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The Tammys: “Egyptian Shumba”
It’s 1963. Ed Sullivan is on the stage of his television show. His head bobbles atop his shoulders as he introduces to the audience “a song by a fun new group of girls from Oil City, Pennsylvania.” The camera pans to another section of the stage. Upon it are three pyramids, about eight feet high and made of cardboard, along with a camel, six feet high, also made of cardboard. Behind the pyramids and camel is a backdrop of a desert vista. Before each pyramid stand the bouffanted Gretchen Owens, Cathy Owens and Linda Jones in sequined dresses of emerald green and personalized cartouche necklaces. The music starts up. Over the next two and a half minutes, the entire stage, and most of the studio, is destroyed: the pyramids and camel torn to bits and set ablaze; lighting rigs are yanked from the rafters, shooting sparks and pieces of bulb everywhere; the audience is showered in sequins from the girls’ ripped dresses; Ed Sullivan is knocked unconscious by a camera and rushed out by security; an earlier guest, a ventriloquist, is dragged out on stage by the legs, stripped, and then sent into a catatonic state when his dummy is exploded by a quarter stick of dynamite. All of this mayhem is caused by these three girls, The Tammys, who, during the entirety of their song, grin with delight and shriek like wild animals.
After the performance of “Egyptian Shumba”, the footage of which was never aired and confiscated by the CIA, The Tammys escaped the National Guard, who had surrounded the building, in a jasmine-scented sandstorm that swept down Broadway. One audience member, an English professor from Columbia, in an interview that evening with CBS News, likened the performance to a short story by Graham Greene:
“These three girls were like The Destructors. They tore apart the studio from the inside. But unlike the Wormsley Common Gang from the story, who took down the home of ‘Old Misery’ in a determined, methodical and secretive way, The Tammys destroyed loudly, in a primal and celebratory way. There was a purity to it. And so much joy! One could truly understand Greene’s line, ‘Destruction after all is a form of creation.’ In witnessing this event, I feel as if I’ve been reborn.”
The government and media attempted to track The Tammys for years. Reports claimed that they were in Death Valley, in Siberia, in the Amazon. None of these proved to be true however and the search for the girls was all but given up on by 1966.
Years and years ago, when I joined the CIA, they gave me a stack of files of cold cases. They said they wanted a fresh pair of eyes to go over them again but, as I found out later, it was really just some bullshit task to give the Rookie. With no other work, I looked through the cases. One of them was on The Tammys. Their brief, chaotic performance was fascinating to me. I studied up on them and listened to all of their singles. The music was great so I took up the case, mostly for the selfish reason of hoping to hear more of their songs. Long story short, I got a tip that they were in, of all places, Egypt. My contact said they’d been there for over twenty years, throwing ultra-exclusive American Bandstand-style dance parties inside of the Pyramids of Giza. I went there and interrogated every man, woman, child, camel, Sphinx and grain of sand. Nothing. I even ran into Iggy Pop. He said he was on vacation. I didn’t buy it. “Where’s the Egyptian Shumba Party, Ig?” He just grinned. I couldn’t hold him and he slithered away like a snake.
The case was placed back in the stack and I was given a “real” assignment. There’s been no word on the Shumba since. But whenever I’m on a job in Egypt, during a respite from surveillance, I go out to the desert and listen to the wind for the sweet shrieks of The Tammys.
Gawl Damn! I sure wish I could write this purdy! Great Stuff
