Cowboy Buddy Meets The Blues
April 16, 2023
Cowboy Buddy Meets The Blues
A Short Story
by
R.E. Prindle
The United States us usually spoken of as one country while it is not; the US isn’t even uniformity of culture within each State. The country is a diversity. The races have different agendas, the nationalities can barely speak to each other knowingly. Class divisions while denied are one of the most prominent features of the US.
To take only one State as an example, Michigan, In Michigan its metropolis is Detroit which has nothing in common with upstate, or the Upper Peninsula , the East Side or the West side of the State. Indeed, at one time the dividing line between Eastern Standard Time and Central Standard Time ran right through the middle od the State. One foot could exist at 10:00 o’ clock and the other foot at 9:00.
Saginaw the key city of the Saginaw Bay has nothing in common with Grand Rapids of the West. My head was in Michigan and my feet were in Del Rio Texas and my belly button in Waterloo Iowa where the great country radio stations were.. I was a son of Dixie though I had never been below the Mason-Dixon line.
California is an entirely different country, once briefly one, to any other State in the Union, it includes Oregon to the North and Arizona to it’s East, all enclosing Nevada.
The populations themselves were diverse and unrelated to each other as different as Black and White. Religions are so different that they can’t speak to each other. Even the climates are total contradictions, deserts and swamps, hot and cold. Cold. And that brings us to our story.
Minnesota, contains the northern most point of the Lower Forty-Eight, and if not the coldest there can only be a miniscule difference from second place. The winters in Minnesota are cold and brutal while seemingly interminable. Up there a few miles from the Canadian border is the little town of Hibbing. Sixteen thousand people strong. It sits at the center of the 110 mile long Mesabi Iron Range.
The Mesabi is the greatest open pit range in the world. When it became too difficult to follow the subterranean ore veins they just ripped the top off and dug it up wholesale. A pit train runs up and down the range a couple hundred feet down into the bowels of the earth. Then in the fifties of the twentieth the high grade ore was depleted. This is the time this story takes place They took most of it to Europe for the big wars and blew it up.
The pit yawns empty but the rains are slowiy filling this great gash in the earth. It may one day be the smallest of the great lakes.
It was there in Hibbing in 1941 that a child was born, a boy child. As he lay there in the cradle he was christened Shmuelly Sabbatai Goldenbargain, a little Jewish lad. He would not remain Shmuelly all his life but a different name under which he would become of world renown, from this little place in the wilds of Minnesota that barely merited a name, Hibbing, Minnesota. Ask someone to find that place on the map.
Shmuelly’s people in the 1950s numbered about four hundred, but they ran the town which was mainly Scandinavian and Christian. Shmuelly’s family owned the businesses from movie theaters to heavy equipment. His father operated the town’s grocery store that, as a monopoly did very well, unfortunately his father’s three brothers were partner’s so the profits were divided four ways, but Shmuelly’s father managed the money.
Enough of this background.
I think you have the scene sitting pretty well in your mind, except for one thing, the main drag through town was a hundred yards wide, nearly as big as a four lane highway giving it a kind of ‘High Noon’ quality.
If it’s alright we’ll call Shmuelly by the name he would take for his career as a musician. I’ll start calling his Buddy, his ‘real’ name, that which he would legally adopt was Cowboy Buddy Wright, but I’ll drop the Cowboy part of his moniker until it’s time.
Hibbing is a school town, education is very important. The magnificent high school, you’d have to see it to believe it, contained all grades from kindergarten through twelfth. That building is a real monument, as glorious as a castle, so Buddy knew his whole class for twelve years while many of us changed our schools several times. There were never any fresh faces for Buddy.
Buddy’s father was an Orthodox Jew even though the synagogue was Reformed. His father led the Anti-Defamation League in town. He ruled with an iron hand. His dad’s name was really Abram but he was known as Jack at both the synagogue and the lodge. He was the leading member of the congregation, made frequent trips to New York City, that is Brooklyn, while his mother lived downstate in the St. Louis Park suburb of Minneapolis that Buddy often visited, sometimes for relatively lengthy stays when things heated up between Jack and Ester.
Buddy was one of the kids who didn’t fit in it and wasn’t just because he was Jewish, he was also intellectually from a different planet, or living on a different plane. I put no negative meaning to his being Jewish but his family and people maintained a strict distance from the town folk. They cherished their separateness. And they owned the town. Everyone acknowledged that and they quietly resented it because the family shut out all competition. As a result Buddy was a shy little lad and developed a forlorn expression. The boys all laughed at him and the girls too. Could give a kid a complex and it did Buddy. It’s not easy to be forced to the outside where life’s greatest tragedy awaited him.
I’ll skip the description and get to the tragedy with maybe a couple of back flashes. All Buddy’s friends, meaning few, were outsiders like him, even his girl friend Sweet Sue. Sue’s father was a handyman, possible rum runner at one time there on the border, for certain adventures over the state border in Superior, Wisconsin, a city infected by the mob, as his family lived above their visible means. The means were slight but noticeable, so above doesn’t mean much.
But Sue’s father was the righteous sort, he had a fabulous Country and Western record collection, LPs, and they didn’t come from Buddy’s cousin’s record store, he must have gotten them downstate.
So, let’s skip a decade. We’re now in late 1958, late meaning that every thing but the air was frozen solid and you had to spoon that into your nostrils. It was in the midnight hour. Buddy and Sue were meandering down that wide main street, she holding his hand in her coat pocket when they drifted over to the Masonic Temple. Stepping into the recessed doorway to get to get out of the wind, Buddy mused that they had a nice grand piano inside that he had always wanted to play.
‘Why don’t we in and do it Shmuelly, I’ll dance.’ Said Sweet Sue.
‘But the door’s locked, Honey.’ Buddy pointed out.
‘Oh, that’s no problem.’ Sue said, pulling a jackknife from her pocket while in a deft move she inserted the tip of the blade and popped the lock. I did say she was an outsider, didn’t I? Buddy gaped but it was like magic. When his eyes focused next he was standing in front of the piano, Little Richard style. Now for the heartbreaking part; this is where Buddy’s life took a left turn. He slid into ecstasy hardly knowing what he was doing. He hammered the keys and began to play.
Buddy had been a Little Richard fan from day one when Little Richard’s scream rent the air from the radio: Oop Bop a luna…it rattled your brain and shook your nerves, a new person was born in that instant. Little Richard had burst on the scene like Jack from his box.
That entry into society was alone a life changing event. The circus had come to town. Even today if you were there the memory will still slay you. People who didn’t grow up with the music won’t understand.
Buddy put his hand on the keys and hammered them as hard as he could then began screaming Little Richard’s Tutti Frutti as loud as he could. Sweet Sue shrilled jumping on the piano to do a go go dance. This went on for ten minutes until Buddy and Sue simultaneously focusing their eyes saw two gentlemen in blue standing there with grim looks on their faces.
‘We weren’t doing anything.’ Buddy bleated.
‘It’s called breaking and entering.’ The policeman said. ‘It’s a crime.’
They put the cuffs and Buddy and Sue and marched them to the station which was just around the block. Sue was dismissed for being a girl although she was the one who actually broke in. Buddy was marched to a holding cell while his father was notified that his son was downtown in the can. He was in the jailhouse now. Shades of James Dean in ‘Rebel Without A Cause.’
So, now, Buddy came hard up against the wall. Jack and Ethel were aghast. Certain members of the city smiled a little glow of satisfaction. They were not only getting one of them, but the chief instigator. This fly in every ointment. Buddy who in his real life sometimes had his real name pronounced ‘Smelly’ because Shmuelly was too hard to say and damn hard to spell didn’t have the best reputation.
In fact, he seemed to be known in Duluth where a newspaper reporter called Walter Eldot even wrote an article about the arrest saying that the Iron Range didn’t need characters like Shmuelly. Of course both Hibbing and Duluth were backwoods towns where the news of Rock and Roll was received with extreme distaste. Perry Como was much more honored. And Buddy’s performance of Little Richard at the school assembly had terrified nearly all, the news of which had reached Duluth, ruined Buddy’s reputation forever…and ever.
And there was that one time he ran down that kid when passing down the street on his Harley, but the kid had darted out between two cars so it wasn’t like Shmuelly had been careless. Still it had cost father Jack four hundred dollars to fix it. That would have been forty thousand in today’s dollars.
Buddy didn’t dress other that middle class, no black denim trousers, motorcycle boots with a black leather jacket with an eagle on the back. But he still became a bohemian to the old folks. Perhaps, Eldot did overstate though.
Jack tried to fix this new charge but not only was the price out of range, the faux pas was unfixable. What the heck it was a first offence, the alibi was reasonable enough for a couple kids, maybe a couple keys did have to be replaced on the piano but how much did that cost. Buddy was cold irons bound. He was sent to Redwing Reformatory School down on Highway 61. The fabled route from the Canadian border down to the Gulf of Mexico. Riding downstate toward Minneapolis in the police cruiser Buddy was in a daze remembering when he received the sentence that Jack couldn’t fix but was at least limited to his eighteenth year a few months away in May. Jack was able to arrange things so that Shmuelly could graduate with his class.
Buddy might have been able to handle that but his own father Jack Goldenbargain stood him up and sternly advised that the a son could become so defiled that even his father would reject him but that God in his mercy would redeem him if in his future life he followed the straight and narrow. And then his mother turned on him. Lordy, lordy. Stressed and half dead he got into the police cruiser for the drive down highway 61 to Redwing. His body was tied in knots, his stomach churning, his brain whirling. Buddy could remember nothing of the next few days until he woke up one morning to realize that he was in prison. His soul had died but his body lived on in a miserable second birth.
The next year or so was just a hazy mirage that was never clear in his mind. The most apt description of this horrible period that I’ve found was recorded in a couple songs by the current recording artist Bob Dylan who was a schoolmate of Buddy’s in Hibbing although they a=had never known each other, unaware that the other existed. Just as Buddy chose a musical and performing career so did Mr. Dylan, they both went on to great success in what might be called parallel careers they were so similar.
Mr. Dylan captured Buddy’s moment in one song called ‘The Chimes of Freedom’ and the other ‘Highway 61 Revisited’ in which he surely must have had Buddy in mind. These two songs match Buddy’s experience too closely and so sympathetically that one must believe that Mr. Dylan, the same age and a schoolmate, watched Buddy in his plight carefully, almost putting himself in Buddy’s shoes. At any rate, in later life, Buddy would play these two songs until the groove’s wore out. The whole first song stirred Buddy to his chill but most especially this verse: ‘The Chimes of Freedom’ flashing
.
Starry eyed and laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hang suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ‘till the tolling ended.
Tolling for the aching whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Yes, Mr. Dylan hit Buddy’s plight on the button. As Buddy sat shocked, morose and crushed in a bottomless depression he ruminated on those feelings if not in those words to numb even to cry. He and Sue would never meet again for she was as devastated as he if not more so. And then stunned when Buddy refused to see her ever again. Never again, never again, without even a last goodbye. Just, boom, out of her life.
Of course, Buddy was not yet able consciously to put his misery into such words as those of Mr. Dylan that might have been some consolation. His other care even more debilitating than Sweet Sue was what he considered his father’s betrayal. Buddy conveniently forgot his aggravations to his father including the motorcycle incident of which his arrest capped the climax but his mind was captured by the image of Abraham in the Bible about to sacrifice his son just as God stayed his hand and saved the son.
No god saved Buddy. A few years later when he heard Mr. Dylan’s line from the song Highway 61 Revisited, ‘And God said kill me a son’, and Abe answered, Where you want this killing done?’, and God said, ‘Out on highway 61.’ There was none to spare poor Buddy. No. It was the midnight of his soul. He died the death. He now spoke of his former existence. He had been searching for an identity to relieve him of him of the lesser self of being Shmuelly Goldenbargain and he found it in prison.
He entered Redwing as Shmuelly Goldenbargain and left in a nebulous state of being Cowboy Buddy Wright. It would look better on the marquee anyway. All the Jews did it for that reason.
A Review: David Amram, Vibrations & Downbeat
August 6, 2017
A Review:
David Amram’s Vibrations and Offbeat
by
R.E. Prindle
Amram, David: Downbeat: Thunder’s Mouth Press, 2002
Amram, David: Vibrations, original MacMillan’s 1968, this issue Thunder’s Mouth Press 2001
Wakefield, Dan: New York In The Fifties, Houghton, Mifflin/Seymour Lawrence, 1992
While apparently but few have ever heard of David Amram yet he was a significant figure in the Sixties and beyond. He was or is a musician, French Horn player and composer. A couple of his movie soundtrack credits, The Manchurian Candidate and Splendor In The Grass of the Fifties give some indication of his recognition in the entertainment world although having seen both movies I had no idea he scored them while Imdb gives credit to Amram and Irving Berlin and Grass to a Euphemia Allen. So there you have it.
No one to whom I have mentioned him has ever heard of him. As I was in the record business in the Sixties and Seventies I knew the name but nothing more. I don’t recollect selling any of his records or even carrying them. I called his name up on Amazon’s Echo or Alexa and listened to a couple hours of stuff a couple of times and while the music is pleasant enough I find it undistinguished.
My attention for this review was brought to me because his book Offbeat is a record of his association with Jack Kerouac the author and founder of the Beats. I will deal with the association in the appropriate place. Vibrations, David’s first book, is a discussion of his life from birth in 1930 to his thirty seventh year in 1967, the book was published in 1968. Vibrations is a very interesting psychological study whether the reader has heard of Amram or not. As of this writing (8/2/17) he is still living at 87 years and looking very presentable. Significantly he doesn’t call Vibrations an autobiography but a memoir.
David was born in Feasterville, Pennsylvania, where he spent his early years on a farm until his father took a war job and moved the family to Washington DC in 1942, the move was very traumatic for twelve-year old David who loved his life on the farm and never recovered from losing it. Later in life he would buy a farm.
The move to DC was especially traumatic because his family moved into a house in what was called a checkerboard neighborhood, that is a mixed Negro and White area. David and his family were themselves Jewish. The central childhood fixation that governed David’s life was when he entered Gordon Jr. High. He describes the experience in detail and since it is so important to the telling of his story I will quote in full, pp. 17-18:
A few days later I entered Gordon Junior High School. Because I had just come from a small rural school, Gordon Junior High seemed enormous. The playground alone was larger than the entire school area in the country. The atmosphere was completely different because of the large number of students, the fact that it was a southern school and the air of seething violence that seemed to be everywhere. The atmosphere of violence was constant and when it erupted the teachers as well as the students seemed to take the idea of fighting for granted.
The moment I arrived I saw three or four serious fights in the school playground.
Six or seven boys were holding someone’s arms behind him while he was being smashed and stomped by two or three others. I was used to being in fights myself, but at least we used to go at it one at a time and when I got to be a good fighter myself, the fights finally stopped. But I noticed that here the parents of some of the smaller kids led them right into school or they came in with older kids who served as protection. It took me a little while to realize there were several organized gangs in the school, including one called the Foggybottom Gang. My sister was going to boarding school in Florida because of her health. I was sure glad she didn’t have to through this with me. When we had gone to school in the country she used to lie down on the floor of the car on the way home so the kids wouldn’t see her. She was terrified then because of the abuse I used to take being called a Jew. I had gotten used to it, but she never could.
But there at least she was safe on the floor of the car. In 1942 at Gordon Junior High no one was safe. Even teachers- those who couldn’t fight back- were in danger of being punched pummeled kicked or even knifed. It was a madhouse and I enjoyed every minute of it. I had never liked school anyway except for music and sports, so the chaotic conditions in the classroom, with kids yelling and insulting the teachers, setting their desks on fire, throwing snowballs with razors and rocks inside, fighting and even one student being pushed out the window- it all seemed wonderful and exciting to me. By the third day I felt at home. The classes were so backward that in about thirty minutes I could do all my homework and spend the rest of the afternoon practicing the piano or playing in the back with Walter and some other kids I met.
The fifth day in school I was coming from the science class when a boy named Joe punched me on the shoulder and almost knocked me down.
“Watch that, Joe.” I said.
He seemed surprised that I knew his name. “How do you know my name?” he said.
Suddenly the casual group behind him seemed to become an organized gang standing stiff and hostile. All the kids behind me also stopped and in a few seconds later the immediate rumble was inevitable.
“Never mind how I know your name, just watch who you’re pushing,” I said. With that he threw a right at me. Because I was expecting something like this, I slipped his punch. Next he hit me in the left shoulder, spinning me half around. Then he leaped for me and I caught him with my right elbow in the stomach, hit him three or four times in the face put my leg behind him, hit him on the Adam’s apple and knocked him backward into a locker. He didn’t feel like fighting anymore.
Then all of a sudden, one of the larger teachers materialized out of nowhere, hit me in the face and knocked me down. He then proceeded to knock four or five other students as well while everyone else scattered. I was stunned. Kids who hadn’t even had anything to do with the fight were lying on the floor, wondering what had happened. He pulled up and marched us up to the principal’s office. While we were waiting for the principal to come out, another teacher was rushing down the hall, yelling for the teacher to get to another class where a serious fight was going on. He left and by the time the principal came back, Joe and some of the other students had slipped out of the office leaving just one other boy and myself. The principal was a kindly old man in his seventies and obviously was nearly ready to retire. His name was Mr. Winston, a sweet old man with white hair, a white mustache, stooped and worn out by all the years in Washington’s public school system and very upset about the chaos that had developed since the war began and the younger teachers were all away.
“Boys,” he said in a genteel southern moan, “The good Lord didn’t put you on earth to act like animals. Fighting is for an animal, not for gentlemen. I want you two boys to shake hands and promise never to fight no more.”
“But I wasn’t even fighting,” said the other poor boy, about to break into tears.
“Don’t sass me son, I don’t even want your name. Just don’t let me see you in here again with fights. I don’t know what’s happened to the school and to young people today. In my day people would fight each other fair and square, out behind the schoolhouse. It’s just with the fathers away, there doesn’t seem to be any discipline.” He looked through his thick glasses at both of us almost expecting us to sympathize with him. “All right, boys,” he said wearily, “you all go back to your classes and don’t let me see you in here again.”
We got up and left and went back to our classes. After a hysterical Latin class, during which the teacher, a kindly woman in her fifties with an incredible case of dandruff, was shouted down and almost knocked to the floor by one of the students, I left in disgust. I knew you weren’t going to learn anything that way. Outside I saw Joe and the members of the Foggy Bottom Gang waiting. I noticed that two of them had knives, which I could see glinting in the sun. They were not switchblades but the kind of knife used for shucking oysters in Chesapeake Bay, easy to hide in your pants and very sharp. I had heard of several stabbings the year before, and I didn’t want to be the first victim of the new academic year, so I went out the back way through the boiler room and walked home.
And David says he loved that and was right at home. Apart from pretty spectacular total recall the story sets out the problem of Black and White relations from then on. Of course the effect of this incredible first week at school was very traumatic for David fixating him it would seem with a variation of the Stockholm syndrome. Nor was this an isolated incident but the ‘normal’ situation that would go on for years, his entire youth, in David’s checkerboard neighborhood. While seeming to maintain a rigid separation between his Black and White identities as well as White and Jewish identities his primary identity seemed to be White during this period while he sank into a medium grade depression. He immersed his mind in music to escape his desperate situation and his music the rather odd combination of French Horn and Negro Jazz. Probably the French Horn was a desperate clinging to his White identity.
But, first let us put his situation into a perspective that must lead to the Supreme Court decision of Brown vs. The Board Of Education. The Brown decision assumed that schools were not segregated and that there was no experience to indicate what the result of integration would be. Yet, here in DC in the forties and probably the thirties one has a sociological situation that indicates precisely what the result would be. There was no need for guesswork.
The Supreme Court justices who would make the Brown decision had integration information on the residential level that was horrendous. Eventually all the White people would leave DC or were driven out by the Negroes and DC became something of a cauldron of crime. One in which even Negroes were desperate to escape.
The schools were such that, as in Amram’s case he was terrorized for life but the White fantasy was that no resistance by Whites should be offered to the atrocities. Now, this was not just young Negroes mixed with young Whites. In high schools grown men were entered as students who then directed the young Negroes in terrorizing the Whites to gain control and dominance. Thus,. Whites were taught or required to accept the criminal behavior quietly or they would be charged with the horrendous crime of ‘racism’. If they fought back win or lose they would be charged as the aggressors and have their young lives destroyed, sacrificed on the altar of integration. The saying then and now was ‘you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet. Interestingly David has a song with the refrain, ‘all my eggs are broken.’
Any rational White person could see and understand the result of forced integration. Whites were being denied equality and their rights, essentially enslaved to the Negroes. The Whites of the South against whom the Brown decision was actually directed with their long experience with the Negro were clear as to the outcome. If nothing else they had this sociological experiment in DC before their eyes as well as the deplorable conditions in Northern schools which were already integrated. It was quite obvious that integration would lead to disintegration of society so it must be obvious that the intent of the Supreme Court justices was the disintegration of society.
The Southern Whites therefore put up a stout resistance refusing to accept the Justices’ decision which, after all, was merely the Justices’ intention. It would take the Executive to enforce the decision. This led then President Eisenhower to his decision to mobilize army troops and if tanks were not used my memory projected them on the scene. These were regular Army bearing arms to conduct a Negro Student into Little Rock’s Central High School.
Of course, the propaganda value of a switchblade bearing six foot four, two hundred pound Negro giant being led by an army squad into the high school was nil. Not being totally ignorant of propaganda effects, as their model student they chose a petite little girl in a pink pinafore and pigtails to be escorted by appropriately huge soldiers bearing arms. Resistance at that point was futile and Little Rock’s Central High was turned into the same hell hole that David Amram experienced at DC’s Gordon Jr. High. Rape and turmoil.
