Chapter Twenty "Season Twenty"
1985
Mendocino/San Francisco, California/Denver, Colorado/New York City, New York/Nashville, Tennessee/Austin, Texas
Byrds' 20th Anniversary Tribute Show & Tour
January
Prelude to the Tour
Once at the San Francisco airport I got on my flight to New York. Jim Nash finally had talked me into going and living with him in Austin, Texas. (He was one of those embarrassing relationships in my life, but at least he did have his good sides and his "uses".) Jim payed my airfare to fly to New York, which I did. I'd got an ounce of primo bud from one of my friends before leaving Mendocino. I carried it in my hiding place, and ate some of the buds, since I couldn't smoke any of it on the plane. I was drinking Jack Daniels' straight up with beer back, as well as the complimentary wine the airline gave us, both when we first left San Francisco, and then again while our connecting plane in Denver, Colorado had to sit on the runway for two hours waiting to take off. I'm sure glad I was so stoned I didn't really know why we were delayed. I found out when I got to Newark Airport and Jim told me there had been a blizzard going on, and that's what had caused the flight's long delay. I'd of freaked out for sure if I'd known that especially if I'd been sober! Jim told me that I "...floated off the plane..." He also said that he had just come from the hotel where Gene and his 20th Anniversary for the Byrds Tribute tour, were staying at. Jim added that he had been staying with them for several days. I was naturally kind of frustrated off that I hadn't been there, but I was hoping we would go back to "Gene's hotel" .No such luck. Jim did show me around New York City, and it was fascinating. I felt something between complete awe and delight, and fearful, like I was in those Caves of Steel novels that Isaac Asimov wrote. I still had my big, long, warm, fur sheep skin coat. I wore my cowboy boots, too, thinking that they would be good to wear in snow to keep my feet warm. It turned out to be a real mistake to use these kind of boots to wear in the snow and ice. The soles were smooth and had no traction, and whenever I stepped in snow, not to mention ice, I'd slip. Once, I even fell on my ass! From then on, I made Jim link arms with me for safety.
I absolutely loved all the art galleries and coffee houses and beatnik bars. I took a lot of photos while I was there. Among them, some of New York City's skyline, a few shots from the car, etc. Then there were some photos taken of Jim, myself and some other person we asked to take a shot of the two of standing together. In that one we were standing under the marquee of a small movie theatre where Repo Man was playing and the title was up on the marquee. It also said "starring Harry Dean Stanton", who was an old friend of mine from the Troubadour days; and apparently he was Jim's friend as well. The movie theatre, as Jim told me, was one of the coolest underground cult movie houses in and around New York City. At the time I was there, the Statue of Liberty was all covered up with wood scaffolding as they were making repairs on it, so I never got to see her in full view. However I took photos of her anyway. I wanted to stay longer, especially because I knew Gene was there too, but Jim was in a hurry to drive to Austin, Texas. That was where we planned to live together, a mix between being room-mates and a couple, so he would not accommodate my wishes. We just stayed in N.Y.C. for a couple of days.
(More to come...as I remember)
The Journey to Texas
Once we finally set out from N.Y.C. and got on the road we ended up driving through eight states: New York, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland and Washington, D.C., Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Arkansas, and finally, Texas. I remember one time, once we had got to Maryland, we pulled off the highway to a truck stop to get gas and have some coffee. I went to ask directions to the ladies' room from the woman at the counter. I could not understand a word she said. I guess people in certain parts of Maryland have the thickest accents I've ever before encountered. I felt too uncomfortable to ask her to repeat her directions more clearly because I couldn't understand her, and dreaded she would detect my California accent and be rude to me or something. So I just walked off and found it by myself. After that, we got back on the road and got a motel in Baltimore. There was snow everywhere, and I was sure glad I didn't have to drive. I think it must've snowed during the night, because the next day there were snow banks everywhere. They were not real big ones, like up at Lake Tahoe or something, but they were enough for me. I was indisputably glad to have my warm fur coat. The next morning after leaving our motel and getting on the road, Jim took me through Washington, D.C., showing me the Congress building. We would have gone to see the other sights, including the White House, but, of course, we got a flat tire, and right in front of the Congress building. A cop saw Jim trying to jack up the car to change the tire, Jim swearing a blue streak all the while. The cop actually helped Jim replace the flat tire. We thanked him profusely. We both agreed that if this had happened to us in California we would probably have been arrested for obstructing traffic or gotten a ticket at least.
Since Jim also knew Douglas Dillard, as I did. Jim had his address and phone number, and when we got into Tennessee, or perhaps a little before, while still on the road headed in that southwest direction, Jim called him. Douglas invited us to stop in Nashville, spend a couple of days (which turned out to be more like a couple of weeks), and "...come visit me." While in Nashville we had a lot of fun with Douglas. The first evening we stayed at his house, actually an apartment, for several hours, smoking pot and reminiscing. Douglas showed us videos of his band playing various shows on Nashville Now, as well as the Andy Griffith Show where they played the part of a local band called "The Darlings". I totally enjoyed all of the videos Douglas showed us. Then he brought out a demo-video which I really wish I had a copy of now. The video was made for a television show, but I'm not sure which one. All I do remember for sure was it had been made in the Troubadour days. This tape was a compilation of skits, or mini-plays, that were comedies. The cast consisted of Gene, Douglas, his brother, Rodney Dillard, Arlo Guthrie, Suzanne (I don't remember her last name now), Linda Ronstadt, perhaps Jackson Browne, and others who's names I can't remember at all. Each skit was great. I laughed until I had tears running down my face. Gene was absolutely hilarious, as well as really good at "playacting". I had never seen Gene perform other than as a musician and I just loved it! I think the entire cast must have all been stoned on something really good! They would goof up lines, then start laughing and have to do a retake of the scene. The entire video tape was filled up with all these separate takes, both the goofed-up ones and the broadcast ready ones. I don't know if this was ever released to the public.
We three went to Close Quarters several times. Douglas and I often got stoned on pot; Jim smoked it too, he just didn't smoke it as much as we did. I remember taking a walk around the block to smoke a joint with Douglas, and I was freezing because I only had on my black Members Only jacket with a sweat shirt, blue-jeans, and my cowboy boots. Everything was frozen, or more like frosted over. The ground, remaining leaves on trees, and to my surprise, even some flowers planted in a landscape thing between the front yards' lawns and the sidewalk were sparkly from the frost. There was a little park near Close Quarters, I think, and that's one of the places where Douglas and I also went to smoke our pot. At other times we would get in someone's car and either ride around or sit in the parking lot or at the curb and smoke our pot and chat with whoever we were with, then we'd return to the bar. This was during the first two weeks of January. I was surprised that everything wasn't covered in snow. I guess this is because Tennessee is more south. I celebrated my 39th Birthday in either Nashville, or right after we got to Austin, on 15 January.
At one point Douglas suggested to Jim that he and I stay and live in Nashville instead of Austin, Texas. I loved Nashville at first sight, loved the Tennessee accents, and my preference was to do as Douglas had suggested. That's why we stayed there for two weeks. Jim actually considered it, and we lodged in a nice quality motel near Douglas' place. We scoured the Nashville newspaper's classified ads. There were plenty of living places to be found; I couldn't wrap my brain around how inexpensive everything was compared to California, at first. One could rent a three bedroom house for around $500, maximum, per month. That would have only paid for a studio apartment, and in the slummy neighborhoods at that, in California. However, in the end, Jim turned obstinate and said we were going to live in Austin, and that was that. So we finally left Nashville, saying, "Bye", to Douglas, and promising to come back and visit him as often as we could.
(More to come...As I remember)
Mid January ~ February
Once we were in Austin, the whole place was blanketed in snow, even if only two or three inches thick at its deepest. They'd had an unusual winter storm, so I was told. It wasn't usually a real cold wintery place; it had a climate more like Los Angeles, but more humid, and they get Blue Northers in Austin, of which I once experienced. We got a motel to stay in until we finally got an apartment. The apartment we ended up renting was a two bedroom, was two storeys, and very nice. But its one big flaw, as far as I'm concerned, was that the apartment building was near the Austin Airport; and, of course, right in the flight path of the arriving and departing big jets. I had lived in a place while married to Richard when Rob was just a toddler, in North Hollywood, California. Our apartment back then was in the same kind of location; and the constant whiney roar of the jets drove me over the edge a lot of the time. Otherwise the apartment we got in Austin was very nice. It had two bedrooms, and one and a half bathrooms; the bedrooms and full bath were upstairs; and the half-bathroom was downstairs, off the kitchen area. The living room was nice and big for an apartment, and same for the kitchen and dining area. Once we had moved in, Jim went and got a job as a taxi cab driver right away. This was his main source of income. Otherwise he was a writer, for journalist work, and he wrote movies as well. I don't think he ever actually sold much, or had made much of a reputation for himself though. But he was a good writer, I have to give him that. At first our situation was very nice. But as time went on, Jim started being a demanding male chauvinist jerk; he just had to be the 'boss' of the household and made no pretense of allowing me to be anything other than the 'little lady of the house'. Not only that, but Jim would work long hours, leaving me at home, with the Fiat, to be sure, but it was a five-speed stick shift, which I was not very good at driving, and I did not know my way around Austin well enough to even try driving that car. I was beginning to feel like a prisoner in my own home. After all, I was paying half of the rent.
We did go out, however, lots of times. We went out to most of Austin's happening bars and clubs, including the Continental Club. One night Jim and I went to the Steamboat, another of Austin's most happening clubs at that time. As we were walking from our car to enter the club, I saw a long black limo pull up to the curb and Gene got out, he was with a woman who had very long blond hair. Then with his arm around her shoulders, they entered the club just before we did. Joe Ely was playing and that's who Jim and I had gone out to see and dance to. Jim knew him too. He seemed to know a lot of the show-biz music and movie people, and I met a lot of them through him. Anyway, I guess Gene and his companion/date had the same idea. Once inside, I saw Gene at the bar when Jim and I went to get drinks, so I said, "Hi," to Gene, and he, surprised to see me in Austin, greeted me, with much exuberance, and he greeted Jim as well. Gene and the blond lady invited Jim and I to share a table with them, so I started to follow, drink in hand. Jim, for no reason I could fathom, aside from plain orneriness, actually kicked me on my butt! I immediately whirled around to face him and threw my drink in his face and told him, not so quietly, "How dare you kick me?!?! You asshole!"; and I may have kicked him on one of his shins for good measure! I didn't see if Gene or his friend had seen that little incident or not, but everybody was looking at us. Jim suddenly stopped short of yelling some nasty retort at me, and apologized to me for the kick and bought me another drink.
The dance floor was way too packed to even move, let alone dance, so we went upstairs to sit in the west side of the balcony. Gene and his friend had gone ahead and were no longer in sight, so we didn't see where to sit with them. The balcony looped three fourths around the upper part of the club. While sitting there I felt it before I looked up and saw Gene. He and the blond haired lady were sitting almost diametrically opposite across from us, in the east side of the balcony, and Gene was staring right at me with his usual intensity. I stared back and kind of waved at him. Jim asked, "Who're you waving at?" I said, "Gene. See? He's over there, right across from us," and I pointed. So Jim waved at Gene too and Gene waved back. I'd had no idea that Gene was even in Texas. After that night I didn't feel as depressed and frustrated all the time as I had grown while living with Jim for the two or three weeks we'd been settled in Austin so far. But within the next day or so, my gloomy mood came back as I had to once again spend all day and part of the night alone in that apartment. I'd read all my books by now. We hadn't yet gotten our t.v. cable service turned on. So I got out all my art supplies, paper, color pencils, felt tip color pens, etc., and made a lot of nice drawings to keep me from going stir-crazy.
