12 Step Program, part two, chapter thirty-eight

As I got to know Bob Jansen – I can’t say we were close friends; he always was aloof – he would tell me a few stories, mainly about the road.
“I remember something said by Frank Allen of The Searchers. By that time that band’s members were in their 60s and I was long into hiding. He noted that after a certain point, you are written about as has-beens but if you live past that point, you are a legend. He was enjoying being a legend.
“From my distant view, well off on the sidelines, I knew what he was talking about. I mean The Hi-Steppers or Steppers or Steps were passe, a forgotten band. for most of the 70s. We were has-beens. Then we were reassessed. We became legendary, an influential garage-rock band.
“I guess I could have capitalized on that, but I didn’t want to. I’d been too long out of it, to want to go back. “Relive those experiences? No. Couldn’t do it.
“Like, on our first tour, a club tour, I was the designated driver for most of it, and we couldn’t afford a road crew. At a motel in Detroit the owner warned us to be careful how we parked but I didn’t listen to him and just left the van in an open space in the lot.
“Sure enough, the next day the van was gone with all our gear in it. I was apologetic to the band, and notified the police.
“Luckily, RCMP mounties found the van across the river in Windsor. All our stuff was recovered. I guess the thieves needed time to unload it. That was lucky.
“Never left the van exposed ever again, and removed our valuables at night. That was early in our career and an indelible lesson.
“That van, a 1965 Ford Econoline, served us a good 10 years and we drove it pretty hard. Went in debt to get it, but we were in demand and the money was good. It paid for itself over and over again. Five musicians and a newly hired roadie crammed themselves in the front two seats and our gear was stacked in the back. We loaded and unloaded our gear ourselves.While we set up, the roadie arranged the p.a. and lights.
“When Al put together his caravan package tour that seemed like heaven at first. Somebody to do the driving over long hauls, a crew to look after sound and lights. All we had to do was show up and play our latest record.
“It didn’t work out that way. The bus was crowded, the seats were uncomfortable and sleep was impossible. Cold in winter, overbearingly hot in the summer.
“ In 1970 we got a trailer, hitched it to the back of the van, hired a second roadie to share in the driving and the work of the first roadie.
“Had our share of breakdowns and flat tires. Like, outside Duluth, the Econoline conked out – I can’t remember why; it just stopped – A passing trucker slowed to let me go with him to a gas station, where I managed to rouse the owner who drove us back to the van and then towed us to his garage. We paid for his time, which was extra after hours, but he got the van running and we were able to hightail it to our gig the next night and only a little late. Those tours were insane .
“Sobering too. Coming back from Las Vegas one night, we were passed by a rocketing motorcycle. A few miles later, the cycle was a pile of rubbish on the side of the road. The speeder had lost control , skidded off the highway and impaled himself on the handle bar. I’ll never forget that.,
“I remember knocking over amplifiers onstage because my mic cord was stuck. I would yank and yank, but the cord was jammed under or around one of the amps. The amp would follow me around as I pulled and eventually it fell over. Thank God, the band thought that was funny.
“They probably don’t recall but we opened once for The Beach Boys. Brian Wilson had been replaced on tour by Glen Campbell. He was pretty good. Brian? I don’t know. I guess all the warning signs of what was to come were there, but nobody talked about it then.
“Talking to Howard Kaylan of The Turtles about their troubles with the label, White Whale. Made me appreciate Barb.
“Got drunk a few times with Jim Morrison of The Doors. He had a favourite haunt, a lounge in a seedy Sunset Strip hotel not far from where the band rehearsed. He could put that beer away! Eclipsed me, and I always had a beer at hand.
“Yeah, I could never get the bass player’s name straight after Greg left. At this club somewhere – it might have been Akron – I called out to him about something but only got as far as ‘Hey!’ Was it Bud or Brad, I couldn’t remember? After that, I made up a nickname for him, Ginger, because he had red hair. That was easier.
“We played bowling alleys, pizza joints, parking lots, anywhere that wanted us…and could pay. We even played in a church basement in Indianapolis.Don’t know what the minister thought of us, but I guess it was part of a series designed to get more kids going to church.
Near Coeur d’Alene there was a rock festival scheduled. This would be around 1976. Our name was on the poster, so the band arranged to be at the speedway where it was to be held. We’d play Saturday afternoon which meant we couldn’t use our lights but neither would everything be backed up yet, as so often happens at these events.
“Al reached me at the motel where we’d arranged to spend the night prior to the festival. He told me that he’d never been paid. The arrangement was for us to get half our fee upfront, the other half later. So we pulled; other bands did, too, as word got out. The festival had sold so poorly in advance that nobody received anything because the producer hadn’t made enough to cover his expenses. He decided to cut his losses and made his escape.
“Years later, I met a guy who was hired to be part of the security staff. He told me, the promoter had lit out with no explanation, leaving behind a crew to deal with both dismantling the sound system and a few thousand angry festival goers. Frustrated and unpaid, security watched as the site became host to a riot. Idaho state troopers were called to restore some order. Helicopters hovered above, accomplishing what, who knows? Meanwhile beer and cigarettes and hot dogs were ‘liberated,’ fires were lit and what wasn’t on fire , like cranes and trucks, were turned over.
“Sex? Sure. When I started by singing it was to attract girls. It was girls then. I don’t know why, even to this day, but they came flocking. Probably the same story for all The Hi-Steppers. For all bands. Something happened. Lost innocence? Maybe. Is that too simplistic?. The girls became groupies, The Hi-Steppers started to expect them. The band took advantage, not that it required much. Girls were synonymous with fucking. The band took advantage and the groupies were only too happy to be taken advantage of. They made it their business. It sort of got to be a business with some of them at least. Sometimes a sad business.
“There was one girl who came backstage and offered to blow everyone in the band. And not only the band but the crew as well. She was zonked. Fucked up beyond all reality, FUBAR.
“Fortunately, Michael stopped her before she got started. He watched her stagger and then put her arm around his shoulder and practically carried her out to the parking lot where two friends – friends – were waiting. It would be Michael. The other guys looked disappointed and maybe Michael had his reasons, but he was showing compassion. Good for him, I thought.
“Fucking in the washrooms, under the tables, anywhere.
“I don’t ever want to see another run down dressing room with a felt pen drawing of a dripping penis on the wall.”