Copyright 2004 Greg Bannerman CHAPTER 1

IN THE BEGINNING

The fun all started for me back in the summer of 1970 when Toe Fat came to play at
the local town hall. I had left the army the year before because I couldnt take any
more of the bullshit. Since then I had gone back to school and passed a few O levels
hoping to progress in life, but it just wasnt happening for me. So I went to the town
hall one Saturday night for a bit of rock and roll and the hopes of managing to pull a
chick. After the show, I helped Mick the roadie to load the transit with the gear and
remember thinking that this was the job for me. No bosses, no Nine to Five bullshit
and plenty of free booze, I felt like I was in heaven.
The band were staying in a local hotel and so I suggested that they ought to move
into my Uncle Willies Guest House which would be cheaper and he also had a huge
garden where they could have gun battles with their B.B. guns. This they did with the
result that Cliff Bennett got shot on the eyebrow by the drummer. The rifle was very
promptly snapped over his knee, putting a swift end to the war games. The band had a
few more gigs to do in the local area and I travelled around with them and knew then
that this was going to be the life for me. Pretty soon they had to go back to London to
record their next Album and they all assured me that someone would give me a ring
soon and tell me when I could come down and join the clan.
Sure enough about a fortnight later Lee the drummer and Mick called to say that I
was welcome to come down and that I could stay with Mick in Shepherds Bush. I had
only been to London a couple of times before when I was in the Army, but this was
going to be a different ball game altogether. I left next day and hitched down the A9 to
the wild and wonderful world of swinging London. I had arranged to meet the band at

Abbey Road Studios in St. Johns Wood, which was where The Beatles used to record
in the 60s but to me being a country hick, I never imagined that they were real
people, let alone that I would see one.
I went inside to wait for the band to arrive and Mick was sitting at a coffee table
having a fag. After the Hellos were all done I went to the counter to get a piece of
apple pie and custard. Mick said, arent you going to heat it up? Where about? In
the microwave man. Well I couldnt even spell microwave let alone know what the
fucking thing was, but within a few minutes I was a microwave expert, welcome to
the real world. After the band arrived, we went downstairs to Studio B to set up the
gear for them to start recording Toe Fat Two, their new Album.
When you are a roadie the most boring part is when the band are in the studio,
because all you do is sit around doing fuck all except for going to the Off Licence for
beer and fags or it used to be in those days. Later that evening Cliff asked me to go up
to Studio A and bring down the Fender Rhodes piano. So off I went, but not knowing
the rules of a recording complex I barged straight in to the studio without noticing that
the red light was on. Every head in the room turned in unison to see who had just
interrupted the session. Before me was a sea of talent. George Harrison, Eric Clapton,
Ringo Starr, Klaus Voorman, Billy Preston, Phil Spector and more.
Standing there with my jaw dropped, I must have looked a pretty sight, but I do
remember Ringo laughing and winking at me which slightly calmed me down. I was
told very bluntly to take the piano and get lost, which I did. I went into the bog and a
few minutes later, in walked George Harrison who proceeded to take a piss in the next
stall. He proceeded to ask me what I was doing there and I told him that I was
downstairs in studio B with Toe Fat. Oh that mob says he, at which point I asked
him for his autograph (for my brother) Na, we dont do that anymore, that was all in

the Beatles days and especially not in a fucking bog. Charming I thought. Thats the
last album I buy of yours ya wanker. This includes the Album that he was recording
All Things Must Pass which I gladly passed on.
After the session was over we went outside to sit on the steps and have a smoke.
Ring was sitting down smoking a Rothmans King Size and he beckoned me over and
gave one to me. Youre new to this game arent you? Yeah I said and that
George Harrisons a bit rude isnt he? He laughed saying dont worry about him
hes just a fucking wanker Ive never forgotten him for being so nice to me and
although Ive never met him again Ill always remember him putting me at ease.
Over the next few weeks they finished the Album but one memory I have is of
Peter Green coming in to do a twenty minute guitar solo and when they went to pay
him he said Give it to the roadies, so me and Mick went and got a load of bottles
and had a great session of our own. Peter Green was well known at the time as Lead
Guitarist of Fleetwood Mac, and was also renowned for his dislike of money. He
reckoned that his talent was God-given and he shouldnt make money out of it. The
story goes that he once went round to his Managers office with a shotgun and told
him that if he didnt stop sending cheques, he was going to blow his fucking head off.
I think that Peter was admitted to a Hospital shortly after that to be treated for
depression.
One time we had a running B.B gun battle with a band called Mae Blitz while
hammering down the M.1. They managed to shoot out our wing mirror, so Cliff shot
out their windscreen. They then shot out our windscreen and we had to do two or
three gigs in the freezing cold without a windscreen. We did a few gigs around
London after the Album was finished and then heard that they had been booked on a

U.S. Tour, but the bad news for me was that they could only afford to take one roadie
with them so I was now basically out of work.
I hung around London for the next few weeks while they were away, doing a few
small gigs with various bands in clubs like The Bag o Nails, The Marquee and The
Speakeasy. London was a pretty hot place to be around this time, and you could catch
most of the best bands in the world playing in almost any club, for next to no money.
Free, Spooky Tooth, Traffic, Supertramp and Genesis could all be seen any night of
the week. The swinging-sixties were only just ending, and the town was swarming
with Hippies of all shapes and sizes.
One of my favourite clubs was The Temple on Wardour Street in Soho, which didnt
open until ten oclock and went on until eight or nine in the morning. This place was a
fucking dope-haven and one of the best Bands that played there was The Edgar
Broughton Band, who used to blow the place apart with their music. If there was ever
an imminent Police raid, they used to play Out Demons Out which was the signal
to eat all the acid, speed or hash you were holding. It was a fucking laugh watching
several hundred hippies downing copious amounts of drugs, and then getting freakedout as they were being frisked by the law. Even if Edgar Broughton werent
playing, the Disc Jockey would play that track as a warning of incoming old-bill.
When the clubs shut early in the morning we used to go to a pub in Covent Garden
which opened at six a.m. and have a couple of beers, before heading over to Hyde
Park to crash out, before starting all over again later that evening.
The band came back minus Mick, who had fallen in love with a girl from Georgia
so now I was homeless into the bargain. My only choice was to go back to Scotland
and find a job to keep me going. A few months later I got a phone call from Lee the
drummer telling me that he had been fired and was now in a new band called The

National Head Band and that I could come and stay with them in their house in Green
ford. N. London. Off I went again on my travels back down to England, hitching a lift
with a local removal firm that used to go to London on a regular basis.
It is worth a mention as to what happened to Toe Fat, as they were a great bunch of
Musicians. Lead vocalist Cliff Bennett was already a star in his own right having had
a couple of chart hits, so he continued with his solo career. Drummer Lee Kerslake
joined The National Head Band, Guitarist Alan Kendall joined up with the Bee Gees
and has been with them ever since and John Glascock went on to join Chicken Shack
and then Jethro Tull . John made a few Albums with Jethro Tull, but had to leave due
to ill health and very sadly died in his sleep at a very young age. He is a great loss to
the Rock and Roll world.
Anyway back to the National Head Band. I ended up going straight into the studio
to record another Album (boredom yet again ) and after a few weeks I had had enough
so I left to go back to Scotland again The next few years were spent in Scotland and
Southampton doing various kinds of menial tasks until in 1975 I called Ray Clegg my
Tour manager with The National Head Band and he offered me a job as roadie with
his new band Mungo Jerry.
Back to London with wife in tow to join a really fun band. We travelled the
Baileys Club circuit for a couple of years going up and down the M1 like it was going
out of fashion, stopping in at the Blue Boar services outside Birmingham to shoot the
breeze with whichever band was in at the time. In the clubs we got a free meal every
night, always either chicken in a basket or scampi in a basket which may sound O.K.
but anybody who has done the Baileys Club circuit will understand me when I tell
you it was a nightmare. I never, ever want to see another scampi in a basket again

EVER We would do a week in each club and then move on to the next town to be
followed by bands like T. Rex, Mud, The Sweet, Showaddywaddy and Marmalade.
I eventually walked out on them one night in Birmingham after getting chewed out
by Ray Dorset the singer for something so trivial that I have forgotten, but the truth
was that I was getting bored with the same clubs all the time. One thing I remember
was that we had just done a show at The Belfry Country Club in Sutton Coldfield and
Nippa, the sound engineer and I had to drive back to London after the show in the 3
tonner. When we got home after a gig, it was always the rule that all guitars were
brought inside for safety. When I went into the back of the truck there was no Les
Paul guitar, which should have been put in by Nippa. Oh Shit! This guitar belonged to
Ray and was worth a shitload of money, so there was nothing for it but to get our
asses back up to Birmingham and pray that it was still there. We searched the building
high and low and eventually found it propped against the back wall of the building
thank fuck. By the time I got to bed I was totally knackered, let alone extremely
pissed off at Nippa.
Another time I was at a Birthday Party for Drummer Pete Amott in the East End. A
good time was had by all, and by the time I left I was pretty legless and had to get
home in the truck with Nippa, who was worse than I was if you could believe it. I
went steaming through a red light somewhere in the City and the next thing I knew,
this unmarked police car had screeched to a halt in front of me. At that time London
was pretty much under siege by the I.R.A. and there were bomb-squad officers all
over the place, day and night.
Before I knew it I was hauled out and Nippa fell out the passenger door giggling.
Hold on boys I only run a light, whats the problem Shut up or Ill do you for

drinking driving and what the fuck is this? He picked up a huge chunk of hash off
the dashboard, showed it to me then just tossed it back.
Meanwhile the truck is full of Alsatian dogs sniffing about among the amps. What
the fuck is going on I said receiving the standard reply shut up. With that they all
got back into the car and screeched off at a rate of knots. I guess they were antiterrorist squad and didnt have time to deal with small fry like us, and I feel very
lucky about that because if they had breathalysed me I would have been off the scale.
The dope was Nippas so he would have probably been guillotined even if we didnt
have any bomb making material in the back. After I left Mungo Jerry I went back to
Southampton and did a few different jobs like painting houses and delivery driving
until in 1979 things started to get better and I was back on the road again.

CHAPTER 2

IM A NEW MAN

One day in 1979 I decided to give Island Music a call to see if the needed a roadie for
any of their bands and was told to come up to London and talk to someone called
Bob, who managed a band called Hi-Tension. They were a disco/funk band that had
had a couple of No 1 Hits and needed a back line roadie. We did a British Tour, which
went really well and everybody actually got paid for once, but the best part for me
was that I had made some good connections at Island Music. The Lighting Engineer
used to work for Tom Jones and he had some great tales to tell.
Chris Ellis was with Tom since the beginning, and I remember him telling me about
the time that he and Tom were sitting in the Blue Boar services on the M.1 with just
enough money between them to buy a cup of tea and a bun each, along with the latest
Melody Maker. Suddenly they absolutely freaked out because Its Not Unusual had
just gone straight into the Charts at No 1. There they were without a pot to piss in, and
Chris told me that at that from that moment on his life changed forever, not to
mention Toms.
Chris had three Genie Towers for his Light Show. Genies are basically an
aluminium box about five feet high, seven or eight feet long and four feet deep, which
have hydraulic rams built in. On top of the rams are the lighting towers, which are
lifted up and down into the air. The whole unit weighs a ton and are a bit unstable
when the lights are up, so you have to be very careful with them. One night Chris was
inside the Genie fixing something, with the lights up, when there was an air leak and
the lights started to come down into the box. Chris was trapped in the box and if the

lights came down into the box, he would have been crushed to death. Luckily I heard
his shout and managed to get a scaffold pole across the top of the box to stop the
lights getting into it. I never had to buy another drink for the rest of the tour.
Joking aside, it can be really dangerous on tour, if you dont know what youre
doing, and even if we do have a good laugh, everyone is totally aware of that. We also
had a mad Kiwi on the Lighting crew called Rick Coleman, who would do just about
anything for a dare.
Rick had a scorpion tattooed on his dick and it was quite a talking point with the
ladies, of which he had no problem pulling. I used to room-share with Rick, and at
times it was like musical pussy with girls coming and going all night long. It got so
bad that I nicked a Hotel Reception bell and gave it to Rick so that he could ding
the women in and out of our room. One time he had arranged to meet two girls at the
gig on the same night, plus his girlfriend was also scheduled to appear. I got lumbered
with distracting her, while Rick jockeyed the other two around. To this day I still dont
understand how the fuck he pulled it off, but he did.
One night after the show, we were staying in a small hotel in Bournemouth and as
the bar was shut, the night porter had to serve us late drinks. Rick was having a laugh
with the porter, who was over seventy years old. Rick said to him Check this out
man. and took his dick out. We all thought that he was going to show the old boy the
scorpion, but instead he pissed about half a pint into his glass and drunk the lot. The
old boy nearly dropped dead, but Rick wasnt finished. He then asked for a sherry
glass, and proceeded to crush it up in his teeth and then he drunk that as well, along
with some more beer. At this point the old boy just disappeared into the night, and we
never saw him again.

At Hammersmith Odeon in London, I was sitting just off to the side of the stage
drinking a can of Heineken and keeping an eye on things. One of the main parts of
being a roadie is to watch the stage with an eagle eye while the band is performing.
Anything, and I mean anything can and will go wrong at any given moment, and it is
the roadies job to be on the case immediately, and fix whatever it is. Whichever band
member you are working for is totally reliant on you to take care of any problem and
Im sure you can imagine what it must be like to be standing in front of thousands of
people when your guitar sound goes dead!
I noticed this dolly bird standing just behind me watching the show, so I asked her
if she would like a seat next to me. She sat down and I went into the dressing room
and got her a beer. She was incredibly beautiful and I thought that there was no way I
could even try to pull her, but I thought that Id get some practise in. Anyway she
asked me what I did and I told her that I was the roadie, and when I asked her what
she did she replied Im not doing anything at the moment--- Im Miss World.
I nearly collapsed but managed to maintain my cool and we had a really nice chat.
She told me that she was Venezuelan but was going to have to give up her title
because she was pregnant. She also said that she and her Model friends hardly ever
got chatted-up, because she reckoned that men just assumed that they would get
blown off. Just for fun I asked her if she would like to go out for a meal later- on.
Great, what time? I was pissed off because we were leaving straight after the show
to drive up to Glasgow, so I had to pass on the best date in the world, but it wasnt the
last time I had to miss out because of the lifestyle.
Island Music were a big and well-respected company run by Chris Blackwell, who
had signed bands like Free, Traffic, Jethro Tull and Bob Marley, so I had hopes that
this could be a chance for me to move up a league and start to make some decent

10

money at last. Up popped Inner Circle who called themselves The Heaviest Band In
Jamaica, reason being that Guitarist Roger Lewis (The Fatman) was about 24 stone,
his brother Ian (Munti) Lewis, on Bass Guitar was about 20 stone and Jacob (Killer)
Miller was about 22 stone. This left Farquie on keyboards, Touta also on keyboards,
Black Spy on percussion and Calvin McKenzie on drums, who were all average
weight.
This band was an absolute phenomenon and every show we did, the punters just
loved it. We toured Britain and Europe for a few months doing a load of shows along
with T.V and radio appearances. In Groningen, Holland, Jacob went clean through the
stage and had to finish the set dancing tentatively around a gaping four-foot hole in
the centre of the stage. I couldnt believe when it happened, but the next night in
Rotterdam, I was watching from the side of the stage when he just totally disappeared
into thin air. He had fucking well gone and done it again and the audience didnt have
a clue what hit them. Most of the time on this tour the band just wanted to get back
home to Jamaica, but as they were selling loads of singles and Albums, Record
Company owner Chris Blackwell wanted to keep them going to make more and more
money. The cold weather was really getting to them, but to their credit they hung in
there, and became the biggest-selling Reggae Band in Europe behind Bob Marley and
the Wailers. The band ended up selling a huge amount of Albums and the single
Everything is Great also hit the charts.
Whilst the band flew from city to city, I drove a Winnebago along with Gayman, the
roadie they had brought over from Jamaica. The whole point of the Winnebago was so
that Black Spy could cook Jamaican food for the band at the gigs. Gayman used to
put the fear of God in me sometimes, as he had no conception of the word illegal
and had Ganja stashed all over the Winnebago, despite my protests.

11

He just didnt seem to grasp the fact that as you travel between countries in Europe,
there are Border Controls where you have to take the risk of being searched. In
America you travel hundreds of miles from State to State without any of this hassle,
and he seemed to think that the same applied to Europe. Imagine what it was like for
me as we were approaching each Customs Hall with a deadlocked Rastafarian,
stoned out of his head smiling at these officials, and knowing that we had jailable
amounts of illegal drugs stashed all over the back of the Winnebago, against my will
by the way. Fuck knows how we never got nailed, but Gayman was ever confident
and just smoked and smiled his way around Europe.
A few years later I had the pleasure of doing a show with the band in Miami, and
good old Gayman was still there as stoned as ever, and it was great to see him again.
Since I had last seen him, he had become one of the most famous T.V. actors in
Jamaica, and was dating the top Jamaican model as well. Very sadly, neither Jacob nor
Calvin was there as Calvin lost both legs after being hit by a car and Jacob had died at
a very young age.
Apparently he was driving to the shops when his car left the road and crashed into a
tree. He had his baby son on his lap, who fortunately was O.K. despite the shock. The
authorities put it down to a heart attack, due to his weight. Jacob Miller was already a
huge Reggae star in Jamaica before joining Inner Circle with hits like Dreadlocks
Cant Live in a Tenement Yard and the Tom Jones hit Delilah. Another great loss to
the music world.
I then did a short tour of Germany with The Bay City Rollers, which was a bit of a
disaster really as they didnt seem to be able to pull a crowd. It was probably the fault
of the Promoter, because some of the gigs were stadiums holding 10,000 people and
only a couple of hundred were showing up, which was a shame because the band were

12

really good. At one point, as I was running a spotlight there was a fight in the
audience so I swung the spotlight round on to the fight to alert the security guards. At
that moment there were more people watching the fight than the band. Thats how
empty the gigs were.
The map that the Agency gave us on the Itinerary was only drawn on a piece of
paper, so when we were playing a town called Hassel in West Germany I doublechecked on my European map to get the correct route. Off I went to Hassel, which
was just North of Hanover. I then drove all around looking for the gig, without finding
anyone who had even heard of it, let alone direct me. I remember thinking that it
appeared a bit of a small town for a gig, but kept on looking. After a lot of phone
calls, I discovered that there were three towns named Hassel in a fifty mile radius of
the one that I had gone to. I eventually picked one out of the hat and made it to the
gig, with only a couple of hours to spare.
I later found out that the band had gone to one Hassel, the P. A. and Lighting truck
had gone to another Hassel and I had gone to a third. That fucking town had definitely
been given the correct name.
Before the Berlin Wall came down, if you wanted to get to Berlin you had to go
through what was called the corridor. This meant that you had to pass through a
checkpoint and then drive straight to Berlin WITHOUT leaving the road at any time.
The reason being that Berlin was in the middle of East Germany and carved into
sections after W.W.2 so you had to basically drive through East Germany to get to
West Berlin if that makes any sense.
When I used to go through different borders I always carried a few tour T-shirts,
some Albums and in the case of East Germany, Marlborough cigarettes and Levi
jeans. These were given to the guards as a kind of bribe to let you pass through

13

quickly because if they didnt like the look of you they could have you haul out every
piece of equipment and check it off the manifest list. This could take ages, so it was
always a good idea to keep well stocked up.
A manifest is usually called a Carnet in the music world and I should take the time
explain exactly what it is. Every piece of equipment is put on the Carnet list with a
description, value, serial number and Carnet number on it, and then a Bond of several
thousand pounds has to be lodged as a Guarantee of the return of all the equipment.
Once the Chamber of Commerce in London has stamped the Carnet list, nothing can
be removed from it without their prior knowledge.
For example if you were to see a nice Guitar in Paris, there would be no problem
putting it on the Carnet, but if anything got lost, someone would be in deep shit, as it
would be assumed that whatever was missing had been sold. Therefore it was vital to
the truck drivers that nothing should be lost or stolen on tour. A few times I have
nearly gotten fucked over at the Border because some fucking musician had done just
that, but never told me about it, and just stuck it on the truck. At the end of the tour,
the Carnet had to be cleared with the Chamber of Commerce, before we got our Bond
back.
As you passed through the Checkpoint into East Germany and looked to the left
you could clearly see a tank, surrounded by Border Guards at the side of the road.
This was obviously a scare tactic; there were also two swinging gates at the roadside
about half a mile apart, so that if you tried to make a run for it, you would be totally
fucked.
On this occasion as I was on my way to Berlin, I wanted to quickly drive off the
highway for about a mile to check out Magdeburg Football Stadium, dont ask me
why. I just wanted to take a quick look and then carry on to Berlin, but it didnt quite

14

turn out that way. I had only gone about a quarter of a mile up the road when out of
nowhere appeared a lorry loaded with armed German soldiers and a fucking TANK.
Needless to say I nearly shit myself, wouldnt you?
I was hauled out of the truck and shoved against the side while this sergeant was
screaming fuck knows what at me and kicking my legs apart. Lucky for me I spoke a
bit of German and managed to explain what I was doing and he calmed down a bit.
After a few T. shirts, jeans and fags were handed over I was told to get back onto the
highway and stay on it. What a relief! I had visions of being held in a Communist jail
for ever and never seen again, which happened quite a lot on the other side of the Iron
Curtain.
The last tour I did before the end of the year was with ex Genesis Guitarist Steve
Hackett. On this one I was doing Stage Lighting, which meant that I placed all the
back lights, backdrop and all the projectors, ran all the cables and generally made sure
that everything was working O.K. It was a new experience for me but I really enjoyed
learning new skills, skills that would stand me in good stead in the years to come.
One night after a gig we were all in the hotel bar having a drink when Billy
Connolly came in and joined in the fun. He was staying in the hotel and had just
finished his own gig down the road. After a little while, Geoff Hughes the actor from
Coronation Street also tried to join in, but we told him to fuck off, because he was
wearing a suit. He started complaining that he was only wearing a suit because he was
opening a store that afternoon, so we let him join in the fun.
I had really good crack with Billy Connolly and we spent the rest of the night
getting drunk and telling dirty jokes. I eventually got to bed at four a.m. and when I
got down to breakfast at eight oclock, he was still in the bar, having drunk himself
sober.

15

After Christmas I went to work for Steve Hacketts drummer as a personal

technician. At this time I was put on a retainer by Steve, which meant that even when
we werent working I got half salary, so I was getting paid for going into the Golden
Lion and getting pissed. The Golden Lion was a Rock and Roll pub on Fulham
Broadway and lots of Rock Stars used to hang out there, where nobody used to bother
them.
One night I was drinking Tequila with John Bindon and we had put quite a few
away when I had to go for a piss. John was an actor who played a few heavies in the
movies, and he was also Led Zeppelins Security Guard and had only recently been
cleared of a murder charge. The next thing I remembered was being shaken awake by
an Air Hostess and welcomed to Pittsburg, to be greeted by a young lady. I had gone
into an alcoholic blackout and flown to New York, changed planes, and flown on to
Pittsburg. All I could do was pretend to the girl that I remembered, but I didnt. That
was the first of many alcoholic blackouts in my life.
In January I was ensconced at the bar in the Golden Lion when in walked my
flatmates Meg and Steve, with a bottle of champagne and shouting Daddy. While I
had been pissing it up, my son James was being born. His mother Sue and I had split
up a few months before and so I had kept away, but I was well chuffed to be a Dad.
When we were rehearsing in E.Z. Hire Studios, we had Rod Stewart and Dusty
Springfield next door. One day, Dustys roadie came in and asked to borrow a snare
drum for a couple of hours. When I went to get it back, Dusty was sitting there
smiling when the guy who was with me said, Howya doing Dusty, still got smelly
fingers have you? She was not amused and we had to scarper. I didnt know it then
but Dusty was a lesbian, hence the swift removal.