There was another night when Jim and I had been out nightclub-hopping, and we were on our way home, when Jim pulled over across the street from Sixth Street Hamburgers, or whatever its name is or was. It was a restaurant we frequented a lot. It not only had the restaurant, but also a bar and dance floor and stage for musicians. This place was where I would end up working at in the future. Anyway, Jim told me to wait in the car, and that he was going to pick up either a six-pack of beer or a bottle of whiskey, and that he would be right back. An hour went by, and just as I was getting out of the car to go in, Jim came out, bag of booze in hand, and said, "Get back in. We're going home". Then he said that he had seen Gene at the bar, and had sat with him and they had gotten into talking, explaining why he'd been in there so long. I said, "Let's go back in! I want to see Gene too!" But Jim said, "No! Gene's drunk and I don't want to deal with him anymore!" Then refusing my entreaty, he drove us home. I was beyond furious. So I started giving Jim the third degree, and generally making a real bitch out of myself. We fought all the way home, and I secretly decided then that this was "it" for me and Jim. That he had come between Gene and I in any way whatsoever, knowingly or not, was the last straw, and the end as far as Jim's and my relationship was concerned. I decided I would just leave, without even saying a word to him about my doing so; and I'd go back to California, to Mendocino, and stay again at Richard's house until I could save enough money to either rent my own place there or go back to L. A. where I'd been living at Johnny Ponce's house in his spare bedroom. Most of my belongings were still at Johnny's house anyway.
I called Richard and told him to expect me, that I'd had it with Jim, and I was coming back to California. He was supportive, and said for me to call him as soon as I got to Mendocino on the Greyhound Bus from San Francisco. He could not meet me at the airport because he had to work, and just could not take off the time or he would lose his job. He was working as a substitute English teacher at Mendocino High School. So after the night of the fight, I said nothing more to Jim of the "Gene incident ". I played along with him, spent my days doing lots of drawing, and when he got home, I'd cook dinner and after we ate, sometimes we went out to all these different cool bars/nightclubs, dance, and listen to great music. Sometimes we hung out with people Jim knew. I met Joe Ely, Paul Butterfield, and lots of others.
Finally on 3 February I got my money in the mail. I hid the check until the next day, after Jim had come home, eaten lunch, and gone back to work. I knew he would be gone until at least 10:30 p.m. Then I packed and took the bus to the Airport, bought a ticket and flew out, via Phoenix and San Diego, and then finally to San Francisco. I spent a month in Mendocino. However Jim kept calling me, groveling, etc., and finally promised me all these things he knew I really liked, and so on, and paid for my ticket to fly back to L.A.; so I took a plane to Burbank Airport sometime during the beginning week of March Dr. Rick, who had renewed our friendship, was really pissed off at me again. We spent a week or so in L.A., then we drove in that Fiat back to Austin.
(More to come...as I remember)
March ~ April
After I had returned to Texas with Jim, and to our same apartment, I got the job as a prep cook at the Sixth Street Hamburgers. Then my son, Rob, flew out and spent a month with me in April. Jim, who was jealous of Rob, was always screaming at him. This was totally unacceptable to me; and it made me decide that Jim's and my relationship was really over for once and all. The day Rob left to fly back to California, I knew I would not be far behind him. There were more things that caused the end of this relationship with Jim. He was always leaving me alone in our apartment. He knew I couldn't drive his five-speed stick shift Fiat, and I had barely any money of my own that he didn't take and 'be the boss', with. My tolerant days with Jim were done, and over!
(More to come...as I remember)
30 April ~ 01 May
Beginning of Traveling With the Byrds' 20th Anniversary Tour
I told Jim that I was returning to California and that I was through with him. I would have left right then, but I had about a week to wait until I got my monthly disability payment check from Social Security. I had by now transferred it to Texas, so I'd be getting my money on 1 May. I also had the money I was making at my job at the Sixth Street Hamburgers. One day, about a week after Rob had gone back to his dad, I saw an ad in the newspaper. It was for a show at the Steamboat. It said, "Gene Clark and the Byrds' 20th Anniversary Tribute Show," and gave the date, 30 April, the times of the shows, etc. Well, I decided, I was going to that show, even if it meant having to delay my departure to California. I wanted to see Gene so badly. I had not seen him since the Joe Ely show back in January. I was completely ecstatic, and the anticipation of going chased the anger, depression, frustration, and all away, about being stuck with Jim for one or two and a half weeks to go before I could leave, for at least that upcoming Tuesday night.
Expecting resistance from him, I told Jim I was going to that show whether he liked it or not. To my surprise he had no objections. In fact he said he wanted to go with me. I really wanted to go alone, but he had the only car between the two of us. Also he said he knew Rick Danko and would make sure that we got in free, and would be able to hang out with the band backstage. So I resigned myself to his presence. I did like the idea of us being able to hang out with Gene and the Byrds and be backstage partying with them, and all the fun that went with it, very much. When the evening finally arrived and we were driving to the Steamboat I saw fire flies for the first time. They were so beautiful, magical and their presence on Beltane Eve was so appropriate. When we got to the Steamboat, Jim, wearing the most "tall" and ridiculous looking cowboy hat I've ever seen, blustered his way through the line of people to the doorperson; then he was escorted into the club while I was told to wait outside by another doorperson. I was very excited at the thought of seeing Gene again, even if I did feel kind of silly just waiting at the entrance, as well as feeling uncomfortable about being "with" Jim. Soon, though, Jim came back and led me into the club and upstairs to the backstage area. It was rather fancy. There was a big room with all kinds of food and drink, and 'millions' of people. Jim introduced me to Rick Danko, telling him I was his, Jim's, oldlady, which really pissed me off. Right there I set everybody straight by retorting that I was not Jim's oldlady, girlfriend, or anything like that anymore, that we were not a couple, we were just friends and room-mates now, and that I was not staying with him for much longer. Rick was really warm and friendly, and we took a liking to each other, as siblings. Then I was introduced to Blondie Chaplin, John York, etc. Of course I already knew Gene and Michael. At first Gene was nowhere in sight; but Michael was, and we began chatting. He said something like, "Remember Ciro's? And Kaye?" I said, "Yeah. But I've not seen Kaye in years. We had a falling out. But I sure remember those wonderful early days ". And we talked about all kinds of stuff.
Then, later, while I was sitting next to Rick Danko and chatting with him, Jim came out of a closed door I hadn't noticed before, and said, "Hey, Lyz, there's someone who wants to see you. Come with me." So I did, and we went back through the door, and into an office with a huge desk, at which Gene was sitting, his feet propped up on the top. His face lit up when I entered, and he gave me a beer and invited me to sit down across from him. Jim sat perpendicular to Gene and I. At first there were just the three of us, but then others came in and joined us: Rick Danko, John York, and maybe others. However I do remember that Skip Batton and Sneaky Pete Kleinow were there too, in and out of my proximity. I knew them both, more as acquaintances than close friends, from the Troubadour days and in Mendocino as well. I found out later that the lady with the long blond hair who had been with Gene at the Steamboat that night back in January, was Carla Olsen. She wasn't at the club this night, at least not that I have any recollection of; and I think I would have remembered it if she were there, because I know Jim would have loved introducing me to her. He was just like that; one of his good sides.
Aside from Gene, I got on especially well with Rick Danko and John York, perhaps because they all were hanging out together most of the time I was with the tour. Actually all the people, aside from a couple of the managers, were very comfortable to talk to, easy going, fun, very nice, and acknowledged me as a friend and person, had no superior attitudes, and did not think of me as a groupie, hanger-on, or star-chaser, etc. While sitting in the office at first, Gene looked at me with a kind of wariness in his eyes, and said, "So now you're living in Texas?" I said, "Well I have been living here, but I'm leaving and going back to California, either back to L.A. or Mendocino." He seemed a bit relieved. I sure hoped he'd been told what I had said when Jim had tried to tell all the people in the main room about me being his, Jim's, oldlady, that I was not, nor anything close, now; or, better yet, that Gene had not heard anything of it at all.
We had so much fun, hanging out, smoking pot, drinking beer, etc., and Gene and Rick were playing songs; and then John joined them. At some point Gene mentioned that their next gig would be in Nashville, Tennessee. Gene and I had a really easy and comfortable feeling between us. We eventually moved to another room that had lots of instruments in it, which is where the jamming began. We stayed in there, with people coming and going, until it was time for the Byrds to start their show. It was great because since we were 'with' the band, we too, had the run of the nightclub and backstage. We even accompanied Gene and the others from the band room(s) to, for them the stage, and, for us the dance floor. At first, before that, we just leaned against the wall with Gene, because the way the show was designed, was for each member, starting with Blondie Chaplin, was to do their own songs solo, and then Gene was last, and his solo was Silver Raven, one of my favorites of his. Then the rock 'n roll with all the band members playing started.
With everybody now performing on stage, Jim and I began dancing; at first we were at the edge of a very crowded dance floor; but finally we wormed and shoved our way to the front. And once again, there I was dancing right in front of Gene. He smiled a lot at me, and I flirted a lot with him while dancing. The night went wonderfully. During the last break after the last set, I saw Gene with some woman who looked like me somewhat, with green eyes and brown hair, but her's was really long, like I waned mine to be, but I'd had to cut off a perm. I felt instantly jealous, silly of me I know, but there it is. I was friendly, even flirting, with everybody else in the band-room, but I ignored Gene; and I'm sure he knew why, too! He kept staring at me, incessantly. I'm pretty sure that Gene was at the least a bit jealous of Jim, although he had absolutely no reason to be, in my opinion. (Gene had shown his possessiveness of me many times over the years, even if we never really got to go out on normal dates, etc.) That made me feel much better, even if I didn't let it show.
Finally the wonderful night came to an end. After we were all 'kicked out' of the Steamboat, as it was closing, I wanted to say, "'Bye...", to Gene, but didn't see him anywhere. Jim and I had bid our farewells to everybody else. I realized this once we were in the Fiat, and yelled at Jim so much that he took me across the street to the band's tour bus, which was now parked at the curb in front of the club, as the roadies loaded the instruments, and everybody was getting ready to leave. Jim asked the driver where Gene was, and the driver pointed to back behind the curtain. Jim told me to wait while he went back to find Gene. When he came back out alone, I was bummed, but just had to cope with it. Jim said, with what I discerned as some amount of gloating, that, "Gene's fucking his brains out right now...". So I just said to the driver to tell Gene that, "Lyz said 'Bye,' and that she really enjoyed herself and was so glad to see him again." And with that we left, got in the Fiat and drove home. For some reason, when we got back, I just had a weird feeling, so I asked Jim what he had said to the doorperson. He shocked me with, "I told him to go tell Gene Clark that Lyz Musser from Mendocino was here and wanted to get in as Gene's guest." I was horrified, embarrassed, and extremely angry! Jim sure had a nerve using my name that way without asking me. But, I felt 'alright' too, because Gene had obviously said, "Yes", to my supposed request; and that meant that he did want to see me.
Now that we were home, I felt happy to have spent that time with Gene, and sad because I didn't know when I'd see him, and get to hang out with him again. Jim began telling me things I wasn't aware of while we were at the Steamboat. He told me he had been talking a lot, for a long time, about some kind of business stuff with Rick Danko, Rick Roberts, and some others, including members of the video crew. I didn't think anything about it at first, and just went to bed, alone in the room Rob had occupied while he had spent that month with me. That night and another before leaving Texas, I had these real, 'precognitive' dreams, something which I rarely had. The most vividly remembered ones had come after the 1971 earthquake hit L.A., waking me up at 3 or 4 in the morning. Anyway, the dream I most vividly remember went like this: Jim and I were traveling in his Fiat, driving east instead of west, through Tennessee, and I could see the red earth along the sides of the highway, and the fields, mixed and contrasted, with all the green beauty of Tennessee in Spring. In the dream, we also found, and were at, a craft fair located in some big park in Nashville. Gene and the guys were playing on a stage which was under a big tent-like covering; actually it was a big parachute, to keep shade for the players and the audience. Everything was so vivid and real. At some point, in my dreams, Gene and I were really close to, and with each other; he was telling me he loves me, was holding me, saying many other sweet loving things to me; it was very intense. And then I woke up. This dream and its details stayed with me, which is unusual, since it's rare for me to remember anything much from my dreams, of any kind, after the first moments once I've woken up, not to mention so much of the details.
