(part 65) TOM WILSON, ZAPPA, AND JIMI HENDRIX

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I am going to try and make a point that I believe was not fully understood regarding my description of a bad acid trip. I received emails and comments that led me to do this, because I didn't just tell that story for the sake of telling it.

Following that trip, I was informed by Henry Jaglom, the person I got the LSD from, that it was a multiple hit of Owsley acid and was enough to get a large number of people extremely high. I was pissed off by the information, after the fact, but in essence realized that I was the one who had chosen to take it.

There was no gun to my head. I made the choice. Ok! What's the point? The point is that it changed my life. It left me so shattered at the time that I had problems coping with it. It produced a paranoia and a sense of something irreversible having taken place. I was left with a peculiar knowledge of the power of the human mind that I had never glimpsed before, and was sure I didn't want to visit again.

What I write on these pages, in words, is inadequate to correctly describe the event and its consequences for me. It was in the aftermath that the real point lies, not in the description of the trip or the hallucinations. I had hallucinated many times before, but this stuff, and the fact that I took way too much of it, was totally different.

It was like somebody who had used heroin for a long time and then got something close to pure and overdosed on it. This was not just an acid trip. It was a life altering experience. It caused, more than anything else, the major upswing in my use of drugs and alcohol. I needed the sedation effect of other substances to deal with the anxiety I was left with after this experience.

This traceable lineage of what happened caused many things to occur. There is a line of progressive events that lead from where I started to where I ended up. This is key to the story and to the events as they unfolded in my life. Without context, what I write becomes a series of stories without a point. There is a point to everything I write, because each thing written about was central to the overall context. Like dot to dot drawing.

The music I wrote after this experience was completely different than what I wrote before it. The music was altered, as was I. Before I recorded "WORKING" in 1968, I wrote and recorded a number of songs that I worked on with Steve Clark, but which were never released.

The titles of these songs indicate to some degree the text of these unknown works. "Holy Holy Holy" "Hitler And Jesus" and a number of other songs I have little recollection of. I will try and discuss, as best I can, how these songs came to be and what events preceded and followed their creation.

As "Color Him In" began to fade out of my consciousness, as the thing that would make my life better, I ended up in New York City at Verve Records. I wanted to know why they weren't working the album, and I wanted to see Tom Wilson, which I succeeded in doing.

I found Tom in a recording studio working with Johnny Nash. I told him I wanted to cut another record and that I needed his help. Tom was gracious as always and tried to get me to see how busy he was with the Nash record, and that I was putting him on the spot, which I was.

I told him I'd come to New York and it was a big deal for me. I said I had to get something going with him while I was there or my coming would be for nothing. As I said, Tom Wilson was extremely respectful, and literally stopped the Nash session to talk with me. He said, "OK, let's hear what you got in the way of material." For the first time in my life I was unprepared to come up with some songs to record.

I stood there like an asshole, and knew it. Tom told me to go back to L.A. and get my music ready. He said we'd get together on it at a later date. As I left the studio, feeling awkward and foolish for not having any tunes ready, both Johnny Nash and Tom Wilson said I hadn't done anything to hurt them and what they were doing. I have never forgotten how well they treated me in light of my forcing myself into their important work at the time.

As I wandered aimlessly through the streets of New York, following my meeting with Tom Wilson, I began writing a song called "Black Brick Wall" which I eventually recorded but never released. The title speaks for itself. I felt like I had hit a brick wall and that it was indeed black.

After a couple of hours of walking and writing, I ended up In Greenwich Village with Frank Zappa who was playing with The Mother's Of Invention at the Garrick Theater. It was the summer of 1967 and hot and sticky in New York City and Frank was glad to see me, which was a relief.

I told him about Tom Wilson and what had happened and Frank told me not to let it get me down. "Just go write some songs back in L.A.," he said. I told him I'd already started and recited some of the lyrics. Frank nodded his approval and we let the subject drop.

Frank said he wanted me to go to a club with him so I could hear this guy play guitar. I agreed. When we neared the club I heard this thundering sound coming out of the place even though the door was closed. I touched the door handle to open it and it was literally vibrating.

We walked inside and there were three guys playing on a small stage, making more noise than I'd ever heard in my life. When I use the word "noise" I mean it in the most positive way. I looked at Frank and smiled my approval and Frank yelled in my ear, "This guy's going to be the next Elvis Presley." He was referring to his growing popularity not the sound. "What's his name?" I yelled back. "Jimi Hendrix! His name is Jimi Hendrix!"

(part 64) BEING BOBBY JAMESON SUCKS!