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We all used to go over the pub when we had finished and we all got to know Rod
Stewart pretty well, but he never did buy a round. He was telling us about all the shit
thats written about him in the papers. Just last week, he said there was an article in
the papers telling how I had collapsed on stage in Australia, and when they pumped
my stomach they found male semen in it. I havent even been in Australia for two
fucking years. I asked him what he was going to do about and he just said, Fuck all,
it aint worth it, they just print what they like, so theres no point in buying into their
bullshit.
I would hate to be a Rock Star having to put up with all that grief on a daily basis.
Steve Hacketts Drummer John Shearer was an absolute nightmare to work for. He
had an ego bigger than anybody I have ever met and a drum kit to match. Every drum
had to be handled with cotton gloves as they were chrome steel and if you didnt wear
gloves you would be polishing for weeks.
Most drummers have a Bass Drum, Two or Three Tom-Toms a Floor Tom and two
or three Cymbals maximum. Not John Shearer Oh No. He had 18 Drums and 22
Cymbals and this included 3 Bass Drums. Can you imagine the polishing involved in
that? What a fucking nightmare. So needless to say I didnt stick around with Shearer.
very long, I was a Technician not a fucking slave.
So next thing was that I called good old Bryan Grant at Britannia Row looking for
work. Britannia Row is one of the biggest P.A. companies in the world and Bryan is
very high up in the company. He is also a very nice guy and I met him when he was in
charge of the Steve Hackett tour, where he was the Tour Manager. Bryan says to me
do you know anything about Keyboards? I think I know a fair bit. O.K. Gary
Numan is looking for a Keyboard Technician for his up and coming World Tour, do
you think you can handle it? I think so and Ill give it my best shot Well its

17

150.00 a week and all the luncheon vouchers you can eat. Ill always remember
Bryan for giving me the chance to move up and get the chance to see the world, which
is something I have wanted to do my whole life.
So off I trot down to rehearsals in W. London to meet the band, who turned out to be
a nice bunch of guys, although a bit new to the big time. Gary had had a couple of
No.1s already so there was a good budget for the tour, meaning that there would be
no problems with getting paid.
The Keyboard set-up was far bigger than anything I had had to handle before, but I
soon got to know all I needed to. I had twelve Polysynths, a Mini-Moog, two Mini
Grand Pianos and an S.H.2000 plus each Keyboard player had his own mixing desk
and a pair of speakers. Quite an array, considering that they were all set-up on two
scaffolding platforms ten feet in the air, one platform either side of the stage. The tour
kicked off in Canada and the lighting Designer Alan Wilde and myself were
designated to fly out early to Toronto with the gear.
Once in Canada we got everything through customs and into the Theatre where we
were going to do production rehearsals for two weeks. After the rest of the band and
crew arrived we got stuck into rehearsals, but had to take a break while a few of us
had to bring some gear down to New York as the band were doing a very important
T.V. show called Saturday Night Live.
The rest of the crew had a few days off to get pissed and check out the Toronto
nightlife, which caused a bit of confusion to the local gay community. The reason for
the confusion was that in the Hotel bar the boys had been getting pissed and friendly
with the locals. But as they were all new to North America they didnt know some of
the Americanisms and kept asking each other for a fag. The local gay community
must have got wind of this, because within a few days the bar was beginning to fill up

18

with faggots. It took us days of watching our asses before they got the message and
realised there was no fun to be had with a bunch of hairy-assed roadies (as far as I
know.)
The Tour took us all through the States without any major problems, Gary had met a
gorgeous chick in Canada who had a pink Corvette Stingray sports car and as Gary
also had a Corvette they became like Sports car soul mates. They used to buzz around
in her Stingray and she got nicknamed Pinkie because apart from the pink car, she
used to wear a pink leather suit and with her long blonde hair she was a stunner. I was
asking him how he got his car and he told me that he went into his Record Company
offices one day and mumbled something about changing labels. Next day---- A brand
spanking new Corvette, its all right for some. We finished up in Los Angeles, before
flying back to Britain.
We then set off on the European leg starting in Brussels and doing most of Europe,
finishing up in Paris sometime in April. Its worth mentioning one good laugh we all
had at Alan Wildes expense. Alan was the Lighting Designer and was employed by
and paid by the company he worked for, being Nick Fisher Lighting. Gary Numan
had hired his Stage Lighting from Nick Fisher for the tour, and Alan came with the
package. We were about to approach a border crossing somewhere in Europe, so Alan
decided to swallow all his hash, before going through. By the time we got to the
customs hall Alan was out of his box and getting a little bit paranoid, which wasnt
helped by us all winding him up.
Anyway this customs official picked Alan out at random, just for a few routine
questions. So he asked Alan, whom he worked for and Alan replied that he worked for
Gary Numan. The customs guy then said It says here on my paperwork that you
work for Nick Fisher I do work for Nick Fisher, he said. But youve just told me

19

that you work for Gary Numan. But I do work for Gary Numan, says Alan who by
now is starting to get REALLY paranoid. Look her, do you or do you not work for
Gary Numan. No I work for Nick Fisher and Gary Numan. So, how long have
you worked for Gary Numan. Alan could only manage to blurt out I dont know.
By this time we were all pissing ourselves laughing. Well, you see that door over
there? You just go through there, sit down and when you remember, just come and tell
me. So off he went into the room and re-emerged about ten minutes later, a bit
calmer, and we got it all sorted out. For weeks later as we were setting-up the gear,
somebody would come out with So how long have you worked with Gary Numan?
Poor Alan took months to live that down.
After a couple of weeks off, it was back on to another aeroplane, this time for
Japan. We stopped in Alaska on the way over the Pole, before landing at Narita
Airport. The Japanese are the most professional people I have ever come across in my
life. The minute you get off the plane you are whisked straight into a Production
meeting to go over every small detail of the tour, especially the technical side of it.
The first day after we had set up all the gear, they went round with video cameras
filming every part of the stage and believe me; they didnt miss a single detail. In fact,
on the second gig I had to do an interview for a magazine and so was a couple of
hours late, but by the time I got there the Japanese crew had set all my gear up for me
without a single mistake and I have already told you how much equipment I had to
deal with.
It was the same with the travelling scheduling. We travelled to each city by bullet
train and each morning, we had to leave our luggage outside our room doors. That
was the last we saw of it until we checked into the next Hotel and when we got to our
rooms it was all stacked neatly inside. While we were staying in the Keio Plaza Hotel

20

we were told that The Boomtown Rats were also staying and so we had a few good
drinking sessions with Bob Geldof and co.
One night I heard a great hullabaloo going on outside the hotel and so I went outside
to have a look. When I looked up, there were Alan Wilde (again) and Steve Arch
(another one of the lighting guys) crawling along a fifteen-inch ledge about twenty
stories up. They had been pissing it up all evening and somebody dared them to climb
up on this ledge and go round the building, so off they went. All I could do was go
back inside and wait for the shit to fly, but they both appeared a few minutes later
laughing it off like nothing had happened.
The next morning I was sitting at breakfast when Steve appeared shaking in his
shoes and ghostly white, muttering something about NEVER touching another drop of
alcohol EVER. When we started to get a bit of sense out of him he told us that when
he got into the elevator to come down to breakfast, an American Indian in full War
Dress had gotten in with him. You can imagine what we all thought of that little
statement because he was deadly serious.
Just as we were about to call a shrink in came this wild looking Indian in full
costume. He came over to introduce himself and at that point Steve legged it out the
back to the kitchens It turned out that The Village People were also staying in the
hotel and they were dressed up for a photo shoot in the lobby. I had to go and get
Steve to come back in which he did after some coaxing, but the fright never stopped
him drinking.
We all got to know them very well after that as they were also going down to
Australia and New Zealand around the same time as us. In fact I was shagging Linda
Zellweger the Wardrobe girl, and so I probably got to know The Village People a bit
better than the rest of my crew.

21

Another time in Tokyo the band were having a party upstairs in the hotel bar and so
I pulled a nice looking girl and took her back to my hotel room for a bit of fun. After I
had my fun in bed I crashed out and when I woke up a couple of hours later the chick
was gone and I noticed some blood on the bed. I called all the rooms to see if any of
her friends had seen her, but got no joy. By this time I was starting to panic as I
thought Id killed her or something.
Next morning I was telling Gary about it while we were waiting for the bullet train
and he told me that he had also slept with a girl the night before, and he had noticed a
bit of blood as well. We were trying to figure it all out when up the steps to the
platform comes the young lady in question Gary said thats her there at the same
time as I did.
At that point he turned to his mum Beryl (she was with us on tour and did the
wardrobe for the boys) and said, Oh shit Mum, it looks like Ive just had Gregs
sloppy seconds. After that, every time Gary spotted a nice looker, I would ask him if
he wanted me to check her out first. This pissed Gary off for quite a while after that. It
was the same old story; she had used me to get to the Star. When I crashed out she
went straight upstairs to the party and pulled Gary, but that was just par for the course
and didnt bother me in the least.
I remember one day Gary was showing me a load of video gear that he had bought
and I said I think Ill write a song and make a few quid and Gary replied Its no
good writing a song mate, youve got to write THEE song That pretty much put me
in my place. We toured Japan for around ten days and then it was off down to New
Zealand for the next leg. I mostly remember that they had some kind of Import
restrictions so we found it very hard to hire extra lighting, but despite that the shows
all went pretty well.

22

One thing Ill never forget was when we played in Auckland and there was a power
cut half way through the show. Poor old Ced the drummer had to do a twenty-minute
drum solo in about 90degrees while they got it put right. After the show I was talking
to a local copper who told me why it had happened. Some old drunk was sleeping in
the alley behind the theatre and so, when he took a piss in the corner the 30,000-volt
ring main must have been exposed and turned him into crackling.
Next stop Australia I really loved Australia and fell hopelessly in love with a
Playboy Bunny called Leanne. She came on most of the gigs with us, and her friend
managed to get hooked up with Mick Bullock. Mick was part of the Lighting crew,
and apart from forming the sky high club with me, his main job was Special
Effects. He was fucking brilliant at this, and made a load of robots for Gary to mess
around with on stage. These were all operated by remote control and when they all
worked they made the stage show look really good. On a later tour that I didnt do,
Mick made a little space-car that Gary used to shoot out from under the Drum Riser.
He later told me that he had made it out of a wheelchair, and just added a few bits
including a joystick.
I bumped into Mick a few years later in New York when he was working with an
American band called Devo. At the start of their show, the band all appeared from
trapdoors under the stage and stepped on to escalators, which then brought them
forward to the front of the stage. As this was going on, the stage was covered in dry
ice to a depth of about three feet, so the audience were quite mystified as to how it all
happened.
As the musicians approached the front of the stage, Mick was supposed to turn off
the escalators and they then stepped off and started playing. On this one night, Mick
was having some problems with something backstage, so wasnt really paying much

23

attention to the stage. By the time he looked up, the whole fucking band were marking
time at the end of the escalators making cutthroat signs for Mick to stop the escalators
moving, before they could get off. Can you imagine what it must have looked like
with a bunch of red-faced musicians marking time like the clappers shouting? Cut,
Cut. whilst making cutthroat signs.
Poor old Mick was summoned to the dressing room after the show and to quote him
The Guitarist was jumping up and down bollock naked, his dick flapping up and
down like a yo-yo and foaming at the mouth screaming. I want a name, I want a
fucking name! at which point Mick told me that he just burst out laughing which
only made the situation much worse. After it had all calmed down, Mick managed to
keep his job, but it all sounded like a fucking circus to me.
Back to New Zealand, one night before the show, Paul Gardiner the Bass Guitarist
drank a whole bottle of Tequila in the dressing room by himself and by Showtime he
was completely out of his tree. During the show, I was sitting behind the P.A. stack
keeping an eye on my two Keyboard players when I thought (something isnt right).
I wasnt wrong because Paul was playing a different tune to the rest of the band and
Garys father (who was also his Manager) kept turning Pauls amp down and Paul
kept turning it back up. I shot across behind the curtain just in time to see Paul
grinning at the Drummer, then say, Fuck it, put his guitar down and totter off
backstage, so I just went back to my place on the other side of the stage.
As Gary came posing across to my side of the stage, I was still pissing myself
laughing about Paul, but Gary wasnt. He started gesturing to me to get across and
take Pauls place, but I just told him to piss off. After the show, he explained that he
didnt want me to play, but just to stand there in Pauls position because having Paul
missing threw off the look of the show.

24

The whole stage set-up was in the shape of a huge H, with the drums up on a
platform about five feet high in the middle, and a Keyboard player on either side,
about eight feet above the stage. I must admit from a punters point of view, it looked
really good. Lights flickering up and down behind the front two guitarists highlighted
all of this, but without Paul standing in front, it looked pretty naff.
After the show Gary was going to sack Paul, but I think I helped to save him by
explaining to Gary (who didnt drink any alcohol) the delayed kick of Tequila. He
hummed and hawed for a while, but relented in the end. Paul Gardiner sadly died a
few years later, after falling down late at night in a school playground while on his
way home. I was really sorry to hear the news because Paul was a really good mate
and it was he who started Gary on his road to fame when he formed Tubeway Army.
In one of the hotels, the Manager told me a really funny story about one of the
guests who was suing the hotel for damages incurred by a kangaroo. Apparently they
had a regular who had a boxing kangaroo and this guy toured all over Australia doing
exhibitions where the little grey kangaroo would take on members of the audience.
This kangaroo was trained to start punching anyone who put their dukes up and it
used to stay in the guys room in the hotel.
One night about a month before we arrived the guy and his kangaroo were going
upstairs when some drunken businessman passed them on the stairs. The businessman
put up his dukes and the kangaroo punched fuck out of him and knocked him down
the stairs, breaking his arm in the process. The businessman was now suing the hotel
for damages. I wish we had been a few weeks earlier as I would have loved to have
seen that.
At that time in Australia they didnt have air-ride trucks, which meant that a lot of
the time the Keyboards were getting rattled about. There didnt seem to be a day that I

25

wasnt up to my elbows in wires, trying to get one to work. One day I was apologising
to Gary for holding up the sound-check but he just pointed and said, Dont worry
about it, but if anything happens to that Moog, I wont like it. Whats so special
about that one? I said, and he replied, That Moog has made me fucking Millions.
From that day on, the Moog travelled in the front of the truck, in the drivers bunk,
because it must have been his first one and he had written all his hits on it.
I really loved Australia but also loved the U.S.A. and knew that there was absolutely
no way that I was going to live in England any more. I had been offered jobs in both
countries and also had a girlfriend in each so there I was standing at Sydney Airport
tossing a coin to decide my future whilst a Jumbo jet was revving up in the
background. I cant remember if it came up heads or tails, but it was The U.S.A. for
me.

26

CHAPTER 3

AMERICAN DREAM

It might be worth taking this time to give you an idea of how this touring game
worked. Each Lighting Company would have around four people, P.A. Company
about the same and there would be between two and four band roadies depending on
the size of the band. There would also be a Production Manager, Stage Manager and
Tour Manager who took care of the band. I mustnt forget the Catering crew who took
care of feeding us and we sometimes had a Wardrobe girl as well, depending on the
budget.
We all travelled on tour buses, which sleep from six to twelve people. There was a
front and back lounge area with video, c.d. tape deck, T.V. refrigerator, bunks and
toilet. Some even had a washing machine built onto the back, so that you could hook
up to the water supply at gigs and get your undies washed. One bus I was on had a
Space Invaders machine in the back lounge, which was ideal for snorting coke off of.
The Lighting crew would go in first and get the lights hung on the trusses once the
Rigger had gone up into the grid and got the chain motors attached. The rigger had a
very dangerous job, as he had to climb up into the grid and get the supports for the
trusses in place. Not a job for the faint hearted. He also had to geometrically work out
where the flying points would be set, so all in all it is a very responsible job.
I used to know a Rigger called Steve who used to freeze occasionally when he
was up too high, and needless to say he got the nickname of Rigger Mortise. The
trusses came in eight-foot sections and were pinned together, and usually measured

27

forty feet long. Once the lights were hung on the trusses and flown up off the stage it
was the turn of the P.A. crew to get the P.A. either stacked on each side of the stage or
flown in the air. Last in were the band crew who got all the risers and band gear set up
ready for the sound-check, which is usually at four oclock until five.
Out of the four lighting crew, one of them would operate the lighting console during
the show and one of the P.A. guys would mix the out-front board while one of the
others would operate the on-stage monitor board. Monitors are speakers on stage that
the band use to hear what each other are playing, so they all manage (hopefully) to
play in tune. The Monitor desk is set off to the side of the stage and is usually placed
on top of two empty flight case lids about three feet off the floor, with a space
underneath. This space can be used for lots of different things, which will become
apparent later.
Lighting guys usually hated band crew, because they could laze in bed until noon,
while the lights went in really early. I always felt sorry for the Lighting guys because
after the show we would usually all get pissed on the bus, but as the Lampies had to
be up first, usually in a few hours, they hardly ever got any sleep. I have always said
that Lighting is by far the hardest gig. Its no fun running about twenty feet in the air
with a hangover I can tell you. Times have changed a bit since those days, for
example I went to see the boys from U.2. a few years back and they were touring the
U.S.A. with twelve forty-foot trucks and twenty buses.
Anyway, having tossed the coin, I then flew back to London to have a going away
party for all my friends, and Dee flew over from New York to join in the fun. I had
met Dee while touring the Sates and we had arranged a holiday in Jamaica for the end
of the tour.

28

Next day we headed back across the Atlantic, spent a couple of days in Dees
apartment and then headed off to Kingston J.W.I. By the time we arrived, I didnt
know which end was up. I had just spent twenty- four hours flying from Australia to
London, eight hours from London to New York and six hours from New York to
Jamaica. I was lying in the sunshine on the beach, drinking Myers Rum out of a
coconut shell, smoking a huge spliff and wondering what the fuck happened.
Talk about jet lag! We had a great time in Jamaica visiting a blue lagoon, snorkelling
and generally getting out of our heads on the local ganja. We were pretty lucky,
because a couple of weeks after we left, a Hurricane hit the Island and blasted our
rented house half a mile up the mountains. This was the second near miss of the year
because also an Earthquake hit Japan while we were there, it wasnt too big but it
could have been pretty bad as another hit a few years ago and trashed Osaka. Those
were two of three narrow escapes for me that year as a few weeks later I had just
taken off from Seattle Airport when Mount St. Helens erupted and I got a picture of it
out of the plane window. It was a bit worse for one of my mates who was in Seattle at
the time setting op for a Bruce Springsteen show. He told me later that they all had to
evacuate the building as the P.A. speakers were swinging all over the place forty feet
in the air.
When I got back from Jamaica I got in contact with Michael Ahern who had been
the stage manager at the New York Palladium when Gary Numan played there a few
months previously. He had told me to call him if I came back to New York and so he
sent me down to Washington D.C. to help build the stage for the annual Beach Boys
show on the great lawn. We spent about a week in the sunshine getting the stage built
and on the Saturday The Beach Boys arrived to thrill the crowds with some of their
greatest hits- of which there were many. It was really funny because they each arrived

29

separately in limousines accompanied by a couple of shrinks, didnt talk to each other,

did a great show and then took off. A bit strange if you ask me. When I got back to
New York I started working three or four days a week at the Woolman Rink in the
middle of Central Park.
The Woolman Rink was an outdoor roller skating rink but during the summer they
had live music in the evenings. Some big names played there the time I worked such
as Hall and Oates, Joe Jackson, The Pretenders, Devo, Steven Stills and Talking
Heads. John Lennon lived just across the street in the Dakota Building but only came
to see The Pretenders the whole summer. The local cops used to come around during
the afternoon while we were setting up and I used to smuggle out cans of coke to
them, topped up with brandy out of the dressing room I got to know a couple of them
quite well over the summer but at first I was intrigued by the fact that they were
armed to the teeth and one day I really showed myself up to be a bit nave.
I was sitting in the dressing room with Ray Bernard, who was one of the N.Y.P.D.
cops that I had gotten to know very well, and asked him if I could have a look at his
gun. Sure man but just be careful O.K? Is it loaded? He gave me a stupid look
and said Now what would I be doing walking around Central Park with a loaded
gun? Of course its fucking loaded. I felt like a real wally, but thats how new it all
was to me at that time.
As this was the last year of the Woolman Rink, the cops decided to throw a big
barbeque on stage after the final show, as a thank you to us for taking care of them
over the summer. The Sergeant came in with a chefs hat on and took charge of the
grill and we all had a great time getting pissed. Every so often a few on-duty cops
would come in for a bit of fun and hang up their gun belts on the side of the stage

30

while they boogied down. Bonnie Raitt and Jackson Brown showed up and after a
while it begun to look like Tombstone, with all the guns hanging up.
At one point there was a frantic banging on the back door and when somebody
answered it, in rushed this pissed cop looking for his gun. He had been wandering
around Central Park, surrounded by muggers, rapists and murderers for a couple of
hours unarmed. What a laugh!
After the summer was over I started to run out of money and it looked like I would
have to go back to England, as I didnt have a lot of contacts in New York at that time.
A couple of days before I was about to leave I was walking across Times Square when
I thought Hello- I know that mincing little walk, but it couldnt be could it? It was.
Steve Wood, who I had worked with when I toured with Steve Hackett, was about ten
feet in front of me and I just couldnt believe my eyes. After the niceties, he asked me
if I knew any body that could do a tour for him with The Psychedelic Furs. Talk about
luck. So off we went on a six-week U.S. tour starting in New York and finishing in
Los Angeles. The Furs at that time were probably the hottest bit of property on the
market as just about everybody and his dog wanted to produce their next Album.
People like Frank Zappa, David Bowie, Todd Rundgren and David Byrne from
Talking Heads kept showing up at gigs all through the tour. They eventually settled
for Todd Rundgren and the Album did very well, even getting a song called Pretty in
Pink onto the soundtrack of a Madonna movie.
One night I went into the dressing room of the club we were playing in New York
and there was David Bowie sitting there. He introduced himself and we had quite a
nice chat. I had met him once before at a Gary Numan gig where Gary asked security
to tell him to leave. Apparently David had Gary removed from a T.V. Studio a few

31

years before, so Gary had returned the favour. We had a good laugh about it and
David just said, Leave the boy alone, hes O.K. really.
Steve Wood was a great character, he just loved to get pissed all the time, which
was great because at least twice he had forgotten that he had paid me and so he paid
me again. But, being the honest chap that I am I had to tell him otherwise it would
probably have come out of his wages and none of us were getting paid a fortune.
Steve was a really good looking guy and women used to swoon over him but one
night we really stitched him up a treat.
We were in a hotel in Toronto on a day off Steve was wearing a really smart white
suit and was sitting at the hotel bar getting chatted-up by a really stunning-looking
woman. When he went upstairs to get something from his room, one of the guys put a
Quaalude into his gin and tonic. A lude is the equivalent of Valium, we called them
mallets and if you took a drink as well it pretty much fucked you up for a few hours.
We were all sitting in the corner waiting to see what was going to develop and
keeping an eye on Steve.
A bit later on he went for a piss and when he came back we almost died laughing,
hed a huge wet stain all the way down the trousers of his beautiful white suit and was
drooling all down his chin. We were in hysterics by this time watching Steve trying to
keep it together but without success because the girl only hung around for another few
minutes and then slunk off.
Steve then wobbled off to bed and next morning at breakfast he was totally
bewildered at how he hadnt got laid the night before. I was getting on really well
with her He said. I dont know what happened, she just disappeared. We had to
put him out of his misery, but Steve took it all in good spirits and we all had a good
laugh. He knew that there would be plenty more pussy down the road and he would

32

easily find a way to wreak vengeance on the lot of us. By the way I do not advocate
such behaviour because I know people do this kind of thing and its not funny, but we
were all good mates and knew what we were doing, so dont try this at home.
I saw Steve a few years later when he was Tour Manager for Dave Edmunds and
even after a few years had passed, we were still laughing about it. Its just a pity that
none of us thought to take some pictures. Oh well.
After we finished The U.S. tour the band went home to London and I returned to
New York where I started working with Studio Instrument Rentals. They supplied
equipment to various venues around the New York area as well as for touring bands.
They also had rehearsal rooms for bands to get their Production up to scratch for their
up-coming tours or recording dates. It was pretty good working for S.I.R. because it
was sort of part-time and I could pick and choose when I worked. Quite a lot of
roadies used to work there between tours and it was also a great place to make work
contacts. Bands would come in to rehearse and if they took a liking to you and they
needed road-crew, you would quite often get hired for a tour. I also worked at the Pier
for the summer.
The Pier was on the Hudson riverfront and had taken over from the Woolman Rink
after its closure the year before. It was a great venue, being right on the river so you
had a nice breeze to keep down the heat of the New York summer.
I went back to London briefly and met up with The Furs at the opening of one of
their mates wine bar. Me and Roger Morris, the Guitarist managed to get pretty
legless and as I had a car he asked me to give him a lift home. As I had been drinking,
I didnt want to but he said that it was just around the corner, so I agreed. Just around
the corner happened to be about twenty miles down the A3.

33

As I was approaching some Traffic Lights in the pouring rain, the lights changed
and as I braked, they locked and I went crashing into the back of a Maserati that had
stopped in front. I dont think that it was my fault as the lights were still on Orange
when he stopped, so it was unexpected. As I had been drinking I started to panic, but
Roger and I just swapped seats, he took over the wheel and drove off. When I went
down in the morning, I noticed that the License Plate was missing, and it was only
later that I discovered that it had been left in the rear end of the Maserati. I had a bit of
explaining to do in the office next day as it was a Company car and I had Greg Lakes
kids Christmas present in the boot. After the cops came round one day while I was
out, I decided it was time to head back to the U.S.A.

34

CHAPTER 4

PIE IN THE SKY

At the start of 1981 I got fixed up with the best band I have worked for in more ways
than one. Humble Pie were a legend and at one point were the biggest band in the
world, headlining shows over the likes of Lynyrd Skynyrd, Led Zeppelin and Canned
Heat among many others. By the time I joined them they had fallen from grace as far
as headlining massive shows, but were still selling out good-sized venues.
With the likes of Steve Marriot on guitar and vocal, Jerry Shirley on drums and
Bobby Tench on lead guitar and vocal, how could you go wrong. Steve was the
founder of The Small Faces and to give you an idea of how good he was, when he left
The Small Faces it took both Rod Stewart AND Ronnie Wood to replace him. At this
point the band consisted of Steve, Jerry, Bobby and Sooty who was a friend of Jerrys
on bass guitar. Sootys real name is Anthony Jones but as he is a black man, he got the
obvious nickname (which he loved, by the way). A few years earlier Bobby had been
the singer with The Jeff Beck Group and was a well-respected singer and Guitarist.
We didnt really have a fixed tour as such but just kept on gigging all over the
States, sometimes doing clubs on our own or opening the show for various bands. I
took care of Steves guitars (probably because nobody else could handle him). I used
to change the top three strings on Staves guitars every three days and the whole set
every week. That was the way that Steve liked it but every Musician is different. Ira
was the drum roadie and Dave Rule handled all of Bobby and Sootys gear. Believe me
when I tell you that I drew the short straw (and I mean that in the nicest possible way)

35

because Steve was quite a handful and I sadly miss him, but he certainly lived his life
to the full.
We were playing one night in a club in New Jersey when Steve got a call in the
dressing room and as I was there, I overheard the conversation. All I heard was Steve
saying Yeah! No problem mate, come on down, we got loads of booze, loads of
coke, and loads of pussy. Then Hello? Hello? Oh well, the cunts hung up. Who
was that Steve? Bruce Springsteen, he wanted to come down for a jam, but when I
said O.K. the fucker hung up! I guess that Steve was too much of a real Rocker for
Mr Springsteen, but never mind, thats his fucking problem.
After we had done a few clubs up and down the country, we hooked up with Ted
Nugent for a while. Ted was a wild man from Michigan and he hunted deer with a
crossbow in his spare time. He was very popular all over the States and drew huge
audiences playing mostly 10,000 seat arenas. He also used to wear a loincloth and
arrived on stage swinging from a rope twenty feet in the air. Ted was great fun but he
used to piss Steve off because he used to keep pestering Steve to get on stage with
him during his set and jam. This only got Steve to start calling him Ted Nuisance so
after a while Ted called it off.
Ted had a brother named John, who was the Merchandiser, which meant that he
handled all the T. shirt sales. One day John gave us all T. shirts with John Nugent
World Tour printed on front. We all wore them one day and when Ted came to
sound-check he went spare! John came up to us a bit later begging us to give them
back cos Ted had threatened to kill him if he didnt. Needless to say we did and so
John saved his hide.
Another time we were playing in Battle Creek Michigan, which was quite near to
Teds ranch. He brought his red-setter hunting dog with him and kept it in his dressing

36

room when he was busy playing on stage. I didnt know this at the time but I soon
found out.
After Humble Pie had finished their set and all the gear was packed in the three
tonner, we all went and sat in the dressing room getting pissed. Ted was up on stage
doing his thing and when we ran out of beer in our dressing room I went next door to
Teds to get some of his beers. As I opened the door the fucking dog shot out and
headed straight for the stage. I got there just in time to see the dog go flying across the
stage and jump on to Ted knocking him flat on his arse with his guitar wrapped round
his neck. The rest of the band didnt know what the fuck had happened, but managed
somehow to keep going.
After the show Ted came looking for the person who got 10,000 people laughing at
him, so I had no choice but to own up. I told him I was sorry but he said it was O.K.
because he had forgotten to tell me that the dog was as he put it plumb fucking
crazy I think I was pretty lucky to get away with that one. Steve used to get a build
up of phlegm in his throat quite a lot and the only way to clear it was to just gob it out,
but you never knew where or when he would let go and he didnt look or care where it
went. So you had to be pretty vigilant during the show or you could get splattered
with an oyster. I copped for quite a few in the early days before I got wise.
Our final show with Ted was just outside San Francisco at a County Fairgrounds.
During Teds show he decided to copy Steve as Ted thought that Steve was spitting to
be cool and punk-like. The only problem was that Ted spat into the punters by mistake
and didnt reckon on anyone spitting at him, but somebody did. The spittle hit Teds
guitar and the next thing I saw was Ted launching himself onto the audience from the
ten feet high stage and punching the shit out of some poor bastard. When Ted finished

