There was one night I'd taken Acid and gone to the Whiskey's, and I was hoping Gene would be there and unaccompanied, approachable. Well "of course", at first he wasn't there. I spent over half the night just dancing, hanging out and socializing with my friends who were there. Then, when it was late, about an hour from last call, I saw that Gene had come in at last. By now the Acid had started to wear off, even though I was still high, but it had passed the "peak". The next thing I knew, Gene was with some girl and a couple of other people , and sitting at the table right in back of mine. I suddenly felt totally self-conscious, timid, undesirable, ugly, etc., and in my head-psyche-mind I was crying, and "saying" to Gene, "You always act like you want me, and love and care for me, but you never seem to want to take me with you! So just get the fuck away from me! I can't stand this! Just go away! Get away from me! You make a FOOL of me! I HATE YOU!", etc. I was watching the dance floor during this but I could see Gene from the corner of my eye, not to mention feel him there right in back of me. Then my mind wandered in its Acid induced way, and finally I turned to try and reverse my bad vibes at Gene. I was going to say "Hello" to him and hope for the best. But he had picked up my negative vibes and left. I felt even worse. I went home alone and got drunk enough on some of my mom's booze to go to sleep. It was after that night that I didn't see Gene at all for a month.

(More to come...as I remember)

April

Taking Everybody's Advice Against My Own Fears and Instincts

I was constantly depressed and miserable. My mother kept telling me that I had to go to Gene and tell him how I felt about him rather than suffer in silence as I was doing. I knew she meant well, but my intuition as well as my fear of being rejected, with my almost total lack of self-esteem, said that if I did what Mom was urging me to that the results would be disastrous. Eventually it wasn't just my mother pushing at me to "spill my heart and soul out to Gene", it was most of my friends too! Only my Nana, who was the one in my family who I knew loved me no matter what. She was both mother and father to me as a kid growing up. She was there for me, no matter what I did or whether she approved of what I did or not; she always loved me and was always supportive of me. Nana did not keep on at me to go tell Gene of my feelings for him. She seemed to understand my fears and wasn't pushy at me about doing what everybody else was urging me to.

However by mid to late April of '68 I finally gave in. I got stoned on some pot, and then when I got to the Whiskey's I proceeded to get drunk on Scotch-rocks, trying to get up my nerve. I finally saw Gene sitting in the back of the club at the tables along the wall with some of his friends and colleagues. Finally I got up and made my way back there. I went up to Gene and asked if I could talk with him in private. He was warm, friendly, and said "Yeah, sure...shoot." We sat at a table near enough to where he'd been sitting with his friends, who were still in hearing range, but I didn't notice or care.

Once we were seated I just blurted it out to Gene that I loved him, liked him a lot, and was in-love with him, and even went to far as to say that I wanted to marry him and have his children! Of course Gene said that he liked me, even cared about me. However once I had "made my proposal" to him he said, "Do you want me to lie to you?" and I said, "No, I don't want you to ever lie to me." Naturally, Gene replied that he didn't feel that way about making long term commitments, with me or anybody. I was weepy and crying on and off throughout this. Then in response to disregard and rejection from him, I became melodramatic and began crying steadily as I said, "Well, Gene, I love you...and I'll love you 'til the day I die! I'm going away, leaving here, and you won't ever see me again!" I may have said other such things as well, but I have forgotten by now. However I do remember storming out of the Whiskey's and walking home. I cried almost all the way. Gene and I were respectively only 23 and 22 years old, way too young for such "heavy stuff" as marriage and kids commitments.

