Chapter 42 -BJ's First Exodus part 1

 

SOMETIMES I WONDER why people pick the friends they do in life, or maybe life picks them for us. Some people believe that we pick our own parents before birth indicating that we have all been here before and we're trying to work out ours, for that lack of a better word, karma. I think about these kinds of things a lot these days. People sometimes say that I have too much time on my hands to contemplate these things, but I wish I had more time. Wireman, a character in a Stephen King book says that when it comes to the past people tend to stack the deck, which means to arrange the cards in a way that you will always win. Wouldn't it be nice to stack the deck in your present and future too? Maybe yes, maybe no. Maybe that would take all the karma and fun out of it. Everybody can't win all the time, I guess, and they say losing makes you stronger. If that is true then I must be one strong-ass mother. Oh, it’s not that I have lost all the time, I’ve had some major wins too, like the day I met my beautiful wife in 1988 on the Fourth of July and the births of out three amazing sons, but when it comes to Silverspoon it seems the losses far outweigh the wins. What was my karma then to pick the friends that I had? It seems once I called you friend, I would put you on a pedestal and you could do no wrong in my eyes. I did it with Blair, Stephen, Chas and especially with BJ. I am beginning to see that now.

People like them, (except for Stephen, we are very much alike in some ways - idealistic dreamers) have qualities that I lack, and I have qualities they lack. For instance, I am not too comfortable with selling myself or putting myself out there, as my dad used to say. I would always find it very un-humbling and downright conceited, but these friends of mine had no trouble with that. I guess I thought I could let them do the selling and I would just do what I do best, writing songs. Nearly every experience ended up in my spiral notebook. Sometimes they became songs and other times they sat there waiting for it to become a song or a story. Songwriting was my solace; it was my retreat like that back room was on Oakhurst. What did they get from me? Loyalty, creativity, honesty and maybe a song written about them.

Like I said before when I met BJ he that silken silvery tongue that could sell sandcastles to an Arab and in the back of my mind I thought that he might be able to sell my music. That is also why I thought I needed a band, strength in numbers and all that jazz. Of course, strength in numbers also comes with everyone else's weaknesses and faults. It's only natural. Another one of my flaws was that I was loyal to a fault even when I knew deep down that I should run away as fast as my feet could fly - I would stand firm and stick up for people I loved. This happened in 1973 when the rest of my band cornered me in Rosemary Clooney's kitchen with forks and knives demanding to know what BJ was doing to solidify a deal for us with Warner Brothers. There are too many examples of these kinds of things to count. No matter what my friends would do short of murders, rape, or anything as sinister as that, I would stand up for them.

When BJ first asked me to write a story about him and paint him in a good light so his friends would be able to see from someone other than him that these things really happened, and I was more than willing to do so. As time went on, I realized that it was not all wine and roses and there were some less than stellar memories that would surface. If it were fiction (sometimes it seems like it was), it would be much easier to tell these stories and still protect the guilty, but it is not fiction and I have to be careful not to offend or incriminate any of these real and living people in my life. 

Having said that, I want to bring 'ole BJ back into the picture. He, as I said, made a lot of promises that were never kept but he also did some wonderful things too. I remember when my parents friend, Mickey Meltzer from Sarasota by way of Long Island came out to LA to visit. When I was a kid I really looked up to him, but he never knew about my musical endeavors since I left Long Island when I was twelve and a half. He thought I was going to end up playing baseball for the New York Yankees or Mets because I talked, walked, and dreamed about nothing but baseball. So, when he came to LA in '74, my dad wanted to show him some of the sights of Hollywood and BJ invited my parents and Mickey to the Rainbow. Well let me tell you BJ not only put out the red carpet for Mickey, but he also had that carpet steam cleaned and the doorknobs polished and shined like the midday sun in the Sahara. He made sure the waitress smiled more brightly and he told the cooks to make sure the food looked and tasted exquisite - he even told the bartenders to spike up the drinks with extra alcohol. After dinner we all went upstairs to the Crow’s Nest where BJ made sure that Frank Sinatra's New York, New York would be playing as Mickey walked through the door. No stone was left unturned, and he was over the moon with joy and appreciation.

          After a while the broken promises and his classic line, “don't worry about it, I'll take care of it,” seemed to lose its rosy glow. I'm sure it was demeaning for him to go from the big Kahuna to the lowly peasant serf working for five bucks and hour spinning records at the “Bow”. It was a long way down and there was nothing or no one to break his fall but the people who loved and trusted him. You must keep in mind that everybody gets something from the people they choose to be with, some of them are positive and some are negative. The women he slept with, the friends he partied with, and the investors and lawyers he did business with, all got something in return. He made the women feel loved and appreciated, the friends shared the booze and drugs and the investors got to be a part of the elusive thing called show business, at least for a little while.