(More to come...as I remember)
May
My Plans Change
It was on the second of May that my previous plans were changed. I had gotten my money, and was to go pick up my pay check from the job I'd had at the very popular hamburger and bar restaurant later in the day. (In fact it was the same place Jim had spent almost an hour at the bar with Gene, while making me stay in the car back in late January.) Jim knew I was getting ready to leave; I'd packed all my stuff, and was planning to go to the airport and get a jet to San Francisco. So, Jim, I think trying to hold onto me, after first doing his best at talking me out of my decision and plans, first by yelling, and then when that didn't work, he came up with what did work. He wanted to go to New York where his dad lived and get some money from him; but as he was near broke, he asked me to loan him my money to get to New York and then he'd get the money from his dad and pay me back. While I was searching for even more colorful ways to say "No!", Jim came up with the one thing I think he, somehow, knew I couldn't refuse. He told me we'd been asked to meet up with the Byrds and go along with them for some of their tour. Then I remembered Gene saying that their next gig would be in Nashville. So I went along with Jim's request. After packing up all our stuff we moved it all out of the apartment and into the Fiat. That poor little thing was stuffed to overflowing. Since Jim worked as a taxi cab driver, and had his 'own' taxi, which just happened to have an automatic transmission, I drove it, following Jim, to take it back to the taxi company. On our way, some lady on the sidewalk kept waving at me and calling, "TAXI! TAXI!" Well I couldn't pick her up. I was not licensed to be a taxi driver, didn't have a Texas drivers' license, and my California license was expired, nor did I have any kind of insurance. So I just had to pass her up. It was kind of funny, though. After picking up my pay check from the Sixth Street Hamburger joint, we were all set to leave Austin. Our first night was spent in a motel near the Arkansas and Texas border, not far from Texarkana.
(More to come...as I remember)
Nashville, Tennessee
The Gig In Nashville
3 & 4 May
On The Road From Austin to Nashville
I think someone, while we were at the Byrds' show in Austin, must have told Jim the name of the club where the Byrds would be playing in Nashville. Because when he asked Douglas where it was, he, Douglas, was easily able to give us the directions for how to get to the Boardwalk Café. We had arrived a day or two early. Jim and I spent an evening at Douglas' place drinking herbal tea and smoking pot. Douglas told us why he had finally given up the booze. He had been doing carpentry on a two storey house, working on the roof. He was drunk and had fallen off and almost died from his injuries. He also told us a funny story about getting a "D.U.I" for driving his van on the sidewalk in West Hollywood. He said he told the cops that he was trying to avoid the drunk drivers! We all had a good laugh at that one. I had all but run out of my own pot, so Douglas gave me several good buds. We all talked about many things including going to see Gene and the other Byrds. Our plan became that Jim and I would pick Douglas up and he would ride with us.
(More to come...as I remember)
5 May
Sunday
The night of the show arrived and we went and got Douglas. He wouldn't sit in "my" seat, insisting on being a gentleman, and so he had to stuff himself into the tiny backseat setup of the Fiat. Douglas is one tall guy, and we all must have looked pretty funny crammed into that tiny car. But we made it fine to the Boardwalk Café. Douglas and Jim got out of the car first and went in the back door where the guys had just arrived themselves. The tour bus was parked next to the back of the building and by that rear door. The Fiat looked like a little lady bug sitting parked next to that big bus. I stayed in the car just long enough to smoke a joint. Then I went in. Gene and Douglas were delighted to see each other and had a big hug. Gene and Douglas were/are soul brothers, just like Gene and Michael. After a few minutes Jim took me out to the tour bus, where Michael, Rick Roberts and Blondie Chaplin were hanging out with the driver. So we all chatted briefly before going back into the club. This club's bandroom-backstage wasn't as fancy as the one in Austin. It was mainly one long room with a wide, long table and those fold-up metal chairs; and there was a bathroom and some other small room across from it. I think it was at this point, as I entered the bandroom after returning from the tour bus that I saw a tacky old blond wig lying on the end of the table closest to the door. Gene saw it at about the same time as I and grabbed it up then put it on his head. He looked so cute and funny, hilarious. Then, laughing, he put it on Douglas, who took it off after but an instant. We were all laughing and it was one of those priceless moments. Then we all sat at the table, the wig mysteriously nowhere in sight, and began hanging out and chatting. Gene, Douglas and I reminisced about the good old days of the Troubadour and other stuff. At this point there were only Gene, Douglas, Rick Danko, and myself sitting at the table. The others, including Jim, were outside working with the roadies, helping bring in all the instruments and set up onstage.
I had my camera and about one roll of film left, and I almost brought it out and asked if I could take pictures of Gene, he and I together, Gene and Douglas, Rick Danko, and any of the others who might want to be in my photos. But I lost my nerve, thinking that they may not want to be photographed because they had that done to them so many times by journalists and the like, and I was afraid my taking their pictures might offend them. I sure wish I'd had more self-confidence and assertiveness then. Now I really wish so much that I did take those photos that I wanted to. A picture of Gene in that wig would make such a great illustration to this part of my story, not to mention all the photos I wanted to and should have taken. They would also be precious keepsakes for me now, with Gene "gone to the Spirit World".
The day before, I had started my moon-cycle, just what I did not need; it was always severely painful for me. I had become allergic to codeine, so all I could take, that I knew of at that time, were extra strength "tylenol", smoke pot and drink red wine, or if there was none, then white, or beer or hard liquor. I had very bad cramps, harsh; but otherwise I was so happy to be with Gene, and his Byrds' tour, that I just dealt with my discomfort. It was no wonder that I didn't feel like dancing; it was much easier on my poor body to sit as much as possible, when not standing and chatting with people. This night, like all at this season, the weather was beautiful, wonderful. Hot and humid in the day and the nights warm and balmy, almost like Hawaii, but not that humid, where I had lived briefly in my early childhood and later when I went to some of my high school there. I was able to wear shorts and a t-shirt, sandals, with only my light-weight black Members Only jacket for a "wrap". I'd had to put on my make-up in a gas station bathroom because Jim wouldn't wait at the motel before we checked out from the previous night. That kind of pushy impatience was so typical of Jim; he was worse even than my ex-husband, Richard.
When the first set began, Douglas, Jim, the lady, who's name I've forgotten, from the video crew and a couple of other people, along with myself, took over a big booth located in the back of the club, next to the backstage door. I was content to drink my wine and watch the others dancing. At that point I did get up enough nerve to take about three pictures of the guys onstage, especially Gene. But I stayed off the dance floor which put me at too great a distance to get anything good. The light was low and I didn't have the fast low-light film I preferred, so only one or two of the photos even came out; and those were too blurred and over or under exposed to be even recognizable as to who or what the subject actually was. We had wine, beer and whatever the others were drinking. Then during the first break before we all went back into the bandroom, Gene and Rick (Danko) sat with us. Gene found a way to sit next to me, which I liked very much. Then Gene told us about how his eldest, fourteen year old son, Kelly, had kept at him to buy him a dirt bike until Gene finally gave in. I thought it amusing because I'd seen Kelly riding that dirt bike on a small road that went behind his mom's house. Gene and I talked about our kids and we exchanged the gossip from Mendocino. We had a great time. After a bit, we went back into the bandroom; we all sat around that big table, Gene again next to me, with Rick Danko on my other side. We all smoked joints, passing several at once around, and drank beer which had been provided by the club. We told jokes, and talked and talked of just about everything.
The second set, there was a young pretty seventeen year old girl who was a singer with a beautiful voice. She got up onstage and joined the band for a couple of songs. Of course all the guys were drooling over her, a "sweet young thing". I found myself feeling a bit envious, but only a little, as I was thirty nine, had a son who was almost eleven, and I understood such things. The girl, who's name I cannot remember either, was very nice and sweet; she wasn't one of those stuck-up types.
There were two sets and then the show ended. We all had a couple more drinks at our booth before leaving the Boardwalk Café to go to Close Quarters, the main club in Nashville where all the musicians and their friends hang out, or did so in those days. Someone told me a few years ago that Close Quarters had been torn down to make way for some office building or such. One incident I found funny was when the last set ended and we were all going back into the bandroom, Gene "bitched and moaned" that they'd had "only one encore". It was just so cute and humorous to me. At one point before we all left for Close Quarters, Douglas' oldlady, (I can't remember her name either), came by in his/their van to pick him up and take him home. Of course he wasn't about to leave now that he and Gene were hanging out again after so many years. Douglas had told Jim and I earlier that he had gone to Gene and Carlie's wedding in 1971 and he hadn't seen Gene since. Consequently, Douglas and his lady had a bit of an argument. Douglas refused to leave, and said he was staying with us and partying with Gene and all his other friends. She then left, telling Douglas that he would have to get home some other way. So that's what the plan became: Jim and I promised her that we would take him home after the Byrds' party at Close Quarters.
All the instruments were loaded into the tour bus, and Douglas was riding again with us. I'd finally talked him into sitting in my seat because he has such long legs he would be far more comfortable. I kind of curled up on top of clothes and my emerald green sheets, which we'd put in the back-seat when rearranging the stuff in the car to make the back more comfortable for Douglas on our way to the club. It felt wonderful riding in the little Fiat in the warm, balmy air at 1:30 in the morning on our way to Close Quarters. When we arrived the tour bus was already there and Gene and the others piled out and were on their way in when we joined them. We were welcomed over and over with great enthusiasm. It was really fun to say the least. Tanya Tucker was there, and turned out to be an old girlfriend of Jim's. He introduced she and I to each other; she was a lovely, very pretty lady and was warm and friendly. Like others I have spoken of, Tanya was one of the show-people who wasn't arrogant, stuck-up, etc. She called Jim "Hoss". We had a great time chatting and socializing, and the place was full beyond capacity. I eventually went to the ladies' room and smoked another joint, then came out and got myself another glass of red wine. I was feeling kind of at a loss as just who to sit with, so I picked out a solitary chair under the television in the lounge room of the restaurant-bar, sat there and watched everything and everybody.
After a while I saw Gene and Douglas sitting alone at a largish round table and Gene was watching me, staring at me, as he had always done. I smiled at him when he looked at me pointedly. Then he and Douglas began talking, leaning close together. As stoned and buzzed as I was, I didn't realize at first what was going on. Then I just felt it, knew that I was not only welcome at that table with Gene and Douglas, but my presence was desired there as well. So I casually got up and went over and sat with them. Both Gene and Douglas bought me beers and we sat chatting about all our fun, all our fond memories, etc. Then to my delighted surprise, Gene got up out of his chair, while saying, "I love you, Lyz", as he came to stand over me; then he bent down and kissed me on my lips. Because I was now stoned enough not to be self-conscious and insecure as I usually was, when I saw him bending down to kiss me, I just leaned back in the chair, tilted my head back, and unconsciously expecting a "lovers kiss", no doubt because I wanted one, I parted my lips slightly. He didn't kiss me like that, but it was nonetheless a tender, loving kiss. It was beautiful. I don't think he felt or was aware of my over-expectation, or if he was he didn't let on. I had completely forgotten that, even though I was no longer Jim's oldlady or even girlfriend, I was still traveling "with" him and it could have caused a scene or problem if Jim had seen Gene and I kissing as lovers. Perhaps Gene was more aware of that than I was at the time. My feelings weren't hurt; I was delighted. Of course I told Gene that I love him too. From then on I was mainly hanging out with Gene and Douglas, but obviously "with Gene".
At some point during this time, Jim walked by our table and stuck one of his fingers in my nose! I recoiled and said, "What'd you do that for?! YUK! Eeeeewwwww! What are you sticking your finger in my nose for?! That's disgusting!!!" Jim leaned close to my ear and told me that he had tried to give me some coke, which was on the inside of his fingernails. I said, "If you want to give me coke, then tell me, so I can do it myself, without having your dirty fingers in my nose!" Gene and Douglas were laughing, and I ended up laughing too. Jim chuckled and went back to sitting with both Ricks and Tanya. That night is one of the most happy and memorable of my life. Other people would from time to time come over and sit with Gene, me, and Douglas. Jim seemed to be having fun with others, and that was just fine by me!
Finally the club closed, and they kicked all of us out. In Tennessee the closing time for bars is (or was then) between three to four or five a.m. I think. So everybody left. It was still warm and balmy outside and I was very comfortable in my shorts. I was standing around amongst the milling people when Gene came up to me and took my hand, telling me again that he loves me; then we walked into the middle of the street which at this hour was empty of traffic. Then he grabbed hold of me and plastered me tightly against him. My cramping tummy was instantly soothed by the warm contact with his, and for awhile I didn't have any cramps. At first he held my face in his hands and kept telling me that he loves me, then, "I remember, Lyz, and I love you!" He said more and repeated the above several times. Of course I responded in kind. Also, "forgetting myself", in my intensely, amorous, loving feelings, I kept kissing and nibbling Gene's neck while he held me so close. Though he didn't kiss or nibble my neck or anything like I did, he obviously liked it because he held me even tighter against him; and he didn't stiffen up in my arms, nor push me away or anything like that. This was because of that need for maintaining decorum again. If Gene hadn't been at least somewhat aware of that, who's to say what could have happened? Jim could have come storming over, made a big scene, (Jim was a master at that), and/or he and Gene get in a fight, cause the cops to come and all of us would end up in jail! Not to mention that such an incident could very likely create a problem or problems, for Gene and his career/job. We must have stood there like that for anywhere from seven to ten minutes or more though it felt like hours to me.