In today’s schools, one doesn’t see too many petite Negro girls wearing pink pinafores with their hair in pigtails. The propaganda effect of Eisenhower’s action was that the US government valued Negroes over Whites and that has been proven in the sequel. No integrated school today is an educational institution. Today, however, as well as knives, guns are much in use, so students pass metal detectors on the way to classes. Was Brown an improvement in race relations? As the current situation was predictable it must have been according to plan.
David Amram endured this torture all through Jr. High and High School. He must have needed some escape and he found it in his music allowing him to retreat into the safety of his own mind. Trapped in a Negro culture the music given him to express himself was Negro jazz. However the instrument he chose was the French Horn which is not a jazz instrument. He might have done better to have chosen the saxophone or trumpet if he had really chosen to excel as a jazz musician. Rather the French Horn was his rather obvious connection to his White heritage. He carried it around with him like a child and his security blanket.
Perhaps in an effort to gain some security he sought the company of Negro musicians who accepted him and his French Horn although they usually remarked: ‘Hmm, a French Horn, you don’t see those much in jazz bands.’ I never have. David must have been a semi-comical figure on the band stand. ‘Who’s the dude with the French Horn?’ Thus he had a presence in the DC area. I presume he graduated high school although he says that what with the constant chaos in class the academic standards weren’t too demanding. Sufficient to say he attained a degree of competence on his symbolic French Horn.
I suspect that he was a mental wreck by his late teen years. The military draft had not been discontinued after the war so the probable necessity of serving in the military loomed before him. He solved this problem by volunteering just as the Korean War burst upon the scene.
Following so quickly on the heels of the Second World War the Korean War, referred to as a ‘police action’ had a psychologically disturbing effect on society especially just after the Soviet Union exploded their own atomic bomb in 1949, relying heavily on US spies. The idea that Americans would betray the country to Russians was very traumatic, causing a lot of self-doubt. It shook the country to its foundations.
-II-
David was fifteen when WWII ended and he probably graduated high school in 1948. The Korean War began in June of 1950. The military draft was still in effect so rather than wait to be called up David volunteered for a two year tour of duty in the Army. Joining the Army also got him out of DC a movthat might have been more difficult otherwise. For the first time since Jr. High, then, he was removed from a Negro environment. The military at the time was averse to social experiments so there were few Negroes in the Army. The Army, of course, had had Negro regiments since the Civil War but they had White officers and were not integrated otherwise. The Navy had never had Negro sailors except for Stewards and other service personnel and would evade integration until 1957.
While his memoir balances David’s Negro, Caucasian and Jewish heritages it must have been true that the Negro characteristics of his heritage dominated his personality at the time. He was clearly a hipster and may have been what Norman Mailer called a White Negro. Certainly his speech must have been heavily Negro and hipster, or cat, to use an alternate term.
At any rate with his trusty French Horn tucked under his arm he began his military experience. As luck would have it he was not sent to Korea but to the other side of the world to monitor the Germans and keep the Soviets on their side of the Iron Curtain. The fear of an invasion of Europe by the Soviets kept people on edge along with the A-bomb.
Psychologically his Army service must have been a healing period for David’s mind even if the military experience is nearly as traumatic as David’s DC Negroland life. But, the Army would probably have been less dangerous to navigate. And then, at twenty he was older and more able to deal with things.
To compare my own experience of a very difficult childhood that left me with certain psychological impairments and my military experience following immediately after high school graduation I was removed from the scene of my youthful pressures, and, even though under the stresses of the military, my mind began healing as soon as I left the scene of their creation so about eight months on the worst psychological effects lifted much to my relief. I’m sure that happened to David also because like me he spent the next decade or so in the process of realizing not only his White heritage but even more deeply his Jewish heritage. At this period he became a Jew. Indeed, his memoir that carries his life only up to the age of 37 was a record of that journey of realization.
David’s descriptions of his states of mind and person are presented only incidentally. There are no detached descriptions and no analysis. So looking through his narrative one sees a beat up hommey running very nearly on auto-pilot, unkempt, close to dirty, making his way through the army. His trusty French Horn removes him from the more onerous aspects of army life into a twilight zone of musical misfits forming the Seventh Army Band.
As David describes the band they are one subversive lot, refusing to wear their uniforms properly while evading all other regulations to the best of their ability. It should be noted that most were draftees and not regular Army. There was always conflict between those coerced to serve and the regulars who chose military service as their vocation, so his group wasn’t too far out of line. David describes how he grew his hair as long as possible carefully stuffing it under his hat. I know where that’s at. I too was I wouldn’t say rebellious, bur resentful, not only of the Navy but of life, I too grew my hair as long as possible and stuffed it under my hat.
I hadn’t his congenial atmosphere but I’m sure that being in with these musicians eased his two years which in different circumstances might have been disastrous. With a better frame of mind his tour of duty would have been delightful as the band toured Europe giving concerts thereby living the high life compared to foot troops.
Somewhat rescued from himself David was discharged into the world in 1953 having contributed his two years to the destiny of America. However he was still an ill man suffering the after effects of Washington DC. Consequently unable to face returning to that future he chose not to return to the United States taking up residency in Paris instead.
He was still a beat up hommey hence he chose the Bohemian way of life. While he wallowed in his misery his intention was still to reclaim the Feasterville life he enjoyed before his disastrous removal to DC. Thus, after gathering his psychological bearings to some extent he returned to the US landing in NYC in 1955. Having no desire to return to the horrific memories of DC he found his way to Greenwich Village and the Boho way of life.
-III-
From 1955 when David Amram returned to the US from Europe to 1966 when he climbed the mountain of respectability to become the resident composer of the New York Philharmonic was a short eleven years, only a decade. For the major part of those years David was a dirty, ragged Bohemian who most frequently offended his friends by his appearance and the rat holes he lived in, by his own admission. His depression must have been fairly deep yet he avoided drugs in a druggy atmosphere, stayed fairly sober and worked like the devil.
He had been advised that composing music would be his deliverance rather than his horn playing. Indeed, while David assures us that he was a superior horn player a professional shows up, befriends him, and gives him lessons on horn playing to correct his defects. Regardless then of David’s self-evaluation capable horn players thought he needed help. Composing was to be his meal ticket.
Now, let us concentrate on the subject of Amram’s second book, Offbeat, concerning his relationship with the writer Jack Kerouac. I’m sure that most people will recognize Kerouac as the author of the Beat bible, On The Road. Perhaps some of those know that Kerouac wrote reams of material throughout a couple dozen books. Critics at the time castigated the writer as close to worthless. I have to agree with them although I have to say that Kerouac is one of the all time greatest word slingers. The words slip mellifluously from his pen but with small content. His books are the equivalent of well produced B movies. For me they always leave a bad taste. I mean, he wrote about bums.
Kerouac had a difficult time getting On The Road published. Indeed from the time he wrote the book to its publication he wrote ten other unpublished books and he didn’t stop there. I was probably among the first to read On The Road. The Beats, of which Kerouac is considered the originator, were considered to be revolutionary, but as unsavory types they succeeded indirectly. Revolution was in the air in the Fifties through the Sixties and it permeated my time in the US Navy just before the beginning of 1957 through 1959.
My ship was leaving for a Pacific tour of duty at the end of the summer of 1957. Just before we shoved off, this is true, a sailor on the dock passed a blue bound advance copy to our Communist Yeoman telling him this was an important book for the revolution. I missed what was revolutionary about it reading only about a bunch of footloose losers. It was talked about aboard ship however and it changed attitudes.
Subsequently the book became a bible of sorts for a certain type of guy. I could never understand why but it was a major influence on their attitude toward life.
So, Offbeat is a three hundred page book about Jack and David’s relationship. David met him in 1956 just as the Beat movement was about to surface nationwide. According to David in Offbeat their relationship was intense; at times one can almost believe that they were married. David says that he wrote the book at the insistence of a friend who thought Dave’s experiences were too valuable to go unrecorded. However, in Dave’s six hundred page memoir Vibrations Kerouac gets only a couple mentions with no indication of an involved relationship, not even a hint of Kerouac’s significance. Where the truth lies, from my reading is indeterminate. Nonetheless certain indisputable facts are recorded.
In 1959 Kerouac wrote the script for a movie titled Pull My Daisy. A short film of twenty minutes. David was asked to score the film. His accounts between Downbeat and Vibrations vary wildly. In Downbeat he says Jack asked him to score it; in Vibrations he says Leslie and Frank did. I would imagine most people have not heard of the movie, Pull My Daisy. David makes it sound like a major cultural event. I have watched part of it. I left off maybe halfway through. David who is a real booster of anything his friends did thought it was terrific.
For those immersed in the Beat period it may be of interest to see their heroes in action. Ginsberg, Corso, Amram, they’re all there in their beatnik glory. For my tastes they looked like a bunch of bums goofing around a dump of a house. In Variations David gives credit for the film to the artist Alfred Leslie and the filmmaker Robert Frank. Leslie was an artist, apparently of some renown, I have to confess I have never heard of him, he has a couple of published collections, while Robert Frank has a reputation as an early ‘experimental’ filmmaker. Having become somewhat familiar with various experimental films I find them more self-indulgent than impressive.
In Offbeat David characterizes the performance as improvisational to the nth degree, the actors cutting up in totally undisciplined disarray. In Variations he portrays the filming as carefully planned by Leslie and Frank. Indeed Leslie ‘revealed’ in 1968 that while the production was thought to be improvisational it was actually carefully plotted. You’d have to read the sources to make up your own mind. Offbeat seems the most reasonable approach to me.
It is a silent film with no dialogue but Kerouac does a voice over completely improvised according to David while David improvises the musical background as Kerouac speaks. He says Kerouac and he were satisfied with the result while Leslie and Frank wished to make several takes to get the best possible results. Kerouac and Amram who value extemporaneity more than a hoped for perfection demur but agree to one more take and then refuse any further effort.
In Variations David says the he reworked his music separately seeking perfection corroborating Leslie’s 1968 revelation. There does seem to be a clash of ideals that reduces the integrity of David’s two texts while casting doubt on the veracity of his memories.
Dan Wakefield in his 1992 memoir, New York In The Fifties makes mention of Amram, usually positive and even admiring, as a spreader of sunshine so I suspect David of speaking well, putting things in their best light for the occasion rather than strict accuracy. This is nowhere more evident than in his account of poetry readings. He credits Kerouac and himself as introducing musically accompanied readings to Bohemia in New York. This is probably true as Kerouac and Ginsberg had been doing the same in San Francisco. I think he gives too much credit also to the quality of the poets and their poetry. I attended a coupe readings in North Beach, San Francisco and came away singularly unimpressed with the poetry although the social scene was nice.
For some delightful accounts of poetry reading in the New York of the Sixties Ed Sanders of the Fugs has wonderful accounts in his Tales Of Beatnik Glory. There are also some filmed readings on the internet, but without the ambience of being in the audience it’s not the same thing.
While David is great for waxing enthusiastic about his relationship with his horn he fades away on the historical background of his activities. For instance, he mentions the jazz bar the Five Spot as being important but fails to give context. Dan Wakefield on the other hand found the Five Spot so significant that he goes into great detail even providing some information on its ambiance. In fact, those places, jazz clubs, were holes requiring a great deal of enthusiasm for jazz to endure the environment.
I never visited any NYC jazz clubs during the day but I did pay a visit to the Blackhawk in San Francisco. The Blackhawk was one of the premier jazz clubs in the country. Let me say from the outset that I am not a jazz buff. The depression, pain and rage that underlies the music is offensive to my tastes, especially the classic jazz of the Fifties. The Negro artists of the Fifties were sui generis. As they aged they were never replaced although that fact seems to have gone unnoticed. Jazz began withering during the Sixties, was commercialized in the seventies and eighties and what remains is probably formulaic today.
The mystique of the Negro players was incredible. If the Blackhawk was any indication the club was a church for jazzists and the players were its high priests. Essentially they could get away with anything in those dark nasty hypnotic caves. The Negro artists were themselves worshipped by the Whites. Dan Wakefield tells the following story of one of the highest of the priesthood Charlie Mingus, p. 309:Mingus was a figure all right, and could be as dramatic and surprising off stage as on. The novelist and screenwriter Rudy Wurlitzer will never forget the time he took a beautiful girl to the Five Spot when he was nineteen years old. “I wanted to impress her,” he says. “Mingus was playing, and I could tell he noticed the girl- everyone noticed her. When the last set was over, Mingus came up to our table and took out a pair of handcuffs. He didn’t say a word, just clamped one of the handcuffs on his own wrist and then clamped the other on the wrist of my date. She didn’t say anything, and he pulled up her arm, so she stood up, and then they walked out the door together, neither of them saying anything.”
Of course, the important thing here is that Wurlitzer made no protest, he acquiesced in her abduction although he was responsible for her safety. No one else in the jazz church said anything either. The high priest had his prerogatives. That and the mystique accorded to the Magic Negro.
Indeed, Amram, Wakefield and others were all working hard for the integration of the bands themselves, perhaps thinking that was a panacea for something. Wakefield himself, accounts the advent of the Beatles in 1964 as the disruption of the integration dream and perhaps the beginning of the end for jazz. Certainly, the musical priesthood was transferred from Negroes to Whites when the Beatles became the high priests. As Wakefield complains, the Beatles and the bands following from England were all White. So, while there were a few exceptions in Rock- Jimi Hendrix- that jazz dream was destroyed. It should be noticed that there is a Hendrix church. Negro energy was transferred to the all Black soul bands of the Sixties led by Detroit’s Motown label.
According to Wakefield the Lit., Music and Art crowds of Greenwich Village were separate, the artists favoring the Cedar Tavern, the Literature crowd the White Horse Tavern and the music crowd the Village Vanguard and other spots. The Folk crowd was not prominent in Wakefield’s mind during the Fifties for some reason. They were certainly there. Wakefield says that while most crowds stuck to respective groups Amram was a curiosity as he moved freely through all groups with a reputation as Mr. Sunshine.
Indeed, he was something of a touch giving small sums of money to anyone who asked for it. He complains about being broke while at the same time he says that he gave his money away, living in digs few would tolerate. If his sweater, of which he speaks so lovingly, hadn’t been so raggedy, worn and smelly he would have given that off his back to anyone willing to take it. A real St. Francis. He must, then, have had many acquaintances who would speak well of him in place of returning the loans.
In addition to pushing for integrated bands and racial harmony David rediscovered his own racial roots in Judaism. A synagogue beneath his window whose religious music rose through it awakened his interest through its mournful dirge answering to his own depression as jazz did. Consequently David offered to compose sacred music for the services, which music was well received. Thus his ties to Judaism were revived.
As a composer he composed furiously, able to turn out reams and reams of compositions. Now, the Fifties, they were not a dull time unless, of course, you were dull, although my own familiarity with the later years was disrupted by entering the Navy, losing contact with those critical years for the future; I was in exile, as it were, in the military. Nevertheless, so-called world music began after WWII in the nascent Folk music scene by the group called the Weavers led by the ever present Pete Seeger. Wakefield seems to have ignored the Folkies but Folk was very largely White as well as Rock music and the two actually coalesced in the Sixties.
After the War it seems like there were hundreds of songs celebrating the charms of far away places with strange sounding names. Martin Denny’s LP The Quiet Village was a whole album of songs celebrating exotic tropical paradises.
At this time also Electra Records began a series of LPs of ethnic musics that was very in with the knowing, the avant guard. On its Nonesuch label Electra issued two terrific albums of Balinese Gamelon music including the memorable Ramayana Monkey Chant, a real listening experience. A Bulgarian record was much revered and well as several others. The African record Missa Luba is a not to be missed classic. That’s only if you are of the ilk otherwise you won’t appreciate such discs
So, David was a leader of this Travel Poster Crowd. Travel posters of far away place were de riguer on everyone’s walls especially after the Boeing 707 changed international travel in 1959. David Amram was riding the wave of a future on that score even though jazz was emitting a dying moan. By the seventies these Fifties jazz artists were so passe that a record producer by the name of Creed Taylor fashioned a line of easy listening records employing various of these old passe Negro players with reputations as a front to legitimize his easy listening and he made a fortune. There’s gold out there you just have to know where to find it. It was the end of an era.
David then had conquered all musical worlds except for the White world of classical music. As I see it he had made a million friends with his zippity doo dah attitude expecially and most importantly in the Jewish religious world.
The background story here is unknown or, at least, undiscovered by me. The New York Philharmonic had never had a resident composer but in 1966 the position was created for David. David was appreciative and by his account overwhelmed and well he might be. There appears to have been a great gulf between what he was doing and the professional world of the New York Philharmonic of Leonard Bernstein.
The impression one gets is that the Philharmonic gave into pressure from somewhere to create a respectable paying position for Dave. In doing so, of course, they enabled him to rise from his declassed state caused by his entrance into DC’s Gordon Jr. High. He now became a man of all classes and was enabled to regain his lost self-respect. He probably would never fit in to the over world because of the underclass characteristics he had acquired in his long and traumatic exile among the subteranneans.
If I had to guess as to how he was offered his newly created position I think it would be his association with the rabbis and his sacred compositions for them. The upper music world of New York is almost all Jewish. Leonard Bernstein himself, then the conductor of the Philharmonic, was himself Jewish and subject to pressure from the rabbis. I’m guessing it was all in the synagogue, but David realized his goal and immediately commemorated it in his memoir. David was only thirty-seven, living today at 87 his life wasn’t even half over.
-IV-
Up to 1967 David’s is an American story. A collection of racial, ethnic and religious heritages to be reconciled: in his case White American, Jew and Negro. The conflation of all three could have destroyed David’s life but he had what it took to blast through to salvation. Salvation to at least 1967, the sequel remains to be seen. David continues his story in a 2008 book he titles Upbeat: Nine Lives Of A Musical Cat. I have yet to read that but I may report on it when I do.
David grew up under a Melting Pot hope of immigration. Under that fantasy the immigrants would gradually assimilate themselves to Anglo-American mores, forget their antecedents and then the US would be a great big harmonious happy family Anglo Saxon family because Anglo-Saxons had discovered he secret of governing. One fault to that theory was that Negroes weren’t immigrants and the Melting Pot theory didn’t include the Negro race. No matter what happened the Negro problem would be insoluble.
The theory also broke down because some immigrant groups wished to impose their mores on the Anglo-Saxons rather than those of the Anglo-Saxons on them. Chief among those were those of David’s Jewish heritage. As it was their intention to impose their mores made it necessary to dissolve the Melting Pot into its constituent parts and then reassemble them under the Jewish aegis. Thus for several years after 1945 it became a custom to have various national festivals in which people dressed in their national dress and did a couple dances. That didn’t last too long because under American conditions it was humiliating; we were supposed to be one and for most other national customs really had no place. The time for that sort of celebration had passed.
David’s Negro heritage was a more convenient lever for disintegration as well as his Jewish heritage itself. Lest we have confusion let me say I share David’s three heritages, as do all Americans whether they realize it or not, plus a heritage of the orphanage and several lesser ones, most notable Polish an English but I consider myself American First, White second and devil take the hindmost. But, we all, because of immigration, share in each and every heritage. The Jews, the Negroes and whoever have given up any exclusivity to their heritage, like it or not.
As there was tremendous White guilt over slavery this was cultivated as the Negro question and was a great tool as witness the White girl Mingus abducted for sexual purposes no doubt and neither she nor her boyfriend nor anyone objected. No other race or nationality could have pulled that off. It is significant that Mingus knew he could. No one has to excuse his conduct because he was Black and objecting would make one a racist. Absolute nonsense. Injustice wherever it is found should be resisted.
It is also indicative of how society had disintegrated when David as a Jew, within the synagogue if I’m correct, had the job of resident composer created just for him.
America rather than being a Melting Pot was being created as diverse before our eyes consolidating under a Jewish aegis.
In order to do that it is necessary to destroy the symbols of power of the dominant culture. Thus, the well documented War on Christmas, reducing it from a national custom to a parochial one, depriving Anglo-Saxon of the notion that America is Christian. This, even though the Jews are only two percent of the population. In the last couple of years any symbol ‘offensive’ to a non-White culture such as statues, trademarks etc. are being forcibly removed by sub-cultures. Not only the Confederate flag but the US flag itself is under assault. The law, the Supreme Court Justices, enforces minority rights against the majority. Since the election of Trump resistance to these encroachments has become permissible but not legal.
The problem is not that sub-cultures want their own monuments that exist along side traditional monuments, names, titles, whatever but that the dominant culture and its monuments shall be replaced by the minority cultures and monuments.
Rather than follow that line of reasoning for the time being I think I will break off here and continue when I have read Amram’s Upbeat, see how the nine lives have worked out.
Red Octopus vs. The Nazi Hydra: Boring From Within
July 11, 2017
The Myth Of The Twenty-First Century
Red Octopus vs. The Nazi Hydra
Boring From Within
by
R.E. Prindle
The whole contest between the Red Octopus and The Nazi Hydra was framed on race. The myth was that the evil White Man through no special talent of his own had seized the wealth of the world and subjected the colored peoples from who he stole. Hence the White Man must be made to pay. Pay with his life.
Thus all the colored peoples of the world are arrayed against the evil White Man. IN the US the Democratic Liberal Party is home to the colored peoples and the sanctimonious White Liberal. The next step in the myth was the White Man as the oppressor of Homosexuals and White Women. The motto of the Octopus is Whiteness must disappear from the earth before justice can reign. The plan of action is: Hey, hey, ho, ho, Western Civilization has got to go.
The myth of the Devil White Man began to form in the wake of WWI and the revolutions and skirmishes that continued for several years. WWII put paid to White Supremacy. The Liberal Coalition that contained only a small minority of White men, and those mostly homosexual, began to organize and as a first attack selected the university system of the US.