(More to come...as I remember)

May

Gene and I Reunite After My Futile Attempt at Escape

I went up to stay at my Dad and Step-Mom's house in Sacramento. After about a week my dad and I got into a huge fight. We'd fought this same battle before but I'd not been daring enough to assert myself so forcefully until now. It was about the Viet Nam War. This time the argument went out of control. My dad was a staunch Republican, a racist and fully supported the war while I was the total opposite. I remember screaming at him that he was a fascist and a racist and that he disgusted me. I think I called him a "nazi" too, as well as "...you rotten son-of-a-bitch!" and more of such epithets. He threatened to hit me for my "disrespect to my Father", and I replied contemptuously, "That's right, go ahead and prove what a man you are by beating up on a woman!!!". During all the screaming and cruel words between us my step-mom came in and told the both of us to shut up, that we were upsetting my half-brother and sister, who were little kids then, as well as our Grandma Musser. But she sat down with me and Dad and was being the mediator and trying to get my Dad and I to stop hurting each other, etc. And we did sort of make-up, but I no longer felt comfortable or welcome there. After that I just felt that I couldn't stand to be around any of them for another day even. So I had Dad drive me to the bus station and I returned to Hollywood and my home with Nana and my Mom.

Since I was totally crushed by Gene's rejection of me, I refused to even leave the apartment for the first few days after my return. I was afraid I'd see him, even in the daytime. I couldn't stop dwelling on wishing I'd never given in to all that advice and that I had not said any of those things to him about my feelings for him. Finally I had to leave the house. Nana asked me sternly to go out and get some things from the store for that night's dinner. This was barely more than two weeks since that "awful night at the Whiskey's". I went, and on my way home, I arrived at the corner of Sunset Blvd. and Cherokee Ave. While waiting for the traffic light to turn green I saw Gene's car pull up and park on Sunset, across the street. Of course it would be Gene, who of all the people I knew, was the first one I saw after my return from Sacramento! As I stood on that corner waiting for the green light I thought about turning back and returning home some other way where Gene wouldn't see me. But I was too late. He had got out of his car, guitar case in hand, and he was looking right at me. He'd seen me! There was no escape! The light turned green and he was walking from his car to the corner to cross Cherokee to the east side on Sunset on his way to the recording studio. But as he watched me cross the street he stopped and waited for me. I really wanted to run and hide, but I knew if I did try to turn back, I'd just make myself more conspicuous by even trying to run off. Once I was across the street Gene was still waiting for and watching me. I felt, inside, like a total fool and was even shaking. I knew I had to say something to him, but I had absolutely no idea what. However Gene walked up to me with his beautiful, warm and sincere smile, in his eyes as well as his face. I'd expected that he "hated" me, thought that I was a silly little groupie twit, and would do anything he could to avoid me. I was so surprised, and deep down inside completely happy just at the sight of him, as well as many more wonderful loving feelings, despite myself.

Once we were standing together there, Gene greeted me very warm and friendly, acting as though that "awful conversation" had never happened, and like he was truly, sincerely happy to see me. After exchanging "Hellos", Gene began telling me about his friend, Douglas Dillard and that he, Gene, was on his way into the recording studio to do some recording with Douglas. Gene then said that he and Douglas were working on recording music they had been doing together, and that they were going to do an album of their combined music at some point. He told me that this music was a synthesis of bluegrass, folk and rock. I told him that it sounded like a really good idea, and that I loved bluegrass. I think I mentioned then that my maternal grandfather was a Texas bluegrass musician. When Gene said they were trying to create a new sound in our generation's popular music I responded that I was really glad because I hated all that Acid Rock that was dominant then, and to me it was all just ear-splitting noise. Just before he started to cross Cherokee Ave, he ended our conversation by saying he would see me soon and other really nice things. I went home feeling a warm golden glow of happiness and love inside. I could not help loving Gene like I did, but I could at least try and hide it and be his friend. I vowed to myself that I would never, ever "push myself on him" the way I had, ever again. I felt thankful that he still liked me enough to even talk to me, let alone be a warm friend with me.