Finally there were Gene and I, the only ones in sight, standing in the middle of Denombrion Street, at four or so in the morning, bound in a lovers' embrace. Just as I was about to say to Gene that Carlie had told me that I was the "Lyz" he had dedicated that love song to at the Caspar Inn back in November of 1983, and convey to him that my feelings for him were and are mutual, thank him, etc., we heard Rick Danko's voice coming from seemingly far away calling to Gene to come and get in their taxi cab, and that they had to leave for their motel. So Gene and I reluctantly parted and said something like, "...we'll see each other again...", and then he left. I walked back to the sidewalk.
Jim came out of nowhere and said in a surly tone, "C'mon, we're going!" I reluctantly started up the street to the Fiat, even sat in my usual seat. Then I remembered Douglas. I said, "Wait! Jim, we have to get Douglas! We can't just abandon him, leave him here! Remember we promised we'd give him a ride home!" Jim was getting in a worse mood with every minute. He snarled, "No! We're going now! Doug can just find his own way home!" Jim was being such a brute that I decided I'd best shut my mouth before he went psycho on me. Then as we were driving around looking for another motel to stay in for the rest of the night, he said in a tone bordering on hysterical, "We've gotta find a room so we can get some sleep 'cause we have to be in Indianapolis tomorrow! I'm working with the video people now. They hired me tonight." I was really annoyed with Jim and his blathering, wishing only that I could be with Gene...until what he was saying finally got through to me. Then, though I didn't show it openly, I was filled with delight and excitement. I'd get to spend more time with Gene. We'd still be with the Byrds, traveling with their tour. Finally, after driving all over Nashville looking for "Vacancy" on motels, we found a cheap one that had one room left. We got it. I took a shower and went to the empty bed; Jim was in the other one. I had more wonderful dreams of Gene and I.
(More to come...as I remember)
Nashville, Tennessee/Indianapolis, Indiana
The Gig in Indianapolis
6 May
Monday Morning
It was midmorning when Jim and I awoke, at around ten thirty Monday morning, and immediately Jim began ranting, yelling, bitching and swearing that we were late. I had to just throw our things together and stuff them into the car. Then we started out. Jim was not as grouchy and mean once we were on the road. I guess it was a four to maybe six hour drive. It could've been less, I'm not sure how many miles it is from Nashville to Indianapolis. The drive was very beautiful. All was rich and emerald green, contrasted with the red colored earth. Kentucky was so lushly green that I used up the last of my film taking photos from the window of my car-seat as we sped along the highway heading north. I think the distance was somewhere around 400-600 miles; as we had started out from Nashville at around eleven thirty and got to the ourskirts of Indianapolis around six or seven thirty p.m., so I think we must have been on the road for approximately six to eight hours, though it could have been less. We made one real rest stop and spent perhaps half an hour to forty-five minutes there. When I used up the last of my film I went into a small tote bag which I kept my camera, film and various other things in. To my delighted shock and surprise, there was that wig Gene had worn! I had not seen the thing at all after Douglas took it off the previous night. How had it ended up in my tote bag? I asked Jim, showing it to him, and he said he had no idea how it got into my possession. He asked me if I wasn't sure that I had taken and put it there and then forgot about doing so. I said, "No! I think I would remember doing that! I don't know how it got here!" So Jim replied, "Well then, maybe somebody wanted you to have it, and they put it in your bag." So I considered that. I wondered just who might have had "motive" and had "sneaked" it into my bag when I wasn't looking. This seemed unlikely. But here I was holding that wig in my hands! I stashed it away amongst my clothes at the bottom of my shoulder strap suitcase so Jim couldn't find it and take it away from me. It meant a lot to me and I had at least one real keepsake from being with this Byrds' tour. At one point we saw that one of the cars in the rest area had California plates, and Jim, more of the extravert than I, started talking with the elderly couple. Soon I was as well, and I asked where in California they were from. The lady said, "We're from the San Francisco area". I asked her if she and her husband had ever been in Mendocino, and they said that they had, but not in many years. I told them that I lived there and in Hollywood both, adding that I was a "native-born Angeleno". We spent some more time talking with them and then we got back on the highway and continued northward to Indianapolis.
We had about an hour or more left before we got to Indianapolis when Jim started being a psycho-brute again. It was about five thirty p.m., and he had said the night before that we were supposed to meet the guys at five. So we were going to be late. His reaction was over-reaction as far as I was concerned, because it didn't seem to be such a big deal if we got there late since he was a member of the video crew now, or so he had told me. The more freaked out Jim became, the more I began to wonder just what was going on. I was seriously beginning to suspect that Jim was lying to me; it's not like he hadn't done so before. But at this point I was stuck with having to travel with him, and so I just let go of my apprehensions, at least for the present. If anything came up weird it would be Jim's fault, not mine! I may as well take advantage of the situation, since I couldn't just dump him until I got the money I'd loaned him back once we got to New York; and then I'd be able to fly away from Jim and back to California.
(More to come...as I remember)
Indianapolis, Indiana
6 May
Monday Evening: Our First Night In Indianapolis
It was early evening when we finally were about an hour from Indianapolis. Jim began to freak out again; at first it was a rather mild case. But then he got worse and sped up the Fiat, scaring me so I closed my eyes and tried not to think anything scarey. Then as we finally approached the city limits in the rush hour traffic, mild by California or New York standards, Jim lost his self-control. He said he didn't know which off-ramp to exit onto and I said to just take the one that said "Downtown". I guess that's what we did. Jim was almost shouting, saying he didn't know where the Byrds were playing. I thought it extremely weird, considering what Jim had told me, more than once, that he was now working with the video crew; and he also had his business thing (I never found out just what that actually entailed) going with Rick Danko and Rick Roberts, plus some others who's names I can't remember anymore. I mean if Jim was indeed telling the truth, then why would he not know any of the Byrds' whereabouts, let alone the name of the club where they were doing their Indianapolis gig at and its location? We arrived about one or one and a half hours after seven; but that shouldn't have mattered to the point where Jim might be left behind or that he should be freaking out like he was.
Since I was now just along for the ride, no matter how happy I was about who we were going to be with, I didn't let on about my growing suspicions. To tell the truth, I didn't even want to know! Especially once we bought newspapers and looked through the Entertainment Sections and found nothing about the Byrds. Then I felt even more weirded-out when Jim stopped the car abruptly, jumped out and ran right across the wide street through its traffic to a radio station! He asked for and got the directions to where the club was that the guys were playing at, and its name. I was beginning to reach the slide down in the car seat and hide stage. Finally Jim came out, with the address and a drawn map of a place called the Young Theater, which was where they were. Jim was all but psycho-nuts by now as it was getting close on to nine-thirty p.m.
We drove through a very beautiful boulevard that had lush green trees, shrubs, lawns and lovely homes. At the end of the long avenue on Jim's map, we found the club. It was indeed an old movie theater, with "The Byrds' 20th Anniversary Tribute Show" up on the marquee. We could even see the tour bus parked behind the theater-club. So first, Jim pulled into the driveway of a liquor store kitty-corner from the Young Theater, where he got both of us cigarettes and a six-pack of beer for later. Then we drove over to the club's parking lot and parked near the band's tour bus. There was the video crew, who had their own white van, which was filled with several small monitors and control panels, and a few people working in there. The rest were in the club video taping the shows, just as they had been doing ever since we first saw everybody at the Steamboat in Austin. Now I wondered to myself if Jim was actually working for this video crew after all. If so, then why did he just mumble, "Hi", to them and drag me to the back entrance of the club with him? Since the band was onstage finishing up their first set, the door security guy would not let us in until the set was over and the guys came toward the backstage entrance.
By now I just knew in my guts that Jim was pulling some kind of sleazy shit, using my name, association, relationship and connection to Gene for some purposes of his, Jim's, own. This made no sense to me as I had seen myself that Jim really was good friends with Rick Danko, Gene, Rick Roberts, and most of the others. I still to this day don't quite understand Jim's bizarre behavior. However I was quite put out by it. I was also embarrassed because I felt what he was doing, from what all the appearances were suggesting to me, made me look like I was "chasing after Gene Clark the big rich rock star and trophy". That is not how I regarded Gene at all. I loved, liked and was in-love with him; I was his real life friend, as well as had the romantic, close, and admittedly, unique, relationship with him that had begun twenty years ago, in this lifetime. Gene and I hadn't been able to get together again as lovers since the middle of 1968, but the desire was always there; there were just so many situations, people and other stuff that got in the way of us making a successful reunion in that respect. Well I decided to myself that if Jim was using me, then I would not feel bad about using him back. I was stuck with him until I got to New York and could get the money I'd lent him back, anyway.
As soon as the guys left the stage, Gene being the first to come through the black velvet-like curtains to the small hallway that led to the bandroom, saw me, smiled and motioned for Jim and I to follow him. Gene had on his usual clothes: jeans with the bottoms stuffed into his cowboy boots, some kind of t-shirt (I think it was a black one), and his blue denim jacket or shirt. It was kind of satisfying to see the security guy shrug his shoulders and return to his post. Then Gene took us into the bandroom. It was through a door and down a flight of stairs. I really liked it even though it was rather small and spartan. There was graffiti all over the walls and even some on the ceiling, and it reminded me of the one at the Caspar Inn, but this was larger. I added my own graffiti: "E'Lyzard de L.A." written in "L.A. Gang" style, and I drew a lizard with a heart by its head, and its tail wrapped around in a circle which enclosed a pentagram like the one I wore around my neck on a silver chain.
Gene and I felt very much attuned to our renewed and strengthened bond, from our recent loving experience in Nashville. We also had the L.A. and Mendocino bonds between us. Finally we were all in the bandroom, which was longer-than-wide. It had those same kind of fold-up metal chairs lined up against both walls, with a mirror and counter arrangement at the far end of the room. I sat between Rick Danko and Jim at first. Gene was sitting a couple of chairs away from us, nearer to the counter and mirror. One of the groupies was sitting on his lap. I heard her say, "Come home with me, Baby! You won't be sorry..." Gene replied, "Not tonight, Honey, I've got a headache." I'd been watching him out of the corner of my eyes, and when that went down, I chuckled and rolled my eyes at him. He did something of the same back to me, and then we both busted up laughing. It was a private joke of ours. It got to the point where we didn't dare look at each other or we would have lost it laughing!
We all drank beer, other liquor, smoked joints, me cotrubiting some of mine, and it was all very fun. At some point, after the groupie had left, Gene came over and sat close next to me. Jim and Rick Roberts went off somewhere. Gene and I began chatting. He asked me how I liked this, being on the tour with them, and I replied, "Oh! I just love this! It's kinda like traveling with the circus or something!". Gene laughed his darling cackle and said something like, "Yeah, it is like a circus isn't it?", and other captivating things, which I've forgotten now. Then he and the other band members had to go back onstage and do their next set. Jim, who had returned to the bandroom, and I went out the back door and stood around the video crew's van. Then I got bored with that and left Jim and went back into the club and watched the show. I would have loved to dance, but with my moon-cycle still in its worst first days, with my severe cramps and all, I just didn't feel up to the vigorous exercise. So I spent a lot of my time either sitting at the bar, on the steps that led from the dance floor to the bar area, or leaning against the wall; and sometimes I would go back into the bandroom and just sit in there alone and listen to the show while resting. Out in the club there were no seats to be found anywhere; the place was packed.
We were in Indie for four days. The Byrds' gig at the Young Theater lasted three nights and they did three to five sets each night. That first night after the club closed we all departed, Jim and I in the Fiat, and Gene was with his bandmates in the tour bus. When we first left I had no idea of what would happen next. Jim all of a sudden told me that we were following the bus, and when we all got to a motel about ten minutes on the freeway from the club, he said for me to wait in the car. I saw he and Rick Danko go into the office. When they came back out, Jim had a room key and told me that were now officially guests of the tour, and that Rick had made arrangements for us to have our own room, and we didn't even have to pay for it. The band's managers took care of it. I was delighted with this turn of events.