37

he just climbed back up on stage and carried on as if nothing had happened. That Ted
Nugent was quite a guy all right.
We used to have code words for different drugs, for example Quaaludes were
boys, and cocaine was racket so when we located the local dope dealer we would
call him boy with meaning boy with drugs, so if I were to introduce him to the
band, they wouldnt be rude to him. This would spoil the chances of getting free coke
all night as dealers used to get a kick hanging out with the band. We used to call coke
racket because we had a tour bus with Tennis Club on the sign above the door, so
any time one of us scored you would hear anyone for tennis and wed all pile onto
the bus for few lines of coke.
One time all three of us roadies were driving to Philadelphia, when I cut up a cop
car on the Highway, and got pulled over. As I was driving and my Visa had run out, I
told the other two to get rid of any drugs they had on them, and as I was standing
talking to the cop, he saw David throwing something into the bushes at the side of the
road.
Although it was pitch dark, the cop went and picked up an empty cocaine bottle, so
decided that he had enough evidence to search us all. I was absolutely shitting myself,
as I knew that the New Jersey State Troopers were a bunch of fucking Nazis, and if
they busted us, they would lock us up and throw away the key. As the woman Officer
came near me to look at the packet she had found in Davids pocket, I knocked her
arm, tipping the coke on to the road where the wind blew it away. Luckily Ira had an
Uncle who was in the New York Police Department, and as the cop had heard of him,
he let us drive on. I could have fucking killed David for pulling that little stunt.
On one of the many nights Steve was hung over onstage he said to the audience
Youll have to excuse me tonight but Im a bit knackered because I had a couple of

38

boys last night. He got such a good laugh out of this, that he carried on saying it for
a few nights on the trot. After a few days of this, two faggots came backstage asking
for Steve. I took them into the dressing room to meet Steve and one says, Hi, Im
Tarquin and this is my friend Benedict, its super to meet you. Steve went fucking
spare and I had to come to their rescue and throw them out before he hit one of them.
After that little episode he never mentioned the word boys on stage again. After a
while, the word boys got used for pretty much anything. Steve had a thing about
faggots and he just couldnt stand being around them. After Ted we set off on tour
with Judas Priest, Iron Maiden and Whitesnake. Judas Priest was headlining and it
was Iron Maidens first American tour.
We had a pretty hectic schedule and by the time we got to Kansas City, had a
welcome couple of days off. Steve had a friend who lived nearby and he invited us to
go fishing with him at a lake just outside the city. The night before, we all got very
drunk in the hotel bar and Steve scored some black beauties, which turned out to be a
bad move. I got to bed pretty late, but Steve and the woman he pulled were up all
night speeding on black beauties. Next morning they arrived at my room with Bobby
Tench, all geared up for our fishing trip.
I was so hung-over that I tried to ignore them but Steve got a passkey from the desk
and they all steamed in and literally dragged me out of bed. I felt really sorry for the
poor girl that Steve had brought along because it was pissing rain and she only had on
her party outfit, but Steves mate gave her a jacket to wear. She immediately got
nicknamed Mavis after the dizzy woman out of Coronation Street and she didnt
have a clue what she had just let herself in for.
On the way out to the lake, Steve was buzzing and we started a thing where we
tried to think of band names to do with fishing. I started with Bobby Tench Steve

39

came back with Salmon Dave and this carried on for the whole day as every so
often somebody would come up with a new one.
We rented a boat with an outboard motor, filled it up with beer, rods and bait then
set off on our adventure. The rain eased off, but it drizzled the rest of the day. The lake
had loads of tree branches sticking up out of the water so we had to be really careful
to avoid tearing the sides of the boat as it was only about ten feet long and pretty
flimsy. We started off baiting our hooks and as Steve was pretty sober he was
squeamish about putting his hook into the minnow, but he managed O.K. eventually.
The jokes were flying thick and fast Prawn Jovi Skate Bush, Rainbow, Squid
Vicious, Cod Stewart and The Plaices, The Ray City Rollers but Steve capped it
all with Pike and Tuna Turbot.
By this time we were screaming in pain with sore heads laughing so much the boat
was rocking about all over the place, but we were catching loads of bass and crappy.
How the fuck we managed it I dont know but Steve was getting most of the fish. By
this time most of the beer was gone and Steve was by now out of it shouting pass me
another boy, which could have been a beer or a minnow and sticking his hook
through the eye of the minnows with great gusto.
It was time to go back to the jetty for more beer and so I asked Steves mate if I
could have a go at steering the boat. I had just gotten going when I slipped and fell
backwards pulling the rudder to the side and the throttle turned full tilt, sending us
straight into a bunch of tree branches, tearing a huge hole in the side of the boat. We
were beginning to sink, so it was hell-bent for leather back to base, which we just
managed, before the boat sank, which it did. No problem, more beer and off again
back to the matter in hand.

40

We then spotted saw some other very serious looking fishermen coming towards us
in their very expensive-looking boat. They had all the gear. Sonor fish finder, hightech fishing rods and the all-weather fishing clothes, these guys were obviously very
serious anglers. We all figured that we were going to be right in the shit, but they were
unbelievably polite and just wanted to know the kind of bait we were using. Can you
believe it? The fucking noise that we were making, youd think that we would have
scared every fish for miles.
After we got back to the hotel I passed out and was woken later by Steve and Mavis
(who unbelievably had survived,) with a platter of breaded fish fillets, chips, peas and
tartar sauce all cooked by Steve, he even made the tartar sauce in the hotel kitchens. A
few weeks later I had to drive overnight to Salt Lake City and arrived about six
oclock in the morning, so I went into the breakfast room for something to eat before
getting some well earned rest, as the band were to arrive later that day.
Humble Pie was the only band that I worked for that never did a sound check. Every
other band made a huge deal out of getting the sound perfect but Steve and the boys
never bothered. Craig, the engineer got it right during the first number, which was so
fucking loud that you wouldnt have known if the mix was right anyway.
Anyway, back to the hotel. As I was eating breakfast, I noticed that there were a load
of cops having coffee and doughnuts and so looking out the window I saw the Police
Precinct, right across the street. This immediately set off my alarm bells as with Steve
arriving later, I had a really bad feeling of impending doom. I wasnt wrong as after I
got some sleep I went into town for a look around and as I was coming up the hill to
the hotel I saw an armchair sitting in the middle of the road crushed almost flat. I
looked up and saw a broken window about ten or twelve floors up and didnt have to
guess whose room that was. I went upstairs to see Steve and he had a room full of

41

women, {old friends} he reckoned. They had been fucking about when one of the
girls threw a chair at Steve. He ducked and the chair went through the window. I
thought {here we go, this is going to be a nightmare} Steve had already paid for the
window explaining that it was an accident so they let him offthis time.
After the show Steve came to the bar and discreetly asked me if I had any Blue
Unction ointment as he had a dose of the crabs. I happened to have some so I told him
I would bring it to his room after I had finished my drink. As I was in my room
getting it out of my bag Bobby walked in and I didnt have time to hide it. What you
got Nothing, so fuck off. He must have thought it was dope or something so when
I eventually turned it over under threat of death, he immediately roared Marriott and
shot out the door.
Meanwhile Steve was holding court with his new found friends getting pissed and
blasting out on the ghetto blaster, when Bobby burst in and said in a very loud voice
Heres your crab ointment Steve and left. I was back in the bar when Bobby came
down and told me and we both cracked-up thinking about how Steve would react to
this recent violation of his rights.
About three or four hours later I looked through the open bar door to see Steve
being escorted out of the hotel by FOUR huge Salt Lake City Police Officers, with his
head hung low, being followed by his entourage of women and two hotel security
guards. What had happened was that his music blasting had drawn complaints from
some of the other residents and so hotel security went up to tell him to turn it down.
When they knocked on the door of his room, he thought it was us so he threw an
empty bottle against the door and shouted, Fuck off or Ill kill you all. The security
got a bit nervous and asked a couple of cops to go back to the room with them, which
they did. He then asked the girls to start screaming like they were having an orgy and

42

he was shouting all kinds of shit at the door. They were all having a good laugh when
the cops burst in and nicked the lot of them-what a fucking laugh. Steve tried to fob it
all off by saying that he didnt like the hotel anyway and the one he checked into next
door was far nicer. Yeah, right Steve, I believe you.
Steve had this alter ego that he called Mad Melvin and anytime he got himself in
the shit, he would just say Nothing to do with me mate, ask Melvin. It got so, that I
really think that he believed it himself. He often told me that if I ever fucked up just to
deny everything and say Me? I never and this would take care of everything.
When we were in New York for a couple of days off David took the truck home
with him instead of parking it in the Ryder Truck depot, which is guarded round the
clock. He parked it outside his apartment on the Lower East side of Manhattan, which
is a haven of junkies and pimps. He didnt even remove the fuzz buster radar
detector nor the C.B. radio from the dash- board, or the guitars from the back. He left
it parked there for three days, while he stayed indoors and got stoned.
Needless to say when he went outside, the truck had gone. It was found a couple of
days later in Brooklyn, totally empty. Inside had been all of Steve, Bobby and Sootys
guitars, some of which were irreplaceable, and all the drums and amps. We had to
borrow all of the Scorpions gear for the rest of the tour, as luckily we both had the
same Management Company, and they had put their equipment in storage.
Funnily enough, David was in Mannys Guitar Store a couple of weeks later
checking if anyone had tried to sell them any of our gear, when this guy walked in
with one of our amps and proceeded to try and sell it right under his nose. Mannys
assistant was a Black Belt in Karate and chased the guy out of the shop and into the
subway, where he flattened him with a kick. Although we got that amp back, we never

43

saw any of the other stuff again. If I was the Manager of the band, I would have killed
David, but he managed to save his skin.
I remember one day off in San Antonio, I was standing in the bar with Steve, Paul
Dianno, who was Iron Maidens vocalist and David Coverdale from Whitesnake when
Rob Halford from Judas Priest came in and beckoned me over.
I knew Rob pretty well so he asked me if I would introduce him to Steve as he had
never met him and told me that he had been a big fan of Steves since he was young.
The only thing was that Rob was gay and I didnt know how Steve would react.
Unfortunately Steve was well oiled by this time and when I introduced Rob to him,
even he shocked me with his response.
You have to remember that Judas Priest was the headline act and we were guests on
their tour, so we should at least be polite. After I made the introductions Steve came
back with a really stupid remark about being scared he might get a cock up his ass. At
this point Rob gave me a hurt look as if I had set him up, turned and walked out
followed by come on back mate and hang out with a couple of real singers and a
barrage of cackling. I could have strangled Steve for that, but there was nothing I
could do, as by this time the damage was done.
We were lucky that Rob didnt have us thrown off the tour, although it took weeks
for him to talk to me again. A few days later we were in Santa Fe, New Mexico
getting ready to head off to Dallas, when Elliot the tour manager got a call from
Immigration in El Paso Texas, asking if he knew anyone called Steve Marriot What
the fuck is it now! Can you please come and take him away because hes doing our
heads in. Steve had decided that instead of travelling with the rest of the band, he
would go with the Judas Priest roadies overnight on their bus so he could get pissed

44

all night and not have to worry about anything and he could watch porn videos.
Naturally he didnt bother to tell anyone, but just took off.
When you are travelling near the border between Mexico and the U.S.A.
Immigration set up stations at random on the side of the road to check for Illegal
Immigrants and we called these Mex Checks. The bus was pulled over for a routine
check and Steve didnt have his Passport with him but he should have been able to get
away with it, as the Immigration guys are usually pretty reasonable. The only problem
was that he started winding up the Immigration Officers so they hauled him off the
bus and locked him up.
The crew couldnt wait for him, as they had to be in Dallas in a few hours time, so
they just had to leave him to his fate. Elliot had to fly down to El Paso with Steves
Passport and then hire a car to take them to Dallas for the next show. We toured up
and down the States playing to full houses and eventually arrived in Seattle,
Washington State.
We checked into The Edgewater Inn Hotel, which is an absolutely brilliant hotel. On
Tuesday nights the set up an all you can eat seafood buffet for next to nothing, with
king crab legs, oysters, roast beef, ham roast and just about any seafood imaginable.
The hotel is right in Seattle Sound and some of the rooms have balconies that you can
fish from. We had pre-booked our rooms a long time in advance to make sure that we
had seven of the ones with balconies.
Fishing rods and bait could be rented from the desk and so Steve and I got stuck
right into a bit of fishing off the balcony in his room. Steve managed to catch a
mackerel and I filleted it for him because he was after a shark, so I left him to it and
went down to the bar. A couple of hours later Steve phoned the bar to get me to come
upstairs as quick as possible, so I legged it up to his room to see what was up.

45

In the bath he had a four-foot dusky shark that hed caught, but I told him hed
better get it back into the ocean as it was a saltwater fish and would die. Just as we
were getting it out of the bath, Sooty came in pretty pissed and carrying a bottle of
Heineken and when Steve showed him the shark, he freaked out and bottled it. At this
point I got pissed off at him and rubbed the shark across his bare arm, taking off a
layer of skin. How do you like it? Sooty then took off as he knew that me and Steve
were not impressed with him and we got it back into the water and it soon came round
and swam off.
I had gotten Dee to send me down some mallets from New York and so we all
downed a few later on that evening. I got so out of it that I couldnt remember how
many I had taken, so I took a couple more.
By this time I didnt even know what day it was and decided to go up and see Steve.
He was having a candlelight dinner with another of his friends when I burst in and
fell on the table. It was just like the scene in The Godfather when Michael shoots the
off-duty cop in the restaurant. I hit the table, which was on a central pedestal and it
spun up in the air throwing the whole lot against the wall. There was chicken, veggies,
wine and candles all over the place. I must be the only person ever to be thrown out of
Steve Marriots room, as it was usually the other way round. A bit later on I fell into
the Seattle Sound and got pulled out by Jerry Shirley and taken (or actually carried)
upstairs to my room.
We headed off next day down to Los Angeles to play The Country Club in Reseda,
which was just outside L.A. This show went pretty crazy after a while, I mean crazier
than usual for a Humble Pie gig. We were all wearing shorts due to the heat, and at
one point Jerry started gesturing to me that something was wrong. I ran to the back of
the drum riser, but couldnt see anything amiss, but he told me to go around to the

46

front of the kit. At this point I was in full view of the audience and just then, the other
two roadies grabbed me and started to pull my shorts off. This started a battle, as there
was no fucking way that I was going to be dis-robed in front of 3000 people.
Eventually, with the help of a couple of stagehands they succeeded, and I had to walk
off to the side of the stage, bollock naked whilst trying to maintain my cool.
Just then some girl decided to jump on stage and flash her titties, before taking off
backstage. By this time Steve was cracking up, and then the whole fucking place went
mad. Women were coming out of the woodwork, jumping up on stage and stripping
off. At this point I had to try and drag them off, but it was quite a fight. The band was
still playing away and I suddenly saw Steve shouting something at me, but I had a
hold of this dolly bird around the waist, trying to drag her off. As I passed Steve, he
said, For fuck sake make sure that one gets a backstage pass. Even in the throes of
playing, he still managed to think of getting laid.
The day after the show David and I were waiting in Barneys Beanery for some
chick to show up with some racket for the drive to Las Vegas. Barneys was a really
great Burger Joint just down from the Sunset Marquis Hotel and you could put your
laundry into the Laundromat across the street and sit by the window with a beer, while
you waited for it to dry.
It was a hanging out joint for all the bands that used to stay at the Sunset Marquis,
and Beverly Sunset Hotels and there was always someone there that you knew. As I
said, we were waiting for this chick to show up at eleven oclock in the morning with
the racket, and we then wanted to get going as soon as we could, to get to Vegas in
time for some fun.

47

As there were three of us travelling in the truck, one of us used to fly with the band
when we had a long drive, to make it a bit more comfortable, so this time it was me
and Davids turn.
Talking of flying, nobody ever wanted to sit next to Steve, so when it was my turn
to fly, I always got the seat of danger next to him. He was always at the back so
everyone was safe from him. I dont like flying at the best of times and Steve knew
this so he was twice as bad as normal when I was with them. One time I was sitting
next to Steve and he had the window seat next to the engine. The engine was roaring
at high revs until we got to cruising altitude and just as it did so, Steve shouted shut
the fuck up, and banged the side of the fuselage with his elbow.
At this point the engine throttled down and the plane levelled out. I nearly shit
myself as I thought hed done something to the electrics, but it was O.K. Another time
Steve got thrown off the plane just before take off and Elliott had to buy a wig from
the Airport shop and put him in a wheelchair with shades and a blanket over his
knees, to get him on a later flight.
Anyway in L.A. we waited for fucking ages, drinking and playing pool and by the
time the dealer showed up at seven in the evening I had to be practically carried into
the truck. I was to take the first couple of hours behind the wheel, while David slept
and then he took over while I got my turn to sleep and so on.
The next thing I remembered was waking up in the hotel room next day with David
fast asleep in the next bed. I woke him up to see if he wanted to go down to breakfast
and started to apologise for not doing my driving stint the night as I thought he had
driven the whole way by himself. He said I was just going to apologise to you for
sleeping the whole way so it looks like I did the whole drive in a blackout. I must

48

admit that I had some help as the whole gram of coke was gone, but he didnt
complain, as he preferred to get some sleep before Vegas.
After the show we all went to one of Steves mates Nightclubs so that they all
could have a jam session and when I was walking into the club, I could hear this
amazing blues guitar filtering out. I said to David Bobby sounds in great form
tonight, dont you think? He agreed and when we got inside it was Steve playing. I
had never really heard him play lead guitar before and I was stunned at how good he
was. Later, we went back to the hotel to do a bit of gambling. I managed to get
$1400.00 up before I lost the lot plus $250.00 of my own money.
When you are gambling in Vegas, you get free drinks, even if you are only playing
the slots, which is why I lost my winnings because you start getting careless. Next day
we were in Reno, and I went down to breakfast with $50.00 to play blackjack, win or
lose that was all I was going to bet. Luckily I managed to win back my $250.00. and
quit, vowing to never drink again when I was gambling. Steve won $1000.00 on the
dollar bandit and then went to the bar and bought everyone drinks all night, the silly
fucker forgot about the free drinks and squandered the lot in quick time.
After a few weeks we arrived in Harvey, Illinois and got a surprising and
unexpected week off courtesy of Steve. The night before the show, there was a fashion
show in the hotel ballroom so the place was swarming with models. They all had a
party in a couple of rooms upstairs and we were naturally invited to attend and believe
me, we didnt have to be asked twice.
During the evening Steve was standing talking to one of the girls while leaning
against the bathroom door- frame. Some fucking idiot went into use the bog shutting
the door on four of Steves fingers. Steve let out a blood-curdling scream and started
kicking the door open, but the guy inside must have thought somebody had gone mad

49

and held the door shut. I grabbed Steve while Bobby heaved the door open and we got
his fingers out. I shoved his hand into an ice bucket to try to keep the swelling down.
As soon as his hand went into the ice poor old Steve let out a really painful sounding
scream and promptly punched me on the head, but I wouldnt let him take his hand
out of the bucket despite a torrent of blows.
After an Ambulance was called, I went with Steve to the local Hospital to get him
seen to. This butch staff nurse with a crew cut eventually saw him. She looked like an
S.S. guard at Auschwitz. She also made the mistake of being rude to Steve, who
promptly told her to fuck off and told me to get him out of there and wouldnt listen to
my pleading for him to stay. Next morning after he had sobered up, his hand was like
a football and I had to take him back to Hospital, where they had to drill into his
fingernails to release the pressure and squeeze out the build up of blood. Thankfully
the butch Nazi was off duty so Steve put up with the pain until they had bandaged his
hand up.
We now had to cancel a weeks worth of shows, which was great as far as the band
and crew were concerned. The Management werent too happy, as they were in love
with money. During the next week, we perpetrated absolute mayhem at the hotel.
None of the female staff were safe and I managed to pull JoJo the hairdresser, while
everyone in the band managed to score as well. The staff wasnt allowed to fraternise
with the guests, but that didnt stop them from sneaking in after dark for a bit of
nooky.
One night I heard this roaring noise outside my window and when I looked out,
there was Steve climbing off the back of a Harley Davidson and staggering into the
lobby. He had been told by the Doctor to keep his hand in a sling above heart level to
keep the blood-pressure away from his fingers, but he didnt bother until I saw the

50

Tour Manager come round the corner and Steves arm shot up like he was giving him
a salute, while saying a very sober-like Good evening Elliott, hows it going? It was
never going to be a normal life as long as Steve was around.
We tried to book into the hotel few weeks later when we were back in the area, but
were politely told to fuck off. For a few years later I always used to give JoJo a call
when I was in the Chicago area but eventually lost touch when I went back to
England. The tour started to come to an end and we headed down to Texas for the last
two dates.
After the usual rowdy night out in Lubbock, I woke up and looked over to Davids
side of the room and saw a little stumpy arm hanging out of the bed. A few minutes
later, his pull from last night sat up and said hello. I couldnt believe it, but hed
pulled a dwarf. I have no fucking idea how he managed that, but he obviously was
drinking something different from the rest of us, thats for sure. Steve came in a few
minutes later and almost collapsed when he saw her but true to his nature started
having a good laugh with her.
Steve was only about five feet five or so and the two of them started winding each
other up. He started off by saying Its O.K. dont get up and she bit the cherry so
from there on it was all going to be a good laugh. She came out with us on the piss
that night and quickly became sort of adopted by the whole group of us. The funniest
bit was when she said to Steve At least you dont have a chip on your shoulder, you
look as though youve been hit by a mallet We almost died laughing because she
didnt realise what she had said.
I saw her a few times after that, when I was in Lubbock but eventually lost touch,
but Ill never forget her even though I cant remember her name. My final show as a
Humble Pie roadie was in McAllan Texas. I hated that gig.

51

The stage was set up in a Bullring, which was covered in bullshit (literally).
It stunk, was swarming with all kinds of flying insects and it was about a hundred
and ten degrees in the shade. We were getting bitten all over by fuck knows what and
I was getting more pissed off by the minute It eventually came to a head when I went
into the trailer for a beer and Ira was lazing about in the cool doing fuck all. I cant
remember exactly what he said, but he had been winding me up about something
trivial for a few days by this time. I think he owed me some money and was stringing
me along. I had to send the money back to Dee in New York. She had been giving me
grief about it, so I knocked him out. By then Id had enough of the heat, the flies and
the stink, so I just fucked off back to the hotel. I knew in my heart that it was all over
for me, so I just went to the bar to wait for the flak.
Even if I say so myself, Ira was a bit of a jerk and none of the other bands roadies
liked him because of his attitude. His title was Stage Manager, but all he did was set
up Jerrys drums and piss everybody off. Usually if your band is top of the bill you try
to give the other bands a helping hand and usually they are appreciative of the
headliner for giving them the chance to play to larger audiences than they would
normally.
Ira was the opposite and used to make life difficult for opening acts just by being
awkward and many people didnt like him for this, so when I whacked him,they all
literally shook my hand next day. In fact, he put a strip of sticking plaster across his
nose to win the sympathy vote but this just made it worse because all the Judas Priest,
Whitesnake and Iron Maiden roadies put pieces of plaster on their noses just to piss
him off.
I remember later, on The J. Geils tour when U2 were our opening act, I used to give
them bit and pieces like drum skins and so on and all our crew used to help whenever

52

we could. Of course a lot of this was to do with the fact that they were a great band
and had they had the right attitude.
I told Ira many times that who you meet on the way up, you meet on the way down,
so dont forget that the situations can soon be reversed and youll be getting the grief.
It is a very small world in Rock and Roll and many people have fucked up by letting
their egos get the better of them.
Anyway, back to McAllan. Elliott the Tour Manager came and told me that I was
fired, but I told him that he was too late as had I quit the moment I hit Ira. I couldnt
give a fuck about Elliott or Ira, but I felt bad about it because I had let Steve down.
So I went to see him in his room with a bottle of brandy and he just burst out
laughing. He said, Remember a couple of weeks ago when you told me that you
were getting pissed off with Ira. I said to just smack him and when he wakes up deny
it? Yeah well I was only fucking joking. We had a few drinks and a laugh about
it and he told me that he had spoken with Iron Maiden and got me a job with them.
Steve also said I could easily get you your job back, because I dont pull rank much
but this is my fucking band and nobody can fire you unless I say so. When we get
back to New York Im sacking the lot of them, band, management the fucking lot.
Thats the only time Id heard Steve say that he was the boss. In fact if the Venue had
signs or posters out side with Steve Marriot and Humble Pie he would make the
Promoter take them down. Steve had a few faults, but he never ever had any kind of
ego. All he wanted to do was to write songs and blow people away on stage, both of
which he did better than anyone Ive ever seen.

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CHAPTER 5
MAIDEN VOYAGE

Next day I started my new job as Guitar roadie with Iron Maiden. . My job was to
take care of Steve Harris the Bass player and Adrian Smith, one of the Guitarists. I
basically had to set up their amps and then change strings when necessary while
generally keeping an eye on them while they were on stage.
It was quite a change for me because they were super-professional whereas
Humble Pie was more laid back. You could feel the tension every day as they had
decided to hit America with all they had. They certainly managed that O.K. Humble
Pie were only with us for a few more gigs as Steve got bleeding ulcers, so they
cancelled the rest of the tour and went back to New York where Steve, true to his
word promptly fired the whole lot. Judas Priest used to carry a Harley Davidson with
them and Rob used to ride it on to start the show.
One time Bernie, their Production Manager was riding it up the ramp at the back of
the stage, when he gunned it too much and the next minute the drum riser went flying
through the air. The riser was about eight feet tall and there were drums flying all over
the stage, but luckily they had a spare kit or I think Bernie would have been canned.
They eventually gave the bike away to a lucky ticket holder at one of the gigs.
Although it was only about three or four years old, it had done under two miles,
having just been taken on and off the back of the truck for each show, then back into
storage.
We also got on well with Whitesnake, who had Jon Lord and Ian Paice from Deep
Purple in the band. These two were married to twin sisters and they used to wind up
the boys something chronic. They used to do things like go to the toilet, switch

54

clothes and then see how long it took the guys to cotton on. Jon Lord was known as
the gentleman of Rock and Roll, living in a huge Mansion in Surrey with his own
cricket pitch. He used to have a cricket team of Rockers, and they would play other
teams such as Monty Python on Sunday afternoons.
He also had a Rolls Royce and Stuart Wickes, his roadie could often be seen
heading into London to the repair shop with some keyboard or other in the back.
Stuart used to fix gin and tonics for Jon while he was onstage and they had a code for
the strength of the drinks. A Saturday Nighter was a good stiff one, while a Sunday
Morning was slightly weaker, just to take the edge off. Jon and I used to have a great
laugh together and I let him in on the code for dope. Every so often Jon would give
me the nod, saying that he was going to the boys room and wed go up to his room
for some racket. Whitesnake became a huge band later on but they were just
building up a following at this time.
At the end of each show, Steve Harris would climb on the Drum riser for the finale,
and just as the last note was played, he would jump off as the lights went out. By the
time the lights came back on the band would be gone. One night Dave Lights turned
the lights off a fraction of a second too early, and when they came back on Steve was
lying in a heap on the floor, tangled up in a load of cables. After the show, Dave got
the biggest chewing up I have ever heard. With Iron Maiden, everything had to be
super-perfect.
When we reached Atlanta there was a girl hanging around during the afternoon and
trying to get into Dave Lights pants, but he wasnt having any of it. Her name was
Suzie B. and what I didnt know at the time was that she was one of the biggest dope
dealers in Atlanta. She was a real looker and I could never understand why Dave
didnt go for it, he must have been in love with his girlfriend or something. It was

55

Daves Birthday so we got a load of booze and ensconced ourselves in his Hotel Suite
after the show. I think that it was me, Dave, Doug Hall {the Sound Engineer} and a
couple of local stage crew.
In walks Suzie B. and dumps a fucking great pile of coke onto a mirror off the hotel
wall and chopped out Happy Birthday Dave in three-inch high letters, she then
passed the straw to Dave. I dont snort coke, said Dave, at which point I said Well
I fucking do and demolished the Happy bit of Happy Birthday, and the rest of the
boys killed it off. Suzie gave up on Dave and eventually buggered off leaving us to
get on with the real fun.
When we were in Toronto I noticed that my American Visa had run out, but I
thought Id give it a try getting back to the States. I got knocked back at the border
and so the rest of the crew had to carry on without me, while I tried to figure out a
way around it. Immigration told me that I would need proof that I was only going to
be in the U.S. for a couple of weeks plus have enough money to support myself until
then. I hadnt told them that I was on tour, or they would never have let me back. I
nearly had my cover blown when one of the Immigration guys noticed that I was a
roadie and started to tell me how he had enjoyed the Iron Maiden show last night. The
band had only just gone through and thank fuck he wasnt on duty or he might have
twigged that I was with them.
I had to go back to the Hotel and get the girl on Reception to type a letter for me
saying that I would have a pre-paid ticket to London waiting for me in New York in a
fortnights time. I then borrowed $2000.00 from the Canadian Record Company to
show the Immigration Office and then give it back after Immigration was satisfied.
Whew!

