bios
Fascinating stories and little-known facts – hours of painstaking research – a dogged determination for... well, something. Venture forth, fair reader!
Gary "Tucker" Hickey
lead guitar, vocals
Gary was found on the front porch of a near west-side house in Green Bay one cold evening in the early sixties, wrapped in a grubby old Packer blanket. Foretelling a musical career, his arms were wrapped around a little guitar made of cardboard and rubber bands.
After high school Gary worked for his dad's bowling pin company and honed his traveling chops driving to numerous alleys. It was during this time he came up with the idea of a bowling pin guitar, only to have it die in the gutter.
Gary, his cousin, and some pals formed the Swanki Falcons in the late 80s. To say these guys rocked is to trivialize that particular verb. I've tried to think of an appropriate descriptive word only to break down in tears of futility.
After their brief, wild, run, Gary hiked around the world, studied with swamis, found out where it was at, then headed back to the US and school.
Turned down by the University of Lawsonomy,
he pondered where to turn. The stern gaze to the left illustrates his rather tortured
soul at the time. Either that, or he forgot the Beano that night.
Gary somehow moved on to counseling lonely hearts with a weekly newspaper column. Satisfying as it was, something was missing. That something turned out to be his brainchild, the Stand Ins.
Mark "Swanny" Swanson
bass guitar
The serious expression and goofy haircut shows this kid was no-nonsense from the beginning.
Whether playing tonette duets through his nose, or forgetting his lines playing lead in The Mikado, Mark liked music. From fourth grade through ninth, he and his B-flat clarinet were living the high life in band and orchestra.
Just when it seemed he was on the road to, uh, somewhere, some jerk stole his clarinet during rehearsal for Brigadoon. His trusty old swab was all he had to remember it by. The shock was too much for the poor lad and he almost chucked his Pete Fountain albums.
Fortunately, he came to his senses. Just listening to music, however, would be his lot for many years.
Mark spent the first half of the seventies
fantasizing about being Ian Anderson in Jethro Tull. For the second half it was Mario's double at Indy. A move to Green Bay in '81 and he decided to
convert the city into Bears fans. Come '86, graduation from Brown County Mental Health Center.
During the nineties, Mark was strung out working in an aglet factory. Y2K brought the Stand Ins.
Mike "Nusky" Nuskiewicz
lead vocals
Here was our designated stud. Working construction, built like a hockey player on steroids, beating the crap out of anyone who looked at him sideways. A different dame swooning over him at every bar, a new woman every week. Well, not really. Just seemed that way.
Mike was into computers – always had the latest and greatest. I was reading Windows for Stupid Friggin' Idiots and he had some souped-up 3-D agitronic whatsit with overdrive perched on his dining room table with a naked lady floating on the screen.
An uncle taught Mike accordian when he was a mere lad. He made his debut as a kind of prodigy backing Pavoratti in a rather shortened version of I Pagliacci. That was Butch Pavoratti, by the way, at Polka Days in Pulaski. It was a start.
A controversial teen romance with Alice in Dairyland (old enough to be his older sister, for cripes sake), then Mike settled down into a quarry job. He hoped it to be a metamorphosis for his igneous personality. Unfortunately, it was a sedimentary position and he never rose above the Cambrian.
Somewhere along the way Mike learned to play drums. I think I heard he got into the so-called "Men's Movement" in the 80's and got out with a set of Ludwigs.
What's that? You want to know about that men's thing? Well, that was back when us white guys sat around wailing the tar out of some ratty old drums, chanted in Esperanto, turned into Indians, and got in touch with our feelings. Mike did, at least. Him and his Ludwigs.
Construction-related jobs came and Mike could do just about everything. Everything, that is, except achieve happiness. It finally came with Gary's call, and the Stand Ins.
Jody "Joe" Landers
drums
Jody was the mystery man of the group. His past wasn't a subject he liked to talk about. Oh, he'd occassionally let something slip like, "Back West we used to have a garage just like this, Mike." Or something to that effect. But when you'd ask him to continue, he'd mutter something under his breath and change the subject.
One rumour had him slipping into GB with a new identity some time in the early seventies. Another said his parents worked in a shady carnival operation. They dropped him off at a distant relative's, hoping for a better future in Packerland. It turned out to be better than oiling the gears on The Zipper.
Jody thrived in Wisconsin. Captain of his high school football, basketball, and baseball teams, and master at debate and chess, he graduated class valedictorian. That's what he told me, at least.
For awhile he worked in a computer shop, but it was just a front for his black market burrito carryout in the back room. Rumour - he needed the extra dough for a laser removal of an “I love the Bears” tattoo after a wild night in Pound.
Soon, however, the sun emerged from the clouds, and Jody discovered bliss with the Stand Ins.
©2009-11 The Stand Ins Site by websterAvenue.com