The Red Octopus , regardless of their enormous crimes against humanity always considered themselves the virtuous Party. The atrocities of two world wars cooled their ardor for violent action. They chose to bore from within. Always a tactic from WWI and before it now became more active. The first all out assault was the so-called Free Speech Movement at the University of California at Berkeley. The Free Speech Movement was the first Occupy assault. A small faction of revolutionaries managed to shut the University down by occupying Halls and preventing the school from functioning.
The action was called the Free Speech Movement because Free Speech in America is a prime virtue. Thus the slogan or name made the assault defensible as a virtuous action. Of course, within the Red Octopus free speech had no place. One either hewed to the Party line or were disciplined or worse.
The Berkeley assault was entirely successful and free speech disappeared on campus. The Movement soon spread across the country, Columbia University of New York being the prime example but the whole Ivy League succumbed immediately. Moving from Free Speech to race the lack of Negroes attending universities was then included in the list of grievances. Race is another virtue thus reinforcing the impregnable virtue of the Movement.
The remarkable thing about the Movement was the complete surrender of college presidents and faculties. It therefore follows that the college administrations were complicit; they were sleeper agents already in place. The first capitulations set the tone for all that followed. Of course having arrogated virtue to themselves any opposition therefore was vile, and being vile anyone holding other views was discreditable. They automatically became racists, anti-Semites, opposed to Blacks and Browns.
Soon they began to lose their jobs often for something they may have said in private or may have said or only reported to have said decades before. To be accused was to be found guilty; no proof was needed.
Once the universities were captured and cleansed and the curriculums appropriated all else followed.
By the 2016 presidential election the stage for the coup to what was euphemistically called the one party system was set. The Red Octopus would be triumphant.
However the Hydra becoming alarmed managed to put forward an able candidate in Donald Trump who moved to disestablish the Octopus and put in place a Hydra agenda.
The stage has now been set for the Clash of the Titans: a global contest for supremacy between the Red Octopus and the Hydra.
To be continued…
A Review: John Pearson’s The Profession Of Violence
July 2, 2017
A Review: John Pearson’s
The Profession Of Violence
by
R.E. Prindle

John Pearson
Pearson, John: The Profession of Violence, The inside story of the twin brothers who ruled the London underworld. 1973, The Saturday Review Press.
Let us say the inspiration for this essay is John Pearson’s 1973 book. My struggle is trying to put the post war period together especially the contribution of England that so influenced the course of the Sixties in the US after 1964. I think I can use Pearson’s The Profession of Violence as a base.
The criminal Kray Twins are the subject of Pearson’s biography during the period 1956 to 1968. No one in England, except for recent immigrants, will have to ask who the Krays were while the vast majority of Americans and Canadians as well as Mexicans will draw a blank.

David Bailey’s Portrait of Ronnie (front) and Reggie Kray
Quite simply the Krays- Ronnie and Reggie- were the most fearsome villains in England of the period. The English refer to their mobsters as villains and truly there was no English Mafia, just a collection of villains under the hegemony of the Krays. Their notoriety was such that at the height of Swinging London the fashion photographer David Bailey issued a portfolio of photos of England’s scene makers which included the villains Ronnie and Reggie Kray. David Bailey, who is the subject of Fellini’s movie Blow Up was more influential than one might suppose. The Krays were, as Bailey recognized, in many ways the epitome of Swinging England; they were mixed into many things. Their career coincided with the birth of the Sixties and ended in 1968 when they were returned to prison for life thus ending their spectacular career.
David Bailey was criticized for including mere villains in his portfolio, but in fact the Krays made themselves members of the scene as surely as Bailey, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Mary Quant, Twiggy and the rest. The Krays were on their way to acquiring control of the whole record business when the law brought them down.
Really, then, the Krays are part of the generation that spent their youthful years during the Second World War under very harsh living conditions from the War’s end through the Fifties and still into, at least, the early part of the Sixties.
It is difficult to accurately recreate the effect of the destructive war years on post-war Europe and England. France and England were mad to involve themselves in Hitler’s crusade against the Soviet Union except as enablers. The crimes against humanity, the offences against sanity are indescribable. The agony of Russia, horrible conditions of a Germany actually bombed flat and the genocide against them that followed, Northern France shredded by the march of armies more devastating than a sky filled with locusts, swatches of England bombed flat while the cream of their manhood left over from WWI was destroyed by WWII leaving nations with inferior human resources while hordes of women were condemned to live their lives without men.
And the youth, what desperation they faced growing up, what stunted bodies caused by the lack of nutrition, of nearly a full decade on short rations. Strict rationing while a Black Market flourished creating whole new social classes of semi-criminal spivs and wide boys. And to add insult to injury a compulsive National Service of two years just as they were coming were coming into manhood. Not a draft of the less fortunate men as in the US but the whole male population.
When National Service ended in 1960 that whole generation born in from 1938 to 1945 were released from the indignities suffered all their lives. Is it any wonder that the early Sixties in England were characterized as the Swinging Sixties as exuberance burst out all over the place. Release, release, release.
Even in the depths of their desperation a light crossed the ocean from the US in the character of Elvis Presley. Hope in human form. Just as Elvis gave hope to the same age cohort in the US the light of Elvis showed the way for English youth. Music was the path for poor boys to follow to prosperity. Naturally the results weren’t even but neither was the talent.
Those that succeeded had parties where the Groaning Board was truly groaning with all the really good delicacies the earth provided. Strangely the table was just for show. To take vengeance on the deprivation of those early years that generation turned up their noses at all that food, refused to eat it, and it went into the garbage. How many other neuroses and psychoses of those years have had their sources gone unrecognized.
So, the Krays coming into early manhood rose from their difficult conditions, not to mention their origins. They were from the notorious East End, Bethnal Green, a desperate area since Victorian times. It was one of the most heavily bombed areas of London. Ronnie Kray was a certified lunatic, as psychotic as they come. While twin Brother Reggie lived out his life in prison, Ronnie was in an asylum such as Colney Hatch.
Colney Hatch was a legendary asylum of the Victorian era. Its name was legendary in my youth. It was always pronounced Coney Hatch so while in England in 1976 I found myself driving on a street in London where upon looking right I saw a sign saying Colney Hatch. There it was, the legendary insane asylum. Colney, not Coney. Ronnie wasn’t there he was somewhere else.
Thus Ronnie was nuts, his brain probably affected by a serious fever in his childhood, while he exerted a compelling influence over his twin dragging him into infamy as it is told. The old generation of villains was on the way out by the mid-fifties, the Krays barging into the void to establish their hegemony.
Just as the cadre of 1942-43 wanted to indulge themselves so did the returning soldiers and those that stayed behind. There was also a fluttering between socialism and Adam Smith economics, sometimes referred to as Capitalism, the name that is more a Communist smear that disguises its true nature. And the rebuilding of thousands of London’s leveled areas.
It was a time. Not the very worst of times, but not the best either. It was depressing whatever the time was. Is it a coincidence that British youth embraced the US Negro blues as their musical expression? I don’t think so.
As David Bailey, the fashion photographer, recognized, the Krays were not mere villains. They emerged from the underworld into the Twilight World between the Under and Overworld just Over world players like Lord Boothby descended into the Twilight world with the Krays. Caught up into the Twilight World was the whole music industry. It is bonding of these three worlds, the Under, Over and Twilight worlds that this essay is really about.
As might be expected this volatile mix was bound to explode and explode it did in 1963 in what was called the Profumo Affair. If anything the Affair exposed the sexual underside of London society. But not completely . There was a homosexual underside involving the three worlds and ones of which the Krays or at least Ronnie was central. And this homosexual underside extended almost universally into the music business.
A little more background. Gambling had been illegal in England until that magic year of 1960. In that magic year England legalized gambling. This Act alone probably did more to create the Twilight World than any other. Now clubs were established that brought the Under and Over Worlds together, shoulder to shoulder. Now Ronnie and Reggie felt themselves to be elevated, rubbing shoulders with the Old Nobility, the Upper Crust, the cream of London society.
Lots of people gambled and gambled stupidly. Prominent for this essay are gamblers like Brian Epstein, the manager of the Beatles and the premier art dealer of the period, Groovy Bob Fraser. And binding the whole thing together like a taut rubber band, drugs. Heroin, cocaine, pot and the whole pharmacopeia. Uppers and downers. Society had found the perfect brew to corrupt it completely. Sex, drugs and gambling. A soul destroying combination. A descent into hell. And was this a coincidence? What should appear at the same time but a nascent Satanism to give definition to the emerging Weltanschauung.
Criminals always go where the money is, one place the money seemed to be was in the music and recording industry. Rock and roll, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Donovan. For younger readers the music world was a different place than today. It was much smaller with minimal presence on TV and no videos. Hits were not instantaneous world wide but took weeks to get started in a key market like New York or LA and cross country. London was a separate market just emerging on the larger global stage. Much of the English repertoire originated in the US and was then recorded by British artists.
After the Beatles hit in the US in 1964 Swinging London furnished the world with its premier rock groups, those already mentioned, The Yardbirds, the Animals, the Dave Clark Five, on the list grows. Many of these groups were clustered around single managers thus if you co-opted a manager a gaggle of groups came with him.
I wasn’t in the record business in the first surge of English rock but I was by the second from 1967 on. I owned significant record stores in Eugene and Portland Oregon. Not world centers but its not what you do but how you do it. I did it. It’s not what you see but how you see it. I saw it. I never left the Overworld and I never entered the Twilight World but I was positioned to see over the dividers. I had to deal with Twilight Worlders and brushed against Underworlders.
John Pearson who only provides a base for the essay doesn’t touch on many activities of the Krays. I’m not sure he wanted to deal with the Krays but as the saying goes, they made an offer…. At any rate Pearson soon realized that he was in deep dangerous waters. He was learning things he didn’t want to know. The Krays took him on in 1967 as the first Sixties were in transition to the second Sixties. In 1968 the Krays would be behind bars for good. The Krays are said to have been calling the shots from prison still while Over/Twilight world characters such as the homosexuals Tom Driberg and Lord Boothby were still around and were not less dangerous than the Krays in their own way. Pearson trimmed his wick accordingly. Little is said of Boothby and nothing about the homosexual Twilight World. That would be coming out later.
Homosexuality and Rock and Roll. Did you ever see Mick Jagger prance or mount his forty foot inflatable penis on stage in front of tens of thousands people? There’s story here.
2.
So, now, we’re going to have to take an excursion. It is rather difficult to locate an entry point here but I’m going to select a much overlooked player by the name of Spanish Tony Sanchez. Tony may not be an unfamiliar name to most, perhaps, while those that know the name may not know the man bearing it or are perhaps hostile because of Tony’s realistic if unflattering books about the Stones: Up And Down With The Rolling Stones and I Was Keith Richard’s Drug Dealer. The latter is a variation of the former adding material but not a different book. Tony also had a relationship with the chanteuse Marianne Faithfull. Altogether he is a unifying factor in the story.
Tony as a teenager was fascinated by the Underworld, so he decided to become a villain. Naturally he took an entry level job at one of the clubs as a protégé of Albert Dimes, a villain from the old guard. While sitting around a bar before work one day he struck up a conversation with the rising art dealer, Robert Fraser. Known as Groovy Bob Fraser, he was more well known than Tony while also being an influential player. Fraser apprenticed in the art world in the NYC of Andy Warhol. For those not familiar with Warhol, and believe me, there are many, he was the foremost Pop artist of the Sixties and the most renowned of that group. Fraser then joined the Pop movement introducing Pop art to England upon his return in 1962.
As he and Tony talked at the bar, conversation turned, as they did at that time, to drugs. Seeing an opening Tony related that he had access to drugs, heroin being Fraser’s drug of choice, and could supply as much as was needed. There is no friendship so fast as that between a dealer and his addict. Tony and Bob became fast friends.
Groovy Bob Fraser ran a sort of musical salon. His art dealings were an entrée into the rock scene. He began to provide artworks to Paul McCartney of the Beatles. Having established that connection while being able to supply drugs, at a profit of course, to his circle of rockers his circle of rockers grew. When Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones was drawn into his circle he tried to sell him art works too. While Mick was wary of investing in art he and the Stones as a group were just coming on so Mick really didn’t have the money, but he did have money for drugs. One doesn’t put off buying drugs just because the funds are low. Groovy Bob had ins with the rock community.
He was not only an addict, but a homosexual and not only that but a gambler; three of the most potent human failures.
Now, in 1960 England legalized gambling. The Krays were attracted to gambling as easy money. Through a questionable chain of circumstances, they were criminals, an early period ramshackle gambling club called Esmeralda’s Barn found a way into the Krays’ hands. If you see pictures of Esmeralda’s Barn it is less than appealing compared even to the Vegas of the time or London clubs as they became. As shabby as it was it was the no. 1 club.
Of course, Groovy Bob could be found trying to find his groove at the tables. I don’t know why they call it gambling because it is a sure bet that you lose. Insuperable odds are against you. Oh, sure the odds are that a player can have a hot streak and win but it is a certainty that if you begin with a certain amount it must diminish to nothing.
With Bob’s luck he ran in negative numbers hoping to make two negatives a positive as by some miracle they do on paper. Bob wrote paper backed by nothing. As was inevitable in those circumstances the Krays were holding a lot of Bob’s worthless paper. Now the circle enlarges. Spanish Tony believing himself to be a villain of some worth offered to intercede for friend Bob with the notorious villains Ronnie and Reggie Kray. Here’s why Pearson titles his book The Profession of Violence. Ronnie was famous for the stunt of forcing a sword crosswise into the mouth of a man called David Litvinoff giving him a permanent rictus sardonicus. They dangled men out windows of tall buildings by their ankles, unpredictable fellows, or predictable, depending on how you looked at it.
Tony entered this lion’s den, still an apprentice villain, and came out smiling believing he had worked out a deal. The deal involved making a percentage of the checks good but that involved having money so the ever wily Groovy bob continued to be evasive. No, no, don’t get up for a potty run this is just getting good.
Pearson probably had good reasons for leaving this sort of stuff out of the book. On the one hand he may not have known about it and on the other he may not have thought it important. While as with the subject of Lord Boothby that we’ll leave for later, he may have thought it expedient to maintain a discreet silence.
One of the Krays many ‘business’ ventures was the protection racket that was working out pretty well for them. They had a deal with the US Mafia that when Mob artists such as Judy Garland or Johnny Ray were visiting England the Kays provided protection for them. The American mob had their claws into a large stable of entertainers. They suggested that maybe the Krays might find that lucrative in England. The Krays did think it would be lucrative and acting on somewhat less than the spur of the moment went about trying to take over the rock and roll scene.
The Krays could not operate above ground as they had felony convictions and so were unable to obtain licenses; however, older brother Charlie Kray who had a clean record could. So they kept Charlie clean and recruited an old Bethnal Green chum Laurie O’ Leary to run clubs. They made their move. As part of their move they conceived the notion of taking over the Beatles from Brian Epstein.
This may sound far fetched at first, but consider: Epstein had all three knocks against him. He was a homosexual, a druggie, and a gambler who played Esmeralda’s Barn. He was fair game. The Krays had been advised by wiser heads than theirs to forget attempting he Beatles. There were numerous good reasons why it was ill advised but, knock, knock, knock, the Krays had all three against themselves too.
So, disregarding all the negatives the Krays went ahead. First they called in Spanish Tony because they knew that Groovy Bob had an in with McCartney and that meant the Beatles. They made a deal through Tony that Fraser’s debts would be forgiven if he could reel the Beatles in.
One objection that had been raised to them by the wisest criminal head in the British Isles was that above ground businesses were much more difficult businesses to run than knock ‘em on the head criminal businesses. The devil was in the details.
Having Charlie and Laurie O’ Leary above ground Ronnie and Reggie thought they had that angle covered.
I think Groovy Bob was trying the delicate job of bringing the Beatles in but deciding the proper course of action was interpreted as procrastination by the Krays so they decided on more direct action. They called Brian Epstein for a sit down to discuss transferring title to them.
Well, you know, things that seem so simple when you don’t have all the facts can get pretty complicated. The truth of the matter is that Brian ‘Knock Three Times’ Epstein had bitten off more than he could chew.
It seems certain that neither Epstein or even anyone in the English record industry could have imagined that the Beatles would ever become the worldwide phenomenon that they did. Heck, they were the first of the kind. The Beatles opened the door but I doubt any group since has captured the hearts and minds of all but a few the way they did. Their Sgt. Peppers album issued in the summer of 1967 became a core strut in the psyche of more than one generation that summer. I would rate it as the most influential pop icon of all time. Today they are even celebrating the fiftieth year since its release with all kinds of hoopla.
It is doubtful that Epstein even imagined success on an English scale of any magnitude. In all likelihood he had a crush on John Lennon as Brian was a homosexual. All the aspiring musicians wanted to have a record released, a record…the Holy Grail and not that hard to obtain. Having met Lennon and learned that that was John’s grail Epstein signed the unheard of group from the English backwater town of Liverpool and then went to London to see if he could get a 45 rpm pressed. Albums weren’t that big at that time.
Now, consider, the Beatles had no reputation outside Liverpool. Was it wishful thinking, invincible hope, that Epstein actually thought he was going to get a record label to sign this bunch of boisterous unknowns to a contract? It just isn’t that easy. But Brian who ran the NEMS record store in Liverpool was a big account so maybe that opened the door. You know, it’s not that big a deal to humor an account, do it, and then he’ll go away.
One imagines that Brian’s thinking was that John gets his record as a present and then Brian would proposition him. There are reports that Brian was successful in this wish. One can imagine his and the label’s eyes popping wide when the Beatles hit and big in England. Recreating the push in the US seemed more than difficult, English groups and rockers had had no future in the US . They just didn’t have it. Tommy Steele, a big thing before the Beatles in England didn’t even make a sound when he flopped in the US.
When the Beatles were going to try the US it was a forgone conclusion that there was no hope that they would succeed. Indeed, before their arrival in the US an album full of songs on Veejay, a nondescript label, was completely ignored. The EMI subsidiary in the US, Capitol Records, had refused the album. Nineteen sixty-four was apparently their destiny and the result was like tornadoes and a hurricane converging. They owned the airwaves with the same songs that had been rejected on Veejay.
Epstein has been derided for not being adept enough to take full advantage of the situation. Caught in the perfect storm in his little canoe, what could he do? He had no experience outside Liverpool, a mere babe in the woods not only in London but the whole world. How could he navigate without a compass? Who was there that could guide him? No one in the world was any more prepared than he.
The result was a tragi-comedy. As fate would have it not only were the Beatles the performers of the century but Lennon and McCartney were the songwriters of the century. They turned out songs by the ream. Epstein signed a bunch of non-descript performers, supplied them with Lennon & McCartney songs and they all had hits. Epstein seemed like a genius but he was only a lucky bum.
And what did it get him? He was sitting across from the two biggest villains in England, murderers, demanding he give them the Beatles.
Well, they didn’t know what Epstein knew. He had gambled away his own money as well as a large chunk of the Beatles. His control would expire in a few months and he feared the Beatles wouldn’t resign at which point he would be in ruins. Brian Epstein did not have an ace in the hole.
The Krays, their blood up, couldn’t understand that NO was a one syllable word. They called Brian in for another tete a tete. We don’t know what was said. What we do know is that Brian drove straight home, locked himself in his room and was found dead the next morning. Whatever was said in the face to face it prevented Brian from imagining a tomorrow.
-3-
How to get the context right? In the course of their careers the Krays in a limited manner were integrated into the Twilight World between the Underworld and the Overworld. The Profumo Affair, mentioned before was only a tip of the iceberg. The whole iceberg might be represented by the rise of Satanism which by the early Sixties was slowly surfacing. The basis of the Satanism was the former leader of the cult The Golden Dawn, Aleister Crowley. Crowley died in 1947. His cult grew.
His cult was based on sex magic which aligned him with Freud and Freud’s acolyte the sex magician, Wilhelm Reich. Thus during the Fifties and into Sixties this threesome exerted a powerful influence on sexual mores. Thus, from about the year 1900 Crowley’s ideas and practices, joined by those of Freud and Reich, were slowly filtering into English society corroding the Godly morality into the Satanic. The manipulation is represented in many ways. A transition point from the Godly religion to the Satanic religion happened in 1966. In that year Time magazine in the US published an issue with the cover asking the question, Is God Dead? The answer of course was Yes. This caused a short uproar from the Christians which was probably suppressed. Unnoticed for what it was was a novel titled Rosemary’s Baby published in the same year followed by a movie version in the next year in which Rosemary gave birth to the Son of Satan, little Andy. Thus, the symbolic transfer from the Godly to the Satanic was effected. It is no coincidence that the Manson Affair took place in 1969 in Los Angeles.
It may be a coincidence but the Sgt. Pepper’s LP of the Beatles was released in 1967 with its cover that amazed the world. The cover has been a topic of conversation ever since, now fifty years later. Now the instigator for the design of the cover was Groovy Bob Fraser who was at time under pressure from the Krays to deliver the Beatles to them.
The hard work was done by two other artists, Peter Blake and Jill Haworth with possible input from McCartney. The cover is open to interpretation and been interpreted in different ways, none very satisfactory. I have little knowledge of a correct reading of the cover and offer this as a mere possibility, maybe unconscious on the part or the artists but this interpretation fits the social conditions of the times as well.
The official explanation is that it is an allegory for the Beatles’ transition from the Mop Tops to a serious R&R band. This is certainly valid. The cover shows the Beatles as dead and buried along with their ghosts looking on standing to the left of their reincarnation as Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Still, as there is also a transition from the Godly to the Satanic the scene might also be read as the death of God, as the Beatles are in somber colors and the birth of Satan in the gaudy colors and bizarre outfits of Sgt. Pepper’s. Remember the album was released in 1967 after the Time cover, the book Rosemary’s Baby and more or less simultaneously with Roman Polansky’s movie version.