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I will always remember the final show in L.A. After the show Colin (flaps) Claydon
the drum roadie and I had to get the gear to the Airport to get it on a flight to
Yugoslavia. Time was crucial as the band had to be in Yugoslavia and do a show in
two days time.
As we were first onstage, we were first out and so we parked the truck at the back
door of the gig ready for a fast getaway. At the big Arenas, the stage is usually about
eight feet high and all the gear is lifted on and off by forklift truck. We had gotten this
down to a fine art and could break the gear down get it off the stage, out and into the
truck in under fifteen minutes, which was actually amazing considering that we had a
fair bit of gear.
At the back door load-in dock we had put up loads of signs saying (Do NOT park
here) all over the place because we had literally minutes to get to the Airport. We also
asked every security guard to keep the exit clear. We couldnt have done any more.
Needless to say some asshole had been allowed to park a fucking great stretch limo,
smack in front of our truck. The limo was backed hard against our truck and about ten
feet in front of it was a brick wall. It looked like we were fucked, when Colin said
watch this and jumped in to the drivers seat. He gunned the truck and shunted the
limo right up against the wall, backed up, told me to get in and took off for the
Airport.
I never found out whose limo it was but I bet the driver wont park anywhere near a
Ryder truck at a gig again as Colin had shortened it by a good six feet. Next day the
band flew off to Yugoslavia and I headed back to New York. I went back working for
S.I.R. Studio Systems and some other rehearsal studios as well as doing a few local
gigs for Ian Hunter of Mott the Hoople.

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At Christmas time I stayed with Steve Marriott for a few weeks and had to take a
couple of his guitars and sell them for him in order to have some Christmas money, as
we were both broke by this time. Ronnie Lane from The Faces had contracted
Multiple Sclerosis a few years before and had been in a clinic in Florida trying out
new cures. One thing he was trying was cobra venom and it was actually working, but
the Federal Drug Administration was closing the clinic down because it didnt
conform to their standards. What a load of bollocks. Ronnie was improving rapidly,
but because of red tape he was going to miss out on his life.
Steve and I called him to invite him to New York for Christmas and he was telling
me that he was getting on great, but when he was shaving that morning he noticed that
his tongue was beginning to get forked. E ven through all the pain, Ronnie still
managed to keep his sense of humour. I saw quite a lot of Ronnie after I moved to
Austin as he was living there by this time and used to have him round for a curry now
and again even though he wasnt supposed to eat spicy food, but Ronnie loved his
curries and thought it worth the risk to his health.
Steve typically gave him a snakeskin jacket for his Christmas present and we all had
a good Christmas although it broke my heart when I had to literally carry Ronnie up
and down the stairs. I remember how little he weighed and that he was once one of the
most famous musicians in the world. Ronnie Lane died a few years ago but he will
always be remembered for his antics on tour as well as his song writing.
Around this time, I ended up in Keith Richards house with my mate Ray who was a
friend of Keiths and was watching his flat while Keith was away. There was hardly
anything in it except loads of guns and a freezer full of ganja, which we got stuck
into. Keith also had Adolf Hitlers personal photo album just lying on the table with
pictures of him and Eva Braun in the mountains.

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Keith also had an endorsement from Jack Daniels bourbon, which meant that he got
as much for free as he wanted and I suppose that all he had o do was drink a bottle
now and then in a Stones video. Ray and I spent the weekend getting drunk and
playing about on Keiths guitar. At one point I got a round jammed in one of the guns,
and as we were both pretty stoned we were getting paranoid trying to get the bullet
out. Rays cousin was killed while fucking about with a gun while staying with
Keiths girlfriend Anita Pallenberg, so I was having a bad feeling about the whole
situation. We eventually got the round out and put the gun away.

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CHAPTER 6
STONED AGAIN

I kicked off 1982 as drum roadie for The J. Geils Band who had just gone to No 1
Worldwide with both their Album and Single Centrefold .We started off in
Connecticut and toured all through the States with U2 as our opening act. This was
U2s first American tour and as the tour went on they started selling vast amounts of
records. We all really enjoyed touring with them and they are one of the few opening
acts that I used to bother going in to see, as we all usually sat on the tour bus during
the opening act.
When the opener didnt have a lot of crew with them, usually because they couldnt
afford it, our monitor engineer could usually make a few quid doing their sound for
them and one of our lighting guys would do their lights. This was a good way for the
guys to make a few extra bob and also gave them experience. The truck drivers used
to run spotlights for the main band and this gave them a bit extra as well as giving the
Lighting Engineer the knowledge that he would have experienced spot operators at
each gig.
After the crew all got to know each other over the next few weeks, we formed a
really tight bond. We used to get all the gear set up and then I would work with Frank
the Sound Engineer on getting the drum sound right and the others would get the
levels right on their own gear. We always took a long time on the drums as I would
have to tune them, and between Frank and I, we worked on the overall sound. Im not
too bad a drummer so we used to get a little jam-session going once Frank was happy

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with the sound, so that he could make a few final tweaks. Freddie was our Guitar
roadie, his wife Sandy was the keyboard roadie and with Frank, we formed a secret
wine club where we would all get pissed in the back lounge of the tour bus on
expensive wine out of the dressing room. Freddie was a pretty good bass guitar player
and Ray, one of the lighting guys was a fierce guitarist so with me on drums we used
to do a couple of numbers to finalise Franks sound mix.
One day Peter Wolf, the singer came in unexpectedly while we were all hammering
out a tune, so we all stopped expecting to get a bollocking, but he told us to keep
going. He got on vocals and had us play a load of old tunes while he had a great time
just jamming away with the road crew. After the rest of the band arrived it was time to
get down to work, but Wolf was really impressed with us and called us The Geilettes
Blues Band.
After that day the drummer Steven Jo never bothered coming to sound-check,
passing the job over to me while he lazed by the hotel pool. I suppose I should take it
as a compliment, as his drum sound was very important to him. Once in Portland,
Oregon the opening band phoned to say that they had broken down and didnt know if
they would be able to make it on time, so Wolf told us if they didnt make it we, (The
Geilettes Blues Band) were going to do the opening slot before U2 went on. He said it
would be great fun for us and he was going to do the singing so it would all be O.K.
No fucking way was our unanimous response, but he made it very clear that this
was not a request!
There were about 15,000 punters in the gig, and Freddie and me were freaking out
at the mere thought of playing in front of them. Its one thing to walk about the stage
working in front of a load of punters, because youre so engrossed in your work that
they arent even noticed, but its quite another to play.

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Thank fuck John Butcher Axis, the opener showed up with about thirty minutes to
go, so we were spared the embarrassment, but Wolf was disappointed because he was
up for it. Seth Justman the Keyboard player was also the bands Record Producer and
he used to ask me all the time if I had any aspirations of being a drummer, but in those
days I wasnt really interested as I was enjoying my work. I just used to tell him that
he was paying me too much money to give up being a roadie, although I know quite a
few bands with ex-roadies in their line-ups.
Blue Oyster Cult were one such band, as I can remember Humble Pie doing a few
gigs with them and the drummer was telling me that he used to do the lights.
Apparently their old drummer threw a temper tantrum one night and walked out
leaving the band in the shit, so the L.D. (Lighting Designer) just took over and had
been there ever since. After you have heard the same set over and over again for
months everyone in the crew get to know the set backwards, so if you can play a bit
you can usually get away with it.
After Portland, the band went on to do a show in Vancouver British Columbia, but I
didnt go because after the fiasco with Iron Maiden in Toronto, I didnt feel like
getting stranded in Canada again. So I took a flight to Spokane where the next gig
was, and had a day off there. Jim Donnelly the Tour Manager asked me if I could take
a couple of bags with me, to save them having to mess about with customs, so he
presented me with TWENTY FOUR Halliburton suitcases. They were all chained and
padlocked, so I can only imagine what was in them. The flight cost $60.00 but the
excess baggage was $1200.00, but Jim didnt even flinch when I asked him for the
money.
The total cost of that trip including baggage handling tips and Taxis was close to
$1800.00 but money was no object in those days.

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The Harp player in the band was called Magic Dick and he was quite a character.
He used to be stoned on weed most of the time although Im pretty sure that he was
the only one as by this time the band had been around for ages and had given up their
wild youth. I had bought a little gadget that made the sounds of a Fire Engine, a
Police car and an Ambulance, and used to drive Dick crazy at sound checks. I would
squat down behind the drum kit and turn this thing on facing into the drummers
microphone and it would come through Dicks monitor. It sounded a bit like his blues
harp, and he would be tearing his hair out trying to figure out what was going on, but
he never did.
We had this guy called Bob Bickleman on the P.A. crew who gave us all a laugh
every single day. Bik was a gentle giant and was used for getting the P.A. speakers
set up whilst learning the art of sound mixing. His main job was to mike everything
up after it had all been set up by the roadies. Every one of my drums had to be miked
and this was Biks main job.
After each show I couldnt get the drums stripped down and packed away until Bik
had removed all the microphones. Bik just couldnt keep himself away from women,
and vice-verse, and one night after the show, there was no sign of Bik, although we
searched everywhere we could think of, until he was found on the bus getting a head
job. He had held up a whole Production break down for a fucking blowjob, but you
had to love him. He was fined 100.00 for that little cock-up, but it never dampened
his spirit.
Keeping Bik away from women was full time job, and Sandy tried the hardest before
even she gave up in the end. Sandy felt like a kind of surrogate mother towards Bik,
even though there werent many years between them. He used to disappear for hours
at a time and would shag just about anything with hair and a pulse. Manys the time

63

that Ive gone onto the bus to fetch something, and the fucking thing would be
bouncing all over the place. It was usually possible to tell if Bik was on the bus, just
by looking at it from a distance, cos it would be rocking.
You have to bear in mind that Bik was a BIG guy in more ways than one, and he
didnt always shag singly. So there could be anything up to three or four bodies
flying around in the bus. Bik must have spent more of his wages on fines than
anything else on tour, but he was such a funny guy that nobody at Clair Brothers
would even think about getting rid of him. If you were to ask any of the J.Geils road
crew even today who was the one person that kept them going, they would all say it
was Bik.
At one point in the show there was a bit where Peter Wolf gave a long monologue
and during this, all the other microphones were muted. After he had finished, the band
came back in, but this one time there were no mikes turned back on. Panic ensued
until it all came O.K. After the show, questions were asked and it was discovered that
Michael Wolpert, the Monitor Engineer had a bit of stuff under the mixing desk
giving him a blowjob and so he had missed his cue. Another $100.00 fine took care
of that little episode.
When we played in Memphis, Dr Nichopolous, Elvis Presleys private doctor, was
standing in the Wings and so we drew straws to see who was going to try and score
some dope from him for a laugh. Our Lighting Director Dave Berndt drew the short
straw, so he went over and asked him if he had any coke for sale, at which point the
doctor took off like a bat out of hell, never to be seen again that evening. I dont think
that it had been long since he had been cleared of giving Elvis too many pills, so D.B.
must have pushed his button, so he fucked off.

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On one particularly long two-day bus trip, Bik kept pulling birds at truck stops and
then dumping them at the next, while picking up another. It was like musical chairs so
something had to be done. We tried tying him up with gaffa tape when he was
sleeping, but he was too strong and just kept breaking free, so Sandy decide that the
only way was to knock him out cold for a couple of days. We then kept putting
Quaaludes in his beer and so eventually started to get some peace. Every time Bik
came to, we would leave it for a few hours until we were about to stop for refuelling
and then knock him out again, before he could get off the bus. After a while he was
beginning to think that something was wrong, so we had to try and find a new plan of
attack, but had to give up in the end.
When we got to California and off the bus (thank God) we took him off his dosage
and everything got back to normal. Just prior to that, Bik told Sandy that he thought
he was having a problem because he hadnt gotten laid for a few days and did she
think that he was O.K. Sandy could hardly keep a straight face and came clean at
which point Bik didnt get angry as he was just happy that he didnt have a libido
problem.
J. Geils was the guitar player and founder member and he was a really interesting
guy, very laid back and didnt really give a fuck about too much. He was a big racing
fan and used to build his own stock-cars and race them .He was also a lover of fine
wines and always had a glass or two behind the amps during Wolfs spiel with the
audience during the show. The only thing was that on stage, he would down a bottle
of Thunderbird, which is one of the cheapest, most horrible gut-rot that you can get.
After trying to figure this out, I had to ask him and he just said, You cant beat the
buzz man. What do you say to that?

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The band had an endorsement with Promark drum sticks and Steven Jo Bladd; the
drummer was very particular about the weight of his sticks. I had to weigh each stick
on a diet-scale and if I tried to slip in a stick that was only a gram out, he could tell
even in the middle of the set.
I used to fly out to the promark factory every so often and weigh out a few
thousand sticks. We also had an endorsement with Remo drum skins, so we also got
as many of those as we needed whenever we needed them, and so I had about six
cases full of all sizes, which ensured that I never ran out. So needless to say, in my
book that is the key, Spare Everything and you get no surprises.
Every so often I used to get asked for sticks by the punters and I always had a few
that were either slightly over or under the correct weight, I would give them away, or
if I was running a bit low Id slip them into Stevens stick-bag. Even during the show
he would notice the difference in weight, drop the stick and then give me a funny
look.
One night not long after I had joined the band, I was giving someone a pair of
sticks at the load-out when I saw J. Geils watching me and I thought Here goes, Im
in the shit now. J. Geils came sauntering down and asked what I was looking so
guilty about, Sorry J. I was just giving the guy a couple of sticks for helping me out
with the drums tonight. Whadya mean giving them, the last guy used to sell them,
are you crazy or what? From then on I relaxed, but still never sold any, as they were
free anyway.
In Atlanta, Georgia I had this really sweet old guy called Jesse to help me set up the
drums. Every gig I would get a couple of the local crew to help me set up, as there
was quite a lot of gear. The drums all went on a riser with steps up the back and this
was on wheels to make it easier to get around the stage. Jesse made a point of telling

66

me several times that he was 88 years old and that he had been around working in the
stadium since before the Beatles.
I had a lot of respect for him and as he was very insistent about pulling his weight I
had to get a job for him to do. A lot of the gear was pretty heavy, so I asked him if he
would polish the cymbals, because I thought that would keep him busy without too
much strain. A couple of us went out the back to sit in the sun and have a fag when
three girls started approaching the building. Freddie said They definitely look like
Biklettes to me. How the fuck do you figure that one out Fred I just know, wait
and see.
Just with that one of them said Do any of you know a guy called Bob Bickleman?
At this point we all fell about in stitches. Freddie then took them backstage to Bik,
and it was straight on to the bus for some action. Ill never know how Freddie figured
that one out.
I just got back into the building in time to see Jesse getting carted out by two
Ambulance men. Hed had a heart attack, and even after me giving him the easiest job
I could, I felt really bad. I phoned the Hospital later and found out that he was O.K.
but it still put a damper on my day.
Around April, one of my girlfriends that Id met on a previous tour flew in to visit me
for a while, as we had a few days off. Melanie was from San Francisco and worked as
a courier for a local drug dealer, so he brought out some really nice gear and we spent
a few very pleasant days cruising around California on the bus.
Sandy used to like it when one of our girlfriends visited, as she must have gotten
pissed off being around men all the time. She could go shopping and do other girly
things, and Freddie probably got a break from her nagging. Mel brought some pretty
surprising news for me, as when we were all buzzing around the country, we never

67

got much of a chance to stay in touch with World events. Britain had just sent a Task
Force down to the Falkland Islands, after they had been invaded by Argentina. That
became the talking point on the bus for a while, and even Bik agreed that it must be
hell going to war where there was no pussy to be had. I threatened to have the fucker
kidnapped and sent down there, but he said that he would be O.K. as apparently there
were plenty of sheep.
When we were in Hays, Kansas, we all made the local newspaper, The Hays
Chronicle. They sent out a couple of Journalists and a Photographer to interview us
about what it was like living on a bus. We mostly just stitched them up with stories
about orgies and drug abuse and they swallowed the whole thing. Next day they had
the article in the Daily rag, but I guess that the stories were too much for them, so they
only printed nice stuff about Bik.
I was out on the piss in Boulder, Colorado one day as we had a rare whole week off
this time. We were given the choice of flying home, or staying in a Hotel for the
week. Fred, Sandy and myself decided to take the Hotel, while the rest of the band
and crew went home to their wives and girlfriends. This day I went into a titty bar and
got myself pretty fucked up on tequila (again). I ended up pulling one of the dancers,
and her boss was giving her a bit of a hard time, so she just told him to fuck off. As
she was living on the premises, she was now homeless. Anyway we went back to my
Hotel room to get even more pissed.
She was a great looking girl, but a bit of a rough diamond, so when I sobered up I
felt sorry for her and took her out shopping to get some nice clothes. What I didnt
know was that she was alcoholic, and at that time I didnt really understand what that
entailed. I invited Fred and Sandy to dinner in the Hotel restaurant and it all started

68

out pretty well until my date got pissed, and when I got back from the toilet she was
verbally tearing into one of the waiters.
The poor girl had lost it completely, Sandy was getting quite a bit embarrassed by it
all, but I just couldnt calm this girl down. It ended up with her trashing the whole
dining room, while I fucked off upstairs with Fred and Sandy to escape. What a
fucking embarrassment, as Sandy had gotten all dressed up for the occasion and
proceeded to give me the biggest dressing down of my life.
Next day, I met this guy in a bar and he took me up into the Rockies where we
panned for gold in a stream. That was great fun and we got quite a lot of tailings
from the mines further up in the Mountains. Tailings are just small particles of gold
that have escaped through the sieves in the gold mines. All we had to use were a
couple of Frisbees, but they did the trick. It was a real treat for me coming from a
small farm in Scotland suddenly wandering around the Rocky Mountains panning for
gold and surrounded by wild Bison.
We finished up the tour and then had two weeks off before heading off to Europe to
start as one of the opening acts for The Rolling Stones. I flew back to Scotland to
spend some time with my Mother and then I went to Southampton to see my son
James who was by now two years old.
The first gig was in Rotterdam and I travelled over from London in the Stones crew
bus, while the rest of our crew flew over from the States. It was a really good bill for
this tour with George Thorogood, The J. Geils Band and the Stones topping the bill.
There was also some German called Peter Maffey, but he only lasted a couple of gigs
before Jagger fucked him off the tour. Some idiot had put him between us and the
Stones, and after The J.Geils band had got the audience all cranked up, he went on
and sent everybody to sleep. The whole point of Jagger choosing Geils to go on

69

before them was to have it easy for the Stones to get the punters going, but Peter
Maffey was fucking it all up, so he had to go.
The first day in Rotterdam, we were all getting the gear set up about eight a.m.
because we were playing Football Stadiums and were on stage at around two oclock
in the afternoon and The Stones had set up and sound checked the previous evening.
We did two shows in each city and then on to the next. The Stones had two stage setups and as one was being taken down, the other was going up in the next city.
They had a massive amount of gear on tour, so this way they saved a lot of time, and
time means money. This way they leap-frogged all around Europe. They also had a
D.C. 9 jet for the band and so they had a pretty easy time travelling, while we all went
on the tour bus. I have no idea how many personnel were on the tour, but when I got
my pass, it was number 356, so it must have been quite a crew. Also on tour were
about twenty chicks that just blew up balloons all day with oxygen bottles. It was
lucky for them that Bik wasnt with us, or they would have found that they had more
than balloons to blow. The Pyrotechnic guy blasted 15,000 worth of fireworks into
the air after every show, including things the size of cannonballs about half a mile into
the sky.
After the first show I had rolled the drum riser backstage, ready for the next days
show. What I didnt know was that I should have covered it, because when I came in
next day, the cymbals had burnt spots on them from the fireworks fallout, but I
managed to get them cleaned up O.K. As we were setting up in Rotterdam, this
battered old Volkswagen Beetle pulled up and Charlie Watts got out with one of his
mates, looking a bit worse for wear.
It was his Birthday and he had been up all night partying with his mates. Up he got
on the stage and decided that he wanted to judge a best legs competition. We were all

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wearing shorts, because it was pretty hot, and so we all lined up for Charlie to judge
the best legs. Needless to say Sandy won and so had to get a hug from Charlie, much
to his pleasure, but he was being well watched by Fred.
All the band crew knew Charlie as they had done a few shows in America, before I
joined, although I knew him as well. Michael Wolpert, the Monitor Engineer didnt
realise who Charlie was and so he pulled down his shorts, mooned him and said,
Whadya think of that then man! Charlie just laughed and then headed off to talk to
his roadie, Chooch. Michael then turned round to us and said, Who is that old guy,
anyway? When Sandy told him he nearly fainted saying, Oh shit, Ive just mooned
a Stone. He was a bit scared that hed get in trouble, but we soon calmed him down
because Charlie loves a good laugh and took it all in good fun.
A bit later on Charlie asked me if he could have a go on Stevens drums, so I told
him No problem. Charlies drum kit consisted of Bass drum, one tom-tom, one floor
tom, and two cymbals along with the high-hat. Stevens had six inch, eight inch ten
inch, twelve inch, thirteen inch, fourteen inch and sixteen inch rack toms. An
eighteen-inch floor tom, six cymbals and a gong. Everything was screwed down onto
the riser, so that nothing could fall over during the show.
Instead of going up the steps at the back, Charlie clambered through the cymbal
stands to get on the drum stool. How the fuck he managed it Ill never know, but he
did. I was getting on with my work, but kept an eye on Charlie to make sure he was
O.K. Eventually I saw him drop the sticks and get down off the riser, looking a bit
confused, so I asked if he was O.K. He said, You know something man, I could
never play that many drums. Why not, Charlie? Because I aint got that much to
say. I just cracked up laughing, because he was probably right.

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He then asked me what was the worst job Id ever had, and told him that it was
laying kerbstones in the freezing cold up in the North of Scotland, with this fucking
nutter called Lawrence Nicol.
Lawrence had always been a good friend of mine since schooldays, but Ill tell you
he loved to fight. Anyone, anyplace, anytime, fuck the number of people. I once saw
him totally flatten three guys with his head, without missing a beat. I did my best to
stay on the best side of Lawrence, and so did he with me. Lawrence later got himself a
new occupation as a burglar, and is now the only person to have a Season Ticket to
Porterfield Prison in Inverness. I must admit that I do love the guy, but thats just the
way that it was in those days. Charlie Watts then said Dya want to know the worst
job I ever had? Yeah, what? This fucking job. I hate this shit, I love Jazz, but I
suppose this pays the bills. Charlie has a really dry sense of humour and we got a
few good laughs out of him during the tour.
At the end of the show there was nearly a major disaster. I was standing at the back
of the stage talking to Frank our Sound guy and Keith, one of the Stones roadies.
Mick Jagger, Bill Graham the Promoter, and a couple of other people were standing
next to us. We were all directly under the back Lighting Truss when suddenly Frank
jumped forward, pulling Keith and me with him, and the rest of the people also
jumped forward on instinct.
Just then, the Truss snapped in the middle and came crashing down on to the stage
behind us. If it had hit us, the weight of the Truss along with all the lighting cables
and lights, would have probably killed the lot of us. It was so near to the end of the
show, that the spotlight operators on the truss hadnt even had time to climb down,
and Ed (one of the spot operators) broke his leg and was taken off to hospital.

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Trusses come in eight-foot sections and are pinned together with a larger version of
a split-pin. These should then be held in place with a locking pin, but apparently the
locking pins werent all inserted. With the constant movement of the stage during the
show, some of the pins worked their way out and so the Truss basically snapped in the
middle.
Luckily Frank had a good ear, and heard the pin pinging out or it would have been
curtains. It came so close to Keith, that it took a shaving of skin off his arm. About a
couple of hours later I was sitting on the bus, waiting to go back to the hotel, when I
started shaking uncontrollably with delayed shock. There were a few very lucky
people getting into their beds that night, I can tell you. At one point Keith Richard was
late because he couldnt find his socks, so they started paying his son Marlon a wage
to take care of his old man and make sure that he got to the gig on time.
On the way down to Munich we stopped off at Dachau Extermination Camp, so that
the Americans could get an idea of what went on during World War Two. It was a
really horrible place and we saw the ovens and gas chambers, along with the huts that
the inmates were crammed into. No birds were anywhere near, and you could still
smell the burning. It was especially moving for Frank as his family are Jewish, and it
was an experience that I for one will never forget.
In Berlin we played an Outdoor Coliseum where Hitler used to hold Nazi rallies. It
was an open- air gig and behind the stage was a catacomb of tunnels, with escape
routes for the fucker should he need them. That gig was a nightmare as all the power
went out about three or four times, amps mysteriously got unplugged, microphones
moved and all manner of weird shit went on.
I personally put it down to sabotage by the Stones road crew, although we could
never prove it. Chooch Magee, Charlies roadie came up to me one time in a state of

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panic, asking if I had a spare sixteen-inch drum skin, which I had. He was in a real
state and told me that Charlie had never busted a skin before and this was the first
time that he had changed one in seven years. I couldnt believe what I was hearing
because I changed Stevens every four days to keep them fresh, and I would have
thought the Stones would have been super-efficient, being such a big band, but
Chooch never was one to over-extend himself. It was also good to see Stuart Wickes
again, as we had toured with Whitesnake when he was Jon Lords roadie. Stuart was
now looking after Ian Stewart, the Stones Pianist and that must have been the easiest
gig in the World, as all that Stu had was one Grand Piano. Stuarts total job was to
point to the Stage Hands where he wanted it placed, and then show the Piano Tuner
where it was each afternoon. A fucking dawdle. I think he got a grand a week for that,
and he didnt even have to mix any Gin and Tonics.
Part of the contract that the Stones enforced was that there would be no cops
allowed inside the audience area and consequently no drug busts in the audience.
Apparently the Mayor of Barcelona didnt agree, so Jagger just said Fine, then we
just dont play in your city then. After a few days the Mayor saw sense, and so the
show went ahead.
I saw a few cops backstage at some of the concerts, but none in the audience. I
finished the tour a bit early due to a misunderstanding with the new Stage Manager,
who decided that he knew what he was doing. All the time that we were on tour, the
whole crew worked really well together and didnt really need a Stage Manager. Fred,
Sandy, Frank, Michael Wolpert, myself and Bill all knew our jobs, and never needed
any help.