(More to come...as I remember)

Hollywood/Los Angeles, California

Meeting Douglas Dillard

It must have been no more than two or three weeks later, after my encounter with Gene upon my return from Sacramento in May, that I went to the Troubadour. The front part had been rebuilt into a bar and people were starting to hang out there, not going to the Whiskey's as the only spot. That coffee house had been closed down by this time. I had begun hanging out a lot with Marilyn Miller, one of Candy Lake's other best friends from before I'd met any of them, as well as being another of Gene's ex-girlfriends. I'd finally "had it" with both Candy, who lied and did things behind ones' back, and Kaye, who had "stayed over" one night for a few hours at Gene's house alone with him. Although she told me all they did was talk, I could not really believe her; I would not ever have done that to her with Michael, even though their relationship had become more of an on-and-off one. Marilyn had integrity like myself and though I was "wilder" than she, we were very compatible as friends. She knew all about me and Gene and was very supportive of that and of me. She didn't stab her friends in the back either. We got along very well.

On the night of 4 June we went out to the Troubadour bar together. I was of course hoping to run into Gene but not really expecting he'd be there. Again, since this was a sudden decision to go out, I'd not dressed up; I was in the same clothes I'd worn all day. This was the night Robert Kennedy had been assassinated, though I didn't know of it yet. In those days I never watched television; I only listened to the new hip FM Rock radio station, and to all of my records. By the time we were on our way to the Troubadour the tragedy must have already taken place. When we arrived and found a parking place for Marilyn's car, I saw Gene's little blue MG sports car parked nearby. It was the same one he'd had in 1966. He'd since had it painted dark blue after vandals had spray painted crap all over its sky blue surface. I got butterflies in my stomach upon seeing it and as we walked to the bar. Once Marilyn and I got inside, there was Gene sitting with a tall, slim-but-wiry looking guy with long ash-blond hair. He looked somewhat withdrawn and was crying to himself. Gene saw us and invited us to sit with them and I believe he bought us each a beer. Then he introduced us to his sad friend. This turned out to be the Douglas Dillard Gene had told me about that day I'd run into him by the Sunset Sound recording studio on my way home from the store. Douglas was a very nice, sweet, and obviously sensitive , guy. It was Gene who told us about Robert Kennedy, and then I knew what had made Douglas cry and be so sad. It made me sad too, and angry all at once. I was adamantly against the Viet Nam war and all those fascist "nazis" that had brought it about and supported it. I was totally convinced that the same fascist bastards who were waging that war were the same ones who had assassinated President John F. Kennedy, then in April, they'd killed Martin Luther King, Jr., and now they'd murdered his brother, Robert Kennedy. (I still feel the same way.)

Gene and Douglas' would leave the bar and then come back over the course of the evening. Finally when the club and bar were closing at first it seemed to Marilyn and I that Gene and Douglas must have left. When we went outside and started walking toward Marilyn's car, something made me look over my shoulder. There were Gene and Douglas, standing by Gene's car, and Gene was staring at me in that all too familiar way of his. Then he motioned for us to go over to he and Douglas. So we did. Douglas invited Marilyn and I to get in Gene's car and we stuffed ourselves in; I sat next to Gene in the middle and Marilyn sat on Douglas' lap. Then we went up to Beachwood Canyon to Douglas' house. Once we got there, he and Gene brought out this "mild electric shock" contraption and said it was a real rush to get a jolt. When they "shocked themselves" with it they said Marilyn and I should have a go. I'd gotten electric shocks from defective plugs in sockets, and from one of my record players once, and had developed somewhat of a phobia of that "jolt-shock" thing. Marilyn reluctantly tried it, but no matter how much cajoling Gene and Douglas tried on me to do the shock thingy, I stood my ground and said I refused, and to keep that scary dangerous thing away from me. Gene kind of teased me and laughed, as I absolutely refused to go near the thing! Once that nonsense was abandoned, Gene and Douglas began jamming with their music. Douglas was, and still is, in my opinion, the best banjo player I've ever seen and heard. He and Gene sounded fabulous playing together. Douglas had a violin, as well as other instruments including a piano, and since I'd played violin for one and a half years in my Jr. High school Orchestra, I asked him if I could play around on it. He said "Sure". I just fiddled around on it since I was totally rusty from not having played it, nor any other musical instrument since I'd been fourteen years old, except for the tambourine. But it was fun. Then the guys played some more of their new music.