Later once we were all settled in our rooms at the motel, a bunch of us went out and into the bus where we sat in the front section. It was like a tiny living room, with a table that had seats around three sides, like a booth; and there was a tiny couch across from it. Then there was a curtain, in back of which were the sleeping quarters for all the band members and their aides. They used this for when they were on a long road stretch and would not be stopping at any lodgings. Gene, Rick Danko and John York were sitting on the couch. I first sat the table, Jim across from me, along with some of the others as well. There were also a few from the video crew standing around, and of course, the bus driver. The place was at first quite crowded. I saw Gene's guitar case which had stickers from all over the world on it; and there was one sticker that looked like a bar-code with "Byrds" printed in red stencil type lettering, above the bar-code. In fact I noticed, that all the instruments and other boxes had these same "Byrds and bar-code" stickers on them.
Somebody had given the band cases of imported beer from Peru. I can't remember its name, but the label had a beautiful colorful parrot on it, the background was tropical scenery, and the name was lettered in gold. There were even t-shirts with the beer company's logo and a big picture of the parrot on the front. I almost asked Gene if I could have one, because when I first sat down at the table I'd sat on one of the t-shirts, pulled it out from under me and got a good look at it, then laid it down on the tabletop. But I lost my nerve again. I think if Jim had not been there I might not have been so hesitant; but even at that, I was still kind of shy. Gene gave me one of the beers and kept telling me, "This is really good beer, Lyz. It's from Peru, and it even has cocaine in it!" And while drinking the first one, it really was good, he gave me a couple more, which I kept to drink later before going to sleep. I ended up saving the very last, empty bottle and took it back to California with me, along with that Nashville-wig, and a backstage pass thingy I was given, once I left New York.
People kept coming and going in and out of the tour bus; there wasn't a whole lot of space in there. Gene, Rick Danko, I'm pretty sure John York, the bus driver, and myself of course, stayed where we were in the bus for quite awhile, perhaps an hour or more. The driver was taking the bus back, after the last night at the Young Theater, to Alabama. So this was kind of like a little farewell party for him. Jim was still sitting across from me at the table. Then Gene, out of left-field, grinning that darling Cheshire Cat smile of his, said, giving me his direct eye contact, his eyes sparkling with affectionate mischief, " I know what you're doing, Lyz, and I think it's beautiful!" I gave him one of those "innocent" looks, like, 'What am I doing?', and he laughed knowingly and said, his eyes twinkling, "I know you, Lyz!" I rendered him a look that equals raising an eyebrow, and thought at him, "Oh? You know me? Just what do you know? Well, then I know you too!", in a fun, loving, flirting way. Then next he said something like, "Well we finally got to this space (meaning being "on the road together", etc.), after all these years..." He said more but I don't remember it all now. While he was saying all this stuff to me about finally getting to be with him on the road, tour, etc., I found myself thinking, "It's about time!". The next words out of Gene's mouth were just that! He said, "Yeah, and it's about time too,... huh?" We both laughed a lot and the feelings between us grew even more loving, relaxed. Finally Jim left with Blondie and they went into one of the various motel rooms' parties. I was at last free of him. Gene told me to, "Come here", so I got up went over and stood next to him. Gene immediately put his left arm around my waist and pulled me close to him, our sides pressed together. He began telling Rick what a beautiful lady and person I am, how long he'd known me, how cool I am and more. He said, "I love Lyz...", etc. He kept this up for several minutes, which found me feeling beautiful, complemented happy, and complete. At the same time I felt kind of self-conscious too. It wasn't just Gene and I alone in there; it was not only Rick and John, but all the other people hanging out in the bus who were hearing all this. I guess I was kind of shy about being the center of attention, but at the same time I loved it. This whole thing was wonderfully extraordinary. I couldn't have fantasized or dreamed up anything very much better than this as to what would happen between us during this trip.
Later we all left the tour bus. All the motel rooms rented for the Byrds' tour had parties going on in them and everybody would go from one to another until dawn. It was all so much fun. After leaving the bus I went with Gene and Rick into one of the rooms. Gene and I got into a deep and really meaningful conversation about our mutual Cherokee Native American heritage. During this, Gene, who had been sitting on one of the beds, while I was sitting in a chair, got up for more of those Peruvian beers for he and I, and then he sat down on the floor leaning his back against the wall. I joined him there and our conversation continued, getting more and more interesting. Gene told me again about his grandfather being full-blood Cherokee (he didn't say which, mother's or father's side, and I didn't think to ask); and I told him about my grandfather, my maternal one, K. D. Hubbard, the Texas bluegrass musician, who though not full blood, was very close. We were totally enjoying ourselves, leaning against each other's shoulders, laughing and talking earnestly.
Then Jim, very likely jealous, though he knew I was no longer anything other than a friend, at best, and reluctant traveling companion, came in and joined the party for all of seven or so minutes. Then he "hauled" me out of that room and back to ours! When Jim and I got outside I, absolutely furious, read him the "riot act", and all but screamed at him, "How dare you do that to me?! Don't you ever interfere again! Gene and I were talking about something very important to us and enjoying ourselves immensely! Just stay out of our way!" Jim at first tried being uppity, saying, "Gene's drunk and starting in on that Cherokee stuff of his again!" I replied with a very angry, "I'll see and talk with Gene about anything and everything I choose! And you leave us alone!" After that Jim backed off, even apologized. I went outside thinking to return to the room Gene and I had been in, only to find him sitting on the curb of the walkway, so I sat down next to him. We just sat there together in silence, but it was a very comfortable silence.
(More to come...as I remember)
Indianapolis, Indiana
The Gig in Indianapolis Continues
7 May
Tuesday, Our Second Night in Indianapolis
The next day once I got up, after taking a bath, and then dressing in cool, comfortable and attractive looking clothes, I went to the front office and lobby of the motel where they had all the free coffee one could drink, and donuts until they ran out of them for the morning. I got one donut I think, and when it was eaten I continued to drink coffee and wandered around. I saw Gene, along with some of the others doing laundry. The motel had a mini laundromat. Suddenly I felt really shy and only managed to say, "Hi", to Gene. Then I returned to my room where I smoked some pot and started writing; some was in my private journal, and some on my portable typewriter I'd brought in from the Fiat. A bit later Gene and Jim came in and asked to borrow my ghetto-blaster to use for recording. Gene, John and some of the others needed it to save the results of "Gene's jam sessions". Aside from Gene, John, and probably Rick Danko, I don't remember exactly who else was part of this jam session, as I didn't go to it. I stayed in the room and continued typing. I was really happy to loan my little ghetto-blaster to Gene and did so. Now I realize and wish I'd said, "...sure, if I can have a copy of your jam session results", and given Gene a warm flirting smile and a wink. That ghetto-blaster became a precious keepsake for me until, alas, it was stolen along with all my things I kept in my apartment in West Hollywood when I went up to Mendocino to spend two months there in July 1987, as my son had just turned thirteen and I wanted to be there with him in that significant year. But I got stuck in Mendocino because I didn't have enough money nor a car to get back to L. A.
Later in the early afternoon Jim came in and got me from our room to go watch the guys be interviewed by the video people. I brought a blanket to sit on as I didn't want to get bitten by whatever little critters there were living in the grass. I've always had allergies, and insect bites always get all swollen up, hurt and itch horribly for days. I ended up lying on my stomach with my knees bent and my bare feet in the sun, watching first Rick Danko, then Michael Clarke, John York, and I believe Rick Roberts. I was looking forward to seeing Gene do his interview. But when it came time for his turn, Gene was nowhere to be found. One of the video guys and Jim went to fetch him. However they came back without him. Gene had some crisis and was too caught up in dealing with it, making phone calls, etc., to do his interview at that time. At first I feared some disaster had happened to his kids or something; but later I found out that the crisis was far less dire. I felt relieved for Gene that his kids were ok. He must have done his interview later, perhaps even a few days. Anyway, after the interviews, Jim went with the guys to the club to help with setting up the stage, checking the sound systems, and stuff like that. Meanwhile as the day got later, I took a nap.
I think we all had to be at the club by 8:30 P.M. or close, because I remember taking a second bath, then put on full length legged jeans and a green sleeveless t-shirt. It had been so hot while we were more south, but in Indiana it was cooler at night, though as hot in the daytime. I had my black Members Only jacket and a "Mendocino" sweatshirt which had the neck cut "Flash Dance" style, so at one side it slipped down off my shoulder and a black spaghetti-strap tank top to wear underneath it. These were for later. There was a coffee shop a short walking distance from the motel and Jim and I began walking over to it, when Gene saw us and joined us. We ate dinner before going to the club. Gene had his dinner fixed up for "take out" and I asked him why he wasn't eating now, and he replied that he was always too wound up and nervous to eat before performing onstage, which made perfect sense to me. I sat on one side of the booth and Jim was across from me, and I think Gene may have sat next to me, or he may have sat on the other side, but I don't remember now. I had no trouble with my appetite this time like I'd had the first time I went to Gene's house in 1966. I ate a Cheeseburger Plate dinner, enjoying every bite. We had a very nice, companionable meal. Then we all three walked back to the motel. Gene went with everybody in the tour bus while Jim and I followed in the Fiat.
Once there, before we all went into the club, somebody, one of the manager/business guys I think, made up these backstage passes for all of us. They were made of approximately 5 x 4 inch oval blank labels with blue borders, and each one had "Byrds: May 6,7, & 8,- '85" written on them with red or pink felt tip pen. We were told to stick them on our clothes and wear them at all times. At first I put mine on the upper left sleeve of my black jacket, like a NASA patch. Later as it got colder, I had to change my sleeveless t-shirt for my "Flash Dance" Mendocino sweatshirt and tank top under it. So then I put my backstage pass thingy on the sweatshirt, to the upper left side over my heart.
Gene and I were almost always together one way or another backstage, from the first night, and every night I was with them in Indianapolis. A particularly beautiful thing happened at one time during one of the breaks of this second night. I was sitting in the bandroom alone, resting my aching back, and just Gene came in. We were finally once more alone with each other for awhile. Again Gene told me that he loves me, and also said, "I always loved you, Lyz, and I always will love you..." I told him the same in reply, adding, "...and remember that time I said I'd love you 'til the day I died? Well I take that back. I love you forever..." Then Gene said, "Yes! Me too. I love you forever, too!" And we meant it.
Later that night, Gene and I were sitting together backstage. He was leaning against me, his head kind of on my shoulder; then he sat up and started playing his guitar (the Gibson), picking out tunes, just making stuff up. He blew my mind when he pulled a tune right out of my soul and deep subconscious! Then he began playing it, embellishing it. Being the experienced, very talented, musician he was, he made my little tune sound so good, and only as I could imagine my playing it. It was a tune I'd made up while teaching myself to play on a guitar two years previously. I'd even written out my little tune in musical notation as I was taking a musical theory class at the time. Well to say the least, Gene's antic totally blew me away. He and I were always psychic and telepathic with each other, and this was a prime example! I could feel it when he took that tune right out of me, though I don't know any better way to express this experience in words. Always with Gene and I there were so many "mind-blowers". The incident being of a psychic and telepathic nature, is something I don't know how to prove scientifically, but it was real. We eventually all ended up back at our motel and continued with our room-to-room parties.
(More to come...as I remember)
Indianapolis, Indiana
The Gig in Indianapolis ~ The Last Night
8 May
Wednesday, Our Third Night In Indianapolis
The next night, I even got to sing with Gene again, as I'd sang along with him, he and Douglas Dillard, and "everybody else" at the many parties, backstages of various places, and in the Troubadour Bar, back in its heyday. This was backstage, to be sure. It was the Byrds last night at the Young Theater. Just before we started singing, there were only Gene, me, Rick Danko, and the lady from the video crew in the bandroom. Rick locked the door, and Gene got out his Marlboro box, opened it and brought out the cellophane wrapper which had a small amount of coke stashed in it. He passed it around to the others. Then he came over to me and said, "Lyz, would you like some cocaine?" and I said,"Yes, thank you." Gene dipped a razor blade in the already chopped coke, got a little pile of it on the razor's corner, then held it to one side of my nose while I sniffed it up , then repeated the same for my other side. At first part of me felt nervous about doing coke during my moon-cycle; for one, and I hadn't done very much of it since leaving Mendocino. Also I was afraid the coke would wire me up and thus make my cramps worse. I had forgotten that cocaine is really a pain killer as its pharmaceutical and medical use. I also didn't want to hurt Gene's feelings by declining his very kind and generous offer. I think that, in his "career's world" way of thinking, this was considered a "privilege", reserved only for his close friends and associates/collogues. And I did enjoy doing coke with Gene again, after so many years. We had not, that I can remember, done coke together since the Troubadour days, and all the rest. The coke true to its pharmaceutical properties, took the pain of my cramps away.