Filling the rest of the cover is a gallery of 70 historical figures. While these are supposed to represent the Beatles’ close influences actually only 20 some were recommended by the Beatles while one of Lennon’s choices, Adolf Hitler, was rejected. That means that the rest of the pictures were chosen by Groovy Bob and the artists Peter Blake and Jill Haworth, with possible input by others. If one examines the carefully they make the major influences of the English mind of the generation with generous overlap to the US.
At the left top of the cover, overlooking the assemblage, is the dominating face of Aleister Crowley. So, an immediate connection with Satanism is made. Running through the photos and their portrayals a rather dark influence on the mind of the generation is indicated.
This is perhaps to be expected given the youthful experiences of the generation. It comes clearer why the English musicians chose the Negro blues as their means of expressing their psyches. Their psyches were borne down by the sorrows of the Forties and Fifties. Remember the generation only began expressing itself at the end of the Fifties and the beginning of the Sixties. Both the Fifties and the Sixties are sacred decades.
While the Beatles began as chirpers they rapidly turned dark and brooding. And that in such a manner that Charles Manson is said by some to be their disciple. Emerging just behind them were the Rolling Stones, a truly dark and nasty group that openly embraced Satanism. They also passed through Groovy Bob’s Academy of Darkness. Here they especially came into contact with avatars of darkness.
As noted Bob Fraser spent the first couple of years in NYC learning his trade. He met another avatar of darkness there, Andy Warhol. Into the group came the founder of the US Church of Satan, Anton La Vey from San Francisco. Also inducted into Satanism in a serious way was the Angel of the Hipsters, Marianne Faithfull. She would be a sort of guide for her paramour Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones.
Let us leave the Fraser crowd for a while and return to the Krays who would become involved with the Fraser set. While the Twilight World of the hipster underground was becoming enmeshed in the toils of Satanism, the ideology also influenced the Overworld. The Profumo Affair expressed the Overground political cadre mixed with the Twilight World, the Underworld and the Homosexual underground as epitomized by Lord Boothby.
The Homosexual underground was especially nasty while intimately involved with the Underworld of the Krays. The homosexual influence in England during the Sixties is astounding. This group, that included the politician Tom Driberg who was influential with Mick Jagger was especially enamored with young boys and men, thus guilty of innumerable charges of statutory rape. One of their sources for boys came through Ronnie Kray who had access to boys from orphanages. The boys were checked out used and returned, something like a lending library. On at least one occasion a boy was murdered, dismembered, stuffed into a suitcase and left by the side of the road. There was an attempt to expose Boothby but he was able to publicly defy and chastise the newspaper that tried.
The matter came to a head when Ronnie Kray lost his. By 1966-67 the Krays were riding high, open celebrities, seeming invulnerable to the law. But then, in a fit of exuberance Ronnie thought himself superior to Boothby, threatening him and knocking him about. Unrestrained violence was verboten in Boothby’s homosexual underground. So, in beating Boothby Ronnie signed the Kray’s arrest warrant. The good reason for arresting the Krays was the murder of a villain, Jack McVie, and the means for putting the Twins away for life. The real reason, I maintain, is that when Ronnie used violence on Boothby, the latter realizing his danger turned the police loose on the gangsters to do their job. As his procurer, Boothby may have been protecting Ronnie.
The Kray reign of terror, then, effectively came to an end in 1968 when they received life sentences. In the meantime they had begun their takeover attempt of the music industry. I am going to concentrate on only one thread, that of Robert Fraser along with Spanish Tony Sanchez.
Groovy Bob through Warhol was into Satanism. He brought Kenneth Anger of LA over. Anger was an all around weirdo and bore L-U-C-I-F-E-R tattooed in big letters on his chest. He fancied he was the Great Satan. As a Satanist he was associated with Anton LaVey of SF. Also a homosexual he made a series of short films that allowed him to bill himself as an underground filmmaker. His films aren’t much but people who like that sort of thing think they’re great.
Through Fraser Anger became familiar with Marianne Faithfull and hence Mick Jagger. Marianne especially became involved in Satanism on the one hand through the Satanic Process Church Of The Final Judgment and on the other being familiar with Satanic literature including ETA Hoffman’s The Devil’s Elixir and Bulgakov’s The Master And Margarita. She apparently really internalized the books.
It should be noted that when the Stones are mentioned here it really means the two principals Jagger and the guitarist Keith Richards. The other three Stones are not involved in the first two’s escapades. Of them, Keith became a total junkie with substantial needs. There to fill those needs was Fraser’s heroin dealer Spanish Tony. The Stones (read: Jagger and Richards) gave him the nickname simply because he was Spanish.
Tony then became Keith’s main supplier and almost a member of the inner circle very closely connected. As mentioned one of the titles of his books was I Was Keith Richards’ Drug Dealer. Now, Keith put Tony on salary at 250 pounds a week or 18,000 pounds a year, an astonishingly high salary for the times. Keith was not known for being that generous. There must have been a reason. Unable to get their hooks into the Beatles I’m speculating that they forced Tony on Keith’s payroll and were taking a substantial cut of Tony’s pay as a way to get a hook into the Stones or at least part of the take. At any rate Tony became for all purposes a sixth stone while appropriating Mick’s castoff Marianne for his own.
At one time Tony set up a club with gang money provided either by Albert Dimes or the Krays called the Vesuvius. As many key music figures attended the opening it may be assumed that whoever was behind Tony thought that it would become a real money maker. It didn’t pan out. Tony didn’t know how to manage it.
Eventually Tony’s presence wore thin while with the Kray’s in prison control became a little looser. Conditions between Keith and Tony became strained and more distant. Keith was living in Switzerland while Tony was in England. Keith still needed his dope so he would have Tony fly to Switzerland with a supply. Tony wasn’t a fool so he was appropriately suspicious of a set up. He didn’t carry himself, he employed a mule for that.
He also feared for his life thinking, probably with good reason that Keith would have him killed. Indeed, Ronnie died before Reggie and Reggie Kray died in 2000. Tony immediately faked his death and disappeared. So far no record of Tony’s death exists. Keith, of course, is going along as merrily as ever. Although, Anita Pallenberg’s recent demise was taken hard by Keith. Our condolences.
-4-
It should be noted that nothing of this is reported by Pearson as he may not have been aware of portions of it while much of it occurred after 1973 when his book was published. When he says that he was learning things he didn’t want to know perhaps the Boothby and Satanist aspects are what he is talking about or perhaps he knew little or nothing about either. At present there is a fair amount of information about the homosexual network that revolved around Boothby while, so far as my researches have taken me there is not much about Robert Fraser and his Satanist influence on the scene. I have seen nothing relating Satanism to the Sgt. Pepper’s cover although there is evidence that McCartney knew something about the Satanist scene as he should have from association with Fraser.
It is important to know that there are degrees of familiarity. For instance, by the late Sixties, Satanism was in the air. I, for instance, heard references but I found it incredible that anyone could believe in the existence of Satan at that late date. I thought it was like an interest in the Rosicrucians or some such. I know people who evidently were familiar with the Satanist Anton LaVey but I had never heard of him to that point while if I had I had no interest and if I had I wouldn’t have had the time or inclination to search further.
Yet, looking back, Satanism was quite strong. As far as I was concerned the strong connection of Jimmy Page, the guitarist for Led Zeppelin was merely rumor. As I was to learn, not so. The Eagles’ Hotel California song refers to La Vey but it made no connection with me although many were in awe of it. When I began to study the Beatles, Stones and British rock scene the Satanism became more real.
While one may think that it was only rock and roll the fact of the matter is that the rock groups and personnel were educating a generation or two and teaching them Satanic ways while disparaging God. Drugs, sex, Satanism, revolutions and rock n’ roll, a neat package. Massive stadium filled concerts. Hypnotic rhythms, the madness of crowds, suggestive lyrics, wild hysteria in the stands, a perfect storm for implanting post hypnotic directions. The Rolling Stones were probably the leaders. The apex of the whole thing, from the English side, occurred in 1966-67. That was really the end or the beginning of the end of Swinging London. As the Stones sang: It’s all over now.
Two key events were the Redlands bust that sent Jagger and Richards to jail, albeit for a very brief time while Groovy Bob Fraser was caught in the snare and did some real time. He never recovered on his release in 1968 so as the lynch pin of that particular musical moment, things fell apart and English R&R entered a new and particularly potent phase that might be called The Sixties Part 2.
In the US where the Fifties style of R&R had been blown away by the British Invasion a recovery began in ’66-’67 that restored some balance while leaving Swinging England behind. The Hippie phase began that triumphed on both sides of the Atlantic.
To return to London. Satanism had taken hold and a man named Donald Cammell decided to make a movie portraying the seedy side of London and R&R and did a bang up job of it. He chose as his lead actor Mick Jagger and some of the Stones entourage. Marianne Faithfull was slated to play the female lead but she contracted pregnancy and was replaced by Keith’s girlfriend, Anita Pallenberg.
Donald Cammell was a lost soul. His father had been an intimate of the arch Satanist Aleister Crowley and had written a biography of him. Donald Cammell had known Crowley. One might say he was raised on Satanism. At one time a successful portrait painter, he had grown weary of the discipline seeking another side of life out there on the wild side in the degenerate world of Bohemianism.
From painting he edged into movie making. He was something of an auteur playing out his subconscious on the screen and not all so subconscious. He was at the time married to Debra Dixon, a model of some taste. Not much has been written about her, but she seems like a subject of some interest but perhaps few sales.
Cammell’s movie unites the most significant trends of the Sixties. If you have the requisite background knowledge it makes for a better movie. The Sixties had seen a Negro invasion of England mostly from the islands of the West Indies. As was expected there was resentment and resistance to this invasion that was overruled by this what? evangelical religious notion of the brotherhood of man and White guilt for having conquered the world? Who are these devious people who have infiltrated the power centers of the world in such a way that they can negate the will of the majority. Who can force on the majority their Weltanschauung that defies all human nature? It seems to be their will that as the West had conquered all peoples that those peoples will now invade the West and destroy its civilization. Who are they? What are their wellsprings of power? Still, while Negroes kept on coming there was no place for them to live. No Englishman wanted to rent to them.
The problem was solved, in part, by an enterprising Jew whose English name was Peter Rachman. Rachman too had survived the war but was permanently ditso by it although according to his biographer Shirley Green (Rachman: The Slum Landlord Whose Name Became A Byword For Evil) the people who knew him well spoke well of him, but the people who knew him well were sleazy people too. He probably didn’t have much of a notion of how people perceived what he was doing.
He finagled decrepit properties which were well beyond the fixer upper stage of deterioration, well into the tear down stage, of which there appears to have been plethora in the Notting Hill area and rented them piecemeal to the Negroes. As they had little money Rachman would rent out each room of each house, perhaps to two or three tenants, he would rent the toilet as a separate residence. It was amazing how many people he could pack into a falling down house. Much of the rental money came from government subsidization.
The Negro men had no trouble finding White women to cohabit with them, then put out on the streets as prostitutes; in fact the two key women in the Profumo Affair came from this environment while pros Mandy Rice was Rachman’s mistress. The house Cammell used in the film was one of Rachman’s located on Powis Square in Notting Hill.
As a Bohemian Cammell was also interested in crime, as a Kray type criminal is a co-protagonist with the Jagger lead. The actor James Fox was required to immerse himself in the gangster life style for months under the tutelage of David Litvinoff, he who had his mouth widened by Ronnie’s sword. It was a devastating experience that sidelined him from acting for years.
Jagger plays Turner, a rock star whose career has entered the downhill slide. His living in Notting Hill was proof enough of how far downhill he had slid. So, in an amazing but degenerate, Satanic, way Cammell ties the whole period together. The images are accurate portrayals of the ideals of the class on both sides of the Atlantic. While the movie was filmed in 1967, production problems delayed its release until 1970, then heavily edited, even expurgated, by which time its impact was lost.
The second key event was the Redlands bust that took place at Keith’s Redlands house in Sussex. The reporting of this event usually reflects amazement that the police would arrest drug users. Drugs were illegal. Everyone in the US who used marijuana lived in fear of being arrested. The sentences were draconian. Paranoia was one of the most used words of the decade. People got incredibly long sentences for possessing one joint. Murderers were released during the Sixties after serving perhaps only three years put a pot smoker could disappear for decades.
Anyone as high profile as the Rolling Stones who were synonymous with heroin and drug use in general, rather exaggerated or not, ought to have been aware that they were under surveillance. There are murky circumstances surrounding their bust but then there may be murky circumstances surrounding any bust. A couple of people are sitting smoking on a rock in the middle of a forest when a policeman strolls up? Well, right.
In the case of the Stones’ bust they were in Keith’s isolated house making no disturbance when a couple dozen cops burst in. Yes, somebody must have notified the police. It is not my intention to go into the details of the bust as they are well described in several books. In fact, Simon Wells wrote a 300 pager about it: Butterfly On A Wheel, The Great Rolling Stones Drug Bust. A good demystifying account can be found in Simon Spence’s history of Andrew Oldham’s Immediate Records label in the chapter It’s All Over Now.
What is important for this essay is Mick Jagger’s reaction to the bust.
-5-
The difficulty here is not what happened but the underlying psychology. The world as it existed before WWII had disappeared by war’s end. The generations that spanned WWI and II enduring the extreme economic uncertainties of the thirties had left their mark on those generations. The Generation from 1938 to 1945 that became aware in the fifties knew nothing of what their fathers and mothers experienced while they reacted to the world that existed to their senses, thus there was no gradual transition through generations. The interconnectedness had been cut off cleanly and sharply as the post-war world began.
The old forms, especially musical forms died away while the post-war musical forms gradually shaped into the music of rock and roll. That musuc was alien to the war and pre-war generations, which had stopped evolving under the stresses of memories of the Depression and WWII. Thus, there were not only the normal generational differences but youth was virtually a different species, indeed, the name teenagers first came into use at this time. The older generations did not want to share power with a generation they couldn’t understand and actually despised so the up and coming young were shunned by the older generations who couldn’t understand what the younger generation ‘wanted.’
This was made clear to us when Jagger fresh from jail after the bust was summoned to a meeting, delivered by helicopter, with the people who were basically persecuting him and demanded that Jagger tell them, the older generation, exactly and specifically what his generation wanted so they could give it and understand what was going on so the conflict could be ended. Of course, Jagger was no spokesman for the generation, he was just a singer in a rock and roll band. I’m sure he hadn’t a clue about what was puzzling them while he obviously had no answers.
My understanding of it was that the generation didn’t want anything out of the ordinary, we just wanted to live our lives in the manner we chose. There wasn’t anything to understand.
The world as presented to the generation was just different than the pre-war and war that the older generations were trying to replicate in this different world. While they had their Depression of which we knew nothing, we were growing up in the shadow of Hiroshima. The A-bomb and instant annihilation was an ever present threat. So they mocked Jagger for not being the spokesman of the generation and derogatively dismissed him. While he arrived stylishly on a helicopter they now showed him the back door to exit and find his own way home. It really was enough to piss Jagger off especially as he had just gotten out of jail.
Now, Jagger and the generation had become aware about 1954-55, after a childhood of desperation and deprivation. Having endured that they were faced with their eighteenth and nineteenth years in the enforced servitude of the armed forces, putting their lives on the line. That was a bleak way to begin life. Who needed it?
Perhaps the more sensitive turned inward into the world of music, sex and drugs and, more importantly, revolution. When, in the movie The Wild Ones, the actor Marlon Brando was asked what he was revolting against, he replied, Whaddya got? While that line got a laugh it was probably the truest answer Brando’s character could give. We wanted a way out but we couldn’t find the door.
When the National Service ended in 1960 the generation was freed from an odious obligation. Jagger and Richards were freed from that servitude. They joined the band that Brian Jones was forming. It appears that Jagger was the only member who was political and he was Communist/Socialist. He attended the London School of Economics, the LSE, a Communist college while the band was developing in 1963. There is an anomaly in Jagger’s behavior at this time that needs explaining.
David Bailey, the Vogue fashion photographer, was also a revolutionist, I’m not aware of his politics otherwise, or, at least a spectacular hell raiser. In 1962 Anthony Burgess published his novel, A Clockwork Orange. The book was made into the movie of the same name in 1971. The book sold well but the movie was a real game changer. It is perhaps the most Satanic movie ever made and if not most, right up there in the top tier. The 1971 movie, directed by Stanley Kubrick was pure evil.
I have read the book but I found it dull and sentimental. It may be said, I didn’t get it. The wild boys did, David Bailey did. He, in conjunction with Jagger bought the movie rights from Burgess. Further, Bailey had a plan to make a movie. He went to New York, perhaps to shop the book around and raise money but ended up selling the rights to the artist Andy Warhol, hell raiser deluxe. Andy was just getting into making his special vision of movies.
Bailey took Jagger along. Where Jagger got the money to buy in isn’t clear. And why Bailey chose Jagger to join in is mysterious too. It is true that at the time Bailey was dating the model Jean Shrimpton and Jagger was dating her sister Chrissie but Bailey was very successful and worldly while Jagger was a college student and a fledgling unknown singer in an amateurish rock and roll band. One wonders what Bailey saw in Jagger that turned out to be justified. Perhaps there is something involved in the London School of Economics that we don’t know about.
At any rate, unless Jagger had funds that we don’t know about, Bailey paid Jagger’s way to NYC for whatever reasons we don’t know about where the duo sold the rights to A Clockwork Orange to Andy Warhol. All three, Bailey, Jagger and Warhol become fairly close the rest of their lives until Andy died for real in 1987.
Warhol did make a movie said to be based on the book but you couldn’t tell it by watching the movie. The rights eventually ended up in Kubrick’s hands who made the commercial film. Bailey and Jagger returned to England. At any rate Jagger had connected solidly with Warhol and that would payoff when the Stones arrived in the US in 1964.
Upon Jagger’s return to England, the career of the Rolling Stones began. The first period was from 1963 to 1966 at which time according to Keith he and Mick and run out steam, completely exhausted. A short three years before neither Jagger nor Richards had written a song; by 1966 after a spectacular series of hits they had written themselves out, not unlike Dylan whose first phase also ended in ’66. Thus, as the First Sixties ended the Beatles, Stones and Dylan, the three most important artists of the First Sixties and, indeed, perpetually from then on, were in disarray. All three had to reinvent themselves just as the establishment of Satanism took place. What a coincidence, hey?
Still, for Jagger and Richards ’66 and ’67 would be transformative years, the transformation made urgent their arrest for possession of drugs. By 1966 the Stones as a group and Jagger and Richards specifically were thought to be heavily into drugs. They may or may not have been but if so it as mainly LSD. LSD was only made illegal in 1966 so that in 1967 it was kind of edgy in my opinion to prosecute for it as any hippie used pre-1967 may not have known it had been made illegal.
The drug charges were extremely flimsy. Jagger, for instance, was convicted on the basis of having four tabs of prescription amphetamines. Amphetamines also had been legal over the counter until 1964 when retail sales were stopped but prescriptions were still legal so Jagger’s defense was still valid. Perhaps that is what so enraged him, the charge was not only trumped up but invalid.
Richard’s charge also was very questionable. He was charged with keeping a house for pot smoking. Absurd on the face of it, although he and his friends did smoke marijuana. But, there is justification for both to believe that they were singled out as high profile examples.
The effect on Jagger’s psyche was devastating. Depending on how serious his Satanic investigations were before his arrest he definitely turned Satanic after. Marianne Faithfull herself was deeply into Satanism bringing such texts as Hoffman’s The Devil’s Elixir and Bulgakov’s The Master And Margarita to his attention. The devil’s brew began working on his mind. The first manifestation was the disc Their Satanic Majesties Request in which Jagger sings in the title song: Let me introduce myself… and the introduction was to Satan. At that point, then, Jagger was beginning to assume his role as the Great Satan. He opposed himself to God on the one hand and to the British government on the other as British passports began with Her Britannic Majesty…Requests….
As this mood or fantasy was developing Donald Cammell the movie maker showed up to offer Jagger his role in Cammell’s movie Performance which began filming in July of 1968. This film role was to have an even more devastating role on Jagger’s psyche as it defined his character. Marianne who was close to Jagger at that time said that he began as one person and came out another and never left the role again.
Indeed, the notion of being Satan fermented in his mind probably accentuated by the Satanist Kenneth Anger with whom Jagger collaborated in Anger’s film projects into 1972. Having finished filming Performance Jagger concluded he too could make a film expressing his own anger. That film was made at the end of ’68 titled Rock And Roll Circus. British intelligence was nicknamed The Circus so once again Jagger voiced his resentment of the government.
The film is an alright Rock and Roll film while as a first effort is not all that bad. As with all Rock and Roll films music is front and center. The invited audience are all dressed in yellow and orange Munchkin outfits for some reason, colorful enough. The message of the film is saved for last as the band plays Sympathy For The Devil. During a long instrumental Jagger gets down on his knees and grovels about with what, I suppose, is meant to be a Satanic leer; then he slowly pulls off his shirt, standing up to reveal a tattoo, or inking I hope, on his chest spelling out L-U-C-I-F-E-R identical to the tattoo on Kenneth Anger’s chest. Thus, one is led to believe, the metamorphosis is complete and Jagger has become Satan. One toke over the line.
Then in 1969 Jagger collaborated with Anger in his short film, Invocation To My Demon Brother. The movie represents a Black Mass in which Jagger is credited with a part, or appearance, but I couldn’t pick him out. He did however perform what purports to be a sound track on the synthesizer, one atonal riff repeated throughout the eleven minute film.
Then, to cap the period, on December 6th, 1969 came the Altamont disaster for Jagger and the Stones. The concert was ill conceived and poorly executed. The choice of location was abominable. The Altamont Pass from the Bay Area into California’s Great Valley in December is cold and very windy, strong breezes. The so-called race track they performed on was just a big barren field, a kind of natural bowl. The track had last served as a Demolition Derby so a few old wrecked hulks were strewn across it. A very unpleasant place to sit for a few hours waiting for a concert. Put anybody in a bad mood.
