really close. Almost identical. But they’re different. Listen close and you can tell they’re different. But Derek and the Dominos’ was first, now they’re gone. What I want to know is what happened to them.”

Don’s one of those guys you can hear the color get into his cheeks, and this is one of those times. Sounds like a south wind blowing up a thunderstorm. “What I am trying to tell you is Eric Clapton was a member of Derek and the Dominos. There are no two versions. There is only one version. There is the Derek and the Dominos version of ‘Layla,’ and that is the only version.”

“Listen, the song comes on the radio – right? And at the end of the song, what do they say?”

“They say, ‘”Layla,” by Derek and the Dominos,’ or something close to that.”

“Only sometimes. The other times they say, ‘Eric Clapton.’ And you can hear the difference between the songs when they say Derek and the Dominos and the songs when they say Eric Clapton. It’s different. It’s not the same song. So what I want to know is what happened to Derek and the Dominos.”

Don will never admit defeat, not ever. But by the same token, he can see where this is going, and what he needs to do is bail out. “Okay, here is what happened to Derek and the Dominos. One guitar player died in a motorcycle crash. The bass player is dead too. Not sure how, but I do know he’s dead. The other guitar player went through drug rehabilitation. Every now and then he’ll pop up on a song. Drummer, I don’t know.”

“What about Derek?”

“He’s gone too. Lost his voice. Can’t sing anymore.”

“Okay, thanks.” Baumer actually sounds sort of relieved. “I always figured it was something like that.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Don says. “It’s amazing what you can learn just sitting around.”

“I guess,” Baumer says, and he’s off.

Don doesn’t usually stick his head over to our side, but this time he’s got no choice. “I don’t know what he ate as a child,” Don says, “but if fish is brain food he was fed strictly on red meat.”

“Yeah, but his mind’s at ease,” I say. “Can’t put a price on that.”

“Maybe you can’t,” Don says, and that’s all we hear from him rest of the afternoon. And that’s not a bad thing for a Wednesday, either.