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For the European tour, the band hired a brand new Stage Manager, who decided
that things needed changing around to suit him. This didnt go down very well, but
everybody just put up with it except me because I felt that he had started rocking a
steady ship. The final straw came one night in Paris after we had all been partying.
Mo (The Stage Manager) told me that as the band had changed accountants, we were
all to begin paying taxes. I told him that I had no problem with that, as long as I got a
pay rise and then I would be left with the same money after tax. He didnt seem to see
it the same way as I did and told me that if I didnt like it I knew what I could do. I
said, whats that then and he said Well you could always quit. So I replied, Fuck
you then, I quit. He had been calling my bluff and it backfired.
Next morning Fred and Sandy came to my room to try and get me to reconsider, but
I had made my mind up, and if the band were going to side with that shit over me then
I was offski. I could have backed down and kept my job, but Mo would never have let
up, so I left for London on the next flight. He didnt exactly endear himself to me
earlier on, as he tried to pull the American chick I was shagging at the time.

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CHAPTER 7

REGGAE SEASON

After I got to London, I went to the Embassy and got a new Passport then headed
back to New York. I hung around for the rest of the summer doing a few gigs at The
Pier and The Ritz before starting out on my Reggae Season, as I like to call it. I
started touring with an albino Jamaican called Yellowman as his Tour Manager. This
was the easiest tour I have ever done, although my first as a Tour Manager. It
consisted of me, Yellowman and a D.J. called Al Moody. All the equipment we carried
was a cymbal bag with a few records in it, and that was it. At the gigs we were
supplied with a twin-turntable for Al to spin his records, and that was it. We flew
everywhere, were picked up at the airport by the local promoters and basically treated
like Gods.
It turned out that Yellowman was a superstar in Jamaica, although I had never heard
of him. In Toronto, I got a yellow leather suit made for him and arranged that each
venue had loads of yellow lights for the stage. He actually was yellow so I may have
gone over the top with the colour, but it was good fun. I did have a couple of scary
moments on tour. Reggae can be a pretty dangerous business to be in, especially if
you are white and in charge of the money, both of which I was.
In Washington D.C. some nutter went mad with a pistol and started shooting up the
theatre causing me to hide in the Box Office with all the cash for the show until the
cops came and took him away. Not a pleasant experience I can tell you as I was the
only white ass in the building, and I was holding all the money.

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We played a really nice gig in Miami, which was on a barge in the middle of the
everglades. The barge was anchored just offshore and the only way to get to the stage
was by boat. A speedboat used to pick us up at the Hotel dock, and wed cruise to the
backstage area. The punters were watching from a grandstand that was usually used to
watch powerboat racing on the water. It was a really good experience and I got to see
my old friends Inner Circle, who were also on the bill. Gayman was still smoking
ganja and smiling, although he had cut off his dreadlocks after having had
surveillance put on him by the local cops.
After the show, Lee Eisenberg, who was Yellowmans Agent and I went with a Stage
Hand to his lock-up to pick up some cocaine. The lock-up was in a very seedy part of
town, so we kept our heads down in the car. As we were leaving, we heard on the
radio that rioting had started, after a black kid was shot in an Amusement Arcade by a
white cop.
The streets were beginning to get very dangerous and our friend made us lie on the
floor of the car, while he went back for his gun. Thank fuck for that guy, because
without him we would never have gotten out of that neighbourhood alive. The people
were torching buildings, cars and anything that got in their way, and we were pretty
relieved to get back to the hotel with our hides.
After the tour had finished, we were staying in the Mayflower Hotel on Central Park
West for a couple of days, while Jimmy was waiting for a Promoter from Canada to
bring down a few thousand dollars that he was owed. Jimmy was Yellowmans
Manager and was also a Millionaire, who owned a lot of sugar plantations in Jamaica.
One morning during a couple of days off, I kept phoning Yellowmans room to see if
he needed anything, but I kept getting the engaged tone, so eventually I gave up and

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headed out for something to eat. When I got back, the hotel was swarming with cops,
and I started to wonder what the fuck was going on.
It didnt take me long to find out. Somebody must have known that Jimmy was
getting some money, and decided to tie him, Yellowman and the Promoter up and rob
them at gunpoint. So, all the time I was phoning up, they were tied up with the phone
line. No wonder I couldnt get an answer. All the time this was going on I was in two
minds whether to go up to their room, but decided that they knew where I was if they
needed me. Its lucky I did, because the cops told me later that if I had gone in during
the robbery, I would have most likely been blown away. Lucky me!
It must have been an inside job because all of Jimmys and his mates jewellery was
stolen, but they never took any of Yellowmans. Yellowman was also tied up very
loosely so as not to hurt him while the other two were trussed up like turkeys. I
immediately moved them into The Waldorf Astoria on 5th. Avenue for their safety, as
they were pretty freaked out by the whole episode.
It took me ages to assure them that The Waldorf Astoria was one of the most
expensive hotels in New York; had very tight security and they would be perfectly
safe. I even hired two off-duty police officers to guard them round the clock,
everywhere they went.
Although Kingston, Jamaica is a pretty rough place at the best of times, they had
heard so much about New York that they didnt really know what to expect next.
When I went to pick them up in the morning, the hotel was surrounded by cops, and I
thought, what the fuck is it this time? Apparently, during the night somebody had
thrown a woman down the elevator shaft and so there was a murder enquiry going on.
I got Jimmy and Yellowman to the Airport and saw them off back to Jamaica;
needless to say they werent disappointed to leave.

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In November I had to go down to Jamaica as Yellowman was headlining the very

first Reggae Sunsplash in Montego Bay. The Jamaican Government was paying for all
the return flights and three days in the hotel for all the bands on the bill. I flew down
from New York with Sherry Bogen who was Yellowmans secretary from the Agents
Office. Sherry and I were having a bit of a fling at the time, so we were going to make
a bit of a holiday of it by staying at the hotel for five extra days.
On the flight down I took a couple of boys and also drank three bottles of
Champagne, so by the time we landed I was well gone. As we left the plane we were
greeted by a load of scantily clad girls giving free samples of rum punch, and a huge
welcome to Jamaica, so I didnt need any persuading. The luggage got held up and by
the time it all got sorted out, I had drunk about ten rum punches and with the boys
already kicking in I was beginning to sway just a little bit.
When we got to the hotel, I was sent the wrong way to my room as the corridor
came to a dead end at a huge plate glass window. After going back to reception twice,
and getting told the same directions, I ended up back at the plate glass window. By
this time I was thoroughly pissed off and so I gave the window a karate kick, but as I
dont do karate I ended up impaled on the window ledge about three feet off the
ground.
As I was hanging there bleeding like a fucking pig, the lift door opened and a couple
of guys came and unhooked me from the windowsill. They managed to wrap a towel
around my leg as a tourniquet and get me to the Reception desk, where I had to bribe
one of the hotel staff to take me to the Hospital as all the courtesy vans were being
used ferrying all the bands from the Airport to the Hotel.
I spent the rest of the week on crutches after getting sixteen stitches in my ankle
along with losing over two pints of blood. The Doctor told me that if I had been a few

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minutes later getting to the Hospital, I might have gone into shock and died. He was a
fine one to talk, as when he was sticking tetanus shot into my thigh, the fucking
needle snapped. I wasnt to be alone on my crutches because one of the Grateful
Dead roadies fell off the balcony into the pool and broke his leg the same night, so I
had a companion to hobble around with.
Along with Yellowman on the bill were The Beach Boys, The Grateful Dead,
Squeeze, Rita Marley, The B.52s and Rick James, plus a load of others so there was
quite a variety of talent on display. It was nice of the Government to pay for all the
flights and rooms, and most of the acts kept the expenses down to a minimum.
All of the Production. i.e. Lights, P.A. and Band Equipment was laid on, so you
only really needed the Tour Manager and a couple of roadies along with the Lighting
Designer and Sound Engineer for each band. The Grateful Dead on the other hand
really took the piss by bringing all the Truck and Bus Drivers along with all their
wives and just about anybody they wanted to give a free holiday to. They took over
fifty-two rooms at The Rose Hall Hotel and I personally thought that it was a bit
wrong to do that, but there you go. They are all a bunch of fucking dope-heads
anyway.
The Stadium had been built in memory of Bob Marley and was appropriately named
The Bob Marley Memorial Stadium. The only thing wrong with that was that Rita
Marley thought that she had some God given right to run the show. She tried to pull a
stroke at the last minute, by demanding that she top the bill. I was having none of it
and had a blazing row with her, culminating in me telling her to go fuck herself. Little
did I know that a T.V. News Crew was filming us, and so the row was broadcast on
the six oclock news that night, making me public enemy No.1 in Jamaica. I didnt
give a fuck about her anyway as Yellowman was like a GOD in Jamaica.

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When we arrived at the Stadium in Yellowmans yellow B.M.W. we were absolutely

swamped by all these really fat women, who started climbing all over the car, until the
roof started caving in. I have never been so scared in my life as everything goes black,
and if you are only slightly claustrophobic, which I am, you think that its all over. We
eventually made it into the Stadium and finally got on stage at four a.m. after Squeeze
had played what was to be their farewell concert.
After a few days holidaying on the Island, Sherry and I headed on back to New
York, before I went out again with Mutabaruka, who was a Jamaican poet and singer.
We didnt do too many gigs, but the ones I did were very enjoyable.
Just before the end of the tour we played in Portland, Maine at a small restaurant
owned by a really nice guy called Kent, who treated us exceptionally well. I had a
really long drive after the show, so I slept during the set and then headed off down to
Washington. D.C.
Kent had gone to college with Steven King the Author and he invited him and his
wife Tabatha to the show. Steven had a radio station in his home- town and also
played in a Rock band, so he was well up on the music scene. He and his wife were
charming people and told me that they had enjoyed the show immensely.
After the show I had to drive to Washington to do another show that night. It was a
drive of around 600 miles and would take me through thirteen different States in one
night. Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York,
New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland and into Washington D.C. I never was one to
hang around when driving, and just wanted to get it over with, so it was hammer
down, while the band tried to get a bit of sleep.
When we got to Washington I was pretty well knackered and couldnt wait to go to
bed, but the hotel that was booked had been torn down two years previously. To make

81

matters worse, there was a convention in town and all the hotels were fully booked, so
I had to drive around for three fucking hours until I got us all rooms. At the
Washington show, I had a slight problem with Victor the African Promoter and owner
of the African Nightclub where we were playing that night.
It has always been my rule that the band do not perform until the fee is paid in full,
especially reggae, because a lot of the Promoters arent known and often are just
trying to make some easy money. Usually the Agent asks for 50% in advance, and the
other 50% prior to performance.
In fact if I didnt like the look of an up-coming date I would try and get the Agent to
have all the money paid to him, so that I wouldnt have any problems on the night. I
would look at the Contract from the Agent and if I saw that the Promoter was
someone like Rastaman McKenzie of 21a, Spitfire Close, I would immediately tell
the Agent to get ALL the money up front. After all it was my ass on the line out there
in the sticks.
So this night as it was getting near show-time Victor told me to get the band on
stage, so I asked for the money first and he said that he didnt have it yet, but he
would by the end of the show. I politely told him that if I didnt get paid, there wasnt
going to be a show. I had purposely left the band back at the hotel, because I didnt
feel too happy with Victor as soon as I had met him.
He then pulled a gun out of his drawer, held it to my head and told me to get the
band on stage or he was going to shoot me. I just burst out laughing, because I didnt
think for a minute that he would shoot me over $2500.00 and as I told him If you
shoot me the band will never go on stage. So, he hummed and hawed, but I wouldnt
back down and so he took out a fucking great wad of money and screamed at me to
get the band on. Hang on Victor, I have to count it first.

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As I was counting it he was going mental because the audience were starting to get
fed up waiting, but I didnt give a fuck because he was the one playing the games.
After I had counted it I said Youve given me $50.00 too much, shame on you. So I
gave him back his $50.00. All the time he was playing about, I knew that he was
going to pay because his club was a real piece of class and I knew that he had the
money. The point is that if I were to put the band on before getting paid, I would have
lost all the control. Victor knew this and was just trying it on.
After the show, we sat in his office and had a few drinks. He was happy because the
show had sold out and I was happy because I had the money. By the way, after he had
paid me I went to pick the band up at the hotel and the money went straight in the
hotel safe. A few years later I was talking to one of Bob Marleys road crew, when the
drive I had made from Portland Maine to Washington came up in conversation.
Now, the drive wasnt that big a deal to me but apparently, Mutabaruka had been
telling all his mates back in Jamaica about this Scotsman who was his Tour Manager
and was The drivingest mother- fucker hed ever seen. So apparently I was a big
star in Jamaica, because nobody had ever imagined that such a drive could be done.
By the way Jamaica is a small island, and so it probably looked like Id been to the
Moon and back to them.
Next up was yet another Reggae act called Eek a Mouse. Reggae act are the Worlds
worst timekeepers. In Jamaica people are used to taking about one hour to walk two
hundred yards because they are all so laid back and stop to talk to everybody on the
street. They apply the same principles when on tour, which used to drive me fucking
mental.
If, for example we had to leave a hotel at nine oclock in the morning, I would have
to tell them that we were leaving at seven oclock, and even then we would be late.

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They all used to just disappear for a walk around without telling me and then I would
have to hunt them down. Most of the bands had no idea how much effort I wasted
because of their stupidity. Mind you half of the time they were so fucking stoned that
I was lucky we ever got anywhere at all.
I had been weaned on super-efficient organisation, and so I used to be tearing my
hair out half the time. Yellowman was totally different because he understood that in
order to make it in the States he had to adapt and so he was a real pleasure to work
for. The same applied to Mutabaruka, because he also wanted to do it the right way.
Eek a Mouses band were the exact opposite, although I have to thank them for their
tardiness on one occasion.
We were supposed to leave the hotel in Montgomery, Alabama at 10.oclock but as
usual we eventually got away at least an hour late. I was driving the band in a bus that
had once been a missionarys transport in the rain forests of Brazil. George
Michaelow the Manager had bought it cheap in an auction and it was an old banger,
but just about did the trick.
We set off and things were going O.K. until suddenly the sky went pitch black and it
started raining in sheets. I then started to see 40ft. trucks lying in the fields at the side
of the road and by this time I was starting to get a bit worried, as the bus felt like it
was about to take off. I half thought of pulling over and getting everyone to lie under
the van, but then I saw an underpass ahead with a few vehicles sheltering under it, so I
pulled under. After about an hour it cleared up and we carried on to the gig, but I
found out later that there had been a tornado, which had trashed half of a town right
next to where we had been. The cops told me that if we had been an hour earlier we
would have hit the epi-centre and then God knows what could have happened.

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I did find out that a Licence Plate from one of the vehicles was found in a garden in
Chicago, which is about 2000 miles away, so this time it paid to be late.
This band was a right bunch of hoodlums and the tour finished for me a couple of
weeks later when I stopped for a fill-up. When I came out of the gas station after
paying the bill, I couldnt believe my eyes. They had nicked the fucking bus! I called
the cops to report it but they told me that they couldnt do anything because I didnt
want to charge them in case it was a wind up.
I waited for a couple of hours and finally called George, who just told me to come
back to Washington and leave them to it. As I had left all my clothes on the bus along
with my wallet, I didnt have any money and had to call my wife collect and get her to
send me some money by Western Union so I could get to the nearest Airport. That
was the last time that I was ever going to have anything to do with Reggae bands
although I still like the music.

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CHAPTER 8
WALL DRUGS AND GIRLS

I then went out with Marshall Crenshaw as his Guitar roadie and we toured up and
down the West Coast playing smallish clubs, but getting a good response. Marshall
was a well-respected Singer/Songwriter who had written a lot of songs that had been
recorded by some big names. Bette Midler had a hit with Youre my favourite waste
of time just to mention one. He had also a song in one of the Superman Movies,
which made him a fair bit of money as well.
We landed down in Florida at Disney World, and played one weekend and then had
a week off, before going back to play another two dates. The band flew back to New
York to shoot a video, so the rest of us hired a Cadillac Coupe De Ville, bought a few
pimp hats and headed on down to Key West to do a spot of fishing. We checked into a
nice hotel on the beach and proceeded to get drunk for a week.
There was also a friend of Marshalls with us, who happened to be a coke dealer, so
it promised to be a good outing. We rented a boat for the day, filled it up with beer and
spam sandwiches and after a breakfast of fresh oysters, set off into the blue beyond.
We had a great day fishing and I was the lucky one, catching a Dusky Shark, Dawfin
fish and a Barracuda.
After we finished our week of decadence, we headed on back to Disney World to do
the last two gigs with Bucks Fizz, who were also on the bill. Marshall called it Naziworld, because they were so strict, it wasnt real. We were ferried back and forth from
the hotel by one of the staff, who happened to also double as Minnie Mouse, and she
told us some horror stories about the way the staff were treated. She was a really nice
chick, but got fired after shagging Chris, the Bass player which was a real shame. He

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tried really hard to take the blame, but they were having none of it. When we were at
the gig, we couldnt leave the backstage area or mingle with the guests so it felt just
like a prison camp. Marshall had a right go at the Establishment by playing a load of
Sex Pistols and Stranglers songs, which didnt please them at all.
We had this great bus driver called Ed, who was an ex Green Beret and had seen a
lot of serious action in Vietnam, He had to take valium every day to keep him stable,
or he could lose the plot. Ed slept in the bunk right behind the door of the bus, so that
he knew who was coming on and off at all times. He also carried a Magnum 357 and
would have had no hesitation in using it.
One time I had just got on board and was quietly checking to see if Ed was asleep
or not. As I pulled the curtain aside, this fucking great gun barrel slowly emerged
from behind the screen, and I nearly dropped dead with fright. Heaven help anyone
who would have tried to rob Eds bus when he was around. He and I had some great
laughs together, especially when he had run out of Valium and had to drink Jack
Daniels to make up for it.
One of those days happened in Detroit when Ed and I were sitting by the Hotel pool
getting suntanned and pissed at the same time. We had discovered this great drink
called Long Island Tea which contained Vodka, Gin, Rum and a few liqueurs, which
made it taste as if it wasnt strong, but it really took your head off. Unfortunately the
hotel was having a bathing beauty competition and suddenly about forty dolly birds
appeared wearing bikinis. I wont go into what was said, but Im sure you can
imagine.
It ended with the cops being called and I got slung in jail for the night. The
worrying part for me was that as I was being arrested I saw Ed throwing a pair of cops
into the pool, and was afraid that he would flip out and do something dangerous. It

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turned out O.K. because one of the cops was also ex-Green Beret, so he and Ed made
friends and came down to the jail and sprung me.
I had been doing a lot of work for a company out of New Jersey called Studio
Systems and Transport, who had a Rehearsal Complex but made most of their money
by renting band equipment and transport. S.S.T had kept me busy over the past few
years and were a life- saver for me between tours. They fixed me up with my next gig
as Driver for an English all girl band called Girlschool.
The tour started in Seattle, and I was to drive the three-tonner across the U.S.A. for
five days in December, which I was not looking forward to by any means. I decided to
take my new wife Stacey with me for company and so off we set one cold afternoon.
We stopped outside Detroit the first night and the snow was about three feet deep
outside, but that was just the start of it.
From then on I checked the weather every morning and for the next four days I was
only just keeping ahead of a big storm moving in from the East. We would get up at
four a.m. be on the road by five oclock and by the time we passed Chicago and
started to head out into the wilderness of Wisconsin and Minnesota, the traffic on
Route 90. just seemed to fade away into the nothingness of the snow.
At one point we heard on the local radio (which was all we could get) that the
temperature had dropped to minus 60degrees, and with the wind chill factor it was
100 below. We were hearing horror stories on the radio about people being found
frozen to death in their gardens, having just gone out to get logs for the fire. If you
find this hard to believe I dont blame you, but I assure you its all true.
After a while, Stacey and I found ourselves talking about the coldest day we had
ever had and it soon became apparent why. The two thermostats had packed up and
the truck was starting to become really fucking cold, the windows were steaming up

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and so I had to drive for two and a half hours with both windows rolled down. I
eventually found a Truck Stop, they didnt have the thermostats I needed in stock, but
could get them by the morning, and so we checked in overnight.
As the miles rolled by we started seeing these giant signs at the roadside advertising
Wall Drugs for all you Western Gear, only 550 miles ahead. Then it would be Wall
Drugs for all your Farming and Gardening needs, only 485 miles ahead. There was
absolutely nothing to see except snow, snow and more fucking snow for as far as the
eye could see.
As we started seeing signs for Wall Drugs bringing us closer to Sioux Falls,
South Dakota we just had to stop and see for ourselves what all the fuss was about.
Wall Drugs was a huge store in the middle of nowhere and sold everything under the
sun. You could buy anything from a Bison to a Crystal Chandelier in Wall Drugs and
Ill tell you Harrods of Knightsbridge has got fuck all on Wall Drugs. I for one will
never forget it. We stopped off at the Little Bighorn Battleground just outside Billings,
Montana. I am a big Custer buff, so it was great for me to get a chance to visit. It was
hard to imagine that I was standing in the same spot as Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull and
all those great men.
At last we arrived in Seattle to a great welcome from the band. They had been
following our progress on a map, as they were in touch with S.S.T. back in New
Jersey and got a daily update. The only thing that pissed me off about the drive was
that I didnt make it the whole way without having to put snow-chains on the truck. It
became an obsession to get the whole way without, but when we got to Snoquohomie
Pass over the Rocky Mountains, we had to fit chains or we couldnt proceed. It was
only a hundred miles or so from Seattle, and I was disappointed after having driven
around three thousand miles without them.

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We had a big party the night we arrived and the girls in the band all fell in love with
Stacey and so they hired her to be the Lighting Director, as she had done Theatre
Lighting back in New York. It made a lot of sense because it wouldnt cost anything
for a room, and I took a drop in my wages as I was going to charge them for doing the
Lights myself. I had a blast with this lot, because of all the bands I have worked with
they are right up near the top as far as drinking and drug taking, and could do-in many
so called heavy rockers, NO problem. Gil the Bass Player used to go out with Lemmy
from Motorhead and she was probably the worst of the bunch. I remember one night
when we had packed up the gear and were ready to go, but nobody could find Gil.
After searching for ages, Trevor found her in the basement giving head to a couple of
black stage hands, what a girl.
The girls never ever did an encore and so Gil would pace herself drinking Jack
Daniels on stage, so that as the last note was struck, she could just make it back to the
dressing room before collapsing. One night they went down even better than usual so
Kim the lead vocalist said, Lets do another and rushed back on stage followed by
the others. Trevor the roadie had to carry Gil back on stage and hold her up, playing
the left hand on the Guitar neck whilst Gil played the right hand, luckily Trevor knew
the songs. At the end of the song, he just let Gil go and she fell in a heap and had to be
dragged off giggling. This was quite a normal night with Girlschool as I got to know
pretty quickly.
Denise, the drummer and Tim, the Sound Engineer were also shacking up together,
but she had a boyfriend in London, who was coming over to join her for a couple of
weeks. He was a Lord, so money was no object and he rented a car, bought a C.B. and
used to run in convoy with me, to make sure that he didnt get lost. He was a bit of a
ninny, but basically a nice guy and used to get in the drinks all the time. Poor old Tim

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had to sleep by himself for a couple of weeks and he didnt like it but had no choice.
Tim used to score the Lords coke for him, so I think he got a bit of revenge by
marking up the price just a tad.
We hooked up for a while with Quiet Riot who were touring on the strength of a hit
single with an old Slade song Cum on feel the Noize and a Canadian band called
Saga. Quiet Riot didnt manage to escape the girls mischief. They had a drummer
called Frank, who enjoyed a drink, and the girls got him so fucked up on strong rum
before a show, one time, that he could hardly finish his set. He got a severe bollocking
from the singer after the show, but he never shopped the girls. Most of the shows were
sell-outs, and the girls blew them off every night. We also did a show with Black
Sabbath in Texas, which also went well although Ozzie Osbourne wasnt in the band.
Ian Gillan formerly of Deep Purple was singing, but it wasnt quite the same
without Ozzie. The band had on the usual black outfits and all looked really sinister
except Ian Gillan, who was wearing a white open-necked shirt, a pair of grey staypress slacks and slip-on shoes. Kind of blew the image, dont you think?
Last show was in Mississippi and ended up as a barroom brawl, after Trevor and I
got into a fight. After the fighting started, the whole fucking place erupted with
mirrors getting smashed and people getting chairs over the head, Needless to say the
girls joined in and it ended up with Trevor and I getting nicked. Henry Smith, the Tour
Manager came down in the morning and bailed us out after paying a couple of
thousand dollars to the club for damages.
Kelly the Guitarist had her girlfriend, Vikki Blue come out and join the tour for a
while. Vikki used to be the Bass Guitarist with Joan Jett and the Runaways and was a
fucking pain in the ass. She used to beat Kelly up all the time and I could hear the

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fighting through the wall of my room sometimes. We all loved Kelly as she was a real
sweetheart, but I suppose that her private life was her own business.
I tried to get Vikki fucked over one night when she came in the truck with me for a
change. She started talking on the C.B. Radio to some redneck, and was really
winding this guy up, saying all kinds of sexy shit, and I could hear this guy getting all
worked up. Just as we were pulling up to the hotel, the guy came round the corner in
his pickup and spotted her. Boy! Did she leg it or what. I tried to hold her back, but
she made it into the hotel, while I took the guy inside for a beer until he calmed down.
Needless to say, she never came in the truck with me again.
After I finished that tour I went out with Darryl Hall and John Oates for a while. I
got the job as Guitar Tech. through my old mate Michael Wolpert, he of the mooning
of a Rolling Stone fame. We had Production Rehearsals in Poughkeepsie, New York
State and spent the next two weeks getting everything ready for the up-coming tour.
I had to make cables for all three Guitarists (Darryl, John, and the Bass Guitarist T.
Bone Wolk) to run from the amps at the back to the microphones at the front, along
with speaker cables, microphone cables and loads of spares. Bernie looked after the
Lead Guitarist G. E. Smith. M.T.V. were going to be coming on tour filming the band
for the first three weeks and so they were there as well, getting in the way of
everybody with their cameras and all their other junk.
We were carrying our own Stage, which was designed to sit on top of the main
Stage and all the cables were run between the two of them making the whole stage
area clear of any cables. I had to basically take care of all the guitars along with
Darryls High School Trumpet, which he played on the encore. I also had to wheel on
a Piano for Daryl to use on one song, so all in all it was a pretty easy gig for me.