This was not 1965 when some fresh faced kids were trying out marijuana it was now almost 1970 and the audience was battle hardened have been blowing their minds out for at least five years and they looked it; a fairly depressing scene. Of course the Hell’s Angel Motorcycle Club was providing security. These guys were some of the most objectionable people in the Bay Area. But don’t say I said it.
So, in this scene from a frigid hell Mick Jagger in the heights of his Satanic glory, dressed as God only knows what, pranced on stage and launched into Sympathy For The Devil. The scene should have scripted by Charles Manson. There was a killing? What else would you expect?
True, there had been changes of sites each spiraling downward but then events reach their natural levels, don’t they? The Sixties had hit rock bottom and then they were no more. Where was there to go from there?
Fresh troops were arriving. Leading the Satanic corps was Jimmy Page and Led Zeppelin. Mick and the Stones who were having management problems with the equally Satanic Allen Klein changed over to the more gentlemanly Prince (no kidding) Rupert Loewenstein who reorganized the group’s concert methods and put them on the road with stadium concerts to make money as Klein had confiscated their intellectual properties to all the pre-1970 material.
Continuing with Clockwork Orange themes Mick put on some of the raunchiest shows ever seen, not only stretching the envelope but making a new much larger one. Corruption of youth was Mick’s business. But that’s another story; this one ends here.
A Beatles Fantasia: John Lennon In Leather
September 25, 2016
A Beatles Fantasia:
John Lennon In Leather
R. E. Prindle

December 1961: Singer, guitarist and songwriter John Lennon (1940 – 1980) of the British group The Beatles live on stage at the Cavern Club in Matthew Street, Liverpool. (Photo by Evening Standard/Getty Images)
Dizzy Dez, a fellow Beatles researcher and internet friend, recently wrote a piece ( https://thenumbernineblog.wordpress.com/2016/09/22/taking-the-world-by-hurricane/ ) about the strange story of Rory Storm and the Hurricanes. Rory Storm led the most popular Liverpool band of the period. He was more important in Liverpool and Frankfurt than the Beatles. Yet, as Diz points out, when all the shouting was over and the dust had settled, the Beatles went unto worldwide fame pulling the best of the Liverpool bands after them, Rory Storm was left out in the cold. He never knew other than Liverpool success.
Just an inconsequential odd fact (except to Rory) that I found interesting but also significant. It was good of Diz to dig this story up, but then, Diz left me with a thought: What if the Beatles’ success had nothing to do with their talent; what if the only reason they found success was a fact that had nothing to do with their musical skills; what if their success depended on a queer’s fascination with one John Lennon?
Consider that Liverpool was an English backwater, a tough , gritty town with little sophistication and small hopes. If you have ever been in the Liverpool/Bristol area you really know what depression is. I was never so happy to leave an area since. I had become acquainted with a bottom surpassing Philadelphia and that is saying a lot.
So, in 1960-62 what you had was a city full of louts, what the English call Yobboes, desperately trying to find some distinction for their lives by playing in rock bands. In 1960 that was a desperate hope indeed. The hope was so desperate that the bands ended up playing before a bunch of rowdies and prostitutes, the underbelly of civilization, in Hamburg’s red light district on the Reeperbahn. Not the place for refined cultured manners. More like changing you from a lout or Yobbo into a super Yobbo. The indications are that the Beatles became very rough. What the homosexuals call ‘rough trade.’
In any event the Beatles went to Hamburg where they refined their rock n’ roll skills coming back to Liverpool to take their place in the hierarchy of Liverpool bands where they were a sensation although lower in the hierarchy than Rory Storm and his Hurricanes. Still in their locality and in their age and social set they were prominent.
Now, the local record store, NEMS, was managed for the family firm by a young homosexual Jew, Brian Epstein. At the time it was a punishable offence to public morals to be a homosexual so Brian Epstein was quite repressed. Raised on all the Jewish holocaust nonsense he felt like a powerless oppressed Jew. Therefore as a homosexual Jew he favored the rough trade.
Probably having heard the Beatles talked about along their outrageous leader John Lennon, dressed all in black leather, Brian made it down to the local rock emporium, the Cavern, to have a look.
What he saw made his dick throb. There on stage was God’s own Yobbo, John Lennon resplendent in his leather while projecting confidence and totally outrageous. Rough trade on a stick. Gimme dat ding. So, totally smitten Brian has to figure out a way to realize his dream.
It is clear that Brian wasn’t on the make to find a band to promote; for Christ’s sake he had a city full of rock bands to choose from including Liverpool’s number one, Rory Storm and the Hurricanes and he made no effort to sign any. But, suppose he heard of Lennon’s desire to be the toppermost of the poppermost. Perhaps, Brian thought, I’m in the record business, I know execs at the London labels, perhaps if I gave John what he wants he would let me make him mine. Sounded good.
Now, let’s be clear, when Brian approached the London labels there was no interest in the Beatles or any other Liverpool band. There was no reason for any exec to ever even visit Liverpool and perhaps none ever had. Regardless of any talent, that had not yet been demonstrated, the Beatles were not going anywhere. The execs even considered the name stupid; what in the hell does beatle mean? Can’t even spell it right. Brian persisted and if he hadn’t the Beatles would never have had a shot at the bigtime. They would have disappeared the way they came in, unnoticed. The Beatles were going nowhere.
But, and this is the important fact here, Brian had a hard on for John. Bear this in mind, Brian had a tin ear, he could have cared less about the Beatles as a band; he had a hard on for John. And hopefully by making John the toppermost of the poppermost, and this meant only the small market of England, it was inconceivable that any band, let alone an English band, could become a worldwide phenomenon. Whatever happened next was totally serendipitous. Who could have dreamed of worldwide fame and hundreds of millions of dollars.
So Brian signed his Boys, as they say in the managerial parlance, and left for London to put them in a recording contract. Of course NEMS was a major account in the retail record world so Brian got a polite hearing but no real enthusiasm. Probably to get rid of a pest who wouldn’t quit he was allowed an audition. But this was only after making the rounds.
The Beatle’s ended up at EMI’s sub-label Parlophone and had George Martin assigned to them as a producer. While the Beatles had been all the rage on the Reeperbahn of ill fame and the backwater burg of Liverpool, what set the four aflame in those two locations was not so evident in the London recording studio. It was like someone from Poughkeepsie showing up on the Great White Way. George Martin found their musicianship flimsy but something apparently appealed to him about them. Everything about them was off, they still had the aroma of the Reeperbahn, but, the story goes, George was a technical wizard, so somewhat in the way David Seville created Alvin and the Chipmunks George’s wizardry created the Beatles. This is the legend.
The label thought they were hopeless so perhaps as a joke they allowed the Beatles to make ‘I Want To Hold Your Hand’ as a first record. And as with Alvin and the Chipmunks they probably viewed the disc as a novelty record; something along the lines of Mrs. Miller the off key virtuoso.
They were surprised when the record took off. No less surprised than I was when the record was a success in the US. Why the hell does anyone like that I wondered. But I and we were witnessing several seemingly unrelated things: First the song was the first true teenybopper, bubble gum song that soon inspired groups like the Ohio Express and the Lemon Pipers. ‘Yummy, yummy, yummy, I’ve got love in my tummy.’ Remember that inspired tune? A step up from, I Want To Hold Your Hand.
The social conditions were right for the Beatles innocent, probably tongue in cheek, song. The Fifties had been tense what with the Cold War and the Bomb and things were getting more tense. Nerves were frayed. Perhaps a return to innocent pleasures of the young were in order. At any rate after becoming the rage in England Brian had actually jockeyed the Beatles and John into the toppermost of the poppermost in that small sceptered island but after a terrific promo campaign in the US when their plane landed, they hit exactly the right insouciant note at the exact right psychological moment in time. You can’t plan this. Nobody, nobody, could have forecast that. Brian and the Beatle’s ship had come in.
John Lennon had realized his dream in a Spade Royal Flush. The Beatles, words fail me, were on top of the world. The planet’s first globally successful band. They were bigger than Jesus. Oops, when John said that all hell broke loose. Abashed, John announced they would tour no more. When it came to business sense John was lacking but he and the band were only musicians, a ‘hot little band’ as McCartney recently characterized them.
But what about Brian?’ What about Brians’s reward. He had little business sense too and hadn’t been working for the success that came or was prepared for it. Of course John and the rest knew Brian was a poof. Who didn’t except for those who chose not to see. Brian had always been attentive to John in that peculiar way, certainly that hadn’t escaped he leader of the band. He joked about how Brian and the whole record industry was Jewish and queer.
According to Peter Brown in his ‘The Love You Make: An Insider’s Story Of The Beatles’, Brian did get his reward. Brown says that Brian invited John on a holiday in Spain and there John gave him the reward he wanted.
What if the story of the Beatles success had nothing to do with their musicianship, their songwriting, their personalities or anything else but Brian Epstein getting a hard on for a bit of rough trade: John Lennon in leather.
Wouldn’t that make a fabulous movie? Wouldn’t that be as ironical as all get out? It might not be literally true but it can’t be too far from the truth. Forget about poor old Rory Storm and the Hurricanes, history’s forgotten band. Once again, what a movie.
Bob Dylan: Livin’ Life On The Fly
September 11, 2015
Bob Dylan: Livin’ Life On The Fly
by
R.E. Prindle
-I-
Bob Dylan created the character of Bob the Drifter back at the beginning of the Sixties. He has since done his best to live the life of the ultimate drifter. Early influences on the persona were probably Hank Williams musical alter ego Luke the Drifter and possibly Simon Crumb the alter ego the country singer Ferlin Husky. His immediate role model was definitely Ramblin’ Jack Elliot who was born Elliot Adnopos making his adopted goyish name a cover for his Jewish identity much as Bob Dylan was doing. Thus these two very Jewish guys have lived out their lives under assumed goyish identities.
Like Ramblin’ Jack Bob Dylan further patterned his life on the life of the goy drifter Woody Guthrie.
Bob learned Jack’s style when both men lived in the early sixties folk environment of Greenwich Village in New York City. When that particular bubble burst in the mid-sixties partly through the machinations of Dylan himself who introduced electricity into the Greenwich Village folk scene a dispersion took place.
I say partly because seemingly unnoticed by everyone while being completely overlooked today The Lovin’ Spoonful with the really legendary John Sebastian and Sol Yanovsky had used an electric guitar since early 1965 while also writing their own songs.
After leaving recording for a year or two after 1966 Dylan led a sedentary life in Woodstock New York with his wife Sara and a growing family. The call of his destiny on the road was too strong with Dylan gradually edging back to the role of the roving hobo.
Mentally adrift for most of the seventies and eighties Bob then devised the perfect drifter life. He became a drifting troubadour. He not only roved but he made it pay to the tune of a billion dollars or more. He got himself a couple buses and phased through several identity crises. He styled his drifting as The Never Ending Tour.
While living his early years in Hibbing Negro music appears to have made no impression on him. He does say that he listened to Black music over the radio on stations blasting up over the central plain from locations such as Shreveport but I don’t detect that influence in his music too much. Of course, once in New York he saw the necessity for Negro roots and reacted socially.
Dylan does however know all the great C&W tunes and artists. His first great plagiarism was from Hank Snow one of the absolute greats. C&W was however not mainstream. In the peculiar White mentality C&W was rejected as ignorant White hillbilly music and I mean rejected. You had to cover up your liking of C&W as though it was the original sin. On the other hand with that peculiar mentality of Whites they were able to embrace equally ignorant Negro ghetto music as their own. I could never figure it out.
Dylan didn’t try. Sometime before he got to UMinnesota in the Fall of ’59 he realized he wasn’t he wasn’t going to make it as a rocker so he switched to Folk from Fall ’59 to January of ’61 when he left for NYC. At UMinnesota he had listened to a few Folk records while someone gave him Woody Guthrie’s autobiography Bound For Glory so that in some mad burst of teen infatuation he came to the conclusion that he was the reincarnation of Woody Guthrie. He adopted the persona to the best of his ability beginning to create a hokey Oklahoma drifter’s accent and vocal style.
One gets the impression that his folk act in Minnesota was raw enough that he was merely tolerated. Bob, himself, knew he was a genius so he took his half-digested act East to New York City in that January of ’61. But he was wary. Cagey then as now he decided to scope the scene before he burst upon it.
While arriving in NYC in January he didn’t make his official appearance on the Village scene until late February. Dylan himself explains that missing period by claiming to have been hustling his buns in Times Square. People have refused to take him at his word but why would he say it if it wasn’t true? Why would he say it even if it were? Dylan had very low self-esteem at the time while being a very serious drunkard. At UMinnesota he had blottoed out and spread out on the ground at full noon in the main crossroads at the U. You have to glory in your shame to do that.
We don’t know how much money Dylan had when he stepped out of the car in NYC although he was never really broke when he buskered on the street; his Ace In The Hole was the folks back home. They did send him money.
Perhaps though Dylan was so down so low that he needed to debase himself in the worst possible way. He probably did stroll 42nd St. looking to be picked up. Perhaps receiving money picked him up a little; gave him value.
As he scoped the Folk scene and picked up the odd dollar he was devising a persona to splash into the scene. His persona was totally absurd and his Ten Weeks With The Circus story would be, or should have been, seen through before he got it out of his mouth. This was sophisticated NYC for Christ’s save, New Yorkers have seen and heard every hustle ever devised. You couldn’t fool them so they must have been humoring Dylan.
Nobody could have done all the things he said he’d done and graduated from high school two years or less earlier. He also tried to conceal that he was Jewish which seems ridiculous to me, but then Dylan didn’t see the obvious Jewishness of Jack Elliot so maybe it’s just me. Anyway it took these sharp New Yorkers a year or more to figure Dylan was a little Jewish kid.
Dylan had analyzed the scene well. He realized he couldn’t go in and do what everyone else was doing. Besides there were a lot of good guitarists in the Village and Dylan wasn’t one of them. He had to shake the scene up a little. At the time the Village Folk scene was a bore. Folk was on the down trend. The New Lost City Ramblers, one of the more formidable Village folk groups were so trite they were unlistenable. While not on the Village scene I was aware of the phonograph records made by the artists and quite frankly I was amazed that anyone would record those people. I mean, like Dylan, I was a hillbilly. There were many amazing records being made by real folk artists like the Carter Family. These pale Village imitations by middle class Jews aping the mountain people were far less than authentic.
So Dylan practiced this garish voice, blew harmonica in an incomprehensible way and banged the guitar in an equally noisy and unmusical way. Bud and Travis couldn’t play guitar either. It boggles your mind to watch them flail the instrument.
People that say they liked his first couple records may very well be telling the truth but the truth is virtually no one bought them. Fortunately Dylan soon learned to write songs. They too made little impression as sung by him; sung by others, such as Peter Paul and Mary they sounded good enough to become hits. Of course, Peter Paul and Mary had that religious sounding name and earnest style that opened a lot of doors for them.
Nevertheless by 1964 Dylan was beginning to make a name for himself as a songwriter so that people were more willing to accept his bizarre performances. Andy Warhol said that Dylan began by singing political protest songs then shifted to singing personal protest songs. That change began about 1964 with his Another Side Of Bob Dylan LP.
His friend and sometime road manager Victor Maymudes said that all Dylan’s songs were about his girl friends. If you read his lyics with that in mind they will make more sense. You still have to work at it though. The language he uses really obscures the content.
It was at this point that Dylan went electric and moved out from his folk cover (Dylan said that his folk music years were just a shuck.) and began his conversion to rock and roll. Dylan began performing in high school as a Little Richard clone so the move should come as no surprise knowing what we do today. When his rock and roll phase ended in 1966 Dylan then returned to his basal influence C&W.
As he shifted to personal protest on a rock and roll frame he made his impact as ‘a spokesman for his generation.’
Dylan was never a spokesman for the generation but he was a spokesman for people with the same psychosis as his. Dylan was unbalanced as were all the people who took his message. I was one of those who Dylan characterized as ‘abused, misused, strung out ones or worse.’ Dylan converted his angst into sexual frustration and his sexual frustration into lyrics. We weren’t able to understand the lyrics because we were looking in the wrong place but we understood the songs perfectly on the subliminal level. Dylan’s psychology matched ours.
Dylan’s last album as a New York folk singer, Blonde On Blonde, also expanded his audience while also confusing those who weren’t on his wavelength. That is, people who hated him, and largely for psychological reasons, were forced to acknowledge him. At the time the LP was so far outside our musical experience that we literally had heard nothing like it before. Little Richard redux.
On the other hand I realized that he had peaked in that style and would no longer be able to continue in the same vein. At the same time the pressures of the previous five years on Dylan were such that his mind was at the breaking point and actually broke. He probably had what was called a nervous breakdown. Shortly we heard that Dylan had been in a motorcycle accident and might be dead. He wasn’t, of course, and it has never been reliably determined that there ever had been an accident. His brother David just laughs it off while many others reduce it to the equivalent of a mere scratch. Dylan himself says that his manager Albert Grossman was driving him so hard that it was killing him. He had to stop and catch his breath or die.
Dylan hadn’t yet learned to live on the road; he would master that later.
At any rate he had married his Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands, Sara in 1965 and needed time out to raise a family. He did do that.
Regardless of whether he had been hurt or not he was not musically idle. About a year and a half later in December of 1967 he released the awaited new LP John Wesley Harding. The LP was a total rejection of his first incarnation. He used a crooning voice backed by a C&W band. He returned, as they used to say, to his roots. He was no longer a trailblazer, just a C&W singer. While I knew he would not follow up in the same style I was stunned by the reversion to a conventional country style. At that time no one knew that his roots were C&W.
I loved the instrumental backing of his three big albums but had no interest in what seemed to be pseudo-country with rather ordinary lyrics. (Let Me Be Your Baby Tonight.) I abandoned him completely and never have gone back. This was 1967. The next wave of the British Invasion was in progress and it was astonishing. The music was all fresh and picked up where Dylan had left off. The sounds were all new like you’d never heard before. The lyrics were nearly as inscrutable as Dylan’s. Dylan was not missed by me nor a lot of his former fans.
As I said Dylan was not idle; he was busy. The evidence of that appeared six months after John Wesley Harding. Music From Big Pink by the Band. This was relatively sensational music and lyrics. Of course The Band was Dylan’s back up and his association with Big Pink buttressed his reputation a lot. And then the legend of the Basement Tapes appeared that was even more tantalizing than the actual music although the songs from it that appeared by other artists were remarkably good.
So while Dylan left the Sixties with a much diminished reputation it was on a positive note.
-II-
The Never Ending Tour
While talent such as Dylan’s was is important, talent will not out without good luck and a helping hand. Dylan undoubtedly had both. There has always been some mystery about how a half skilled musician could show up in Greenwich Village in March 1961 and be signed to a record contract with Columbia Records seven months later in October.
People who had been around the Village were just blown away when the news got out. Dylan’s talent was not that obvious to everyone. Many could not see it at all. He couldn’t play guitar and he couldn’t blow the harp. His voice, at the time, was so raw it grated, and still does for me. He hadn’t written a song in those seven months so his much vaunted songwriting skills weren’t in evidence. Yet Robert Shelton, the music reviewer for the ultra-prestigious New York Times gave him a rave review that amazed everyone. John Hammond of CBS signed him virtually without hearing him. Other CBS staffers had such a low opinion of Dylan’s talent that they called him Hammond’s Folly. Was there something going on behind the scenes, was something happening here that the Village couldn’t understand? Listen to Positively Fourth Street and Something Happening again closely.
Well, you know, I’ve thought about this and studied this and I’ve put together the following scenarios for your delectation. Granted it is highly conjectural yet based on facts.
Remember that Dylan is Jewish and New York City including the Village was and is a Jewish colony. Being Jewish in the Village did and does count.
Back in Hibbing Minnesota the Jewish community was three or four hundred strong while Dylan’s, or Bobby Zimmerman’s, as he then was, family was chief among them.
Both Dylan’s father, Abram Zimmerman, and his mother, Beatty Zimmerman were of the Frankish sect of Judaism. Dylan’s Jewish name, Sabtai, was derived from the last acknowledged human Jewish messiah. This undoubtedly indicated the high hopes Abram had for his son as a deliverer of the Jews; in other words, a messiah.
Father Abe was the Anti-Defamation League representative in Hibbing. That may have caused some friction between himself and the goy townsmen. There seems to be an undercurrent of resentment both to Abe and Bobby Zimmerman in Hibbing. As an Orthodox Jew Abram had connections back in New York probably with the Chabad Lubavitcher sect led by its chief rabbi, Menachem Schneerson. Abram traveled frequently on religious business including to NYC.
Abram wanted son Bobby to also embrace the Lubavitcher sect. Thus, as Bobby approached thirteen and his Bar Mitzvah Abram sent back to New York for a Lubavitcher Rabbi to come to Hibbing specifically to educate Bobby in the Lubavitcher belief system. This was the rabbi Reuben Meier. In full Lubavitcher gear he was an anomaly in Hibbing where according to Dylan he embarrassed the Jewish community.
As Dylan tells it he got off the bus one day, spent a year teaching Bobby ‘what he had to learn’ then got back on the bus presumably returning to NYC his mission accomplished.
Dylan has or had a messiah complex. Still, as he observed the fate of Jesus (look what they done to him, he said) he was unwilling to pick up the cross thus never declaring himself. Still Abe had connections in NYC that could be and probably were useful bumping Dylan’s career along.
I haven’t found any evidence that Dylan ever contacted the Lubavitchers once in NYC but then it can’t be ruled out and he didn’t have to. His father could have worked with them unknown to Dylan. Still, Dylan later in life did associate himself with the Lubavitchers. Could be coincidence, of course.