Then Gene began playing his guitar and singing stuff; he was leaning on me again, with the "big end" of the guitar and his right elbow resting on and brushing against my left knee and thigh. After singing Train Leaves Here This Morning along with him, I found myself continuing to sing along, actually harmonizing with he and Rick, then the lady from the video crew joined in. We sounded so good. I had no awareness of singing with "famous rock stars"; I was singing with my soulmate and his, and now my, new, friends. We sang like this for about twenty minutes, thought it seems longer. Rick finally opened the door when he heard someone, perhaps Michael, knocking and yelling to, "open up!". Then people began to fill up the room as we continued singing. Since we were all singing at the top of our lungs, Knockin' On Heaven's Door, one of the songs Gene and Rick did as a duet during the show onstage, some of the other band members joined in with us. Again we were singing at the top of our lungs, and I could hear that my voice sounded as good as theirs. All of a sudden I noticed out of the corner of my eyes, one of the video guys slowly walking downward on the steps of the bandroom stairs, about two-thirds of the way down, filming us with his video camera. I kind of freaked, because I suddenly thought, "This is going to be for some show on television!" So I stopped singing abruptly, thinking that my singing would be inappropriate. Gene looked over at me like he thought I shouldn't have stopped singing. Our singing ended with Knockin On Heaven's Door anyway. But we still continued to have so much fun. After awhile the jamming stopped and we were sitting and talking. Gene and I were almost cuddling with each other by now, the Gibson again resting on my left thigh, still, as well as his right elbow. It felt again, like "Gene had claimed me as his", in some kind of way I've no better words to express it in. Jim came to the door, looked at me, then said, "C'mon we're leaving!" I gave him a very cold, annoyed look, and said, "Why? I'm having a great time. I'm not ready to leave yet!" Jim immediately backed down and said he'd be outside with "What's Her Name", the video crew lady, who had left the bandroom while Gene, Rick and I were still singing, and with whom Jim had been hanging out with a lot, during most of our time with the tour, which suited me fine. I could feel it in Gene, that he was glad I'd refused Jim, telling him, "No!" We continued with our little party in the bandroom for about another half an hour or maybe a bit longer. Then everybody got up and we all left the club.
When we all got back to the motel, we again went from room to room, hanging out at each small party in each one. Gene and I always seemed to be together in one way or another. In one room we were sitting together on one of the beds, while John York was sprawled on the other bed, and the rest of whoever was in there sat on the chairs or standing, and perhaps on a corner of the beds. In one room, they had all the video gear out, the majority of the video people were in there. Later Jim, Gene and I went into that room. They had a VCR hooked up to the motel room television, and were watching the footage taken that night. It was pretty cool watching what I'd seen a few hours before. I didn't see that backstage part with me singing with Gene and Rick and the others, perhaps they hadn't gotten to that part yet or they weren't actually working with it; I just don't know. Finally everybody, except for Gene and me, started bickering and nitpicking about this or that shot, angle, etc., and first Gene, said, "This is driving me nuts! I'm outta here!" And he got up and left. I soon left as well, and went to another room and its party. Not so surprisingly, Gene was in that one too. So we sat together on one of that room's beds. Joints were being passed around, and this time when I passed it to Gene he finally smoked it; I'd offered him some at the club backstage, and he'd politely declined. At first I'd wondered if Gene had given up pot, and was glad to see that he hadn't. I think he just didn't want to be all stoned onstage, so he wouldn't goof up the songs' words, and so on. Jim soon showed up and stayed, talking with Michael and Rick Roberts, until finally everybody got tired and we all went to our own separate rooms to go to sleep.
Somebody, it may have been Jim, but I seem to recall it being someone else, told me that all the time we were in Indianapolis Gene didn't bring any women back with him, that he slept alone all the time I was there! That made me feel absolutely wonderful. I only wish I could've gotten to travel with the tour someway without Jim, so Gene and I could have really gotten to be together without causing any disharmony, problems, et al, for his career/job. Anyway when I recall it now, I think it was pretty obvious by the last night of their gig in Indianapolis that there was definitely something serious between Gene and I. The chemistry between and of us was so potent, one could almost touch it. It had been that way for years, from the first sight of each other back in Ciro's on that first night, and continuing; and this touring experience had only strengthened it, even bringing it out a little more into the light of day.
(More to come...as I remember)
Indianapolis, Indiana,/ Columbus,/ Ohio /New York City, New York/San Francisco/Rohnert Park/Mendocino, California
Leaving Indianapolis and The Tour
9 May
Thursday
I knew the next morning when I woke up that Jim had been up earlier. He came into our room in a really nasty mood, and was very rude to me. He said, "Get up and pack up the car! We're leaving!" I was rather shocked, to say the least, and I became as rude to Jim as he was to me. I asked what the hell was going on. He said the band was moving to another place, a big expensive hotel, they would be recording there, and were not going with them. I was really upset, but did my best to will myself into accepting this. However I was determined to at least say, "Bye", to Gene, thank him for our wonderful time being of part of their tour. Also I wanted to see if we could exchange phone numbers and addresses, keep in touch and correspond. Also I wanted Gene and I to make some kind of arrangements to see each other, and get together, give ourselves another chance at being lovers again, etc.; and, to make this sometime in the nearest possible future, when he wasn't working, or, off with some other woman or women.
After bathing, dressing and packing everything into the Fiat, I snagged one of the motel's ashtrays which I still have. I went and found Jim at the other, back part, of the motel, talking with Rick Danko and some of the others. I was told Gene was still asleep, by Jim. The tour bus had left, returning to Alabama, and now the guys had rented a mini-van and they had a U Haul truck for all their instruments, and would be going to their new digs in a couple of hours or so. Jim knew where they were going, and finally he told me where it was. He also said that the Byrds were going to be doing a gig for one night in Columbus, Ohio and would be back in Indianapolis the next day to begin their recording sessions in the new hotel. He told me that he'd borrowed $40 from one of the video guys, and that we were leaving the tour. I was stunned and angry; also very suspicious, because Jim had made such a big deal out of the fact that he was working for the video crew, and had his business schemes, whatever those were, going with Rick Danko and Rick Roberts. So why would he be so anxious to leave? And Jim insisted we leave as soon as he finished his conversation with Rick Danko and the lady with the video crew. I was furious, but didn't say anything in front of anybody because I didn't want to look like I was being the asshole. Also, I wanted to see and talk with Gene before we left. But Jim insisted we leave "now". About an hour later we started out, to continue on to New York, and Gene was still nowhere in sight.
Once we got into Ohio we stopped for something to eat and to fill up the gas tank. While having our pie and coffee, I must've said something, because Jim said, "Oh, you'll see Gene again." And I, obviously distraught, actually I was close to tears, replied with, "When? In a year!?" Jim looked closely at me and asked, "What's the big deal? Do you and Gene have something going on?" So I told him my story, beginning from 1965, through all the years, and up to the present. Jim was very quiet for a few minutes. Then he suddenly said, "C'mon, we're going back! Now!" He paid for the coffee and pie, and we left the diner and gas station. We got on the freeway going back to Indiana and Jim said he was going to take me back to Gene. I started feeling pretty leery and weirded out, to say the least. Jim was a big-mouth, a liar, and could also be a big trouble maker when he wanted to.
Once we got back to Indianapolis he called someone from a pay phone, telling me it was Rick Danko, while he made me stay in the car as usual. When he came back he said he'd talked with Rick and told him that, "Lyz wants to see Gene", and God only knows whatever else. Once again I was horrified. How dare he betray a confidence I had, foolishly I see now, trusted him with? I just tried to be invisible, even if only in my mind, which was in emotional turmoil. Then we went to the Byrds' hotel, and were told that they weren't there! Well, I just felt more and more pissed of, not to mention embarrassed as hell. The hotel people were saying this because they were supposed to "keep out the groupies". So Jim left a message for Rick and Gene, and we left to find ourselves a motel. As it turned out, the Indie 500 was beginning and all the motels and most of the hotels as well were packed solid, no vacancies anywhere. Finally we went to the Hyatt House, where they still did have vacancies, and Jim wrote a rubber check and got us a room for the night. The room was palatial, had two double beds, and was beautiful. Also it was so nice and cool in there, as it must've been close to 100 degrees and nearly as humid outside. We settled in and Jim went off to get a 12 pack of beer for us, while I took a bath.
I found a hardbound, thin book all about Indianapolis, which I snagged. I next got the hotel's guest stationery and wrote a letter to Gene, explaining what the truth, as far as I was concerned and really was. I also wrote him of my suggestion of us getting together later when he was not working, and free to do as he wished. I gave him my address and phone number. It was actually Richard, my ex husband's; I'd already talked with him several times, and Rob of course, while on this wonderful - up to now - adventure and trip, and we both decided that as soon as I got my money back from Jim that I would fly out of New York to San Francisco and go stay for a week or so with he and Rob, in Rohnert Park, not far from San Rafael. Then I would save money so I could go back up to Mendocino for awhile and get my own place. I wanted to go to L.A. Even though I could've stayed again at Johnny Ponce's house, I didn't want to wear out my welcome, so to speak. I didn't have enough money to find and rent a place of my own at that time, and residences were much more expensive there than in the Mendocino area. I also asked Gene to write back to me and give me his address and phone number. I then told him the truth about Jim and I: that I was no more than an unwilling traveling companion now. I also said some other nicer things. I said we should keep in touch and correspond, and that I really hoped we could get together and all the other things I'd planned to say to him at the motel before Jim and I left, if he, Gene, had been available at the motel. Of course, I, thanked Gene for all the fun and wonderful times and his having let me be with his tour, as well as other things about what we had said to each other ever since Nashville. When Jim got back, I was lying on my bed. I had stopped sleeping in the same bed with him even before we'd gone to the Byrds' show at the Steamboat and then left Texas.
I was watching some movie on television. I told Jim about writing my letter, but not of its contents - that was no business of his - and he said we'd take it to Gene's and the guys' hotel the next morning. So I had to content myself with that, and ended up going to sleep and had dreams of Gene. The next morning we each showered, packed up our stuff, and left the Hyatt House. Then we went to some restaurant and had breakfast. After that we drove over to the Byrds' hotel, where we were told that, "no such people were registered there". We both knew that was a lie, because we'd seen the U-Haul truck, and their mini-van parked in the hotel's lot. I was starting to feel way beyond distressed and embarrassed. Jim's outrageous behavior brought that out in me; I think he got some kind of sick-kick out of doing such things to me. I gave the front desk clerk my letter to Gene. The clerk said that he would give it to "Mr. Clark" as soon as he did check into the hotel. This whole charade was totally ridiculous as far as I was concerned. We had just spent three or four nights with them at their motel while they played at that club in the evenings, not to mention Austin and Nashville, for God's sake! Jim told me to go into the bar and get us a couple of drinks, and handed me a $20 bill! I don't even know where he'd gotten it, since he'd kept telling me that "we" were broke and he was borrowing money from Rick Danko and that guy from the video crew. As I look back on it all now, I think Jim must've been dealing drugs to the guys and the video crew. It would be just the crappy kind of thing Jim would do. He came back and joined me at the table I'd sat at with our drinks. I had a Gin & Tonic, and Jim had some whiskey I think. He said something about how we were waiting for Rick D. and Gene to come down and join us in the bar. We finished nursing our drinks and nobody had shown up, after our waiting in that bar for about an hour or a bit more; we finally left. By now it was later in the afternoon, and we were hungry, so Jim, saying we only had a few dollars left, got one pack of cigarettes that we had to share, and we ate at a Mac Donald's for late lunch or early dinner.
