Thursday, November 21, 2013

Oh, The Stories We Could Tell

You live a long time, you wind up with stories, simple as that. Honestly, I can't remember what I've babbled about here. Well, some I can, lots I can't. Yeah, I wish I had lots of lurid sex tales. I don't.

If I just skim over them and run them together it gives the impression that I've had a lot more exciting life than I really have. Hoping desperately to impress you, here we go:

Elvis stood on my piece of wood for me while he signed autographs.

It was my job to hold up Jimi's Marshall cabinets to keep him from knocking them over after we played a show with him in Tampa.

Jackie Wilson took me into his dressing room and showed me the scars on his chest from bullets and knives.

Donovan stopped his sound check and introduced himself. We talked about Buddy Holly.

Tiny Tim told me that he would see me in heaven. I'm not much a believer. I hope he's right.

Don Garlits took me to lunch. He asked if it would be okay to pick Connie Swingle up on the way. It was.

Gene Vincent invited us to visit him in L.A.

I was with Benny Joy having coffee when we found out that John Lennon had been killed.

Janis began changing her clothes in the dressing room in front of me and, gentleman that I am, I left the room.

Van Morrison wanted to hire us to be his band when I worked with him for the first time in New York.

Chuck Berry invited us to visit him at Berry Park, his amusement center. He told us, "There's only one cop in Wentzville and I have Polaroids of him."

Elvis offered to teach me karate.

Driving Creedence Clearwater Revival from the airport, John Fogarty and I argued loudly about Chuck Berry's worth when he came on the car radio. I claimed that he was the greatest living American. Fogarty insisted that he was a "worthless drunk" and made me turn off the radio. I was right. Fogarty's a jerk.

After a show together, Robbie Fulks and his band and the Nationals and I all went to a redneck karaoke bar. Harry and Robbie did fine show tune renditions and I feared for our well being.

B.B. King invited us to his hotel room and gave us life advice.

The Coasters invited us to a party in their hotel room. Young girls, dope and booze.

Bo Diddley asked if he could produce our next record.

Sam The Sham pinched our singer's butt as we were leaving the stage and he was coming on.

Doug Sahm brewed me coffee from his personal stash with his travel brew kit.

I could go on but I'll leave some for the next time. Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

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