Finally it was turning to dawn. Gene got up to go home and I followed him to the door and asked him not to. We were both rather emotional and a bit confused. I told him again that I love him, (breaking my promise to myself), and he held me in his embrace briefly and told me that I was beautiful. But he did go right after that. Marilyn and Douglas were in what I call the parlor when this happened. Gene and I had been on the living room couch alone together before he suddenly decided to leave. After Gene was gone, I tried to sleep on that living room couch, but my emotions were in a turmoil and I finally gave up and decided to leave and walk home. Before I left, I went into the parlor and I said I was going home. I thanked Douglas for his hospitality, said that I was glad to have met him, etc. When Marilyn got up to walk home with me, and then take a bus to the Troubadour to get her car, Douglas said, "You're always welcome here. Come over any time." And I ended up doing so within a week or two.

(More to come...as I remember)

June ~July

Douglas' House Becomes My Home-Away-From-Home

My first recollection after that night in early June is that one afternoon about a week or two later, I got a six pack of Mexican gourmet beer and walked up to Douglas' house. When I got there he wasn't home, so I sat on the front steps and waited. It must have been about an hour, and just as I was about to give up and go home, Douglas returned. Gene, along with Bernie Leadon, were with him, as well as someone else who I didn't know. Douglas was happy to see me and invited me in. Of course I was very glad Gene was there too, and he gave off the vibe of being happy to see me as well. Once in the house I gave the six pack of beer to Douglas. He had more if his own in the refrigerator, and after taking one for himself, Gene, and giving me one, he put the remainder in his fridge along with the other beers he had. Then we all went into the parlor and someone brought out joints and we smoked pot and drank beer, and perhaps other liquor as well, but I've forgotten now. Soon the guys were jamming, playing songs I knew, and then others that I'd not heard before. I'd broken the ice, and now it was feeling more and more comfortable for me at Douglas' house. I ended up spending several hours there. It was fun. Gene was very into the making of music, so we didn't get to spend time alone, but that was ok; we had a companionable feeling between each other. We related to each other as friends; and I think by now we (Gene and I) had taken another step in being able to relate to each other in a more down-to-earth, and less anxious, nervous and shy way.

Soon the house filled up with some of Douglas' neighbors and other friends who came over. Some were musicians and some were in the film business. I think I may have met Byron Berline that day, as well as the guy who played stand-up bass for the future Dillard & Clark band. I also got to know Douglas' neighbors, and they were all really nice. I made several lasting friendships that day. Gene, aside from being warm and friendly to me, was more into the music than socializing, but that was fine. I got some interested attention from some of the other guys; and I noticed that Gene was watching me, even though he worked at hiding it. So the rest of the day and on into the night until somewhere in the vicinity of nine or ten p.m., I stayed at Douglas' house and enjoyed the merriment with he, Gene and everyone else. In those days I didn't sing (I had no confidence in myself as an adequate singer), but I wanted to sing along. However I felt that their jamming had a working-purpose to it, so I went with the flow. I really enjoyed all the music and good company.

There was another time when I was at Douglas' house and I went into the kitchen to get another beer or something, and I saw that his dishes were all dirty and piled in the sink, and it was all covered with ants! I've had a real scary phobia of ants ever since I was about seven years old, so I had to fight really hard not to run out of the kitchen screaming when I saw that sink! I later wrote a poem about it, called Douglas' Kitchen, and it was all about his "pet ants". I loved all the music. Of course it was great, fabulous, since these guys were all talented musicians, as well as professionals in their craft. I was again blown away with what a great banjo player Douglas was, and Byron Berline reminded of my grandpa K.D. Hubbard, especially when Byron played Orange Blossom Special on his violin/fiddle. He was a fantastic player. Of course all of them combined, sounded excellent and extraordinary. Then as it got to around ten p.m. or maybe a little later, they all decided to go and do some recording in the studio, so I left. I am working on dredging up from my memories as to when I went over there again, what transpired, etc. I do know it wasn't very long a time.