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The band had a roadie called Bernie, and he seemed to take an instant dislike to me.
He was a bit of a crazy guy and I never felt comfy around him. After a while I
couldnt take any more of his abuse, so I told Darryl that I was quitting and told him
the reason why. Darryl told me that he had been with the band for years and they had
had trouble with him many times, but couldnt fire him because he had been with
them so long.
He also told me that they once had a Scottish Stage Manager who gave Bernie an
extremely hard time, so that as soon as he heard me speak, it brought back horrible
memories. I felt that the best thing was just to leave quietly and so I took the train
back to New York. By the time I got back, there had been a blizzard and the City was
under three feet of snow. Manhattan was virtually at a standstill and no cabs were
running. The only way that I could get up-town was to ask a limo driver outside
Madison Square Garden for a lift, as he was the only vehicle on the street. It cost me
$100.00 to go about one mile, but it was the only way I could get home.
I didnt go straight home, but went to Eamonn Dorans Pub, which was my local. I
have a very good friend named Joey, who is connected to the Mafia, and we used to
get drunk in Eamonns all the time. Joey used to carry a pistol all the time and one
time he nearly shot a cab driver because he upset me. I had taken a cab to the pub and
when I gave the driver the fare, it blew out of my hand and went under the cab.
When I wouldnt go under and get it for him, he hit me with a blackjack on the side
of the head. I stumbled through the door of the pub, and Joey looked up and saw me.
The next thing I knew was that Joey had flew out the door, and by the time I got out
he had this cabbie off the ground by the neck and had a gun in his mouth. I managed
to calm Joey down, but I have never seen a cabbie reverse up a street so fast in my
fucking life. Ha! Ha!

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CHAPTER 9

MORE HEAVY METAL

The next adventure was with a band called Ratt, who had just made it to No 1. with
the single Round and Round. They were an up and coming L.A. band and we
started out playing small clubs, but as the Album started to climb the charts, we
moved on to bigger venues. I was taking care of Bobby Blotzer the drummer, who
true to form was a pain in the arse. He was a nice enough, but like most drummers he
kind of lost the plot as soon as he got behind the kit. Mind you, if I had a name like
Bobby Blotzer, I would have a fucking complex as well. I dont know what it is about
drummers, but I suppose they have a lot of pressure on them not to fuck up and it
makes them difficult to work with. If youre a Guitarist for example, and you hit a
bum note you can usually get away with it, but if you fuck the beat up, everybody in
the audience notices.
We did a few dates as opening act for Billy Squier, who had one of the best Monitor
Engineers in the business. His name was Rocky and I had worked with him a few
times before, at various Festivals over the years and he didnt take any shit from
anybody, believe me. Rocky was so good at his job, that several big name Rock Stars
wouldnt tour until he was available, so that should give you an idea.
This day, we were doing a Festival on an island in the middle of a huge lake in
Tennessee. There had been a massive storm in the morning and a tree had fallen on
the Monitor Desk causing quite a bit of damage. Rocky was tearing his hair out trying
to fix it, whilst also mixing the opening acts. Ratt had just begun their show and as

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usual, Bobby couldnt hear his drums in the monitors, so he was screaming at Rocky
to turn the volume up.
Now Rockys main priority was Billy Squier, and getting the desk operating in time
for his set, so Bobby was just going to have to play second fiddle for once. He
couldnt get Rockys attention so he made the fatal mistake of throwing a drumstick at
him, which luckily just missed. He then threw another, which hit Rocky on the arm.
At this point I ducked because I had a rough idea what was going to happen. Rocky
looked across and saw Bobby screaming at him and bending down, he picked up a full
roll of Gaffa tape and threw it right at Bobby, hitting him on the side of the head and
sending him flying off his stool. The band carried on playing whilst Bobby got back
on to his stool and started playing again.
After the show had all finished Rocky took Bobby aside and told him that if he ever
did that again, he would kick his fucking head in. I saw Bobby in New York a couple
of years later and when I asked him if he had seen Rocky recently he replied that he
had tried to get him to be his own personal Monitor Engineer, offering him lots of
money, but Rocky told him to fuck off. Rocky was so funny because he was always
fixing something. Every day he would be covered from head to toe in dust, having
been crawling about under the stage fixing fuck knows what. If he didnt have
something to fix, I suppose he would have had some kind of breakdown.
The last time that I saw Rocky he had just flown out to a gig somewhere toyou
guessed it---fix something. I cant remember where it was, but the band was having
all kinds of trouble with the Monitor System and so Rocky was flown in to fix it. I
didnt even recognise him, because he was clean. He was dressed up in jacket and
slacks without a single cobweb. It turned out that he was working for Bon Jovi as Jon

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Bon Jovis personal Engineer, and was making a fucking fortune. Good for him, if
anyone deserved it Rocky did.
One night before a show in Stockton California, Bobby and I were in an outdoor
Jacuzzi with a couple of girls drinking Japanese beer and generally having a good
time. I have no idea what time we eventually got to bed, but Bobby had to be on stage
at noon and I know that neither of us got much sleep. In fact my roommate told me
that he had been sitting on his balcony watching us for a few hours and nobody had
gotten out for a piss, so God only knows what state the water was in when we
eventually did get out. The hotel had been built around a natural hot spring, so
everybody kept jumping in and out of the Jacuzzi all night long, and every guest in
the Hotel could see what was going on from the balconies.
Next morning I had to be at the gig for eight a.m. and felt like shit. We were on a
bill with Berlin, R.E.M. Hughie Lewis and The News and a few other bands. Bobby
arrived at around eleven oclock and he looked worse than me. I had to put a bucket
of Dettol and water next to him on the drum riser, so that he could throw-up between
songs. How we both got through the day Ill never know.
Next, we went out as support to Twisted Sister, who were a bunch of crazies from
New York. They had a singer called Dee Schneider whose stage language left a lot to
be desired. On quite a few occasions he was warned by the local cops to tone it down,
which he did most of the time. When we were down in Texas, he was warned before
the show that as there were a load of kids and their mothers coming, hed better
REALLY tone it down under threat of arrest.
I was talking with him before the show and told him that he should fuck the lot of
them and just carry on as normal, or even swear worse than normal to get himself
arrested. He didnt see the logic in this until I told him that there was no such thing as

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bad publicity and by getting nicked, he would make all the next mornings
newspapers. He proceeded to really give it to them and sure enough, the cops stormed
the stage and after a fight, dragged him away in handcuffs. True to form, it was
splattered all over the papers next day and he was immediately a star.
They had a drummer called J.J.Pero, who was a total wind up and so I decided that
it was time to get back at him. I discovered that he was totally paranoid about spiders,
so one time at an outdoor show in Texas; I went out and gathered up a load of small
Tarantulas. As he was playing away, I started to put them on his drums at which point
he started to freak out, but had to keep playing and as he did so, the spiders kept
bouncing off the drums into his lap.
There were Tarantulas crawling all over him and the look on his face was sheer
terror. He never fucked about with me any more after that, and Ill bet you if you ask
him about it hell still remember, even today.
When we were in Colorado we played one of the most interesting gigs in the World.
It is called Red Rocks, and is way up in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. It is a
real pain in the ass to get to but well worth it. You can only get the trucks up to within
a mile or so, and then you have to unload all the gear onto flatbed vans and ferry it up
the mountains a bit at a time.
Red Rocks is a natural Ampi-theatre and if you stand on the stage, and clap your
hands, you can hear it crystal-clear way up at the back. If you ever see a U2 video,
where Bono sticks a couple of firebrands in the stage during Sunday Bloody
Sunday, thats at Red Rocks. Rattlesnakes have even bitten a few people over the
years whilst sitting at the back, watching the show. We were joined for the next leg of
the tour by Fastway, who were a new up and coming band

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It was good having Fastway on the bill because my old mate Jerry Shirley from
Humble Pie was the drummer and so we had a few laughs reminiscing about our days
with Steve Marriott. They were a really good band and also had Fast Eddie Clark,
from Motorhead, and Charlie McCracken from Taste playing Bass Guitar along
with Dave on vocals. I even managed to get my own back on Jerry for arranging to
have me de-frocked, that time with Humble Pie in L.A.
A couple of us managed to bribe a couple of dolly birds to strip off and hide in a
double Bass Drum case, and during Fastways set we wheeled it on stage, much to the
amazement of the band. As soon as we had the case next to Jerry, the girls pushed the
lid up, got out and danced topless around the drums. Jerry got quite a buzz out of it
and to be fair, he never even missed a beat.
Later in the tour, a young Irish band called Mamas Boys joined us, they were three
brothers and this was to be their first (and last) U.S. tour. A lot of the time, especially
with Heavy Metal, you have to be very careful of young girls trying to get to the
bands. They come up with all sorts of ways and means to get there, and have no fear.
They can be anything from fourteen years old upwards but are dressed like far older
women and even carry fake I.D. showing them to be older. Over the years I had got
pretty wise to all their schemes and kept well away. Mamas Boys, being quite new to
the U.S.A. hadnt really got a clue what it was all about and nearly got themselves
jailed for their troubles.
I remember one of them giving me a shout one time backstage, I think it was in
Albuquerque New Mexico and showing off these two girls that they had just pulled.
The girls were all tarted up and anybody who didnt know the difference would have
said that they would have been easily nineteen or twenty. I tried to warn the boys, but
they wouldnt believe me and just laughed it off, calling me an old fart.

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The next gig was in California and when I got there, the place was swarming with
F.B.I looking for Mamas Boys. The boys had taken them on the tour bus from New
Mexico to California, before dropping them at a Truck Stop somewhere in the middle
of the desert. Their mothers had reported them missing and as they were last spotted
getting onto Mamas Boys tour bus two days before, they were the last people to have
seen them. It turned out that one of them was thirteen, and the other was fourteen and
they hadnt been seen since Mamas Boys dropped them off. Federal Law states that
anyone taking a minor across State Line is committing a Federal Offence and that
explained the reason for the involvement of the F.B.I.
Their mothers were with the Feds and were absolutely freaking out. Mamas Boys
bus was searched and they found a few Polaroid pictures that had been taken along
with a few bits of the girls clothing. Im not sure what the outcome was, but we never
saw Mamas Boys again although I heard a bit later that they had their Visas cancelled
and as far as I know, they never got back to the States. They had a really promising
future ahead of them in the U.S.A. but blew it because of a really stupid mistake.
It was around this time that I went to see Tex in New York, who is a good friend of
mine and had been roadie for Kiss for many years. They were rehearsing in the
Palladium in Manhattan, so I went along for a chat.
Kiss had a Guitarist called Ace Frehley who was the epitome of what a Rock Star
should be. He drove a Delorean sports car and was a total party animal. One time Ace
was speeding up the Interstate when a cop car started to try and pull him over for
speeding. Ace was carrying a load of cocaine, and so he started to out-run them.
The speeds got up to way over a hundred miles an hour, but Ace couldnt shake
them off. He pulled into a Supermarket and ran around the shelves dropping baggies

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of coke on the shelves to get rid of the evidence. Needless to say he was caught on
camera and the cops got the whole lot.
The Bass player, Gene Simmons was going out with Diana Ross at the time and she
was there watching the rehearsals with a few of her kids. They were all sitting in the
front row of the empty Theatre, and every so often she would send out one of her
huge Security Guards to get burgers and milk shakes for the kids from Mac Donalds
across the street.
After a few hours, there was quite a lot of rubbish lying on the front of the stage,
like empty milk-shake cartons and burger boxes, where the kids had been dumping it.
When rehearsals had finished, Gene went over to the side of the stage and started
fooling around with the children, but was out of sight of the stage itself. A few
minutes later, when the stage was empty, Ace came staggering out of the dressing
room and noticed the pile of rubbish on the stage. At this point, the P.A. system was
still on full volume, but Ace not knowing this, turned to Tex and said Hey Tex, look
at the fucking mess the niggers left.
It was so loud, you could have heard it across the street and I looked across at Gene,
who was holding one of the youngsters and he nearly died. Diana Ross and her
Security Guard werent amused either, to say the least. Funnily enough Ace was
kicked out of the band soon afterwards, but I dont know if it had anything to do with
that little incident.
The next project for me was a European Tour with Michael Schenker, who used to
be the Guitarist in U.F.O. Michael was well known as one of the best Heavy Metal
Guitarists and had put a very good band together with Ted McKenna on drums and
Chris Glen on Bass Guitar, both ex Alex Harvey Band along with American Guitarist
Derek St.Holmes who played for a while in Ted Nugents band.

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We started rehearsals in London at Brixton Academy, so after all the gear had been
taken to the Airport and put on the Manifest ready to be shipped to London, I had a
couple of days off in New York.
When I went to get my ticket from the Management Office, I was asked if I could
take a couple of Guitars with me, as they were too late to go on the Manifest. When I
asked about paperwork I was told that Steve Hable, the Tour Manager would meet me
at the Airport in London and he had all the necessary papers. Needless to say he
wasnt there to meet me, so I just headed on through Nothing To Declare where I
got pulled by Customs.
I was taken into a room and given a thorough search and the Guitars were taken
from me. I told them that the Tour Manager was meeting me and had all the
paperwork, but I felt that they didnt believe a word of it. When they eventually found
Steve in the Baggage Hall, he didnt have any paperwork so I was detained. The
Customs wouldnt believe a word I said and told me that I would have to come back
in a couple of months to attend a tribunal.
When I asked what would happen to the Guitars, I was told that they would be held
until the Tribunal date. You cant do that I said, We start rehearsals tomorrow and
we need them. Well you have an alternative. Whats that? You can plead guilty,
and we can deal with it right now if you want. O.K. then, I plead guilty. I had to do
it so that I could get the Guitars to rehearsals, so basically had no real choice.
They fined me 800.00 and I had to pay 750.00 Import Tax, even though the
Guitars were going back to the States after the tour. The fucking Management
Company even tried to blame me for it, but it was totally their cock up.
Its hardly surprising the way they treated me really, because they had also been
Humble Pies Management. No wonder Steve fired the fucking lot of them.

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Chris Glen played so fucking loud that he literally brought the roof down before we
had even started the tour. We were rehearsing for two weeks in Brixton Academy and
everything seemed to be going O.K. until one day we heard an almighty crash out in
the foyer. On inspection we saw that the roof of the Foyer had partly come down,
nearly killing the caretaker Mike Henley in the process. You could see daylight
through the roof, but luckily it didnt all come down.
The Michael Schenker Group was incredibly loud and I recorded 127 decibels ON
stage, so fuck knows how it affected the punters hearing. All the band and crew wore
earplugs except Michael so he must be lucky if he has any hearing left.
Derek St. Holmes was a real ego tripper and as each day went by, he was getting the
Lighting guys to get him more lights on him during the show. He was also getting the
Sound Engineer to highlight his guitar solos. Michael Schenker on the other hand
wasnt too concerned about how he looked on stage, but just wanted to play.
After a few weeks of Derek posing around, Michael got him a beauty. Derek was
crouching down at the front of the stage, touching peoples hands like he was some
kind of Guitar God or something and I noticed Michael glancing across at him. He
shot across the stage and gave him a kick on the ass, sending him toppling into the
punters.
Derek had to climb back on to the stage amid the laughter of the crowd. Talk about
looking fucking stupid! After the show, Derek started bawling at Michael in the
dressing room, but Michael only said Aisle or window? What the fuck are you
talking about? asked Derek. Michael just smiled and repeated what he said, and
added Time for you to go home. Would you like the smoking or non smoking
section? Derek got the hint, and behaved himself after that.

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That was the last tour for 1984, and I finished off the year working with S.I.R. and
S.S.T. in New York, delivering and picking up rentals to and from Recording Studios
and local gigs in New York. While I was working at S.I.R, Mickey Curry came in one
day to pick up some bit and pieces from his locker. Mickey was the drummer with
Hall and Oates when I worked for them, but had left them and was now working with
Bryan Adams.
I had always wanted a Baseball Hat that he wore, but he wouldnt let me have it. He
had got it in Australia, and told me that when he went back, he would get me one. I
had completely forgotten all about it until he went to a drum case and produced one
that he had brought back for me. I only mention this to show that even though some
people are looked on as Rock Stars, they can be really nice people and also
thoughtful. I was completely taken by surprise by Mickey and still cant believe that
he remembered after all those years.

CHAPTER 10

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TEXAS.

At the beginning of the year, I wasnt doing a whole lot in New York so I decided to
move to Texas. I had done loads of shows there over the years, and made quite a few
friends. So I called Louis Meyers in Austin to feel it out. Louis was a local Promoter
and was partner in a club called The Liberty Lunch, where I had done a few shows
over the years. Louis asked me to come down straight away as he had a couple of big
shows coming up and he needed me to Stage Manage them for him. Off I went down
to Austin and Stage Managed a couple of his bigger shows with Run D.M.C. and The
Neville Brothers.
All summer there were shows going on down by the Colorado River, which runs
through Austin, and I Stage Managed a few of those for Louis. One of the best shows
that Summer was Johnny Winter even although he didnt finish his set, due to some
idiots in the crowd.
There were a bunch of drunk Mexicans at the front of the stage, and they had also
been drinking sterno, which is the fuel used for keeping trays of food hot. It is not
for human consumption, but that didnt stop these crazy fuckers drinking it. Johnny is
an albino and so his eyesight is pretty poor, so when these Mexicans started throwing
empty beer bottles on to the stage, he didnt see them.
Eventually one of the bottles bounced off Johnny, so he just put down his Guitar,
turned round and said Youve done it now mother fuckers walked off stage, into his
bus and took off. Johnny didnt fuck around. I took quite a while to get going in
Texas, but Louis kept me busy at Liberty Lunch along with the Continental Club,

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another of his venues. I went back on tour later in the year selling T-shirts for
Depeche Mode.
It was quite a new experience for me, but I soon got into the swing of it. I had to
count in the shirts each afternoon and then sell in the evening. Bands make a lot of
their income from Merchandising and we were taking in around $75,000.00 per night,
which isnt too bad. The way that it worked was that the Venue took 33%; the band
took 33% and the Merchandising Company got the rest. Out of this they paid for the
printing, the sellers, and the transportation costs.
Three of us travelled around in a three-ton truck, and every so often we would have to
drive to the factory in Indiana and stock up. When we started to get too far away from
the factory, we would pick up supplies from the local Airport.
Most of the bigger Arenas did their own selling, so we just counted in the shirts, and
then counted the money at the end of the night, while keeping them stocked up. We
usually took two or three people on tour, as this was enough. I remember hearing that
Z.Z. Top was selling two forty foot trailers of merchandise per night, which is a hell
of a lot of money for doing fuck all. We also sold Programmes, Baseball Hats,
Bandanas and Shorts. The band had a deal with Puma, so all the crew got free
Trainers and Kit Bags as well as the usual T- shirts and Tour Jackets.
New Kids on the Block had recently been ripped-off at one of their gigs by men
dressed as Electricity Board workmen and I heard that they got away with over
$500,000. in cash. Needless to say we had our security beefed-up at all the gigs after
that.
At the beginning of the year I checked into an Alcohol Treatment Centre as my
drinking was getting out of control, which wasnt helped by my lifestyle. I then
headed down to Houston to run Production for a David Copperfield show in the

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Astro-Hall. A couple of days after we started I was putting up a spotlight tower, when
I fell and broke two bones in my back and so was laid up for a couple of months. I
was swinging down the scaffold, when I slipped and was left hanging by my arm. As I
couldnt pull myself back up, and I could feel my arm coming out of the socket, I had
to let go, falling about thirty feet on to concrete.
I was dead lucky because when I fell I landed about six inches away from a baseplate, which has a two inch diameter steel rod sticking up three feet in the air, and if I
had landed on that thing, it would have gone straight through me. It was lucky for me
that I was insured, as the U.S.A. is not a cheap place to be Hospitalised. I was in
Houston General for a week, and that cost me $25,000.00, so as I say, thank Christ
that I was insured. In fact, that was the only time that I had ever been insured while
touring.
After I had recovered, I did a few shows at Austin Opera House, which was owned
by Willie Nelson. We had B.B. King and James Brown perform among others and so I
was beginning to get known around Austin, and was keeping reasonably busy. I
remember one night walking in to Willies office and watching he and his partner
counting out the profits and laughing about the Taxmans small cut.
Poor Willie lost the lot a few years later, when The Internal Revenue Service ruined
him, even taking away his beloved ranch. I believe that a few of his very good friends
bought a lot of his stuff and sold it back to him later, so he wouldnt lose it altogether.
Steve Marriott arrived in town, so it was great to see him, and I had him over for
Sunday lunch and made him peel the spuds. He had a new band called Packet of
Three which is a named for the Durex packets of condoms, typical Steve.
I was then asked to help out on Farm Aid, as they were getting themselves into a
mess, due to the sheer size of the project. Willie Nelson was doing a huge show to

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raise money for the farmers, as they were going broke nationwide at that time. He had
booked over two hundred bands and Famous Personalities to take part. By the time I
got involved it was a real mess, and I found that they had people booked to appear
onstage before they had even arrived. The first thing I tackled was the transport
arrangements, and then the hotels and passes.
Eventually it sorted itself out, but I was working twenty hours a day for two weeks
to get it organised. We had a team of volunteers who were working around the clock,
as well as all the Production people getting the stage up and all the lights and P.A.
organised.
It was going out live on Satellite, so everything had to run like clockwork. We had
a big auction in a Nightclub the night before the big day, and everyone who was
appearing was asked to bring something to put in the Raffle, so extra cash was raised
there as well. Willie didnt quite make it in to the auction because he had passed out
drunk in the back of his limo at the back door of the Club, but he was forgiven for
that.
The day started at around six a.m. and we had two hundred acts to deal with. We
had a revolving stage so that we could do the changeovers as quickly as possible. This
was necessary because time was tight due to the expense of the Satellite, which was
costing a phenomenal amount of money, and once it started transmitting, it couldnt
be stopped. The way that a revolving Stage works is that the stage is split in two, and
there is a band set up in each half. When one band is finished, the stage is swung
round by hydraulics underneath. It is the just a matter of pushing in a few plugs, and
off you go. Then, as one band is playing the next act is setting up behind the partition.
I managed to stitch Willie Nelson up very early in the morning. Backstage, there
were trailers to be used as changing rooms and between them and the stage there was

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a dilapidated two- strand wire fence, which was sagging in the middle. I was standing
way over at the side, when I saw Willie come flying out of one of the trailers and head
towards the stage to do a pledge. Every so often Willie or another famous face would
make an appeal to the Nation to give money to help the Farmers.
As he started to jump the fence, I stood on the top strand and as it stretched up,
Willie jumped. The strand tightened and Willie went flying over it, all dust and
pigtails. He bruised his thumb and had to have it strapped up with silver coloured
gaffa tape, and if you ever see the video of Farm Aid, you can see his thumb sticking
out like the proverbial. At noon they had set-up an All Star jam session with Joe
Walsh, Dickie Betts, Jon Bon Jovi and several others. It was one of the best jam
sessions that I personally have ever seen.
As I was checking out the under stage cables I bumped into Bob Bickleman, who
was working on the P.A. crew. Bik and I had a good time after the day was over,
reminiscing about the old J.Geils days. Needless to say, I had to keep Bik pretty
lubricated to try and keep him away from all the Cowgirls.
After it was all over and everybody had gone home, I collapsed in the hotel room,
and slept for two days. The whole affair was a great success, and Willie raised
Millions of dollars for the farmers.
I went back up to New York to set up the stage for Diana Ross in Central Park and
also worked at Madison Square Garden, setting up for Queen, Inxs and Pink Floyd. It
is next to impossible to get on the crew for the Garden, as it is heavy Union, and jobs
always pass down from Father to Son. The Union guys seemed to have taken a shine
to me and called me in sometimes if they were a man short. The Unions in the States
are very powerful, have strict guidelines, and they definitely call the shots during
shows.

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One time the Union called a break and they darkened the stage, so that when they
take a break, EVERYONE takes a break. One of the roadies didnt understand what it
all meant and went on stage to get his cigarettes from the back of an amp. As far as
the Union were concerned, if he was on stage he was working, and if he was working
they were all working. This meant a penalty of several thousand dollars, due to the
fact that twenty Union men were on a minimum rate of treble salary for the minimum
time, which was four hours.
At the Garden, there are at least four different Unions working at any given time. It
is far too complicated to go into in detail, but there are Teamsters Union, who load
and unload the trucks, Stage Hands Union, who set up the stage gear, Electricians
Union, who take care of anything electrical, and the Joiners Union who handle all the
keyboard and drum risers and any scenery thats used.
We also did a U2 show, and they had a great extravaganza backstage, with womens
mud wrestling and all kinds of fun. I was standing outside the dressing room talking
with the Edge from U2, when Faye Dunaway the actress walked up and said Were
all going down to Jimmy Days Bar for some brandy, would you care to join us? The
Edge just gave her a weird look and said, No thanks, Ive got a bottle of beer here.
With that she just headed off.
She had just come off the set of the movie Barfly which she was filming, and was
still dressed up like a right old tart, with the garter belt, stockings and the whole
works. The Edge didnt know who she was and said to me Who the fuck is that old
boiler? He nearly dropped dead when I told him. I had met her before, as she used to
be married to Peter Wolf, the singer of The J.Geils band and had come to a couple of
their gigs in the past.

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I also went to hang out at Atlantic Records 50th Anniversary party at The Garden
and there was just about everybody in the business there. I bumped into Bob Geldof,
who of course by now was Sir Bob Geldof. I had brought my girlfriend Wendy with
me, and she was a stunning looking blonde from Texas.
When I called him Sir Bob, he just told me to piss off, but then asked me if I knew
what Lords could do. Sure, you can vote in the House of Lords. Yeah, he said,
but have you heard of the Droit le Senior? I told him that I had never heard of it, so
he told me that even on the Wedding Night, the Lord could take your woman and fuck
her first. So with that, he grabbed a hold of Wendy and took off into a dressing room.
I know one thing and that is that Bob will never change, no matter how many awards
he gets.
After I got back to Austin, I started my own Management Company, Managing local
bands and trying to get them signed to a Record Label. The first band I signed was
The Fur Trappers, who were a very good Rhythm and Blues Band, and had begun to
build a good following locally. I took them into the Recording Studio and helped them
to record a Demo Tape. I even managed to get Rolling Stones saxophonist, Bobby
Keyes to play on it, as he lived in Austin. I sent quite a lot of tapes to Record
Companies, but had no luck. I also signed Blues Singer, Mandy Mercier, who I
managed to get R.C.A. interested in, but they didnt pursue it .It was a real shame,
because I really thought that Mandy had what it took to make it big. I did manage to
get The Fur Trappers gigs further afield, so at least I managed to help them, if even in
a small way.
I went up to New York for a couple of weeks to talk to some Record Labels and see
if I could get any bites on the bands. U2 were back at Madison Square Garden again,
so I called them up to get a few Passes for the show. I bumped in to a really nice girl

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called Darlene Kutynec from Toronto who was being hassled by some fucking ticket
tout to buy a ticket for the show. I managed to rescue her from his clutches, and we
both went to the show that night.
I had also Backstage passes, so Darlene was very impressed and got to meet the
band. She was studying at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York, and lived
literally a stones throw from the Garden. We became very good friends and many
times when I was in New York, I slept on her couch for a few nights. Darlene still
remains a close friend and is back in Toronto breeding racehorses.
Back in Texas I was still handling The Fur Trappers and I went down to a show with
them in Corpus Christie, on the Gulf of Mexico and nearly got eaten by a shark. I had
asked a local fisherman where the best place to fish was, and he told me to wade out
until I went over the sandbar, and I would catch loads of Bluefish. So off I went, and
after wading out a bit, I thought that I had crossed the sandbar (but hadnt), so I
started to fish. After about a couple of hours, having caught fuck all. I went back to
the hotel for dinner.
At dinner, I bought a local evening paper and read that a Tiger Shark had been
feeding up and down the coast for the past few days. The Coastguard had caught it
that afternoon and there was a picture in the paper. It was fourteen feet long and had
human remains in its stomach. The point is that if I had carried on over the sandbar,
there was a good chance that I could have been its lunch, as it was caught right where
I had been fishing.
Later that year, I went to see Iron Maiden at the Coliseum in Austin, and it was good
to see all the boys again. They had really cracked it in the States and were now
Headlining major venues. Judas Priest also played there a few weeks later, and when I
went backstage after the show, Kenny Downing, one of the Guitarists was sitting in

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the dressing room wearing a pair of shades. They look a bit Rock Star, dont they
Kenny? I said.
With that, he took them off to reveal a huge black eye. What the fuck happened to
you? Kenny just pointed at Rob Halford and said It was that fucker over there. He
then explained that when he had been giving it a bit of head banging on stage, Rob
had swung out his arm and knocked his guitar into his face, by mistake. When I was
having a laugh with Rob about it he just said Dont worry about it, Im getting the
other fucker tomorrow. meaning either Kennys other eye or Glen Tipton, the other
Guitarist.
The last gig that I did that year was a Tribute to Buddy Holly for the local Texas
Television Station. The Crickets were playing and they had several different artistes
singing Buddy Holly tunes. Buddys wife was also there, and it was a pretty emotional
occasion. John Fogerty, from Creedence Clearwater Revival did a couple of old
Creedence songs. He had refused to play them in public for years, because the band
had been ripped off, and if he played them, the guy who ripped them off would have
gotten all the money. Kris Kristofferson, Joe Ely, (a local guitarist) and Marshall
Crenshaw, another of my ex bosses also performed, so it was quite a good evening.