Shelton who wrote his glowing review of Dylan worked for the New York Times which was and is owned by the Jewish Sulzberger family. Thus in all probability Abram called in some favors from the Lubavitchers to forward Dylan’s career. Among them Abram had some position, and asked them to make sure that Dylan wasn’t overlooked. Thus within the synagogue, so to speak, Shelton wrote his actually preposterous review of Dylan.
Now, Shelton came to New York from Chicago in the late fifties. Dylan’s future Jewish manager Albert Grossman also came from Chicago where he had owned the seminal folk club The Gate Of Horn. Shelton knew Grossman in Chicago where he wrote reviews of the folk acts.
When Grossman went East for whatever reasons in 1959 he helped found the Newport Folk Festival with the Jew George Wein. Thus the Newport Folk Festival was a Jewish organization giving them the control over who could and could not make it. Grossman hung around the Village analyzing the talent as he had plans. He didn’t necessarily let the acts come to him but he went out and created them as in Peter Paul and Mary which was his total conception. Sensing the direction of things he realized that a trio of two men and a woman with the right lineup would succeed and spread the message. His final choices were two male Jews, Noel Stookey who became Paul and Peter Yarrow and a woman Mary Travers. He chose well.
Prodded by Shelton Grossman took a look at Dylan but could see no use for him until Dylan began to write. At that point he fit into Grossman’s plans who then created Bob Dylan as a commercial entity. Dylan justified the confidence in himself when he scored with the puerile Blowin’ In The Wind. Dylan was still unlistenable to most people but with the voices of the more musical Peter Paul And Mary he began to establish his reputation as a song writer.
The Synagogue was behind him so that coupled with his talent he was given maximum and incredible exposure. Now, Peter Yarrow who was very close to Grossman, one might say almost a collaborator, said that without Grossman there would have been no Peter Paul And Mary and more importantly no Bob Dylan. Yarrow believed that Dylan’s success was due to Grossman. Luck was with Dylan then when Grossman came to town a couple years before he did while Shelton was there at the Times. You must have that luck. Grossman definitely nurtured Dylan as a songwriter and put his career on track. Whether Grossman was connected to the Lubavitchers isn’t clear but I’m sure the religious connection was there. It was all within the Synagogue; strictly a Jewish affair.
Those who closely analyze Dylan’s songs love to point out the Biblical references with which his songs have always been replete. Indeed, when Dylan was writing John Wesley Harding his mother who was visiting him during the period says that he kept a large Bible open in his living room that he would jump up to consult it from time to time. Obviously the Bible informed his lyrics as he dealt with his injunction to be the new messiah, if I am correct in my analysis.
His religious training would surface in the seventies when he explored Jesus’ relationship to the Jews. Contrary to what people believe Dylan never turned to Christianity, he was interested in the Jewish Jesus cult. At the same time he was getting the Christian take on Jesus through the Vinyard Fellowship he was studying with the Jews For Jesus cult. Indeed, when he came out as a Jesus freak at the Warwick Theatre in San Francisco Jews For Jesus people were used to proselytize outside the theatre but not the Vinyard Fellowship.
Having satisfied his curiosity about Jesus he next showed up in full Lubavitcher gear in Jerusalem. The Christians were stunned at the seeming turnabout. Rabbi Reuben Meier had not failed the Lubavitchers back in the fifties in Hibbing. Dylan came home.
-III-
On The Barricades
Jewish self-confidence was ruined in the wake of WWII but began to resume with the establishment of Israel in 1948. A feeling of power began to revive after the 1956 war; then after the Six Day War of 1967 a feeling of invincibility seized the Jewish mind. Born in 1941 Dylan was 26 in 1967. In 1968 the aborted Paris insurrection took place.
As a result of the Six Day War the New York Rabbi Meir Kahane organized the Jewish Defense League (JDC) as a terrorist organization from which came the JDO or Jewish Defense Organization. The JDO was murderous. Both were terrorist groups who engaged in serious bomb attacks in NYC and assassinations. It was pretty nutty.
At roughly the same time the Weatherman group was formed that was a combined Goy and Jewish affair designed to bring down the US government. That group was headed by the Chicago terrorist nutcake Bomber Billy Ayers. The JDL, JDO and Weathermen traced their origins back to Dylan while including Dylan as one of them. Dylan had JDL members as bodyguards and possibly JDO so at one time he seems to have been a member. More regular Jews warned him to dissociate himself publicly from the JDL and JDO so that he did disassociate them from himself at least as far as one can see.
Dylan’s association with the Weathermen if it existed was more tenuous. It would be interesting to know if through Greil Marcus Dylan knew Ayers. All groups considered Dylan a revolutionary. This could easily be inferred from songs like Subterranean Homesick Blues and Ain’t Going To Work On Maggie’s Farm No More plus many of his Negro protest songs.
Now, when Dylan was awarded the French decoration, The Legion Of Honor, in 2015 he was commended for his contributions to the Paris insurrection of ’68. What those contribution were weren’t specified; it may only have been the moral support of his songs that the revolutionaries heard as a call to arms. Or perhaps Dylan functioned as a courier during his tours throughout the world. It wouldn’t be the first time entertainers were used as covers.
In 2007 when Sarkozy had been elected President of France one of the first things he did was to call a number of people to Paris to receive awards. Three relevant Americans made the trip, Dylan, Greil Marcus and David Lynch the filmmaker.
As it turns out Dylan and Greil Marcus are or were fairly closely associated. Marcus was ostensibly a music critic for Rolling Stone Magazine, another Jewish set up, but he was also a member of the French Jewish revolutionary group, the Situationist International led by Guy Debord. Debord and his SI claim to have been the moving force behind the Paris revolt thus tightening the connection between Marcus, Dylan, the SI and the Paris insurrection. Dylan was also associated with the revolutionary group centered around John Lennon and his widow Yoko Ono.
Now, in 2001 Dylan, Marcus and future president of the United States Barack Obama were in Chicago as associates at the time of 9/11. Dylan’s LP Love And Theft was released on that date that has references that seem applicable to the destruction while Marcus published an article shortly thereafter that seemed to celebrate the attack. So Dylan’s actions seem to point to revolutionary ends.
Now, as Dylan was touring the world from the Sixties through the present he may have been a courier connecting global revolutionary activity. It would not have been wise to communicate by phone or internet in later years as phones and electronics are easily tapped so it would be necessary to communicate by hand delivered messages. Such services would have been invaluable while coded messages in songs or interviews on radio and television appearances are possible. Eric Burdon formerly of the Animals was arrested by the German authorities on that suspicion.
You don’t get awards just for being cute.
A Review: The Life And Times Of Andrew Loog Oldham
August 4, 2015
A Review
The Life And Times Of
Andrew Loog Oldham
Of The Rolling Stones
by
R.E. Prindle
Oldham, Andrew Loog: Stoned, 2001, Vintage
Oldham, Andrew Loog: 2Stoned, 2003, Vintage
Oldham, Andrew Log: Stone Free, 2012, Escargot Books
Oldham, Andrew Loog: Rolling Stoned, 2013, Because Entertainment
-1-
Who Is Andrew Loog Oldham
For those who know this introduction will be superfluous, but for those who don’t know this essay will be an introduction to a man who through his exploitation of the Rolling Stones was an important influence on that memorable Sixties decade. Perhaps moreso than is commonly thought.
Out on the consuming edge of the record industry in those days the name Andrew Loog Oldham seemed to be displayed as prominently on the record covers as The Rolling Stones themselves. In the early days Andrew Loog Oldham might be known before Mick or Keith and certainly the other members of the band. Yet Oldham wasn’t in the band so who was he? And then records were issued bearing the name The Andrew Loog Oldham Orchestra. Where did he get that name Loog anyway? And just as suddenly the name Andrew Loog Oldham disappeared but the Stones remained. Who was this guy anyway?
In those days when information could be gathered, if at all, at the proverbial snail’s pace, things have changed today when I can make a few clicks and see Andrew moving and hear him speaking; actually see his fabulous style of dressing as he described it. In addition he has written two thousand pages describing himself more or less in full. Now we can know who Andrew Loog Oldham is and what his relationship to the Rolling Stones was.
Andrew’s, we’ll take a familiar approach throughout, great tragedy is that his fated life opportunity showed up too early. He was only nineteen in 1963 when the opportunity that few ever get a chance to grasp showed up on his front doorstep, so to speak. That was the appearance of the London music group The Rolling Stones. In order to come into his inheritance as he was under twenty-one and couldn’t legally act in his own name, Andrew had to find a surrogate to act in his stead. Chance provided an old reprobate by the name of Eric Easton. Eric was a plodder who had served as an organist at the resort town of Blackpool while representing two or three nondescript acts of which one was the redoubtable Mrs. Miller. While not a household name at the present time Mrs. Miller whose act consisted of being an amusingly terrible singer, had her moment in the spotlight both in England and the US. She did have records released and they did sell no matter how modestly.
Easton was slow on the uptake not realizing the cultural shift that was taking place with the arrival of the Beatles and would have been incapable of managing the Stones without Andrew’s grasp of the changing cultural situation of the Sixties. However he was not too slow to understand money in the bank of which he made off with a fortune or two much to the chagrin of both Andrew and the Rolling Stones.
Andrew’s four volumes are records of his vicissitudes being a young Lancelot reaching for the Grail. Andrew was green, he was. In ordinary times he would have been cleaned and discarded never to be heard of again but these were the Sixties and not normal times. Even in failure the times conspired to make Andrew comfortable by luxury standards, perhaps even rich, but not filthy rich. The marvelous Sixties did that for so many people most of them undeserving. By undeserving I mean takers with nothing to offer.
Well, this isn’t a tale about justice but one of the Sixties in which the whole concept of justice disappeared like the vapor from a nuclear plant. As an extra special gift of the times to Andrew he is today still alive and kicking having passed the seventh decade barrier at 71 years of age. The good didn’t necessarily die young just the unlucky. Andy is lucky.
He can be seen introducing his third book, Stone Free, at his Face Book site for those interested. Always the fashion plate he is a dapper impression of his hero Phil Spector, pointy nose and all. His hair is becomingly combed back on the sides making for a very presentable 71 year old young at heart gentleman. He wears a mint green light jacket and shirt, something of a cross between a butch femme and an effete hommy, but altogether passable. He projects a pleasant aura indicating little brain damage from his very legendary drug use. A look at him shows how Alex, the chief Droog of A Clockwork Orange may have looked as he made the passage from rough youth to a more dignified mature, the word ‘old’ does not apply to one like Andrew, or I might vainly say, myself.
-II-
Andrew Finds That Life Has It Hazards
I don’t really envy the English kids that came along after my birth year of 1938. The war years were tough enough but then the long years of national poverty after 1945 must have been grating. I can’t imagine a life without candy that the lads and lasses had to endure for nine long years. In my paradise in the US candy bars in those days at a nickel were monstrous. I couldn’t eat a whole one at one sitting. Stuffed at less than a half. Andrew must have known hardship and suffered horribly.
The war babies, mostly from ’42 and ’43 can have no memory of the war but the long ten years of rationed everything gave a cast to their psyches. When the war babies grew up and became rockers they laid out long tables of delicacies and then ignored them letting them go to waste. The pain was forgotten but lived on in the subconscious. Andrew was conceived in ’43 and popped out in ’44. Tragic for Andy, he should have born in ’42 and been 21 in ’63.
His was a special case. In a country in which the majority of men were US soldiers, normality had flown out the door in ’43; his mother not unnaturally took up with one. It was a tough time. Andrew’s father, Andrew Loog, was a soldier from Texas. He had a wife and son back there. As a younger man I applied my moral training to people in Andrew Loog’s situation and condemned them but now hopefully wiser and certainly older I understand. As a soldier in an active war Andrew Loog could die at any time so why not a little happiness? Perhaps he cringed at violating his peacetime morals. In any event as a member of a bomber crew he didn’t even make it across the Channel just after impregnating Andrew’s mother with his future self. Big Andy hoped he’d dodge the bullets but as it didn’t happen at least it resolved what would have been a difficult emotional situation.
Big Andy hadn’t married Little Andy’s mother so that made little Andy the bastard son of a bigamous father. Having been in the orphanage myself being a bastard means nothing to me. But society is unkind to bastards and orphans. Having read all four of Little Andy’s reminiscences more than once it seems clear that his bastardy left its mark on Andy. He had stormy relationship with his mother, perhaps beating her frequently while in his late teens. She said he did but he says he can’t remember doing it while it would have been wholly outside his character, however, he definitely admits booting her out of a moving car while she was pregnant. Those temper tantrums he had!
Possibly Andrew blames his mother for bringing him into the world as a bastard. He shouldn’t, better a bastard than not at all. Now, Andy discusses this from different angles constantly in his memoirs so my purpose here is to try to put his mind at ease.
The war had a devastating effect on social life especially in England which was merely a staging area for US forces in those years. Churchill was merely a stooge of Roosevelt’s. Just as in WWI a million or English men died or were incapacitated meaning that just that many women were condemned to spinsterhood or whatever. Oh, I know that the dyke Gloria Steinem said a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle but Steinem was an unnatural woman. Andrew’s mother wasn’t.
As she gave Andy his father’s full name, that is Andrew Loog, I’m guessing that given the times and circumstances she really loved the guy so she named what surely must have been her darling Andrew, Loog, tacking on her name Oldham. Maybe I’m sentimental, but coming from the orphanage, I find that touching.
Now, Celia Oldham, for that was her name, was a Jewish girl. Andrew Loog I’m guessing from his name was probably of Dutch ancestry. Probably a Protestant but possibly a Sephardic Jew. Andy may know but I don’t.
So, here Celia Oldham is post-war with the little tyke, Andy, and no husband or father for his child. There is a massive shortage of men after the GIs clear out so while Celia is attractive the mating pool is small. Celia did the next best thing and probably with Andy in mind did it well; she became the mistress of a wealthy man while including Andy in the equation. Not only was he wealthy he was a decent man who maintained her and Andy as a second family. No kidding. He kept them in relative style while putting Andy through the public schools. (Public is private in England.)
What more could a single mother with no prospects do? Perhaps Andrew’s schoolmates were typical louts and ragged him continuously for being a bastard. I know that in the orphanage during and after was hell on wheels but that was the hand that was dealt and I had to play it; four deuces, trey high. Could have been worse. I’m not saying my psychology wasn’t affected and as Andy tells it his sure as hell was.
My point is that life being what it is he should be grateful for a loving mother who made the very best of a bad situation.
-III-
Lost In The Ozone Without A Parachute
As noted Celia Oldham was Jewish and while Andrew says that the religion didn’t play a big part in their lives nevertheless the mother is the culture bearer. The culture she passed on to Andrew must have been Jewish.
Judaism is an identitarian faith. To be Jewish is to separate oneself from the ‘gentiles’, from all others, the rest of mankind. As the US Zionist Samuel Untermyer was to proclaim on nationwide radio in opposition to Hitler’s claim that the Germans were the master race: We, the Jews, are the aristocrats of the earth. In other words, Drop this master race crap because you ain’t it.
Thus in a country nominally English, as Andrew describes his youth it was lived in an entirely Jewish community. As he describes it he associated with no one who wasn’t Jewish. Like the Jewish Bob Dylan he is always surrounded by Jews. As he set out to find his way in life he chose the record business as his métier. I think Andrew wanted to be where it was happening and as his antennae flickered about sensing for that taste of honey he perceived that his future lay in records. The entire music business if not the entertainment business was in the control of his fellow Jews.
Andy took his sense of reality from movies. There are a couple influential films he refers to frequently. One is the American film The Sweet Smell Of Success which however is about two Jews, the one based on the newspaper columnist Walter Winchell and the other his sidekick and the other is the British film Espresso Bongo. Naturally I obtained both movies and have checked them out. Also naturally at this age and distance I do not see them through nineteen year old eyes.
In Sweet Smell Andrew concentrates on the character Sidney Falco played by Tony Curtis. Andy identifies with Falco as a hustler in US terms and a Wide Boy in English terms. Thus Andrew identifies himself as a Wide Boy. Falco was an unsavory character, a stooge of his boss J.J. Hunsecker played by the repulsive Burt Lancaster. Curtis played the role well. One laments Andrew’s fascination with the character.
Espresso Bongo is a pretty decent rock film. It takes place I believe at the actual legendary 2i coffee house in which English rock was centered. The film puts you back in the day. The star is Andy’s all time hero Laurence Harvey who also turns in a stellar role. Harvey has that downtrodden hang dog look that carried David Janssen through the US The Fugitive TV series so well. As I lived in a constant depression until I was forty I knew the look and it suited me well. I identified with both Janssen and Harvey. Harvey was one of my favorite actors too. Depression and Laurence Harvey go together
In Espresso Bongo Harvey plays a role of a hapless manager of a singer who gets away from him much as Andrew himself would let the Stones slip away from him.
All the managers were Jewish and all exploited their ‘boys.’ Perhaps the most famous of these, what the English amusingly call manipulators, was Larry Parnes. As England emerged from rationing in the fifties and the rebuilding of the infrastructure destroyed by the bombing of WWII created a sort of false prosperity those young people who survived the bombing and rationing were coming of age. The war had caused a generational break. Young England began creating an England in their own image. They rejected the pre-war England of their elders. It was a world they never made. Of course neither had their elders.
Parnes sensing the direction began creating an image of recording stars to gratify youthful yearnings, especially of young girls. He found god looking boys giving them great stage names such Georgie Fame, Billy Fury, Tommy Steele, Marty Wilde, Vince Eager and my favorite, Lance Fortune. There can be but little question that he exploited, not to say cheated, his ‘boys.’ Parnes was both Jewish and homosexual, a killer combination that dominated the industry.
For instance this about Vince Eager from the Widipedia entry for Larry Parnes
Vince Eager began to wonder why he had never received any record royalties. ‘You’re not entitled to any.’ Larry Parnes told him. ‘But it says in my contract that I am.’ Eager protested. ‘It also says I have power of attorney over you, and I’ve decided you’re not getting any.’ Parnes replied.
Parnes was of course both Jewish and homosexual. As he had many of these performers on salary he was cleaning up. Of course he had merely plucked them off the streets and set them up designing their acts, teaching them stage presence, choosing repertoires etc., they may have been little more than employees. However they did have ‘contracts’ although as the above quote indicates they were more than one sided making the contractees little more than slaves
The whole record scene was exploitative and homosexual. When London’s leading criminals horned in on the record scene, the Kray brothers, Reg and Ron they were Jewish and homosexual while their older brother Charlie who was straight with no police record managed the business end of the record racket.
As Andrew was coming up through the years this was the situation he perceived. While he couldn’t have broken into the Parnes style star system once the Beatles hit and the emphasis switched to groups an opening appeared. Parnes who had his star system going disdained the group thing leaving that open so that the Beatles manager Brian Epstein slid through the opening developing his group and star roster dislodging Parnes.
The market had expanded exponentially since the fifties when Parnes developed his system. Andrew, then, aquiver with the possibilities had his eye out for the new Beatles. He was told about the group working in Richmond called The Rollin’ Stones. He went, he saw, he signed.
-IV-
A Clockwork Orange
As Andrew freely acknowledges by his late teens he was experiencing mental problems so I am merely discussing what he has disclosed. He says he was suffering from manic depression. Probably so, but he must also have blended in a little schizophrenia. The stresses of his childhood were taking possession of his mind. I know whereof I speak. This combined with his disastrous choices of role models that would be joined in 1962 by his reading of Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange issued that year made him something of a phenom. Burgess, there’s another sicko.
A Clockwork Orange Boy, there was a Satanic book if there ever was one. The book took a certain mentality by storm, organized it and gave it expression. Its history is intimately connected with Jagger and Richards.
As influential in its limited sphere as the book was, Stanley Kubrick’s 1971 movie was perhaps the most destructive Satanic movie ever produced. It set the tone for the years that followed. The movie just tore a certain type of mind apart; Alexes by the dozen, nay, hundreds, thousands moved roved out every night after it was shown, snatching girls off the street. Clockwork was seconded by the movie The Collector that appeared about the same time. The book of Clockwork was less powerful but would still influence Andrew and through him Jagger and Richards. The other Stones led separate lives not involved with Mick, Keith and Andrew’s antics.
So Andrew’s brain is in a complete turmoil as he tries to find his way through the maze of life. Influenced by the real Larry Parnes and the fictional Johnny Jackson for a modus operandus he went in search of an act to manage and found his way to The Rolling Stones. Having discovered his mother lode, having a clear vision of what to do he was stymied by being only nineteen in shark infested waters without a cage.
Short of twenty-one he had to team up with a shark. As he was renting an office from an inoffensive appearing shark, Eric Easton, he convinced Eric to essentially through himself represent the Stones. Eric may have been a pretty sincere stodge but he was no fool when it came to his self-interest. He may have been close to a bottom feeder but that didn’t mean he hadn’t learned most of the tricks of the Great Whites. The ins and outs of contracts presented no problems to him while dizzy Andy and the naïve Mick and Keith probably hadn’t considered the existence of contracts. Give them a pen and dotted line under their name and they would sign. But, really, it was never a fair fight.
As Pretty Boy Floyd the Outlaw is alleged by Woody Guthrie to have said: Some will rob you with a six gun; some will use a fountain pen. Oh boy! Those contracts. The advantages are all on the side of the contractors; contractees beware. As Larry Parnes said: I’ve also got your Power Of Attorney and I say you don’t get anything. Revoking a Power Of Attorney is simple but how many amateurs think of it.
But legally contracts don’t really matter unless money is involved. There wouldn’t be a lot of money for a few years but when there was Andrew and the Stones not unsurprisingly got the bum’s rush.
Andrew’s brain was a regular pinwheel especially as in addition to his youth and mental condition he imbibed drugs freely. If your brain’s not already a mess drugs will certainly paint it black.