When we'd finished eating, Jim said we didn't have enough gas to make it back to Columbus, Ohio; and he demanded I give over my Triple A card to him. So I did, and he took us back into that same hotel where the Byrds' were, and we used a payphone. While we were standing at it, I saw Michael, Gene, Rick Danko, and the rest of the guys, including the managers, enter through the main lobby entrance, walking toward the front desk. I don't think I've ever felt so embarrassed in my life! Jim acted like he wanted to hide from them; these friends of his who he was supposedly working with, and had the business deals going on with! I think Gene and Michael looked over at us, which made me even more self-conscious; but the others ignored us. I didn't know which was worse! By now I just wanted to get the hell out of there, and hoped Gene got his letter from me, and would read it and at least know I was for real. Jim somehow talked Triple A into coming out and putting a gallon of gas in the Fiat and then the "Triple A" guy told us which gas station where we could fill up the tank was, and followed us there. This time I had to write a rubber check as Triple A wouldn't accept a check from anyone but me. Jim also refused to give my Triple A card back, so I just had to let my account expire.
We headed out again towards Ohio. Once past the state line, after a couple of hours, it was getting late, and we had to park in a truck stop parking lot, and sleep in the car. Ever since I'd told Jim the truth about Gene and I, he had begun acting more and more erratic and deranged. He was beginning to scare me, and I knew he'd leave me stranded if I got out of the car alone anywhere. So I would refuse to do so. I'd make sure Jim was with me any time we had to get out of the car. Either that, or I stayed in the car while he was gone from it. Obviously at this point I'd given up on being able to see and talk with Gene again, "now"; so consequently I just wanted to get to New York as soon as possible and get my money from Jim. Or if he tried to withhold my money from me, I decided I would simply tell his dad to give it to me. And Jim could just give the money back to him! Then I'd be on the first flight I could get out of there and back to San Francisco. That was one long night, with two adults, and Jim was a big guy, trying to get comfortable enough to get any sleep in that tiny Fiat. Jim actually did sleep for a couple of hours; but I just couldn't sleep. I suppose it was due to my nerves, the frustration, stress, agitation and all the rest. When we ran out of cigarettes, I kept myself occupied since I was the sleepless one. I took all the butts there were in the ashtray, emptied them of their remaining tobacco and made recycled cigarettes, using the old filters and my rolling papers which I kept with my pot stash. Of course by now I was completely out of pot, and I really missed its soothing and sedating effects. In our present situation, as far as I was told or thought, we couldn't even buy one can of beer. When Jim woke up he immediately demanded I give him one of my hand made cigarettes, which I did. Anything to shut him up and placate him so he'd just not bother me.
Jim, being of a naturally out-going personality type, went into the restaurant to use the mens' room, and got into conversations with some of the truckers hanging about when he came out of the bathroom. Even though it was uncomfortable for me, it was also a 'life-saver', when Jim panhandled $20 from someone. We filled the gas tank, he got us each a pack of cigarettes, a couple of beers, and cheese and peanut butter snack crackers. So we had "breakfast" and left the truck-stop and continued on our way to New York. We got to Columbus, Ohio in a couple of hours. I thought the whole city was awful; it all looked like the slums of downtown Los Angeles to me, all ratty old brick buildings, and it was just a very ugly looking place. We were all but "broke" again, and Jim tried to make me pawn my 35 mm SLR Vivitar camera or my backstage pass thingy, which he told me he could sell to a Head Shop! Well I refused, and we ended up in such a screaming fight in front of the pawn shop that the owner told us to, "cool it", or else he would call the police. In the end, I let Jim pawn my ghetto blaster with Jim's promise that he would return it to me after I got back to Mendocino. He said he'd send or bring it back to me in California, as I'd made it clear that I was going home as soon as I got my money back from him. That little ghetto-blaster had become very precious to me because Gene had borrowed it from me for a couple of the four days we all were at the motel in Indianapolis.
After leaving Ohio and almost to Pennsylvania, we got a six-pack of Budweiser, (the beer we always drank then), and stopped at a rest area. Both of us drank two tall cans each and then fell into a much needed deep sleep on a blanket we'd got from the car to put on the grass. We slept for about four hours. We awoke rested and refreshed; and, thank God, Jim's mood was more amiable, almost pleasant. He even took us to a "Ho Jo" restaurant for dinner once we had passed over into Pennsylvania, at around nine or ten p.m. Whatever I ate tasted like a gourmet feast after two days of living on junk snack crackers and candy bars. After our full sleep and rest, Jim was able to stay awake and alert enough to keep on driving through the night and the next day. We made it into New Jersey just before we ran out of money, gas and cigarettes again. Then Jim's temper slipped back down to near-psychotic along with the last of our resources. We pulled into another truck-stop, our gas tank reading "Empty"; and the Fiat had just made it there on fumes. Jim went inside the restaurant, looking for someone to bum money from, while I stayed outside, keeping my eye on the car. We had run out of cigarettes again, even my "recycled" ones. By now I was beginning to feel like I could "kill" somebody when I noticed the stand-up ashtray. I surreptitiously took all the cigarette butts and put them in my empty Marlboro box. I smoked one, and I don't think any cigarette, no matter how "ratty," ever tasted so good, and it uplifted my spirits, even if just for a while.
Jim came back out, scowling, so I knew he had been unsuccessful. Then, while he smoked one of my cigarette butts, some guy came out the door, carrying a big heavy duffel bag, or I should say trying to, since he had a broken leg or arm or something, and had a cast on, or was using crutches. I'm not sure which anymore. He dropped his bag, and Jim picked it up for him. Then they got into a conversation. I sort of stayed in the background. We, Jim and I, were desperate by now. New York City was only two hours away. So Jim asked the guy he'd helped if he had any spare change, and to both our surprise, and intense relief, the guy gave Jim a ten dollar bill. Jim was very nice to this wonderful and kind man. He got the guy's address and promised to send the ten dollars back, repaying him, as soon as we "got home" to New York, even though the guy protested and said he didn't care if Jim paid him back or not. Knowing Jim, I doubt that he ever did repay that guy. It was around this time that Jim told me that he was Jewish, that he hated his heritage, and that "Jim Nash" was not his real name. He told me what it is but I don't remember it now. I think his first name is "Herman" or something like that; I do not remember his last name at all. He was trying to shock me, I think, but I couldn't have cared less.
We filled up the Fiat, and just got one pack of Marlboros for us to share. By now it was early evening. We got back on the road and made it to New York and the Washington Bridge (San Francisco's Golden Gate sister), by 8:30 or 9:00 p.m. We did not have the money for the bridge's toll fee, and Jim pulled some scam on the toll bridge guy. I watched as Jim gave him some story, saying that he had left his wallet at his house in Queens. He filled out some form and wrote down what I truly believe was a fake address and phone number, then the guy took the filled-in authorization form and let us drive on through the toll gate, across to Manhattan. As soon as we were across the bridge and in New York City, we headed straight for Greenwich Village. Jim had just enough money left to get us one big slice of thick, and covered-with-everything pizza. We had to share it; I don't think pizza had ever tasted so good! I'd been starved. It was my first taste of New York pizza, and though I know my hunger was a big factor, I'll always remember that whoever had said, "...New York pizza is the best in the world...", was definitely telling no lies!
Jim called his dad from a pay phone, and he told me that we would have to wait for a couple of hours before he would be back at his house in Queens on Long Island. So Jim and I wandered around The Village, going into all the cool and famous beatnik/folk bars there. At one of these, Jim saw Paul Butterfield, who was hanging out and quite drunk. I'd met him once before when Jim had taken me to see one of his shows, at Antoines', in Austin, back in March or the first part of April. Jim, told me to go back outside and wait, on the sidewalk, while he borrowed some more money, this time from Paul. I think Jim got $40 out of him, and we went to yet another bar and had a drink. Then, finally, we left Manhattan and drove over the Brooklyn Bridge, and from its other side, onto the freeway that took us to Queens and Jim's dad's house. When we finally got to the row of red brick houses, all-stuck-to-each-other, not even a fraction of an inch between any of them, I finally started to feel a little more "secure". That is until we found the house locked and no one was there. So Jim went around to the back and got in by opening a window. He came back around and let me in the house. I was expecting the cops to show up and arrest us for breaking and entering. But thankfully, that didn't happen. Within half an hour or so Jim's dad arrived. Jim and his dad got into a yelling fight almost from the instant Jim's dad walked in the door. I just sat there in one of the chairs, pretending I was invisible and endured the unpleasantness until they had both calmed down enough to be more or less civil to each other. It was only then that they noticed me. Then, to my fury, Jim introduced me to his dad as his wife! I was about to sputter a fierce denial when Jim gave me a look that said I'd better play along. So I gritted my teeth and said nothing. Jim's dad gave us his and his wife's former master bedroom, as Jim's mother had been dead for quite some years. That was most likely what made Jim such a bad tempered person, losing his mother. However, that was a slim excuse to me for all of Jim's bullshit.
We finally sat in the kitchen ,downstairs, almost like a basement, and ate a fair to good meal with Jim's dad. Most of the dinner consisted of me quietly eating and trying, again, to be invisible, as Jim and his dad yelled at each other, continuing from where they had left off. Then the argument phased into to Jim's dad giving Jim his money, and other family quibbling. Finally the meal ended, Jim and his dad having come to at least some agreement for the time being. Then Jim and I went upstairs to "our" bedroom. The first thing I did was to take a much needed and desired shower. I dressed in my shorts and one of the last clean tops I had. Of course I was forced to sleep in the same bed as Jim, since I was supposed to be his "wife". I found a book and turned my back on him and read myself to sleep, which didn't take very long as I was exhausted. I felt Gene with me somehow. Gene and I always had that bond, and it was even stronger now that we had opened up and expressed our mutual love and feelings for each other.
(More to come...as I remember)
14 ~ 22 May
Still In New York
As it turned out I ended up being stuck with Jim in New York for two weeks. Every morning he would tell me that he would have my money and pay it back to me that same evening. Of course all I got were excuses and, "...just be patient and wait until tomorrow ". I got this shit every day for two weeks. Despite my growing loathing of Jim and the situation he was keeping me in, there were some good and fun times while I was in the Big Apple. Jim played Tour Guide, taking me all over the N.Y.C. area, telling me about this and that. We would spend time sitting out on the sidewalk café part of Figero's Coffee House, drinking wine and watching all the people, the sidewalk street-shows, and just abut everything. Jim even took me to Coney Island, and I got my first sight of the Atlantic ocean. I remember looking out at it and thinking that England, Ireland, and Europe, etc., were just across that ocean and deciding to myself that one day I would actually go to all those far off places; but absolutely not with Jim. We also drove upstate to Liberty, New York, where Jim's family had a small house for vacationing. The house had been neglected and was totally run down. Before that, Jim had taken me to Woodstock, which he told me was either Rick Danko's hometown or where he had his home...where he lived when he was not touring. This was not the same Woodstock that was where the famous, huge, multi-days rock concert had been located in 1969. This Woodstock reminded me of Mendocino, with all of its art galleries and fine custom jewelers, and all very expensive. It was so close, one could call it "Mendocino-East", except without the ocean near or in sight. This Woodstock was in the mountains.
During that two weeks though, Jim kept trying to talk me into getting back together with him. I kept saying, "No way!" And then we'd fight, yelling at each other a lot. Finally Jim realized he was getting nowhere in that respect. And he finally gave in to our just being friends. It's a good thing, too, because he had finally returned from wherever he went during the days, when we weren't out touring around, and told me he had all of my $775 or $800, that I'd originally loaned him. I had been just about to pull his dad aside, tell him the truth about Jim and I; also I was going to tell him that Jim was refusing to pay back my money to me, so I could go home. I'd decided that I would ask Jim's dad, to give me the money, and make Jim pay him back. As soon as Jim showed me my money in cash, which I was naturally expecting him to give to me then, I began packing all of my stuff that I could possibly carry on the plane, both check- through and carry-on luggage. But then said he had to keep my money for me until later. I don't know why I put up with that at all. If I were in that space now I'd of demanded he give me the money right then, and tell him that if he didn't, I was going to his father! Jim had some bullshit reason, as he always seemed to, but I forget now just what it was.