CHAPTER 11

BACK TO NEW YORK

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Wendy had always wanted to live in New York, and as I wasnt getting enough work
in Texas, we decided to move up to New Jersey, as it is a lot cheaper to rent than in
Manhattan. I managed to get her a job with a Rock and Roll Travel Agency, and I
went to work for S.S.T. The first tour that I did was with a girl from New Zealand
called Shona Laing, who was quite well known there. Frank Gallagher was doing the
Sound and he was an old friend, from when we did shows with Talking Heads.
Frank was a real piss-head and David Byrne once said to him. The thing that I like
about you Frank is that you only get drunk twice a day, sound checks and gigs.
which of course was the only time he saw him anyway.
Shona had a Percussion Player, who was a bit mad and he used to go wandering off
into the wilderness every time we stopped for gas, or something to eat. I think he just
wanted to take pictures of wildlife or something, but there were many times that we
had to go hunting for him at Truck stops. He used to play the Bass Guitar on three
numbers and Percussion the rest of the set. We did a few Club dates and then hookedup with Erasure for the rest of the tour.
One time, we were on our way to Pittsburg, when we noticed that we were a man
short on the bus. We hadnt stopped since the last fuel stop, which was over a hundred
miles back. The Bass Player must have gone walkabout, we had left without him, and
didnt have time to go back for him because we were already late. I offered jokingly,
to play the Bass that night, for a small fee, of course. Shona then took me up on it, and
when I told her that I was joking, she wouldnt take no for an answer. There was
nothing for it but to go into the back lounge of the bus with Dave the Guitarist and try
to get the three songs down. I was beginning to wish that I had kept my big mouth
shut, but it was too late now.

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When we got to the gig, Frank phoned the Truck stop and located the idiot, so we
sent one of the stagehands to go and get him in his car. Meanwhile I was praying that
they would be on time for the show, as I wasnt looking forward to this one bit.
Needless to say he didnt make it so yours truly had to play the fucking Bass Guitar.
Luckily it was one of the small club dates that we were doing without Erasure, but I
insisted that I would only do it if I was off to the side of the stage out of sight, and
nobody said anything about me being there at all, absolutely fuck all. True to form
Shona took no fucking heed of me, and proceeded to introduce me to the audience.
After the show, I gave her a right fucking bollocking, and she promised never to do it
again.
The Bass player had to go back to New Zealand a couple of weeks later and Shona
asked me if I would finish the tour playing Bass, as it would save her the cost of
flying out a new Bass Player from New York or Los Angeles, plus hotels and wages.
She felt that she could also handle the rest of the tour without Percussion as it was
only a small part of the show, and wouldnt be missed too much. I said that I would do
it if she bought a Bass Guitar, and then let me keep it after the tour had finished, and
that would be my payment.
She agreed to this, but the fucker said that he would leave his Bass Guitar with us,
so I negotiated a price for me to play instead. We played an outdoor Festival with
Erasure and there were about 15,000 punters there, so naturally I was shitting myself.
As it came to my time to play, I was just creeping on to the back of the stage when
Shona made this fucking big introduction again and I had to get right up alongside
her, much to the audiences amusement. I actually did quite well and got a fair bit of
applause from the crowd. I had asked Frank to tape the show, so I could hear what a
fuck-up I had made, and all I could hear was Bass Guitar. Apparently as Frank was

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mixing the Sound, he was proudly telling everybody around, Thats my Scottish
mate up there on the Bass. So at least he got a bit of fun out of it but I could have
strangled the real Bass Player by the end of the show.
At the end of the tour I got sweet fuck all, but in all honesty I really enjoyed it and
kept a show tape to give to my son James, which he promptly lost. Ha Ha!
The next job that I had to do was to deliver a three-ton truck to San Francisco for
the Pogues, and then pick up a new truck that S.S.T. had bought in Los Angeles, and
drive it back to New York. After I had done the delivery to the Pogues I hung around
for the show and had a great time.
Normally each band has a rider attached to the Contract, which provides food and
drinks for the band. This is provided by the Promoter and the Dressing Room rider is
usually something like two bottles each of, Brandy, Bourbon, Scotch whisky, White
Rum and any other favourite spirit. Two or three cases of Heineken or other beer, two
or three bottles of wine, and assorted fruit juices. There should also be a deli-tray with
cold meats, vegetables, fresh fruit, bread and crackers.
The Pogues rider was something like this. Two cases of Brandy, two cases of Sherry,
two cases of Port, two cases of Irish Whisky, six cases of bottled Guinness, oh! and a
few sandwiches if you can manage it. They liked to party, the Pogues.
Next morning I drove down to L.A. with them and picked up the brand new Iveco
Truck, that John Hanti of S.S.T. had bought. I charged John one hundred dollars a day
for the drive back, which was three thousand miles, so I was to earn six hundred
dollars plus expenses for the six-day trip. I went like the clappers and did it in three
days with very little sleep, just pulling over in the desert and getting a few hours nap
in the bunk in the cab. In fact the last day, I drove 1100 miles from St. Louis to New

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York in one straight go of twenty-six hours, and was so knackered that I got lost on
the one- way system next to my home.
I did run out of Diesel one time in the middle of the desert and had to walk two or
three miles ahead to the next Truck Stop. It was in the middle of the night and there
were rattlesnakes lying all over the road to catch the heat from the day. That worried
me a bit, but the worst part was that for the previous few miles I had seen signs for the
State Penitentiary, warning people not to stop for ten miles. I had visions of me being
murdered by some escaped convict, but that was just the way I was feeling, being so
isolated.
Next tour was with a German Heavy Metal band called UDO whose vocalist used to
be the leader of Accept, a very well respected band. They were managed by Accepts
Manager Gaby Hauke, who was a tiny German lady, but one of the best Managers in
the Business. I was hired as Tour Manager, but as the band were being financed by the
Record Company, money was a bit tight, so I offered to roadie and drive the truck for
a bit extra. It turned out O.K. for me as I was being paid for truck driving, Tour
Managing and doing the guitars, so I did O.K. out of it. The Record Company had
done what was called a Buy- On. Which meant that they paid the Headline Act a fee
for the privilege of their up and coming new band being on the show. This gave the
band a chance to play in front of a large audience, therefore boosting Album sales.
The Record Company had also offered to buy the band into the top 100 in the
charts, but they declined this time, as the Album was mostly songs that had been
written for Accept. Gaby preferred to wait until they had an Album of their own
material, before taking the Record Company up on their offer. The Promoter only paid
a very small fee to us, and the Record Company paid for all the hotels, equipment

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hire, bus and truck hire, fuel and wages, so although the band werent making a lot of
money we were treated extremely well.
Quite a lot of bands accepted Buy- Ons. but there are a few exceptions such as
Iron Maiden, who prefer to pick who they want to open the show. That way they have
control of the whole Production. Steve Harris even chooses the music to be played
before the show and between bands, so that gives you an idea of the thought put into
their shows. Gaby treated me really well but Im glad I wasnt in the band because she
was a tough cookie with them.
We started off with Guns n Roses in Iowa and this looked like it was going to be a
load of fun. Guns n Roses had just released their first Album and it was hurtling up
the charts like there was no tomorrow. We started out doing small clubs, but as the
tour went on the venues got bigger and bigger. We had trouble right from the start,
with hundreds of screaming fans camping out side the hotels all night, and generally
making a nuisance of themselves. We had no peace and the hotels were swarming
with young girls trying to get to Guns n Roses rooms, so it was a total nightmare.
At the second or third gig, we discovered our bus tyres had been slashed, and found
out that it had been a jealous boyfriend whose girlfriend was upstairs in the hotel with
the band. This wasnt funny because at that time, they cost around $1000.00 each.
After that little episode, we left after each show and drove to the next hotel, to get
away from all the hassle. Its just as well we did because within a couple of weeks, the
cops were swarming all over Guns n Roses buses, looking for girls, videos and dope,
but by this time we were well out of it.
One night a couple of us were heading back to our hotel rooms after a night out, so
it must have been about two or three in the morning. I had the driver with me and as
we turned into the hotel corridor, we saw Axl Rose down on his knees, trying to get

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his door key to fit. The Hotel corridor was so quiet that you could have heard a pin
drop, and so the driver crept up behind Axl who hadnt heard anything, and screamed
at the top of his voice What the fuck are you doing? Axl didnt even flinch, but just
looked up and said Hi man, I cant get into my room. He must have been doped up
to the eyeballs, because anyone else would have jumped out of their skin. They used
to have this moron for a roadie called Rudi, who was one of the ugliest people I have
ever seen.
One time on a day off, all of the band and crew were sitting in a hotel bar, and the
local talent must have got wind that we were staying there, as it was full of young
chicks all done up in their spandex pants and leather jackets. A couple of local guys
were chatting up these two dolly birds, and had them convinced that they were roadies
for Guns n Roses. John the driver and I were just sitting back taking it all in, and
mentally urging the two lads on, thinking go for it boys.
Just with that, Rudi had to stick his oar in and spoil the fun by saying You guys
aint with Guns n Roses, I am. We were sitting wishing that he would just fuck off
and leave the two kids to it, but he wouldnt. Next thing I knew, he had this young guy
up against the wall by the throat. Just then another of the local kids tapped Rudi on the
shoulder, and when he turned around, he decked him. At that the whole lot of the
young kids took off, leaving Rudi in a heap. I couldnt help laughing at his stupidity,
as the kids were just trying it on and it was a great chance for them to get laid.
At the next show, Axl started mouthing off at the audience about how his roadie got
beaten up by six or seven local hard men. With that he called Rudi on to the stage, and
out lumbered this oaf with two black eyes and a plaster across his nose. It appeared
that the skinny little kid had broken it. Axl then continued his tirade with If any of
you cock suckers are here tonight in this shit-hole, meet me around the back after the

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show and I will personally kick your fucking asses. I nearly died laughing as Rudi
slinked off the stage.
Axl started to get a bit out of line, showing up late and so on, and he really fucked
up in Cleveland a few days later. I have already told you how the Unions control what
happens at gigs, and Cleveland is a VERY heavy Union city. The time scheduling is
crucial at Union gigs as they can impose heavy penalties for running over time.
Anyway Axl showed up about an hour late and as he was getting on to the stage, the
Union Shop Steward asked him how long the set was. About an hour and a half
man. Well you have twenty minutes tonight.
Axl didnt understand what the fuck a Union was, let alone that they were in charge
of the show times. Fuck you man, we play for as long as we like. So the Shop
Steward said. Have you got around $10.000 on you? Axl just gave him a blank
look and said No. Well you now have nineteen minutes. Axl had no choice, but to
get onstage and get on with it. He had to finish on time, or the Union would have
pulled the plug on him. After the show there was almost a riot, because the punters
felt cheated, but Axl never tried that stunt again after having his wrist slapped by his
Manager.
We had another English band on the bill called Zodiac Mindwarp and the Love
Reaction, who were not bad, but their road crew had the typically English attitude of
pissing everybody off. One night we were told that UDOs Record Company
Chairman was coming to the show, so we should be on our best behaviour. We were
sitting in the dressing room, when in walked the Chairman with the usual entourage of
hangers-on who were getting a free trip to Chicago. They all had on their UDO Tour
Jackets and T- shirts, none of which we workers had of course and plonked
themselves down and got tore into the band booze.

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Record Company staff are a bunch of wallies in my opinion, as they havent got a
fucking clue what we go through on the road, and just sit in their offices talking a load
of bollocks to each other. To give you a clue what they are like, the Chairman started
telling Gaby how he had really loved the show, and how he was so happy that he had
such a good band on the Label.
After he had finished, Gaby politely in formed him that we hadnt played yet. After
an embarrassed farewell he left, taking his assistant wallies with him. He had
obviously stuck his head round the theatre door, caught about two minutes of Zodiac
Mindwarps gig and then beat a hasty retreat to the dressing room.
I got on particularly well with Duff, who was the Bass Guitarist with Guns n Roses
and is a really cool guy. I remember one night after the show, when we were sitting in
the hotel bar he asked me why I never took a drink. After explaining that I certainly
used to, but had since stopped, he told me that he thought he had a bit of a problem
with it.
We had a good long talk about it and I remember that he came up to me a few weeks
later and told me that he had managed to stop, and was feeling a lot better. It made me
feel good to have been able to help Duff with his problem although I dont know how
long he managed to keep it up. Duff also told me one day, that he had just talked to his
Record Company and it looked like their Album was going to number four in the
charts. I told him not to be stupid, as I reckoned it would reach No. 1 no problem. He
wouldnt believe me, but Ill never forget how excited he was. A week later it did, and
from then on the gigs started to get bigger and bigger.

Duff also

managed to get an endorsement deal with an Amplifier company, and when they sent
him two amps, he gave me one of them. The whole band were a nice bunch of guys,
but I got on really well with Duff, and I am happy for his success later on.

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After we finished the Guns n Roses tour we went out as a Co-Headliner with Lita
Ford, who was in The Runaways with Joan Jett. Lita was the wild woman of Rock
and we had a lot of fun doing small clubs, up and down the States. She was shagging
a big Rock star and he came on the road with us for a while. He was also married and
so everything was very hush-hush, until he had to do an M.T.V Guitar Greats show in
New Jersey, when Lita appeared on stage with him. He had told his wife that he was
in Mexico, having a break, but didnt know that the M.T.V. show was being Broadcast
live, so he got caught on camera as his wife was watching it on T.V. I dont know how
he managed to talk himself out of that one. Eventually the tour came to an end, so I
went back home to New York.
I then went out on the Robert Palmer tour with the opening act The James Reyne
Band, who were quite a well-known band from Australia. I stopped off in North
Carolina to pick up my old friend Gary Freeze, who I used to live with for a while. I
intended that Gary should help me with the driving, and I could show him how to set
up the drums. We kitted the van out with a mattress and sleeping bag in the back with
a reading light, so we could get some shuteye when we werent driving. I made a deal
with the Tour Manager, that we would take the hotel money; sleep in the van and
shower at the gigs. This way we managed to pocket some cash, while having a laugh
camping out.
The tour was mostly Universities, and Robert managed to sell out all of the shows.
At one point we had done fifty-two straight shows and were getting pretty frazzled
with all the driving and when I asked the Tour Manager why we were slogging so
hard, he told me that when we had a day off Robert was getting pissed, so it was
easier to keep working.

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After I finished with the Robert Palmer tour I hooked up with a New York band
called The Del Lords. We went out doing club dates around the North Eastern United
States, and then started opening the show for Pat Benatar. Pats husband and Guitarist
Neil, had produced The Del Lords Album and so we were invited on the tour. We
played mostly Colleges again and the tour went really well. The Drummer was a bit of
an AC/DC fan and during sound checks they would do a few AC/DC numbers and
blast the doors off the buildings. I was Guitar roadie and it was a very involved gig.
The Guitarist had four different Guitar tunings, and I spent most of the show doing
guitar changeovers as he played different guitars on each number. He apologised for
this by explaining that when they had done the Album, he hadnt thought about doing
the songs live.
We did the last show in C.B.G.B.S. the well-known club in Manhattan. It is down
on Skid Row and is quite a dive, but a lot of top bands had started out playing there,
so it was a legendary gig. Its reputation was a bit like The Marquee in London
although the place itself was quite a lot grubbier.
I then got a call from Mick Taylor, who used to be the Guitarist in The Rolling
Stones, replacing Brian Jones who had died. He had also been with John Mayalls
Bluesbreakers, Bob Dylan and was founder member of The Jack Bruce Band. Mick
had been doing shows around New York, and had got himself a very good band with
ex Jeff Beck Bass Player Wilbur Bascombe, Shayne Fontayne from Lone Justice, and
legendary Drummer Bernard Purdy.
Purdy was quite a guy and had a woman in just about every city in the U.S.A. Mick
had to eventually get rid of him because he was costing too much money, and wanted
to be flown to every gig, which Mick could ill afford, especially since Mick didnt
even fly to gigs himself.

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Wilbur also played with Dr. John and one night I went along to watch the show as
Wilburs guest. It turned out to be quite a night as the place ended up being searched
high and low by the New York Police Department looking for a gunman.
What had happened was that, before the show the band were having a friendly
game of cards in Dr Johns house, when an argument started between a couple of the
band members. It got a bit out of hand and ended up with one of them hitting the other
one, who promptly grabbed an African spear off the wall and tried to skewer him.
After the cops were called and the Drummer was taken away, the phone rang back at
the flat. It was the Drummer calling from the jail saying, It aint over yet mother
fucker. When I get out Im coming back to get you.
Normally when people are arrested, they are allowed one telephone call, and
usually either call their wife or Lawyer, but not this guy, he meant business. By the
time I got to the club, the place was swarming with cops carrying pictures of the
Drummer, and warning people to stay away. Dr John had to be escorted to and from
the gig by cops, just in case he was in danger as well. It all turned out O.K. and there
was no trouble. The two band members kissed and made up the next day, though it
was quite a close call.
Before I joined up with Mick, the previous guy had managed to leave Mick at a
Truck Stop in the middle of nowhere. How the fuck he managed it Ill never know,
but he did. They were travelling in a Winnebago, and after they had filled up, nobody
noticed that Mick wasnt on board so they left without him. I asked Mick about it later
on, and he said that he didnt mind and just sat down at the roadside eating his
Hamburger until they came back to pick him up. Mick Taylor is a very easy-going guy
and was a pleasure to work with. He has no airs and graces about him and was easy to

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look after, especially as he only changed his Guitar strings once every tour regardless
of how long the tour lasted.
After the Mick Taylor shows, I decided to move back to Great Britain to be nearer
my son Jimbo, as I was missing him and felt that it was about time that I got to know
him better. I had always stayed in touch with him and Sue, and now that I had stopped
drinking I could start giving him some of my time, instead of just looking after my
own interests. I went to see Keith Richard perform at The Meadowlands in New
Jersey for his Birthday show and then flew back to England, arriving the day before
the Lockerbie crash.

CHAPTER 12

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BACK IN EUROPE

After I arrived back in England I went down to Southampton and spent Christmas
with Sue and Jimbo. Sue and I decided to give our relationship another try, so I stayed
in Southampton. I managed to get fixed up with a tour, although in the future it was to
prove more difficult than I had thought, because I had lost contact with most of my
old connections. Most of the people that I had worked with in the past had either
moved on to other types of work, or left the country.
I got the gig as Guitar Tech. for a Swiss band named Celtic Frost, and we toured all
through Britain for a couple of months. The band had an opening act from Germany
called Destruction, and I seemed to hit it off pretty well with their Manager Reiner
Hansel.
Reiner was also a Promoter in Europe and I was to do quite a bit of business with
him over the next few years. After the tour had finished Sue, Jimbo and I decided to
move up to Scotland, which was where I was originally from. We bought a cottage
just outside Aberdeen, and Sue started working in the local Hospital.
I eventually got a call from Mick Taylors Manager, who asked if I could Tour
Manage a European Tour. So off I went to Norway to hook up with the band, who
were flying in from New York. Max Middleton the Keyboard player flew with me, as
we were the only ones living in the U.K. We didnt need to take a roadie with us, as
the Promoter was supplying all the equipment and staff in each country. We had taken
Maxs Fender Rhodes piano, which was a bit of a pain in the ass, as we were
travelling by trains and ferries, and it was quite a hassle getting it on and off, but Max
felt that it was well worth it.

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It was very interesting going by ferry, as it was a first for all of us, and made a
change from buses, and the scenery was fantastic as we went through the fjords. We
had to fly to some of the gigs, as the distances were far too long to go by train (I dont
think they had trains that went that far North.) When we played in Tromso, which was
in the Arctic Circle, we were as far North of Oslo as Munich was South of it, and it
was dark for six months of the year.
Tromso was known as the Paris of the North, and when the days got lighter, the
people went party happy. One day Mick disappeared for a few hours, and when he
returned, he told me that he had been down at the docks, having a chat and a few
drinks with some Russian sailors. This was before the Berlin Wall came down, so
Mick had found it very interesting talking to some Russians, although fuck knows
what they were talking about because Mick cant talk any Russian as far as I know.
We played a club in Trondheim that had gone bankrupt that afternoon, so I wasnt
sure how to deal with the situation, but after getting the fee paid early, there was no
reason not to go ahead with the show, which we did, and it went down very well.
The Promoter also allowed all of us free phone calls home, due to the fact that he
was now in administration and didnt have to pay the bill, so everybody jumped on
the bandwagon.
The shows all went very well in Norway, but I felt that the punters were expecting
Mick to play more Rolling Stones songs. By the time we got to Denmark, I had him
convinced to do a couple more. He hummed and hawed, but said that he would play
Jumping Jack Flash if I could find out the words.
I had to spend nearly three hours in the Gothenburg Hard Rock Cafe listening to a
live recording of The Stones, before I finally managed to get the lyrics down. If
youve ever tried to understand Mick Jagger at the best of times, imagine what it was

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like trying to understand him on a fucking live Album. Even after I had told Mick the
lyrics, he said that I would have to write them down each night, as he had a mental
block on the words of that particular song.
I used to take a poster at each gig, and write the lyrics in magic marker on the back,
and tape it down by his feet, but it became an on-going fight with the punters, as they
were always stealing it off the front of the stage. That fucking poster became the bane
of my life, in more ways than one, although it was well worth the hassle, as Mick
really did do a great version of the song.
Some of the clubs were pretty clued-up when it came to Production and had some
great equipment Lighting and P.A. Systems, but I didnt reckon on the Dry Ice
Machine in Malmoe, Sweden. On this particular night, the Lighting guy went mental
with the dry-ice machine, and so when Mick started to sing Jumping Jack Flash for
the encore, he couldnt read the words off the poster by his feet. He kept looking at
me, standing in the wings, and I had to mime the fucking words to him. I dont know
how he managed it, but he made it through the song, while laughing himself stupid at
me. They also had a sixteen-track Recording facility at the gig, so Mick had them tape
the show, which turned out really well. Mick actually used a fair bit of the recording
on an Album later called Stranger in your town.
We were picked up by bus in Denmark by the German Promoter, who turned out to
be Reiner Hansel, so we were well taken care of on the German leg of the tour. The
only adjustment that I had to make to the tour schedule was in Hamburg. Max pleaded
with me to get the hotel changed so that he could be near the Reeper-bahn, which is
the red-light district of Hamburg and is world famous. I eventually managed to get
another Hotel, and so Max was a happy puppy.

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When we had finished the European tour, I went back to Scotland and waited for the
phone to ring. Reiner called and asked me if I could take Destruction to Yugoslavia
for a one-day festival, so off I went back into the Communist belt again. Yugoslavia
was in a really bad state at that time, as it was just before Milosevic started his policy
of ethnic cleansing. Inflation was around 600% and it was beginning to get pretty
scary, and I couldnt help remembering my little escapade in E. Germany a few years
back.
The show went pretty well, considering that we could hardly find any equipment. It
took me all day to get more than one cymbal for the drum kit, and even then I had to
bribe some local Mafia fucker. After an extremely trying day we headed back to the
hotel, looking forward to a day off next day before flying home.
When I woke up next morning and looked out of the window, to see the drab
surroundings, I decided that there was no way that I wanted to have a day-off in
Belgrade. I noticed a Travel Agency down the street so I went straight down and
changed my ticket for an immediate departure. When I got to the Airport, I went into
the caf for a cup of tea, and saw that I had plenty of Yugoslavian Dinar in my pocket.
When I counted it I had about seventy thousand, so I felt quite rich.
It cost me eighteen thousand for a cup of tea, and fifteen thousand for a currant
bun! I then went to the Duty Free shop to get some perfume for Sue, but they
wouldnt even take their own fucking money, as it was worthless. Luckily I had made
sure that I got paid in Deutsch Marks, so at least I could get the perfume, as they
would only take Deutsch Marks, U.S. Dollars or British Sterling.
On the way through to the Departure Lounge there was a huge glass bowl full of all
different kinds of money for the Red Cross, so I dumped around forty thousand Dinar
in it and fucked off home.

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I got another call, to go to Japan with Mick again so I met up with Max in London
and we headed off to the Far East. All the Japanese shows went well again, and
The Promoter gave us the usual red carpet treatment. He took us out for the
obligatory Korean barbeque, which is Kobe beef marinated in Soy sauce and then put
on a hot Lava rock, which is placed in the centre of the table. The waiters kept
bringing over fresh beef, and changing the rock every so often. You then just put a
fresh piece of meat on the rock to replace the one that you have just eaten, very
civilized!
On this trip we played a lot of clubs in cities that I had never been, like Hiroshima,
Yokohama and Kobe. I went to visit the Peace Museum in Hiroshima, which has lots
of artefacts from the time that the Bomb was dropped, including slabs of pavement
with the outline of a mother pushing a pram embedded in it by the force of the blast. It
was a very sobering experience, and as I was leaving I signed the Book of
Remembrance. Ex U.S. President Jimmy Carter was the last person to sign it before I
did, so I just put I agree with Jimmy!
We were staying in the Hilton Hotel and it was very, very expensive. I remember
being charged $12.00 for a cup of coffee, and $25.00 for a hamburger and salad, so
after that I used to go round the corner to the back streets and get whatever I wanted
for the normal price. At the end of the year, Sue and I decided that we had given our
relationship a good try, but it just wasnt working, so I decided to go back to the
States. I blame myself really, because I was missing America, as I had spent so long
there, I considered it my home.