I do remember very vividly when Train Leaves Here This Morning was conceived. I had gone over to Douglas' house, and there was a party already going on, which I ended up being part of. I remember we were all in the parlor again, and some others in the living room, and everybody was stoned on pot, beer, and whatever else. The guys were jamming. Then I remember that Douglas, Gene and Bernie started making something up. I saw Gene writing the words down as they came to him, on the back of one of Douglas' opened mail envelopes, and Bernie's input, and that was the "birth" of one of my favorite songs of theirs, and on the "Fantastic Expedition of Dillard and Clark" album. This, I think, happened in later June and July.

(More to come...as I remember)

August

Gene and Douglas Take A Trip To The Midwest

Gene and Douglas went to Missouri, Nashville, Tennessee, and wherever else in August. Bernie was house-sitting for Douglas. One night Kaye and I took Acid, and we ended up going over to Douglas' house. We walked from my place on Cherokee Avenue, and Kaye, who always got very bizarre when on Acid, kept walking out into the street to "face off the cars". I had to assume the role of "babysitter", keeping her on the sidewalk. When we finally made it to Douglas' I felt much more secure and better. Kaye and Bernie ended up "getting together" and we spent the night there. I think I stayed up all night talking with Douglas' neighbors. There were Ray and his wife, "Karen" (I can't remember her real name), maybe Harry Dean Stanton, and perhaps someone else, and Bill Martin. I think Byron lived in a house that one could go to by way of the back yard of Douglas' place. He didn't actually own the house; I don't know who the actual owner was, but they all rented their "flats" of what once had been quite a large home. I wish I had photos of the house so now I could illustrate this story with them. Anyway, Douglas' house became one of my "home-away-from-homes". When we heard that Gene and Douglas were on their way back to L.A., Kaye, Kathy West and I all took some speed and totally cleaned Douglas' place, even to doing all the dirty laundry and putting clean, fresh sheets on his bed. I remember when they got back they both had a lot of "Thank You's" for us.

(More to come...as I remember)

Gene and Douglas Had Spent a Night In Jail

As already mentioned, Bernie was house-sitting Douglas' place while they were on their "fantastic adventure" to Nashville, wherever else they went, and Missouri, where they had both been born. And I used to go to Douglas' house a lot then too, even while he and Gene were not there. It was fun and a really relaxing place for me. Finally Gene and Douglas returned. They both had those short, "bankers' style", hair cuts! I asked Gene, "What did you do to your hair?! Why did you and Douglas get hair cuts?" And he and Douglas told me the story. It seems they had been in some bar, it may have been in Nashville, but I'm not sure, it could've been somewhere else. Both of them were drunk and being "rowdy". Gene was coming on to the bartender's daughter, to which the redneck bartender was not at all happy with. So, along with the two of them behaving in such a manner, and Gene's "outrageous" behavior, the bartender celled the police! Gene and Douglas were arrested and spent a night in jail. The jailers, rednecks also, (this was back in 1968 you have to remember), cut off both Gene and Douglas' long hair. They did this to "teach those hippies a lesson"! Gene just laughed about it as did Douglas.

(More to come...as I remember)

September ~ December

Gene Asks Me What Is My Last Name

One night when in the Troubadour, Gene, out of left field, asked me what my last name was. By this time we were becoming more open to each other and to being psychic with each other. I felt it somehow that Gene did this because of what my Mom had said to him in the Whiskeys, toward the end of 1967. I'd changed my last name back from "Naylor", to my maiden name, on my Drivers' license and all of my other I. D.s. So I did not lie, or open myself up to any more embarrassment than I already felt, when I replied to Gene that my last name is Musser.

(More to come...as I remember)