Even though Andrew chose poor role models he got the drift of what had to be done to make stars of random stones. Very few performers, they only become artists after success, know how to get from point A to point B and beyond. That’s where the manager, if he’s any good, comes in; he recognizes the possibilities of the raw talent and nurses them through the actual birth process. Believe me: this is worth a lot.
It is somewhat like Larry Parnes. He sensed what the teen public wanted and rather than wait for it to come to him, he created it from the rawest material and then took more than the lion’s share or the benefits. But then, he also inadvertently gave his ‘boys’ lives. There were actual careers awaiting them after Parnes had scraped off the cream.
The question then is were the Stones too talented to fail? I don’t think so. Not without Andrew to shape them and point the direction anyway. Andrew couldn’t sing or play but he could turn dross into gold not too much differently than what Larry Parnes had done with his ‘boys.’ The Stones were the evidence.
The key to the Stones’ success was when they learned to write songs. Would they have learned to write songs if Andrew hadn’t literally forced them into it? I would answer with a clear cut negative. The Stones playing nothing but crappy old Chicago blues and would have sank without a trace. In that sense Brian Jones insistence on playing ‘pure’ R&B would have led to dismal failure. But then, maybe that is what Brian wanted.
Let me point out here that in the US all this crappy old blues stuff was unlistened to but by a very small minority. Nor would the stuff ever have gained popularity without the English influence. Even today very few listen to that junk. ‘I woke up this morning, lordy, lordy…’
While Mick, Keith and Brian were boggling their minds concentrating on the ‘music’ Andrew realized that teen age girls (the Parnes influence again) weren’t going to get too enthused about grizzled old Negroes complaining about how their mama wouldn’t drop down. Does anyone think sprightly young teenagers looking for a good time are going to wallow in anybody else’s misery? Not likely.
So Andrew directed his ‘boys’ toward a more pop sound alienating the ever insistent ‘purist’ Brain from Mick and Keith. Bill and Charlie were pretty much just boys in the band.
Thus faced with the overwhelming competition of the Beatles, the lovable Mop Tops, Andrew made the fatal choice of turning Mick and Keith into his criminal Droogs, taking the low road and leaving the high road to the Beatles. Alex in A Clockwork Orange called the members of his gang Droogs. In a sense Andrew tried to make the Stones Andrew and the Droogs.
All very well but as Andrew got a little money his brain went from a pinwheel on a stick to real fireworks where pinwheels shoot flames. His brain was really in a whirl. He was passing out at parties. He became self-absorbed. He became interested in other projects that took his time, setting the Stones more or less adrift. His protégé Mick was no fool while being a quick learner. Why, Mick said to himself after becoming successful should I pay all these dufuses for what I can do myself. He couldn’t of course do it himself but it seemed like it at the time. He slammed the door in Andrew’s face.
-V-
Where’s Strength And Wisdom When You Need It?
The four years Andrew was with the Stones could have been a couple three or four lifetimes for the changes Andrew was forced through. Success is rightly called the bitch goddess. You’ll never know until you’ve said hello. The time from when he and Eric Easton signed the Stones to the time Andrew sold the Stones out to that Devil In Disguise Allen Klein nearly destroyed Andy. Allen Klein wasn’t in that much of a disguise either.
The trajectory of Andy’s career was so rapid it was hard to follow. It wasn’t so much that he bit off more than he could chew as that he tried to chew without biting it off. First things first, Andrew.
Obsessed with A Clockwork Orange he moved in with Mick and Keith where he gave them lessons in Droogism. Both were apt pupils. This is difficult to follow but his brain captured and sensing what seems to have been the book’s importance Andrew approached Burgess to buy the movie rights. Burgess told him the rights had already been sold but he wouldn’t tell Andy to whom.
It turns out that the rights had been sold to David Bailey the fashion photographer who had made Mick his ‘mate’ and possibly bought the rights jointly with Mick. If so, one wonders where Mick got the money. Sometime in 1963 the pair split with their rights to New York City to interest Andy Warhol in a film project. This also is rather remarkable because Andy was not yet that prominent while he hadn’t made any kind of stir with his puerile movies as yet. Somehow the rights passed to Warhol and finally to whoever acquired them to make Kubrick’s movie.
Warhol did make a film based on the book although the connection seems tenuous while not being worth watching. More importantly Alex and his Droogs had a profound effect on members of Warhol’s group. The group left Warhol’s atelier, the Factory, at night on their predations a la Alex and his Droogs. I believe Bob Dylan is referring to them in this lyric from his 1965 song Desolation Row:
Now at midnight all the agents and the superhuman crew
Come out and roundup everyone that knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the [F]actory were the heart attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders…
For some reason both Oldham and Bailey thought Mick was the perfect Alex while the Stones could be the Droogs. It didn’t work out but Mick and Warhol bonded like superglue. They would be very close friends until Andy died in 1987 when Mick flew to Pittsburgh for the funeral. Not only did the Stones practice Black and Blue at Warhol’s Montauk compound but Andy did two or three covers for them most notably Sticky Fingers. As a result of Mick and Warhol’s friendship the Stones always had the key to Greenwich Village.
So Andrew lost out on his bid for A Clockwork Orange. But then his brain racing a mile a minute and wanting to be a record magnate he founded Immediate Records. Not one for details Immediate stretched him pretty thin. I know we’re talking ancient history here, or at least ancient technology, so the reader will have to let go of the present to imagine the impact of Immediate Records on the cognoscenti of the time. I modestly include myself in that number.
Andrew was on the far edge of flamboyant; his ideal Larry Harvey who he met about this time thought him arch camp so Andy in his eye makeup and fey manners must have cut a startling figure. A lot of people thought he was queer and not just ambiguous. The Immediate label was an astounding pink, almost fluorescent seemingly confirming homosexual tendencies. It got your attention but in those days you almost had to apologize for buying a record with such a label. His covers were all good, in a class with the best and perhaps…. He signed and produced a lot of very good groups. The label’s production values may have prevented him from having any smashes, at least I don’t remember any.
I’m sure few will remember the Nice or even have heard of them but the first Nice was a pretty good record while the members went on to greater things. The sound wasn’t as immediate as it could have been. I worked it in my store but couldn’t get anywhere with it.
In those days British imports were all the rage on the West Coast while US records were despised. When I first went to England in the early seventies I was astounded to find the fans waiting for American pressings because they were thought better. Oh, I said, how strange. What makes them better? In so many words they said production values. In still other words they thought they had more immediacy. So Andy’s Immediate records lacked immediacy. I thought they were great anyway and they were always the first of the new releases I auditioned.
But, the devil is in the details, and Andrew wasn’t much on details so he went broke although he did hang in there until 1970. Not a bad record for an independent. He doesn’t tell us what happened to the masters but they must have been worth something.
By that time Andy was not only deep into drugs he was legendary. In Stoned and 2Stoned he has some great descriptions of being out of it if you like that sort of thing. His first two books were based on the oral biography method of Jean Stein’s biography of Edie Sedgwick called Edie. In that book acquaintances were interviewed and then cut and pasted to form a continuous narrative. Knocked out by ‘Edie’ Andrew did the same with the exception that he commented on the interviewees’ comments.
Rolling Stoned begins in a straight autobiographical style then begins to wander and meander. Andrew is always a good read but unless you want to read three different four hundred page books covering the same ground with variations I would recommend his most recent, Rolling Stoned, or perhaps 2Stoned. Still, I don’t mind…
Part V
Mick Jagger, The Rolling Stones
And The Yobbo Revolution
by
R.E. Prindle
…they’re just war babies with the bell bottom blues.
==Robert Christgau
Along about 1968 Jagger among the Stones, at least, became disenchanted with his and their new manager Allen B. Klein of notorious fame.
By 1968, counting 1963 as the beginning of their labors the Stones had been working hard. Jagger and Richards had emerged as successful songwriters giving them a financial advantage over fellow stones, Jones, Wyman and Watts. By that time the band was said to have earned millions but had virtually nothing to show for it except for a heroin habit and several cases of VD. When one says heroin habit one reduces disposable income considerably.
The Stones last effort Their Satanic Majesties Request seemed to indicate a loss of direction. Their initial impetus had been expended. The impetus that began in 1963 had then played out. The good part of the Sixties was over and the bad part had begun with the ’66 release of the Doors first album containing the appropriately named song The End. The Rock scene had turned dark while turning the volume up.
The Stones knew dark so they quickly reinvented themselves as a Dark band turning out Beggar’s Banquet in 1968. Out there on the buying end of rock and roll I groaned. The new Stones were born as the Hounds of Hell emerging from a drug fueled Freudian unconscious. Just what the world didn’t need.
While Jagger and Richards engaged the world with their follies the other three members had to suffer enduring the ignominy in silence. Richards would go on to astound the world with his drug offenses. While Jagger himself descended into darkness as a Satanist carrying his inamorata Marianne Faithfull along with him.
While both deny other than a titillating passing interest in Satanism the facts imply a more serious involvement.
These years that should have been bright were the beginning of dark times, darker than the Communo-Nazi era for the world. Deny it if he can, Jagger was a leader on the downward path.
Undeniably the Fifties and Sixties were a trying period but which decade of the century hadn’t been? Fear of both Communism and the A-Bomb, not to mention the Neutron Bomb, kept people tense. There was a disturbing lack of balance in which TV, newspapers, and magazines presented developments. Nevertheless the beginning of the post-war period was one of astounding advances in knowledge both in Science and the Liberal Arts. Huge layers of ignorance were sheared away. For instance the knowledge of geological tectonic plates that demonstrated how the planet evolved was, shall I say, earth shaking.
In 1950 the highest an object had been was measured in feet; the atmosphere hadn’t been penetrated. Seven years later the Soviets put the Sputnik in orbit. Telstar went up in July 1962 to tremendous astonishment and acclaim opening the way to the future and the fabulous prosperity of the late Sixties and the Seventies.
Medicine cured syphilis and all venereal diseases, killing and disabling diseases were gone and even TB and polio were ended. At the beginning of the Fifties a child had to ponder being debilitated by both as a probable occurrence. The diet was improved immensely and made more varied. But, as life improved the psyche grew darker, dissatisfaction with virtual perfection was endemic. Murder and crime increased dramatically. Charlie Whiteman in his UT tower, Richard Speck’s ritual murder of the Chicago nurses. While the good genie let many good things out the bottle at the same time a cloud of darkness followed. The country chose to embrace the darkness rather than the light.
During the Sixties Satanism was on the rise. We all know there is no existing entity called Satan but Satanism is a fact of the psyche. First truly released by Freud in 1900 Satanism had been emerging as a social force. A 1966 cover of Time Magazine asked the question Is God Dead? This sparked a fair controversy at the time. That same year, less conspicuously and metaphorically saw the birth of the Son of Satan, Andy, in the book Rosemary’s Baby by the Jew Ira Levin followed by the movie of the same name directed by the Jew Roman Polanski. Rosemary’s Baby was followed by a spate of Satanic novels and movies. The shift from God’s Son, Jesus, to Andy was quite noticeable but we were slow to comprehend.
The Satanic movement had been building since the middle of the nineteenth century when the Frenchman, Eliphas Levy, reorganized the occult along modern lines. The Golden Dawn brought Satanism into prominence in the English speaking world. The Golden Dawn was captured by the pervert Aleister Crowley who guided Satanism through the first half of the century. He died in 1946. A druggie and sex fiend, his sex magic in the Sixties was joined by that of the Jewish sex madman, Wilhelm Reich, also a notable Freudian. Reich had even had his books burned by the US government but like a phoenix his sexual ideas rose from the flames during the Sixties. ( See the movie WR, The Mysteries Of The Organism, read organism as Orgasm. This movie is not for the weak of mind.)
The magical crowd had coalesced in the beginning of the Sixties. In England it was led by the Satanic Process Church that emigrated to the US, LA based, and back to England. In the US the chief Satanist was the San Francisco based Anton Lavey with his acolyte in Los Angeles, Kenneth Anger. It is to be noted that the sex magician Charles Manson was associated with all these people in one form or another.
Jagger and his consort Marianne Faithfull were drawn into the flames through their friend in London, Groovy Bob Fraser who seemed to be the clearing house for all strange in London. He introduced Mick and Marianne to Kenneth Anger while they found their own way to the Process Church. Mick was recruited by the Crowleyian Satanist and filmmaker Donald Cammell. Cammell’s father had been a Crowleyian having writing a biography of him. Cammell’s mind thus had been corrupted from childhood.
Cammell starred Jagger and Keith’s girlfriend Anita Pallenberg in his ’68 movie Performance. Pallenberg was a long gone cutie deeper into Satanism than probably anyone in the crew.
Mick had become acquainted with the fashion photographer David Bailey in late ’62 or early ’63. Anthony Burgess published his Satanic novel A Clockwork Orang in 1962.
In ’62 and ’63 Jagger was a nobody, a student at the London School of Economics while doubling as frontman for the unknown Rolling Stones, or Rollin’ for the purists. The two apparently bonded on sight as the two bought the movie rights to A Clockwork Orange. This strange situation has never been explored. As far as we know Mick had no money or anything really to recommend him to Bailey who was a very successful photographer and the model for Fellini’s movie Blowup. Yet while a student and singer for a grungy R&B band Bailey took him under his wing, or perhaps Andrew Loog Oldham that inveterate man about town introduced himself to Bailey, then introduced Bailey to Mick with whom he was palling. It would seem that Andrew first discovered A Clockwork Orange in mid-62 talking it up with Bailey and Mick. Andrew and Bailey saw Mick as the hero of the book, Alex, leader of his band called The Droogs. The idea of the Droogs exerted a fascination over the minds of Andrew, Bailey and Mick and through Bailey and Mick the Warhol crowd of NYC. As a photog for English Vogue Bailey would have had an intro to New York and the American Vogue.
For those who aren’t aware, Vogue Magazine is a huge global presence. There are many ‘local’ editions of the magazine published for Germany, France, Russia, Italy and even Japan. It is really extraordinary. I subscribe to the English edition and buy Italian, Parisian, German and the occasional Japanese copy from a news dealer in my own city. Globalism takes on a real meaning.
In reading Stone’s histories there is no mention of Jagger being absent from London in 1963 but Bailey scooped him up and took him to New York, presumably at his own expense or perhaps that of Vogue to shop for a movie maker for their book. Bailey who was very up on things may have thought that Andy Warhol would be interested; in fact Warhol did make a movie that purports to be based on Clockwork Orange but you couldn’t prove it by me. But, in 1963 Warhol was not yet that famous or his vacuous movies. Bailey must have had his nose to the ground with the sensitivity of a bloodhound. Where Mick got the money for his share of the rights and trip to what is now known as The Big Bagel isn’t clear.
In New York Mick met the Dark, if not Satanist, Andy Warhol with whom he banded as quickly and tightly as he had Bailey. Because of this the Stones would always be big in the Village.
Interestingly Mick’s girlfriend during this period was Bailey’s top model Jean Shrimpton’s sister, Chrissie Shrimpton.
Things fell out, Mick gravitated to the adultress, Marianne Faithfull. The two were arrested at the famous drug bust at Keith’s Redlands in 1967.
Apparently Mick et al. thought they were immune to the laws and mores of the time concerning drugs so that Mick took the arrest and subsequent conviction as a grievous insult. It confirmed and hardened his devotion to Satan while solidifying his revolutionary aims. He thought the ‘kids’ would be able to bring down the State.
Thus in 1967 they recorded and released the record album titled Their Satanic Majesties Request. Smarting horribly- for all practical purposes Marianne’s life was ruined. In combination with a succession of injurious events that would follow, Marianne’s psyche would never recover. She had been holding the burning match to see how close to her fingers it got before she was burned, she now knew.
Still in reaction to the arrest, following Satanic Majesties, Mick decided to make a film. This became the long lost Rock And Roll Circus. The movie only has historical significance as it was never released at the time. Rights were held by Allen Klein so after his death in 2009, under his son Jody’s direction ABKCO released it for the first time. Psychologically it places where Mick was in 1968.
The American Satanist Kenneth Anger had a huge shoulder to shoulder tattoo of the name L-U-C-I-F-E-R on his chest to show his dedication to the Commander In Chief. At the end of Rock And Roll Circus as the band plays Sympathy For The Devil we see Mick groveling on the stage as though to the Master. He wiggles out of his shirt rising to his knees to display a Lucifer tattoo on his bare chest. Whether real or a transfer isn’t clear. I hope the latter.
In 1968, at least, Jagger had dedicated himself to Satan. While Marianne has since repudiated Satanism claiming the fascination was a passing fancy it seems clearly to have been more than that.
That aside, to be borne in mind as we move along. Mick, who is no dummy, had been quickly learning the ropes of the record business since his introduction in 1963. As he wasn’t getting enough money to indulge his fantasies, finances became his chief concern.
The Stones were first managed and promoted by the nineteen year old Andrew Loog Oldham. Oldham was the right man to put the Stones on the road. Unfortunately for himself Andrew was at the flighty if not to say flaky stage of life so that he found it expedient to sign the Stones to the American desperado or operator, Allen Klein. Klein was the big talking type so endemic to the industry who promised the moon while actually being able to pry money from the labels not that much ever got back to the artists. While first being pleased with Klein’s services getting money out of him was a problem so that Jagger quickly became disaffected with him. In 1968 he began the search for a money man who would work in the Stones’ interests.
This was a critical period for Jagger and the band. Their first rush of creativity ended about 1966 as the songwriters went dry and the band quit touring. The transition from the sixties to the seventies actively took place between ’66 and ’67. In fact that was the Sixties, the rest of the decade was a long slow fade. The artists most identified with the sixties didn’t make the transition to the seventies and beyond. The Stones before ’68’s Beggar’s Banquet were a quintessential 60s’ band. Beggar’s Banquet eased them toward the seventies.
So at this transitional period that must have been cause for great anxiety the band had little to show for their sixties output other than a certain notoriety that was however global and second only to the Beatles.
In his search for a money man Jagger asked his friend Chrissie Gibbs for his help. Gibbs was a central figure in the Groovy Bob Fraser circle. Fraser’s place was a central gathering place for the crowd including the American Satanist Kenneth Anger and the Warhol crowd.
Fraser himself was an art dealer who associated himself with the upcoming Pop Art Movement. Thus he was the center of all that was hip and modern.
Gibbs knew of an investment banker by the name of Prince Rupert Loewenstein. Rupert was an actual hereditary Prince who prefaced his name with that title. According to Rupert’s memoirs, A Prince Among Stones, Rupert knew Gibbs in only the most casual manner, Gibbs was not exactly a member of the aristocracy as he is presented.
Rupert is a bit of an enigma. He says, in his memoir, that he had never heard of the Stones when Gibbs mentioned them. In the context of the times the Stones were rock musicians who are as a class not welcome in polite society and even some not so polite society, yet Rupert said to this very casual acquaintance that he would look into it. Then, as he tells it, he learned who or what the Rolling Stones were and that all three principals of the group had been arrested on drug charges a year earlier along with Robert Fraser the art dealer and a true member of the aristocracy although now declasse. Rupert even says that he agreed wholeheartedly with the judge.
Just as a point of reference, when I opened my record shop in 1967 the insurance agents would not even sell me insurance while the AAA agent cancelled my auto insurance. I could obtain no amenities and only grudgingly services. So, it is extremely strange that Rupert knowing the actual unsavory history of the Stones jeopardized his standing in respectable circles in the City and society to associate himself with them. And I mean associate, he actually toured with the band. If he didn’t know the kind of people he was with he certainly learned then.
Now, no one associated with rock and roll had any social standing especially the Stones as the bad boys of rock. Then all the creeps and drug dealers who being around the record scene especially attached themselves to the Stones and believe me that crowd was well beyond unsavory. Robert Greenfield’s book S.T.P. will give you some examples but the flavor of these people doesn’t come through in print.
As I read Rupert’s autobiography, he died a year or so ago, I find a distaste for Stones from beginning to end. Even the title of his memoir, A Prince Among Stones, is a put down of the Stones. Rupert obviously disdained the Stones. So, one asks why he would choose to represent them? And that’s only the beginning of the mystery.
Having accepted the assignment as they used to say on Mission Impossible he had to familiarize himself with bushels of documents and assorted records. Before he could even confront Klein he had to spend a year trying to understand the documentation. Klein was a tough cookie who didn’t play by any rules. You grappled with him. I’m not sure that the Stones to this day know what Rupert did for them.
Here’s the point: The Stones are said to have no money with which to pay him, we are told that they were stone broke. Didn’t mean that they didn’t have a great stash but, you know, they were broke. This was a serious time for the band. Get this: Rupert worked three years gratis with no guarantee of ever making a dime. That any of us should have luck of that kind. Further he learned that there was no way the Stones were going to get any money out of Klein without very expensive litigation. But, there were exceptions as we shall see. The Stones entire career from 1963 to the end of the contract in 1971 that Andrew had saddled them with belonged to Klein. Never fire your manager when he holds your life in his hands.
Any career they would have to make money would begin in 1971. The intellectual properties Jagger and Richards’ had created would provide them with an income apart from the band although the publishing was sold to Klein by Andrew. But the full intellectual properties would begin only with Exile On Main Street. And of course by then the big boom in record sales was underway. Even at the end of the sixties the record business was small potatoes. The stadium era was on the horizon.
From Rupert’s point of view the only real potential for money for him would come from the Stones’ touring. The Stones would do some non-stop touring beginning in 1971. The ’69 US tour was Rupert’s introductory tour during which he learned how inefficient and criminal touring was..
Until Rupert reorganized touring, the road had not been profitable for the Stones. No money at all. So Rupert began his management career on the off chance that the Stones would stay together, actually a fairly long shot, and he could mount some extravaganzas and monitor expense to make the road profitable. Little he knew that he was catching the really big one.