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CHAPTER 13

JOHNNY CASH

I flew back to the U.S.A. and went to stay with my old friend Gary Freeze in
Troutman North Carolina. We hung out in the sunshine for a few weeks before I
started making a few calls to New York to find some work. On making a call to Frank
Vilardi, who was a drummer that I had worked with a couple of years before, he asked
me if I could come and do a European tour with Suzanne Vega. Suzanne had recently
had a hit with Luka and was starting a World tour, so I drove up to New York in my
Chevrolet Impala, to start rehearsals.
I had to take care of Suzanne, Mark the Guitarist, and Mike Visceglia, the Bass
Guitarist. Suzanne wasnt a problem as she only had one guitar change the whole
show, but Mark had quite a few difficult ones. We had a good laugh with Mike,
because he had just bought a new rack for his Bass set-up, and was a bit confused at
first how it all worked. He had six or seven effects in the rack that he wasnt sure
about, and it was a battle trying to get him to work it all.
After a few times of watching Mike getting himself into a panic, Mark and I decided
to write out a check-list for him to follow every morning, before we started rehearsals.
It went something like this: - 1. Is your amp switched on? 2. Is your Guitar out of its
case? 3. Are the strings facing the audience? and so on. After some severe piss taking,
Mike got the hang of it.
Anton Sanko was the band- leader and also Suzannes boyfriend, so he was subject
to more winding-up than the rest of the band. We rehearsed for a couple of weeks in

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New York, before heading off to London to have Full Production rehearsals in Brixton
Academy, before starting the European Tour
The Production Manager was a really great guy called Rick Lawrence, and all of
the crew got on really well, having a lot of respect for Rick. We toured most of Britain
and Ireland, before heading off to Europe. I had to do a couple of guitar changes, and
as I had two of them at the same time, I asked Rick if he could give Anton his guitar,
whilst I was busy taking care of Suzannes.
The stage set-up was a bit of a nightmare as Franne Lee, who designed a lot of
Broadway shows, designed it and was well known (and expensive) in the Theatre
world. It would have been fine on Broadway, as it would only have been set up in one
venue at a time. On Tour, we only managed to use it on about 50% of the shows,
which was a bit of a shame as it was pretty good, albeit a fucking pain in the ass to set
up. During the show, Rick used to hang around behind the set, playing computer
games, while pretending to be working on something or other.
On this one particular occasion, as I was doing a guitar change for Mark, I looked
across the stage to see Anton mouthing to me asking where his guitar was. As Rick
was supposed to be taking care of it, I shot behind the curtain to see him lying on a
flight case fast asleep and snoring like a good un.
I gave Anton his guitar and then woke Rick up, much to his surprise, but to give
Rick his due, he had been putting in a lot of hours and was pretty shattered, so none of
us could blame him. After the show Anton asked me what had happened to his guitar
change, and I told him that Rick had been called away and couldnt help it. I also told
him that it was no big deal anyway, as he had got his guitar on cue.
He then asked me to go and get Rick, as he wanted to have a word with him. So I
told him I wouldnt go and start getting Rick pissed off, as we all know what

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happened to the last fucking Rock God that shouted at him. What was that? he
asked. Well, Rick knocked him out, stone cold. Antons jaw dropped and he could
only say Are you serious? I told him that I wasnt fucking joking, and just with that
Rick wandered up, and said Ive just heard that you wanted a word with me Anton,
whats the problem? Anton nearly shit himself, but managed to blurt out Oh nothing
much, I was just asking Greg what happened with the guitar change- over tonight
Rick? Rick just told him that he had fallen asleep, and Anton said in a very nervous
voice. Oh, no problem Rick, I just wondered.
As Rick and I walked away, he asked me what that was all about, and when I told
him what I had told Anton, he nearly died laughing. Needless to say, we never told
Anton that he had been stitched up, but Rick could do no wrong in his eyes after that.
In fact Rick had a great way of keeping his job secure.
Anton had a massive Keyboard set up, which he knew how to play, but hadnt a
fucking clue how to adjust if anything went wrong. It was actually the outboard gear
from Suzannes Home Recording Studio that she had taken on the road, so it was
pretty delicate and wasnt designed for road- work.
Rick knew this, and every so often he would loosen, or unplug something so that it
wasnt working properly. As Rick was also the Keyboard roadie, Anton would call
him over to get it all going again. Rick would send him off for a cup of coffee, and
then just plug back in whatever he had unplugged, so by the time Anton returned,
Rick had it all going again. Anton soon came to believe that the sun shone out of
Ricks ass.
As I had stopped drinking alcohol, I was on a bit of a health kick, and used to make
a fresh fruit drink each morning, with a vitamin and mineral supplements. As most of
the crew were English and Scottish, they used to take the piss out of me being so

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Americanised, and really got a laugh out of my health drink. After a couple of weeks,
one or two of them started asking for a taste, and within a few days, they were all
asking me for it every morning. As it was expensive stuff, I managed to get Denise,
the Catering lady to get it out of the tour budget, which she did, and so we became the
healthiest road crew in Europe.
When Suzanne had played in London a few months previously, there had been a
death threat on Mike, which the Police had taken very seriously indeed. During the
show at Wembley, he had to play surrounded by flight cases, as he was told that if he
appeared on stage he would be shot. The threats had come from an ex-girlfriend as far
as I know and Mike was not a happy puppy, nor was his present girlfriend.
The Management hired an ex squaddie as Security, but he was more of a pain in the
ass than anything else, and God forbid if there was any real threat to Mike. I had to go
back to the States a bit early, so I took the ferry from Hamburg, train to London and
then back to Troutman, where I did some more sunbathing.
I then went back to New York and stayed at Bill Plasss apartment while he was on
tour with Miles Davis. I also got to see Darlene again, as she used to hang out with
Bill and me when we all had a chance.
Bill and I had worked many times together while he was running the rehearsal part
of S.I.R. in New York, and I had asked him to cover for me a couple of times when I
couldnt do some shows with Mick Taylor. Bill called one day and asked me to do a
couple of gigs with Miles, in Long Island, and The Newport Jazz Festival in Newport,
Rhode Island.
All I had to do on this one was to drive the truck for a couple of days, money for old
rope. I had a nice, easy couple of days in the sunshine and enjoyed Newport Jazz
Festival a lot, especially as I bumped into a few of the old J. Geils road crew. When

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we finished up in Long Island, I said my goodbyes to Miless crew and we all said
how we hoped to meet up down the road sometime. Little did I know how soon that
would be?
After a couple of days in New York, just as I was doing my laundry I got a call from
Rick Lawrence in Los Angeles asking if I could go to Japan with Suzanne Vega. I
asked him when he needed me and he answered How about now? so I dried my
laundry and headed out that evening to join Rick in Los Angeles. I had the choice of
flying direct, or hooking up with Rick in L.A. so I chose L .A. That way we could go
out for a nice meal together before flying out to Tokyo next morning.
On arrival in Tokyo we had to go straight into the usual Production meeting, and all
the crew were there from the States as well. We stayed in the Capitol Tokyu Hotel,
and just as I was getting into the lift the next day, I heard my name being bawled out.
When I turned around, there were all of Miles Daviss Band and road crew in the
lobby. They had all just flown in from the States to open up a new club in Tokyo
called The Blue Note Caf, small World Eh!
After we completed the tour, I stayed on in Tokyo for another month, as an Agent
friend of mine from New York, wanted me to try and sell a couple of his Acts to my
contacts in Japan. I managed to do a bit of business for him, before flying back to
New York, after making it through another couple of Earthquakes.
When I got back to New York and picked up the wages due me, I decided that I
would like to live in Florida for a while, so I jumped on a plane and headed for
Naples. I chose Naples because it was a smaller City than Miami, and I have always
preferred the quiet life. I fitted in really well with the lifestyle and continued working
with my friend in New York, booking tours of the Far East by fax. I enjoyed Florida

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for a couple of years, but was missing the road, so I hooked up a few dates in the New
York area with Ronnie Spector, and then flew back to London.
Ronnie used to be the lead singer with the Ronettes in the sixties, and was making a
comeback. The Ronettes had been a massive band in their heyday; having had a string
of huge hits, and even The Rolling Stones had backed them on a British Tour in the
1960s. Ronnie had just published a book of her life, and so this tour would also help
to boost book sales, as she appeared on quite a few chat shows.
My mother died just before Ronnie arrived, and so Jimbo and I flew up to Scotland
for the funeral. Two hours after the funeral, I dropped Jimbo off at Inverness Airport
and drove down to Glasgow for the first gig, while he flew back to England to be met
off the plane by his Mother Sue.
We did quite a lot of shows around Britain, and Ronnie even did a bit of backing
vocals for a new Bryan Ferry Album. Ronnie was great fun to work with and the
audiences just loved her shows, as most of them had never seen her before.
She had stopped drinking for the Tour, but on the last night in Preston, she really let
her hair down. We were playing in a small Nightclub owned by a really nice guy
called Ian Boseman. As it was a Dinner Club, we had the finest of food and drinks,
and Ian let us use his private apartment above the club as a Dressing Room.
He was waiting on Ronnie hand and foot, really treating her like a star, but she was
getting more and more pissed as he kept pouring her very expensive Brandies.
Her husband and Manager Jonathan kept telling Ian not to give her too much, but he
just kept saying, Shes really enjoying it. I should have guessed what was going to
happen when Jonathan suddenly disappeared from view. Ronnie started slurring her
words, and then she threw a total fucking wobbler. Even I didnt think that she could
ever have been so rude, but boy was she rude. She threw a tirade of swear words at

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Ian, and he had to fuck off out of the room for his own safety, but eventually Ronnie
calmed down.
Once that I got them all on a plane back to the States, I hooked up with Willpower
P.A. Systems, which was a P.A. Company run by Will Norton. I got on really well
with Will, and he was to give me a lot of work in the coming years.
After Ronnie, the next tour was with Johnny Cash, who was coming over for a
couple of weeks. The Promoter was Mervyn Conn, and Will had done a fair bit of
work with him in the past, not without problems. At one point when he was messing
Will around for money, Will had a couple of his boys go round and hang the fucker
upside down outside a window fifteen floors up. Another time, Will confiscated his
car until he got paid. Will Norton is definitely someone that you shouldnt mess
around with, apart from the fact that hes six-feet six; hes also well connected on the
heavys front.
I had loads of problems with Mervyn Conn, mostly to do with him trying to do
everything on the cheap, and he was an expert at delaying payments, hence the nick
name that Will gave him, Merv the Swerve. Johnny Cash didnt ask for a lot on his
rider, namely two cases of coke, a bottle of Cranberry juice, and hot coffee to be
available all day (Johnny loved his coffee).
This hardly cost anything at all, but Mervyn Conn asked me to go to the
supermarket, buy a jar of coffee, some tea-bags, then ask for an urn of hot water at the
gigs, therefore saving about 3.00 per day. I couldnt bring myself to do this, were
talking about Johnny Cash here, THEE Johnny Cash, and he wanted me to treat him
like that? No fucking way. So I had to argue with him every day just to get the small
things to keep Johnny reasonably happy.

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W.S. Holland was Johnnys drummer, and he had been working with him for more
years than they both cared to remember. W.S. also basically Tour Managed as well,
because he knew everything that there was to know, about what Johnny did and did
not need.
W.S. was a huge guy who stood around six feet six, and had the bulk to suit. In fact
I got him a specially re-enforced drum stool, but he snapped it at the very first gig. He
didnt like Mervyn Conn one little bit, and told me about the time that Mervyn used to
bring his girlfriend to the shows, but she brought her little dog with her, which used to
yap all the time and drive everyone crazy.
One night, just before they went on stage, he found himself alone in the dressing
room with the dog, which wouldnt stop yapping. So just as he was called to go on
stage, he hung it up on a coat-hook by the leash, and carried on up to the stage. After
the show, Mervyn Conn started screaming at W.S. about it so he just hung him up on a
hook as well.
Johnny Cash had his wife June, his son John Jr. and Roy Orbisons son, Wesley with
him along with the band and Junes two sisters, Helen and Anita. Wes Orbison was
only along to keep John Jr. company, as they were old school friends and Johnny was
his Godfather. I seemed to spend half of my time locating luggage that Wes had left
in hotels, but I didnt mind, as he was totally new to the road. Wes was a really nice
guy and he told me about the tragic death of his brother. When they were just little
boys, they were playing with matches and a can of ether in their back garden. They
managed to blow up the can, and Wes was blown to safety into the kitchen, while his
brother was unfortunately killed.
Johnny eventually convinced Wes to do a couple of his Father Roys songs, and so
he started to sing Pretty Woman each night, and it sounded just like Roy Orbison

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singing. In fact Mervyn offered him a tour if he wanted to come back over to Britain
with a band. I think that he could have done really well, but I dont think that it ever
happened.
The show started with June and her sisters as The Carter Family doing a couple of
numbers with the band before Johnny made his entrance. John Jr. also did a few
songs, but the less said about that, the better. The band were a load of fun, especially
the Guitarist, Kerry Marx, who used to take the piss out of the rest of them all the
time.
At one point during the Carter Family set, the band played a kind of quiet Country
twang in the background, while the sisters were doing their song and dance routine,
Kerry would throw in a couple of bars of whatever came into his head, and then he
was back to the beat just as June would be looking round to see what the fuck he was
doing. One night it was Sunshine of your Love by Cream, another, In a Gadda da
Vida by Iron Butterfly, but the classic was The Old Grey Mare She Aint What She
Used To Be. Poor June couldnt figure out what was going on, but it was so subtle
that you could hardly notice.
One of the sisters, Anita, I think, had a really bad allergy to dust or smoke, so she
basically spent most of the tour in bed, as the gigs were full of dust. She was really
interesting and as I had to spend quite a bit of time with her, getting her in and out of
the hotel, she told me quite a few tales about the old days. They used to tour with
people like Elvis Presley, and apparently he took a bit of a shine to her, but nothing
came of it, although he did ask her to marry him. They used to have an old banger,
while Elvis had a Cadillac, and used to swap cars sometimes after the show, so that he
could get away.

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Johnny cash was a very interesting guy, and told me many stories about the people
that he had met. He had been to The White House on two occasions and even knew
Jack Ruby, the guy who shot Lee Harvey Oswald. When I asked him if he thought
that Jack Ruby had anything to do with Kennedys death, he just said, No way, that
Jack Ruby was nothing but a fucking pimp. I used to play in his strip-joints when I
was first starting out.
Johnny also had a reputation for being in jail, but that was also a load of bullshit. He
told me that on quite a few occasions he had spent the night in the cells for
drunkenness, but he never did time for anything. Johnny also appeared as a killer in
an episode of Columbo and made a couple of movies. He laughed when he told me
that he always played the baddie, and was always dressed in black. After the tour
had finished he gave me a very nice cash bonus, and when I objected he said. You
deserve it son. I heard about all the trouble you had putting up with Mervyn Conn,
well done. I was very sad when I heard about his death. He was a real gentleman.

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CHAPTER 14

WINDING DOWN

After Christmas, I hunted around for work, but there was nothing to be had. The
touring work always dies down at that time of year, probably because everyone is
broke and cant afford the luxury of going to live music gigs. The only thing for it was
to create my own tour. So I called Mick Taylor in the States and asked him if he
would like to tour Britain, to which he replied that he would love to, as he hadnt
played there since he was in Bob Dylans band.
I still had all the Venue Contracts from the Ronnie Spector tour, so after finding out
how much money Mick wanted, I called a few of the Venues up and made them
offers. I then had to budget the tour, to make sure that everything made sense, which it
seemed to do. I also tried to get some German dates, but the timing wasnt quite right.
The first thing I had to get was a band, so I called around a few contacts, and
eventually Jeff Allan, at Sensible Music helped me out. Jeff used to be a drummer, but
now owned pretty large Equipment Rental Company, and had lots of connections. I
hired Jeff as Drummer, and he suggested Snowy White to play Guitar.
Max Middleton unfortunately couldnt play Keyboards on this tour as he was
committed to Chris Rea, but Jeff put me in touch with Zoot Money, who was available
to play Keyboards. All we needed now was a Bass Guitarist, and Mick asked me to
track down someone that he had played with at a Festival in Israel a few years back,
which I did, and so there was the band.

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Next up was to organise Trucking and a P.A.Company. Good old Will Norton at
Willpower soon took care of that end of the business.
Once I got a few deposits in, I had a bit of money to pay for rehearsals and Micks
flight over from the States. I managed to get Kenny Murray to roadie for me, as I
knew Kenny from the Ronnie Spector tour, so he took care of all the stage gear. I also
hired a mini-bus with a driver from some friends of mine, so we now had transport as
well.
Altogether I managed to book around eighteen dates and Mick went down very well
all over the U.K. The tour was a success, and everybody got paid, which is what it all
about at the end of the day. After it finished, I went back to Florida for a few months,
before returning to the U.K.
I got myself quite a bit of work through Willpower and also John Henry Enterprises,
which is probably the biggest Rehearsal and Equipment Hire Company in Britain. I
did shows in London for John Henry with Ian Dury, Shirley Bassey, James Brown and
a few others, but nothing to write home about. Most of the time, I was only doing
deliveries around London, so it was pretty boring.
I eventually went out with Incantation, who had been very popular a few years
before and had a top ten hit with Cacharpaya. The two main musicians were Irishman
Mike Taylor from Belfast, who is a classically trained Flautist and Tony Hinigan from
Glasgow, known as Jock. Jock is also classically trained on Cello, although they made
their names in Incantation playing South American Pan-Pipes. Mike and Jock have
both played on many movie scores for James Horner such as Patriot Games, Willow,
The Mission, Braveheart and many others.
They had a band consisting of, Spider the Drummer, Ollie the Keyboard Player, Phil
the Bass Guitarist, Fifi on Charango and Paul Brennan, another Northern Irishman on

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Guitar. I drove the truck containing the P.A. and band gear, along with selling T Shirts
and C.Ds. I was always at the gigs before the band, and had to get the gear in and the
P.A. up before they arrived, which meant that I got to know the local stagehands. A
couple of times, the stage hands thought that the band were from South America and
used to ask me if they spoke any English, to which I would reply Just a little bit, if
you speak slowly.
Mike was the band leader as such, and was usually first into the gig when they
arrived, while Jock basically kept a low profile. This was mostly due to the fact that I
would have made sure that there was plenty of alcohol available. They all travelled in
a Mini-Bus driven by Ralph the Sound Engineer, and used to stop several times along
the way to tank up.
On many occasions they were late, because Ralph had a Real Ale Pub Guide, and
they have been known to drive loads of miles out of their way to get to a good pub.
They also used to fill up with petrol sometimes, if they remembered. To say that Mike
and Jock enjoyed a drink would be the under-statement of the century.
When they eventually arrived at the gig, Mike would wander in half pissed, and
quite often the local Stage Manager would go over to him and say very slowly and
deliberately. I would like to welcome you to our country. Do you speak any
English? Mike would look over at me as if to say, What the fuck is going on?
Naturally I wouldnt have told the local crew about them being British. We had loads
of laughs on that tour, and quite often Mike would come in the truck with me, so that
he could get some sleep in the bunk, having been up most of the night pissing it up in
the hotel.
We were in Edinburgh one time, and I was getting all ready to drive down to
Sunderland, as we had a day off, and wanted to leave early so as to get a night out on

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the town. The wind-up started almost immediately I got out of bed, as my overnight
bag had gone missing, along with a couple of microphones that I used to keep in my
room. They turned up under the truck seat, just as Mike and I were getting ready to
leave. We always drove in convoy on days off, so naturally Ralph took off and left us
in the lurch, which was no big deal as we both had mobile phones, even in those days.
After we got a few miles down the road, Ralph called to tell us that he was in a pub
having a lunchtime drink. We pulled up and joined them for a couple of pints, when
we saw where the van was parked.
The road between Edinburgh and England is very, very hilly and as its only an A
road, you have to be careful when overtaking. When we were just about ready to get
going again, Ralph said that he was just going up the road to tank-up and he would let
us know when he was ready to go.
We waited for ages, but he never appeared, although band member Paul Brennan
was still in the pub with us. Eventually we decided that they werent coming back,
and being pissed off at Ralph, we decided to do him. Paul Brennan asked the
barmaid to telephone his wife, and tell her that she had a drunken Irishman called
Brennan in the bar, and that he had been left by his mates. She left a message on
Brennans wifes answer-phone, and after swearing her to secrecy; I headed off with
Mike and Brennan.
Ralph checked in again a bit later to make sure that Brennan had come with us, and
naturally we told him that he wasnt. Ralph wouldnt buy it, but Mike got on the
phone and acted really pissed off, telling Ralph to stop the wind up, or heads would
roll. Next, we got another call from Ralph saying that they were pulling into another
pub just ahead of us.

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Pretty soon, I saw the van parked up ahead, and drove past at high speed, the plan
being to hide Brennan at the next pub, and then pull into the one that Ralph was in,
without Brennan. We planned to have Brennan completely disappear, and even check
him into a different hotel in Sunderland. On the night of the gig, we would have him
re-appear onstage, just as the band were about to start their show.
Brennan was dropped at a hotel, about half a mile past the pub, and Mike and I
drove back to where the band was. As we pulled into the car park, Ollie and Phil
appeared at the pub window, to see what was going down. Mike stormed into the pub
and started to pull rank on Ralph, while I searched the toilets. Mike could have won
an Oscar for his dressing-down of Ralph, and by now the whole lot of them were
getting a bit worried. Ollie demanded the truck keys off me, and he and Phil searched
the back to no avail.
Mike and I bought another round for the guys (to keep them there) and then left
them to finish their drinks. As this was going on, Brennan had telephoned his wife
from the hotel payphone to explain what was happening. She was completely freaked
out by the landladys message and they were shouting and bawling at each other so
loud, that everybody in the hotel lobby could hear them.
She had been trying, and trying to get through on Ralphs cellphone, but because of
all the hills, she couldnt get a signal. Mike and I then pulled up at high speed,
screeched to a halt, and Mike ran into the hotel shouting at Brennan in a loud Belfast
accent. Come on Brennan, weve got to get the fuck out of here fast! Brennan tried
to keep explaining to his wife, but Mike grabbed him, dragged him out into the truck,
and I took off at high speed spraying gravel all over the hotel car park.
This all happened in a few seconds, so you can imagine what the people at the hotel
must have thought. You have a Northern Irishman arguing loudly on the phone. In

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bursts another great big man, very unkempt looking with a flapping, full- length
leather coat and a Belfast accent. He drags the other guy out shouting, and then they
take off at high speed in a truck. HEAVY!!!
On the way, we had passed quite a few road signs marked in red, which means that
they are directions to a Military Base, but we didnt take any notice. We had to get
going quickly, in case the band twigged what was going on, and caught us up on the
road.
When we arrived at the hotel in Sunderland, we were just organising a room in the
back for Brennan when the band pulled up outside and spied him, so our cover was
blown. It was well worth the wind-up, because we really did have Ralph worried.
Next night at the gig, the place was swarming with Special Branch Officers looking
for Brennan. The hotel had called the Police, and what we didnt know was that there
had been an I.R. A. bomb scare a few dayss before, just up the road at the R.A.F
base, so they naturally had feared that something was going down.
Ralph and I now decided to find a joke shop, and get some stuff to wind the band
up. We went for a pint, and Ralph asked the barman if there was a joke shop nearby,
to which he replied. Yeah, theres a job-centre just up the road. We fell about
laughing, but of course we had forgotten that we were in the North East, where
unemployment has always been very high.
Then it was off to Chester where it was great to see my favourite niece Allison who
had been living there for a few years. The gig was in a small theatre and the stage set
was still up, so we had to build our gear around it. As fate would have it, there was a
small swimming pool smack in the centre of the stage. I knew right away that there
was going to be some kind of disaster going to happen. I had invited Allison and her
husband James to the show, so I was hoping that the band wouldnt get up to any

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tricks that would embarrass me in front of them. For the encore the whole lot of them
came out in swimming trunks, snorkels and flippers and after they did a couple of
tunes, they all proceeded to plunge into the pool. The punters didnt have a clue what
the fuck was going on. After the show I decided to show Allison around the stage to
give her an idea of what my job entailed. I was just trying to squeeze past the
keyboard set up when I went ass over tit into the fucking swimming pool, cowboy
boots an all. There went the low profile! Anyway Allison got a good laugh out of it
although I didnt get over the embarrassment for days. I had to borrow a pair of
trousers and a t- shirt from one of the stage-hands to get back to the hotel.
A few days later, I had just finished setting up when the band arrived, but Mike was
still in the van, and Ralph asked me to go out and get him. As I approached the van,
Mike came flying out of the back, soaking wet, shouting. Theyre all fucking dead.
Whilst he was asleep in the van, they had tied him up with gaffa tape, and then sat a
full beer glass on his shoulder, so that if he moved it would spill all over him. He had
eventually got free, but he had already been sitting fast asleep in the blazing sun for
over an hour, and was not happy.
There was construction work going on at the gig, and when I went in later on, I saw
that the whole band were wearing Hard-Hats. When I asked Mike what was going on,
he replied. Its going to get dangerous around here pretty soon, so theyre all taking
precautions.
The tour came to a very sad ending, as Mikes girlfriend died in hospital while we
were en-route to one of the last few gigs. She had been ill with cancer for some time
and had been expected, but the news really cut Mike up pretty badly. The only
consolation that I could give him was that, at almost the exact time that she died, he

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had been talking about her to me, as we were having a lunch break in a pub on the
way to the gig.
After the Incantation tour, I did a few one-offs for Willpower, including taking Oasis
for a Video shoot. I had to pick the band up at seven oclock in the morning, and drive
them to a Service Station on the A.3, where all the gear was set up for the shoot.
There were Producers, extras, Lighting Techs, you name it. But NO singer. They
kept calling his hotel room, and his girl-friends house for around four hours, until
Noel said. Lets get this make-up off, and get the fuck out of here. So I drove them
back into London, and that was the end of that Video Shoot.
It must have cost Thousands to get set-up, and the singer didnt even bother to show
up, what a wanker. I then got a couple of driving gigs through John Henry. One of
these was with a band called Little Axe. and I set off driving to do a few Festivals,
starting in Brugge, in Belgium, before heading down through the Alps to Nice, on the
Riviera. This was followed by another jaunt over the Alps to Lausanne, in
Switzerland.
Festivals can be a real pain in the ass, because the Parking arrangements are always
screwed up, and you end up sitting in a truck, in a long queue for fucking hours in the
sweltering heat.
After Lausanne, I had to be at a Festival in the Midlands of England the next day, so
that was fun. I had to get across the English Channel, and around the M.25 before
rush hour, while losing an hour, due to the time difference. The Agent who booked
those few days should have been fucking hung, drawn and quartered, in my opinion.
After that I had another beauty with Steel Pulse, a Reggae band out of Birmingham.
We started off in Amsterdam, before I had to drive to Paris, then fucking Dublin, of
all places. Dont get me wrong, I love Dublin, but you do need a bit of time to get

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there. Again it was a Cross Channel Ferry, round the M25, up the M40/M6, then a
drive through the mountains of Wales, then another Ferry, while losing another hour.
At this stage even I was getting fed up of driving.
I went back with The Bay City Rollers for a little while, but they had slipped down
the scale, as far as venue size was concerned and we were doing places like Butlins,
and that is when you know that you have really had it. I took Kenny Murray to take
care of the stage gear, and we both agreed that we had better find something a bit
more up-market. After doing a few gigs with Madness, and a short European Tour
with Nine Below Zero, I went over to Europe again with a band from Los Angeles
called Grant Lee Buffalo, and they were a nightmare as far as I was concerned. Most
L.A. bands seem to have this Holier than thou. attitude, and these were no
exception, so after that one I decided to call it a day.
I have had a pretty good time of it over the past thirty odd years, and you wont hear
me complain. Where else could a country bumpkin like me have been given such a
great chance to see the World, apart from the Armed Forces. I can do without a Tour
of Iraq, thank you very much. Ive met some lovely people, a lot of who I am still in
contact with and burned the candle at both ends. I cant believe that Im still here.

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