The next morning we got up around 11:00 a.m., ate breakfast, and then Jim put the things of mine that I couldn't take on the plane, into a station wagon I thought was his dad's. However the station wagon had belonged to Jim's mother, and was in pretty good condition. His dad had given it to Jim as part of some owed payment. Apparently Jim's dad owed him quite a large sum of money; I think his mother must have left it to Jim in her Will. Jim and his dad's arguments had included many threats of law suits against each other, and stuff like that. I didn't pay much attention to what they said. Jim's final, and still futile, try at keeping me, was offering to just give that station wagon to me; and then the plan would be for us to fill it up with all of my possessions, as well as a bunch of stuff from the house in Queens that Jim and his dad gave me. The house had belonged to Jim's mother as well; and she had left it to Jim, rather than to his father. I am pretty sure that this was the main source of so much of the fighting between them. "Mom's Will" not withstanding, Jim's dad was contesting Jim's legal ownership of the house and all it contained. Anyway, Jim told me I would have to drive that station wagon, following him as he drove his Fiat, back to Austin, Texas. Then once we got there, he said I could fly from there to San Francisco, or live with him again! Even if I had wanted to get back together with Jim, there was no way in Hell that I was going to even try driving that station wagon, no matter how sound and safe the car was. In New York or anywhere back east, everybody drove like crazed maniacs. The average speed, despite speed limit laws and road signs, was 90 mph. I was scared out of my wits enough just as a passenger!
Finally Jim realized I was not about to give in to his whining and ranting. So then he turned really mean and snotty, and first took me and my traveling luggage to La Guardia Airport. Once there, he couldn't find a cheap enough air fare flight, after trying with Continental Airlines, United, and other's. So, of course, his mood got worse. He gave me a one hundred dollar bill, and he said he would give me the rest once I was booked on a flight to San Francisco. Then he went off to make the arrangements, and came back to tell me that there was a limo which was taking passengers to Newark Airport in New Jersey, about 10 minutes from La Guardia, and I'd have to go in that. The "limo" turned out to be a passenger van. The fare was $15, and I thought the driver was going to pull out a gun and shoot me dead when I proffered the $100 bill! Once we got to Newark Airport he pulled over to the curb, told me to go in to the gift shop and get the hundred changed into smaller currency. So I did, all in $20 dollar bills, which for some reason was all they would give me. Then when I gave the surly driver a twenty dollar bill, he didn't even make any pretense or excuses, he just kept my change. I was too intimidated to ask for it considering this man's "charming" personality and "manners"!
Thank heavens the next stop was my terminal, the one Jim had told me he would meet me at and get my air ticket to San Francisco; and only then would he give me the remainder of my money. I schlepped all my luggage into the terminal. Of course Jim wasn't anywhere to be seen. I was already worrying, and his absence increased my anxiety tenfold. I was now all sweaty, hot and tired, and it was just beginning to turn from late afternoon into early evening. To add to my already overtaxed apprehension, there was now an ominous looking rain, lightning and thunder storm approaching. I could even see lightning in the sky already. As one who is very nervous flying, in even the best of flying conditions, this really freaked me out. I sat on the couch, all my luggage around me, and prayed for Jim to be true to his word and walk in through the door I kept looking over my shoulder at. I must have waited an hour and a half. I'd bought a book and was trying to read to keep myself calm, when I looked up just as Jim suddenly walked up to me. I was relieved beyond words. When I asked him what had taken him so long, he said "I was doing business so I could get the rest of your damn money for you!" This made no sense as he'd been carrying all my money around for one or two days anyway. He told me to wait where I was and he went over to the Continental Airlines counter. Of course when he was told how much the fare was, he had to make a big scene. He was totally embarrassing me, once again, which must have been a real kick for him, as he did it often enough. And now was no exception. The people at the ticket counter threatened to call the police on him if he didn't stop screaming and making such an unpleasant scene. Of course, Jim didn't want to go to jail, so he stomped away. He was cussing and ranting at them at the top of his lungs, calling them thieves, fucking assholes, and more that I don't remember now, nor even care to.
I once again tried my best to turn invisible and pretend that I was alone. So with his failure to get a ticket from Continental, my anxiety again increased. Then Jim left me again, sitting in my spot, and went over to the Eastern Airlines counter. Thank heavens he got me a ticket, and did so without even a hint of his nasty temper. When he gave the air ticket to me, he got out his wallet to give me the remaining money he owed me. It was so typical of him, to make me pay for it with my money, instead of him buying it for me, like he did when I was doing what he wanted me to, the creep! I watched as he riffled through what must have been over $9.000, in hundred, fifty and twenty dollar bills! I couldn't believe it. Where had Jim gotten all that money? ! Part of me really didn't want to know. He gave over my money, a mere five hundred dollars. It should have been way more, $775 or $800. That's what I'd originally loaned him. I think he had it, but he withheld it from me and he kept it for himself, the thieving bastard. I was so anxious to get away from him, and was nervous, scared, and who knows what else, to call him on it and demand he give me another $275/$300. I didn't think it seemed like a good idea, at least at the time. So I just took the money, in one hundred dollar bills again, and stashed it in my wallet which I kept deep down in the front right pocket, of my jeans. Then Jim put his wallet away. At least I felt self-possessed again. Secretly I wished I could find a way to just take all those hundreds, fifties, and twenty dollar bills from him and get away with it! That would have been at least some compensation for all the shit he had put me through. I was also beyond angry and in a blind, white furious rage, when next he told me that he was going back to the Byrds' tour and would be meeting up with them in Oklahoma! So, he had left the tour just to take me away from being around Gene. I wanted to strangle, shoot- to-kill, knife, and thought of other assortments of colorful demises for Jim! But I had my ticket; my plane was scheduled to depart at 11:30 p.m. or midnight; consequently I had a few hours to kill by hanging out in the airport. At least I was finally getting away from him.
Before he left Jim took me into the closest bar after I had checked all but my carry-on stuff. He actually bought me a couple of drinks and we sat and talked through the first, and half of the second drink. While he was talking with me I found myself calmed down enough to keep my part of the conversation to not much more than monosylibiles. He again told me about his returning to the Byrds, and continuing with them on the tour. I was more than relieved when he finally got up and left me in the bar. I don't know how much longer I could have maintained my outward appearance of calm politeness! I finally began to relax once he was gone. I was finally rid of him!
I remained in the bar until I'd had perhaps four or five drinks. Then, feeling pretty buzzed, I knew I had to eat; so I went to the closest restaurant I could find, and paid a king's ransom for an ok-at-best cafeteria dinner. While eating I met some nice old lady who sat next to me, and we ate our dinners together. We chatted as we ate, and it turned out that she was on the same flight as me. I think we planned to sit together. Finally I finished and left the cafeteria to go wander about. I still had two hours until boarding time. So I decided I'd best call Richard, Rob's dad, and tell him I was coming back from New York, and when I was supposed to arrive in San Francisco, what airline(s) I was on, and my other flight schedule details. Richard was very relieved that I had finally got away from that creep, and also he was sorry for me that I'd had to leave the company of Gene, as well as the fun of traveling with the Byrds and their tour. Richard said that he may still be at work when I got to San Francisco, but told me to call his house as soon as I got there. I had a few nice words with Rob, too, and it made me feel so much better.
Naturally, as my luck would have it, that big rain and thunder storm got so bad that the airline people had to delay the flight, announcing it over the airport terminal intercom, and saying that we'd be leaving at 2:00 a.m., weather permitting. God, it seemed that nothing about this escape of mine from Jim could be just easy! Finally at boarding time, about 15 minutes before the plane actually was to leave the runway, we all got on board. Because it was so late, and we'd all been very inconvenienced, the airline attendants gave us free food and drinks. I got something to eat, and two or three little bottles of Jack Daniels and two big cans of Budweiser for a back. I finally felt really free of Jim when that plane finally took off, at 2:30 a.m. and was airborne!
The trip home turned out to be an oddessy. I had my favorite pillow, in its emerald green case, which I leaned against. By then the plane had very few passengers, and being at such a late time, I was able to get a window seat and didn't have to share the other seats next to me, which suited me fine. I was able to sprawl out on all three seats. I dozed for awhile Then, going over it in my mind I thought about all that had happened between Gene and I. I held out the hope that he had received my letter. I could feel him with me somehow, too.
The not so nice things of my trip home included: my plane arriving in Houston, TX, (can't one ever get a non-stop flight at economy prices?), so late that my connecting flight to San Francisco had already left, and they had to put me on a Stand-by flight. My luggage on the plane was now on its way to Los Angeles! Not only that, I had to wait almost eight hours to finally board a plane headed for San Francisco; and it left at 9:00 a.m. This meant that they would not be serving alcohol right after take-off, as is usually the case; I suppose some think all people only want coffee that early in the morning on an air flight. Not me! The take-off has always been the scariest part for me. And by now I was totally sober. So while the plane took off I was holding onto my pillow for dear life, scared to death and it got worse when the plane went through some turbulence. I was about to call over the flight attendant and beg her to give me some alcohol before I totally freaked out, when she came along the aisle with the food and drink table-tray and asked me if I wanted anything. I replied, vehemently, "Yes, please give me some bourbon or scotch and two big cans of beer! I'm really nervous and scared with the plane rocking and jiggling around!" I think she could already tell just by looking at my face, and even felt some sympathy for me. She gave me two Jack Daniels' and two cans of Budweiser. Then I was finally able to relax and enjoy myself. I wrote more about my entire Byrds' 20th Anniversary tour trip and all the details about what happened with Gene and I in my personal journal. (Unfortunately I lost those journals later, around 1991 or so. It was totally heartbreaking for me because Gene had either just died, or did soon after I lost them.)
Finally we landed at San Francisco, around noon 'California-Time'. That's where I found out, what had happened in Houston, after standing at the luggage pick-up place until no more luggage came down the moving ramp. Freaking out, I asked where my luggage was, and told the Eastern Airlines people what had happened with missing my connecting flight, and that my luggage was still on it. They went and checked, and came back to tell me that the plane had since left Los Angeles, but that's where my luggage was. Also they told me not to worry, after apologizing, that they would track it, and have it delivered to my door by the next day. And that is just what happened. It felt so good to be back. And I'd finally gotten away from Jim Nash. Richard and Rob were nowhere in sight, so I assumed they were at work and school respectively. I called their house, and my suppositions were confirmed. I made up my mind to just take the Airporter to Santa Rosa, where I would call them again. While riding in the bus on the freeways I realized how slow and mellow the traffic seemed to be in California as compared to that of the East coast. It was almost soothing. During the ride, I thought of Gene, and felt him close to me again. I also realized how much I missed him and, again I hoped and prayed that he had at least received my letter to him.
Richard and Rob picked me up at the Tropicana Hotel where the bus stopped only to turn around and go pick up more people from the airport. We all went to a restaurant nearby, and had a big early dinner, as all of us were really hungry. It was so good to see Richard, who was and is like my brother now. And, of course Rob, my beloved son, who, to his intense embarrassment, I hugged and gave lots of kisses too. He was at that time about one month away from turning eleven. I told both of them all about my wonderful adventures, and beautiful times with Gene, all the great fun I'd had; and about what a rotten bastard Jim had been and still was.
The next afternoon Jim had the audacity to not only call me, but collect as well. I refused to accept his call and hung up. The phone rang again, and sure enough, it was Jim, having paid for the call himself. He had called to gloat over the fact that he was in Oklahoma, or wherever they really were by now, with Gene and the rest of the Byrds, and I was not! And, really flaunting this even more, Jim told me that on-and-off-girlfriend of Gene's, Terri Messina, had come out to join-up with Gene and was there now. I told him to fuck-off, and don't call here again! Then I hung up on him. Well the idiot called again. This time Richard answered the phone. He told Jim to leave me alone and stop harassing me and Rob, or else he would take whatever legal action he needed to against him. Richard can be very hard-ass in a way that is totally serious without being violent or "low-life" in its application, and I really felt thanks for what he did.
About a month later, after I had gone back up to Mendocino, my letter to Gene was returned, unopened, with "Not at this address: Return to sender" stamped on it. This served only to disappoint me as well as hurt like hell. The frustration of it was all but unendurable, and I cried myself to sleep that night. I swore to myself that I would pay Jim back, big time, for being the underlying generator of that someday, once I got myself settled and safe from any retaliation from him!
(More to come...as I remember)