If you sit and think about this a little it will blow your mind the chances that Rupert was taking especially with a heroin addict of the status as Keith. I mean we’re talking the Master of Flake with Keith- no offense intended. The man blew millions that Rupert was setting up in recording contracts when Keith was arrested with a jug of heroin in Toronto. Keith was not in this alone, there were three other Stones plus Mick as well as Rupert who had bet his life on the Stones. Can you imagine how crushed Rupert was when he had to call all the bidders and advise them of Keith’s gaffe. Keith cost Rupert a couple million too.
This is amazing, the pre-’68 money had been so badly managed that the Stones owed more tax money that it appeared that the band could ever pay off; especially when every new dollar would be taxed at ninety percent. What were the Brits thinking? As I understand it the Stones have never paid the debt off, or tried. So Rupert compelled them to leave England for a more tax friendly climate. As we are repeatedly told they were broke one wonders how they expected to finance their life in France. Mick and Keith were OK because as Robert Greenfield tells us in his book Ain’t It Time We Said Goodbye: The Rolling Stones On The Road To Exile just before the Stones left England Klein sent Mick and Keith each a check for 800 and some odd thousand dollars. That is nearly a million each. I don’t know whether BMI paid royalties quarterly or half yearly but Mick and Keith should have gotten a check of comparable size quarterly, semi-annually or annually. For the next decade or two probably double that. No sympathy here.
Wyman and Watts both bought handsome residences on the Riviera so one wonders where that money came from while Exile was being recorded. They settled on the Riviera where they spent a fortune recording Exile On Main Street. Over half a million dollars. And while Exile sold well still only over seven hundred and some thousand copies on its first release; not enough copies to surpass recording costs so they received nothing for the LP initially. Still Rupert hung in there, drug stories or no.
As the only hope for the Stones to make money, apart from intellectual right for Mick and Keith, was touring and thereby justify Rupert’s decision to throw in his lot with them Rupert set about to make touring as profitable as possible. He was in for some surprises as he had to come into contact with the Underworld, Mafia to you and me. I don’t see how he or they ever thought that there would be the truly big money of the last tours especially in North America but luck and the times were with him and them.
The Stones, about whom hung an air of vulgarity, were never a top selling recording band, mediocre at best but Jagger was a top performance artist while Keith was and is revered as a guitarist and personality. The nature of the tour also evolved so that under the guidance of Rupert major companies such as Chrysler sponsored tours contributing up front money while toward the end promoters ponied up a couple hundred million to manage the tours. The expense of putting on the show was the Stones but the mechanics of lining up venues and retailing the tickets was off their hands.
If you can stay together the intellectual property or ‘brand’ can become extremely valuable providing a payoff as time goes on. The Stones may be unique in the size of the payoff but many performers have been on the road for decades and are still out there, viz. Bob Dylan.
Still given all the imponderables, one is astonished that a respectable investment banker would take such a huge risk on his future. Not only had the principals been arrested and convicted, actually sent to jail, on a drug charge but they were involved with the revolutionary movement, indeed, other revolutionaries considered them one of them. Jagger wrote revolutionary and agitprop songs. As the seventies were characterized by revolutionary upheavals throughout the Western world including European outfits like the Baader-Meinhoff Gang and the Italian Red Guards and the infamous Carlos as well as the criminal and destructive American group, The Weathermen it would have been desirable to have some inconspicuous means of communication. Historically a means has been itinerants who had a reason to travel about such as the entertainers like the Stones and Bob Dylan. Cultural exchanges in governmental usage.
I think it quite possible, although I have no hard evidence that when Rupert was investigating the Stones at Chrissie Gibbs request he may have contacted the security agencies of England who seeing an opportunity to put an operative above suspicion in the Stones organization recruited Rupert.
As an intelligence agent in the Stones’ organization Rupert could maintain contact through his Europe wide aristocratic friends while dealing through the Stones with the revolutionaries who, at the very least, hung around the Stones. I suspect that Mick and Keith were more than sympathetic to them.
Eric Burdon of The Animals as a solo artist was arrested by the German police on suspicion of aiding the revolutionaries. Eric pleads innocence of course but the rock crowd as a group was sympathetic to the revolutionaries while the lyrics themselves were frequently openly revolutionary. Police suspicion would not have been misplaced.
In Eugene Oregon where I had my record store at the time, revolutionary zanies functioned quite openly, at least as far as I was concerned, infesting the foothills of the Cascades where they had built bunkers to store weapons, ammunition and food against the Day which was thought imminent. As a record store owner they assumed that naturally I too was a revolutionary. The Black Panthers for instance extorted money from me. I was caught in the middle as the authorities assumed naturally that I was too. It was tricky as I was then walking a tightrope between two hostile sides.
Thus Rupert otherwise inexplicably declassed himself while undertaking to represent a bankrupt band that was hopelessly in debt to the Inland Revenue. A debt he knew could never be paid off and never has been. In fact his first act regarding the ones was to advise them to leave England for more tax friendly shores.
When Rupert moved the band from England they ceased being a specifically English band becoming a band without a country or a true global band. As a global band it is probable that Allen Klein even though Jewish was strictly of a US geographic mentality whereas Rupert being Europe based with friends in each country was better able to deal with different tax laws, mores, etc. As a businessman he was better prepared to set up the business organization that the Stones needed.
It must be borne in mind that when the band left England on the cusp of the big boom of the seventies they became a multi-million dollar corporations with rather intricate financial problems. Klein had the reputation of a buccaneer; he could squeeze the pips but he couldn’t command respect, Rupert could.
So, the success of the Stones after ’68 depended in a great part on the superb financial management of Rupert, as well as his ability to deal with a lunatic like Keith. Rupert had no sooner got the band established in France than Keith got them thrown out of the country for, let’s not put a gloss on it, criminal behavior. Keith was handling large amounts of heroin while providing, as it were a safe haven for the Marseilles criminal drug element. Finally Keith and Anita turned a young girl, possible with violence, which resulted in the Stones having to flee France. That made two countries they could no longer perform in, at least for a while, France and England.
I’m sure Rupert smacked his forehead, wrung his hands and asked the universe, what the hell is going on? Keith and Mick must have been born under good signs as Rupert stayed on.
Having established a basis for prosperity Rupert then set about dealing with the first key problem, Allen Klein. Although broke the Stones initiated an expensive , read multi-million lawsuit against the wily Klein. Americans operate on the principle that possession is nine tenths of the law so getting anything out of Klein would be a small miracle. Without numbers to go on any accurate notion of what happened is impossible but as both sides were into the lawsuit for millions over eighteen years it would seem the results when they finally signed off were profitable for each.
So, having serendipitously acquired a supremely competent money man in Prince Rupert Loewenstein the financial future of the Stones was secured. They would become perhaps the richest band in history.
A Review: Allen Klein by Fred Goodman
July 6, 2015
A Review:
Allen Klein
The Man Who Bailed Out The Beatles
Made The Rolling Stones
And Transformed Rock And Roll
Goodman, Fred: Allen Klein, The Man Who Bailed…etc., 2015, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Loewenstein, Prince Rupert: A Prince Among Stones, 2013, Bloomsbury
Oldham, Andrew Loog: Stoned, 2000, 2001 Vintage Edition
Oldham, Andrew Loog: 2Stoned, 2002, 2003 Vintage Edition
Oldham, Andrew Loog: Stone Free, 2012, Escargot Books
I anticipated what I hoped would be a revealing account of the infamous Allen Klein. I have been sorely disappointed by this hagiography. Bailed out the Beatles, made the Stones and transformed rock and roll? Whew! Where’s his statue so I can reverence it. Since Allen died in 2009, his son, Jody, has shaken up his father’s empire. Jody has dipped into the archives to let out the two Stones’ movies Charley Is My Darling and Rock and Roll Circus to his credit. They can now be seen and appreciated. He probably has done much else that I am not aware of but would undoubtedly approve.
Fred Goodman’s white wash of Allen is disappointing. Jody did call Fred and offer him the job so this must be a work of hire. Perhaps Jody wanted a hagiography of sorts which is what he got or perhaps Fred was so daunted by the job he swallowed his teeth. Having accepted the assignment Jody led Fred out to the warehouse and showed him several pallets of documents. That would make me shiver too.
When Rupert Loewenstein accepted Jagger and the Stones as clients after the Stones rejected Allen he spent two or three years studying all their contracts and documents which were voluminous although not several pallets. And he did it without pay.
Something tells me that Fred never touched those pallets. If he didn’t study the documents one thing is certain: he read the three books of the Stones’ manager Andrew Loog Oldham carefully. It was Oldham who sold the Stones to Klein. Apparently none of these people understood the nature of intellectual properties because, if we are to believe, none of them realized that the developing rock catalogs would be worth anything down the road. Even Oldham who is billed as prescient let the Stones’ masters that belonged to him as the producer go to Klein for less than a peanut.
The president of Decca Records, Edward Lewis, sensing the Oldham was having difficulties offered to buy the masters for 800K, K as in thousands, much less than even a million that would be a low ball. Oldham didn’t want to sell to Decca but needing money offered to them to Klein for 750K. The biggest bastard in the valley snapped them up. They have since proved to be worth tens and tens of millions of dollars over the years. Of course, Andrew would have had to wait and his blood was running too hot for that.
A few years later when he realized the masters might be worth a billion or more he has spent his life begging Allen for a larger settlement.
Andrew Oldham’s three books are Stoned, 2Stoned and Stone Free. They make good reading although 2Stoned is a rehash and expanded version of Stoned. There is a French condensation of both books into one but the translation is laughable as Andrew was much too colloquial for French. Fun to have though if you get a thrill out of mere possession. I’m not exactly guilty but I don’t object. It’s there on my shelf.
While Fred gives an overly long synopsis of Andrew’s life, probably because he needed a little filler and certainly didn’t have what It took to tackle those pallets, Andrew tells his own life better. Fred seems to have based his researches on Andrew’s brief life of Allen as contained in Stone Free. Stone Free might be sub-titled Brief Lives of the Notable Rockers. A great collection and grand background. Fred follows Klein’s Life closely.
Fred’s book was obviously written after Rupert’s: A Prince Among Stones. Published in 2013 but Fred shows no evidence of having read it and he didn’t use it. To read Fred’s account Allen was a greater prince than Rupert even though the facts as we know them read differently.
Allen who was Jewish, was born in 1931 in the city of Newark, New Jersey, a city that has produced several notable Jews including the novelist Philip Roth. Allen’s mother died when he was only a few months old so he never knew her. He briefly lived with his maternal Jewish grandmother but his paternal grandmother objected because his mother’s parents weren’t Jewish enough. His father unable to care for Allen and his sisters placed them in an orphanage. This fact explains much about Allen’s adult attitudes. I was in an orphanage but a municipal orphanage rather than a religious one. Jewish orphanages seem to have been rather cushy places. The groupie Catherine James lived in one that appears to have been a ‘country club.’ Allen’s Newark orphanage (often called Children’s Homes) had only thirty inmates and let me tell you that removes a lot of stress.
Mine had a hundred twenty or thirty most of which were bigger bastards then Allen could have been. The Catholic orphanage down the street that we visited as a group every so often was as close to hell on earth that any kid would want to get. Still orphans are pariahs in the community so I’m sure Allen’s small place left an indelible impression on him.
When he grew up and entered the record business, notable for the quality of its bastards, Allen billed himself as the biggest bastard in the valley. He was undoubtedly at war with everyone including himself.
Once in the record business he saw the easy marks and they were English. The American record people were uncommonly intense bastards while the British were mannerly bastards so someone like Allen, the biggest bastard, pretty much reversed the British Invasion traveling to England and scooping up some impressive bands and artists. I mean, Mickie Most! He was already a legend to anyone who read the record covers.
He cut his teeth on Sam Cooke as the first artist he bilked- that is robbed. Somehow he managed to steal Cooke’s face, that is his whole musical career and hence life, lock, stock and barrel. Sam Cooke died under mysterious circumstances. As might be expected Fred clears Allen of any suspicions accepting the story that a hooker he was with did the deed. Well, maybe, she caught with his pants around his ankles unable to maneuver properly; on the other hand Andrew Oldham who is fairly reliable at calling spades spades says that Cooke was badly beaten and the hooker couldn’t have done that. That doesn’t implicate Allen necessarily, him being in the record business. Sam certainly knew a few bastards, may have been one himself, who could make Allen look like a crass beginner.
Nevertheless Allen got all the goodies bar none and for perpetuity. After having viewed Cooke’s body he was satisfied the hooker did it. Those intellectual properties just keep on paying and paying. Poor Sam. Allen probably could have stopped there but the biggest bastard wanted the biggest bands- the Stones and the Beatles and he did realize that orphan’s dream.
Allen had the typical manager’s attitude toward his clients’ money, pp. 57-58
Theatrical producer, Lawrence Myers, a British business manager and an accountant by training, met Klein several months before Cooke’s death and credited Allen with altering the course of his own career. “Allen taught me something without which I wouldn’t have the lifestyle I do today,” said Myers. “Don’t take twenty percent of an artist’s income- give them eighty percent of yours. The difference between Allen and I is that I actually told them what was going to happen. And Allen certainly didn’t. They found out sometime later.”
Obviously being a ‘business manager’ was a license to steal. If Allen gave all his artists 80% of 20% son Jody has inherited well. As a ‘business manager’ all checks were collected by Allen and once in his pocket were the devil to get out. However after all was said and done, after taxes, fees, expenses and commissions there wasn’t that much left over to be divided five ways. Even if the manager was honest, and few are, he, as an individual was taking a minimum of one fifth. In the case or Colonel Parker and Tony Defries nearly all. There wasn’t that much left over to be divided five ways.
Consider: The tax rate in England for ordinary income was 90%. That means that after all expenses were deducted, perhaps fifty percent or more out of a million, a half million at best might be left over. Ninety percent of half million is four hundred fifty thousand dollars leaving fifty thousand dollars to be split five ways. That is at most ten thousand dollars each. While the Stones minds were confused because they were earning millions and getting peanuts. Didn’t compute in their minds.
So while from 1963 to 1968 if the group earned ten million dollars and that’s a lot of money they were only entitled to a mere good living in after tax dollars. Not flush at all. At the time I don’t think the Stones realized that.
Without knowing the exact amount of money Klein was handling perhaps the Stones were making unreasonable demands for cash. For Klein it was a stroke of good luck when the drug addled Andrew sold him the Stones masters from 1963-71 for what to him was pocket change. Those masters are the basis of what Klein made from the Stones. And it was a legitimate purchase. They have no complaints against Klein on that score as Andrew owned the rights and could sell them to who he chose.
Nevertheless Klein did not deal openly with Jagger and the group so Jagger, by far the businessman of the group, began to look for help elsewhere. A Hippie about town he knew named Chrissie Gibbs had a passing acquaintance with the investment banker Rupert Loewenstein, introduced him to Jagger, then he inexplicably agreed to represent an uncouth rock group of whom he says he had never heard. This is even more remarkable in that the Stones had been arrested and convicted on drug charges in 1967 the year before the staid and respectable Rupert took them on. It was on the front pages with pictures.
Reminded of William Rees-Moggs editorial in the London Times that Rupert had read, he writes in his memoirs that, oh yes, he did remember that but endorsed the conviction entirely. He still agreed to represent them. What do you think of that?
Analyzing a mountain of paperwork Rupert probably came to the conclusion that the Stones’ past was a lost cause and only the future earnings counted. The only hope for big money lay in performing. As the way touring was conducted at the time was less than cost effective Rupert had to reinvent it. He had to eliminate as much of the thieving and inefficiency as possible. This is actually pretty strange.
Why he felt equal to this with absolutely no guarantees is beyond me; according to his memoirs at this time the Stones were not only broke but in debt to the Inland Revenue for more than they could ever hope to pay as matters stood. Well, OK, Rupert was super prescient. You have no idea how criminal the record business is or was at the time. Think about leopards. The business is a shadow of itself today since the internet recreated the single while destroying the LP market.
Rupert was lucky in that Jagger was essentially a performance artist who would make Yoko Oko turn several shades of green. But that is part of the Stones’ story.
Rupert and Klein got into a twenty year legal battle that as the saying goes made the lawyers rich.
However as the Stones left Klein’s stable Allen’s dream of managing the Beatles, at least three of them, came true. Allen got John, Ringo and George while Lee Eastman got McCartney.
Once Klein got the money it was very difficult to get it out of him although he took a sort of paternal interest in the artists. Of course if you are robbing them it is only proper to give then an allowance now and then. Fred goes out of his way to demonstrate, or at least claim, Klein’s honesty, white washing him entirely although as one evidence of dishonesty Klein actually went to jail for a couple of months for failure to report income.
In the record business in order to get their records exposure, companies have to allow for so many demonstration albums- promos or demos as they were called. I owned a small chain of stores back in the day so I would be given sets of albums of a new release for in store play. The promo men had boxes of copies for all the radio stations and other uses. As should be obvious there is a certain play in there to sell demos.
George Harrison, a client of Klein’s put together the charity play, The Concert For Bangladesh. That was a charity release, box set of three records, for relief of the starving of Bangladesh. Any of them starving at the time of the concert were dead by the any money reached Bangladesh. Klein’s deal was that he pressed the records and packaged them, obviously he had the masters, sending the completed copies to the companies for distribution. He then pressed, according to Andrew in Stone Free, literally truckloads of copies that he disposed of as promos. Now these were sixty foot semis were talking about.
The things that happened in the record business is incredible. When the Kiss solo albums were released Neil Bogart of Casablanca seriously overestimated the demand pressing up two million copies of each in advance. Supposedly two truckloads, 200,000 copies, where hi-jacked on I-5 on their way North. As unbelievable as it may sound it was suggested that I was the responsible party. I’m sure those copies were insured.
It was not a crime for Allen to sell the records but, unfortunately, he failed to report the income and that is an IRS offense. Bad, bad.
Andrew offers this take on the situation, Stone Free p. 360:
Allen’s karma finally caught up with him in 1979 when he was convicted on charges of US Federal tax evasion. Klein had sold literally truckloads of albums that were accounted for on the books as “promos” (albums distributed free of charge for radio stations and press for which the label is not obligated to pay artist royalties. His actual felony was pocketing the income from those sales without reporting it to the Internal Revenue service. But Let’s tote up who Klein screwed in the affair, his country, which was entitled to tax him; the Beatles, both collectively and individually…UNICEF…and thousands of starving childre
Perhaps this was a sensitive issue for Jody because Fred carefully steps around the issue claiming a penny ante sharing between himself and his hapless promotion man. The jail sentence says something else.
Actually it got Klein into more hot water than two months for a tax dodging charge. By the time of Bangladesh Klein was one of the most hated men in records by fans. His reputation was just terrible. Calling him a mere crook wouldn’t begin to cover what the fans thought.
A.J. Weberman got wind of the scam. For those who don’t know, Alan J. Weberman was the first ‘garbologist.’ He was so interested in what Bob Dylan was doing he used to collect his garbage from the cans set out on the sidewalks of New York and sort through it carefully. He was trying to prove Dylan was a heroin addict among other things. So, he was a self-styled policeman of the industry.
Having got wind of the sale of the promos, he not only arranged picketing of Klein’s office but actually invaded it. By the time he got through, Klein’s battered reputation was beyond repair. Fred avoids all that even though a great story.
Allen also failed to back Harrison in his lawsuit over his supposed plagiarizing the song He’s So Fine with his song My Sweet Lord.
Andrew Oldham handles that story well in his biography of Allen in Stone Free p. 361:
Quote:
A falling out with Lennon followed (John would vent many of his feelings towards Klein in his song “Steel and Glass”). but the ultimate betrayal came when Allen sued his own former client, Harrison for copyright infringement. To Allen, this was probably as simple as getting the attention of an artist he felt was off the reservation- a counter-insurgency- if you will. Like so many songs before it, George’s “My Sweet Lord” was patently based on the spiritual “Oh Happy Day”, a song long in the public domain and hence not subject to copyright. Unfortunately, another song derived from “Oh Happy Day”, the Chiffons’ “He’s So Fine’ was protected, prompting the publisher, Bright Tunes, to launch proceedings against Harrison.
Klein, naturally, was enraged, and happily assisted Harrison in preparing his defense. But as his relationship with the former Beatles crumbled, Klein looked for ways of bringing George back in line. He took himself out and purchased Bright Tunes for himself- and kept the lawsuit alive. A degree of justice prevailed as the Judge slammed Klein for switching sides…
Unquote.
That’s a perfect example of the record business. If Harrison had employed the same solution, buying Bright Tunes, Klein would have howled foul. Artists are supposed to function with a different morality. That’s the record business.
The thing is there are no original songs, every song is derived from another or several. I don’t know why the Courts accept the suits. There is no way the Judges can make an informed decision unless they happen to be musicologists.
As Fred obviously read Andrew as above and had other information or could get it from his employer Jody, there is no reason to shield Allen’s terrible reputation. The guy was totally unscrupulous. Probably better than his counterpart Morris Levy of Roulette or Tony Defries who managed David Bowie or the king of con men himself, Colonel Parker who robbed the King himself- Elvis.
To conclude: I can only recommend the book to the dedicated Stones or Beatles enthusiast. There is no depth or breadth to the book. Allen’s roster of clients, most of whom are still living do not seen to have been interviewed by Fred. He doesn’t even seem to have talked to Andrew who knew and was intimate with Allen the longest. Heck, Fred didn’t even bother to interview his own employer, Jody Klein.
I mean Jody must have had something to say about his father. Even the pictures ae somewhat limited. Fred could have gotten a picture of the orphanage that created the ‘biggest bastard in the valley.’ Allen’s whole career can be placed in the context of his life in the orphanage. Four years old to nine, whew!- the most formative years of a boy’s life.
I was in from eight to ten and that was bad enough. You learn a lot about bastards in the orphanage so when Allen Klein bills himself as the biggest bastard in the valley he is saying a little more than something.