Full Disclosure: Freedom Quest

Freedom Quest Band: (standing L to R): Maxine Sherman (flute), Bill Richardson (vocals, violin), Craig Ingraham (leader, vocals, guitar), David Benoit (keyboards https://www.davidbenoitmusic.com/), Debora Masterson (vocals https://deboramasterson.com/)
Seated L to R: Sodie Arcia (percussion), Stan Stafford (roadie), Elvio Ditta (drums), Brian Magness (bass). Kent Johnson in the tree (guitar, vocals).

I first met Craig Ingraham—as well as the Troubadour’s Kent Johnson (aka Phil Harmonic)—in late 1971 when we were cast in the first American rock opera, Plymouth Rock, which was performed six times at the Pacific Beach concert hall, Earth, that October. Yes, lifelong friendships can be born that way, and we were indeed lucky young bucks to have found each other (as well as some smokin’ young ladies in the cast, truth be told).

Rehearsals were held at the Mission Hills Congregational Church. Soon Craig and I were agreeing that one cast member seemed to be too beautiful for her own good. Her name was Shasta Conway and we hoped we could somehow get her to speak to us, oh, and maybe even like us! Craig-of-all-trades concocted a noble diversion for her—a real ice breaker—as she was walking up to the church entrance late one afternoon. Looking quite serious, and right there in front of the door, in full view of anyone outside on the street or sidewalk (thankfully, there were none at that moment), Craig dropped his shorts, proudly exposing his most precious private possessions to Shasta, as if it were some routine exercise he had performed a thousand times before.

He hadn’t. A brief digression, if you please. In those ancient hippie days, people who knew each other could pull similar, questionable stunts entirely without offense. I don’t think what Craig had done would really upset people or become an actual crime until a day or two later. But I may be wrong.

Shasta threw her hands to her mouth and instead of screaming, she collapsed to her lovely knees and began laughing hysterically for nearly a minute. It had worked. Craig pulled up his shorts and soon the three of us walked together into the rehearsal hall. Shasta Conway became a delightful friend and confidante through the many weeks of Plymouth Rock’s gestation and successful delivery. And Craig never felt the need to expose himself in a similar fashion, since the long-lost, true love of his life would reappear within a couple of months and graciously tame him.

That true love’s name was Debora Masterson—Debbie—and she has written a book entitled Freedom Quest, which is the story of the remarkable relationship of two very talented artists. Although she has changed everyone’s names in the narrative, all of the events, all the music, passion, disasters, and redemption really happened; every bit of it is true. San Diego, Los Angeles, and Hawaii are the settings, with some excursions through France to keep things international.

Freedom Quest is also the name of the band Craig formed here in town in 1973. Three fine musicians from L.A. would be constantly coming down here to rehearse and, at other times, the San Diego contingent would all go up there. I was a part of the band, as was Debbie, Kent, our late percussionist Sody Arzia, and a brilliant flutist named Maxxine Sherman. Among the L.A. musicians in the group was a talented teenager named David Benoit, playing keyboards. Yep, that David Benoit, who obviously owes his entire career to Craig and Debbie (and Kent and me.)

We recorded a whole bunch of Craig’s songs in Los Angeles and played a handful of concerts in San Diego that summer, including one in Ocean Beach and two at the Starlight Bowl. Then some bad vibes broke in and everything fell apart.

Debbie, who was also a superb dancer, would end up touring with Sammy Davis Jr. for a time, then marry, have two kids, and start her own talent agency. Craig moved to L.A. and kept on recording and composing, eventually ending up in Hawaii and finding himself a member of an honest-to-gawd cult, which nearly destroyed him. Debbie’s book chronicles those horrifying years with admirable honesty (newspapers throughout the world reported on the cult’s demise) and more detail than anyone has revealed anywhere.

I was sure that Craig was destined to meet up again with Debbie and I told him so when I located him nearly 30 years after everything had broken up. To me, he and Deb had always belonged together, and I am occasionally prescient regarding matters of any hearts other than my own. Sure enough, they soon ran into each other at an L.A. bank, Debbie said goodbye to her marriage and “Hello my love” to Craig, with whom, finally, she would remain.

The pair would eventually write, direct, produce and score a brilliant 30-minute documentary about a high school buddy of Craig’s who lost his life heroically in Viet Nam and was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. The film, Above and Beyond: The Story of Cpl. William T. Perkins, Jr. USMC, is playing on PBS and is as moving as anything you’re ever likely to see.

And the three of us formed a trio, the Craig Ingraham Band, doing Craig’s old and new compositions and gigging happily in Los Angeles and here, playing regularly at the former Rebecca’s in South Park for a time (thank you, Kornflower!). One of Craig’s new songs, which we recorded 15 years ago, was heard in the recent Paramount+ movie My Nightmare Stalker: The Eva LaRue Story but, alas, Craig was never to know about it.

Freedom Quest, the band, still survives in some lovely recordings; Craig Ingraham still survives somewhere sweet in the lives of just about everyone who knew him, and certainly in the pages of Freedom Quest, the new book by Ms. Debora Masterson, who survives in Chicago these days. Her book tour will bring her to Folk Arts Rare Records at 3pm on Saturday, April 25, and the book itself should survive for many long and happy lifetimes. It really is a great read—portions of it are so vivid, I feel like I’m actually there myself.