I guess I could write something else. Something pleasant and uplifting about my wonderful life in the music business, and how I made a host of life long friends, and am happily married and have two children, a boy and a girl, who's names are Mo and Jo and we all go to church together.

I could write that, but it would be a lie, so I write my own story. My story isn't a "happy" story but it is a true story. If you think I get a kick out of telling you about "The Christ Complex," or about a bad acid trip that changed my life, or posting a list of all the records I made and wasn't paid for, you'd be wrong.

When I complain in written words about lack of airplay in L.A. this isn't a 40 year old sour grapes issue, it's a fact that I had to contend with at the time. What do you think it felt like to make record after record, good or bad, that never got played on L.A. radio from 1964 until now?

Either the records I made were so Goddamn piss poor that they didn't deserve to be played, or I was getting screwed around. Something you don't know is that I was not really known for being a recording artist in L.A. as much as I was for being the guy in the street during riots with the police over curfew laws imposed to impede anti-war demonstrations.

How could I be known for music when nobody in L.A. ever heard it? I was considered a joke by the music industry back then and I still am today. Do you think everybody who knew me then is glad to see me back? They're not. I think about a half a dozen or so people who knew me have contacted me on myspace and said hello. Mostly I am ignored by those who knew me.

Do you think anybody has offered to help me get this mess straightened out so I can get back my life after my long absence? Not one thing has changed in my life or the music business other than 2 United Kingdom record labels have illegally released two of my old albums on cd.

One of them gave me nothing (REV-OLA UK) and the other one (Fallout Records UK) gave me $1000 and 50 cd's of my own work. That's the big change since the 60's. $1127 and 50 cd's. I guess I should be grateful. All I am accomplishing, by doing this, is to once again put myself in a position to have people pass judgement on me. I made the choice to do that.

Sometimes it feels like the facts are getting in the way of the story. I sense that the more I tell you what happened the less pleasing it is to those who read what I write. I am afraid that many of you ought to abandon reading this all together, because the story isn't going to get better it's going to get worse, a lot worse.

The reason for that are the facts. This story isn't going to have a happy ending where all my cares from the past are going to be magically transformed by a miracle of God and I live happily ever after. I am going to get the literal crap kicked out of me over and over until I finally just gave the fuck up and tried to kill myself numerous times.

If you want to know when I am going to get to the good part, forget it there isn't any. Some would say, "But you got sober and you're alive and that is a miracle." On that we can agree. But the circumstances by which I exist are demoralizing in the extreme.

As I continue to write I have to struggle with the facts of my life. I thought, and still have hope, that by writing this God awful story something will change in my life. I hope that someday I can walk away from my past and actually have a life worth living in, but so far that is something I have no experience with... Being Bobby Jameson sucks!

(part 63) ZONE X REALITY "WHAT'S YOURS IS YOURS, AND WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS"

This is a table of Bobby Jameson and Chris Lucey Songs, and Recording/Publishing Revenue from 1964 to 2008.

(1) TALAMO RECORDS "I'm So Lonely/I Wanna Love You" 1964-2008-Written by B. Jameson. No revenue whatsoever from any source. No accounting from any source. Artist revenue 0. Publishing revenue 0. Performance revenue of any kind 0. BMI or ASCAP revenue 0. No Union revenue, AFTRA or Musician Union Local 47. Lots of airplay.

(2) TALAMO RECORDS "Okey Fanokey Baby/Meadow Green" 1964-2008-Written by B. Jameson No revenue of any kind from any source. Airplay (Revenue for all songs, records, and/or performances on this list are the same as above)

(3) DECCA RECORDS and UK LONDON RECORDS WORLDWIDE "All I Want Is My Baby/Each And Every Day" 1964-2008-Artist Bobby Jameson. No revenue of any kind. Various ROLLING STONES ALBUM RELEASES WORLD WIDE. No revenue of any kind from any source. Lots of airplay Worldwide.

(4) BRIT RECORDS UK LONDON RECORDS WORLDWIDE "Rum Pum Mum Num/I Wanna Know" "Rum Pum Mum Num/Please Mr. Mailman" 1965-2008-Written by B. Jameson. No revenue of any kind from any source. Airplay Worldwide.

(5) MIRA/SURREY RECORDS "SONGS OF PROTEST AND ANTI PROTEST" Chris Lucey/Bobby Jameson-1965-2008-Written by B. Jameson, W. Jameson, B. Hinds- $200 to $250 in 1965, and $127 from ACE Records in 2007 after 2002 rerelease as CD by REV-OLA RECORDS UK. No other revenue from any other source 1965 to 2008. Airplay Worldwide.

(6) MIRA RECORDS "Vietnam/Metropolitan Man" 1966-2008-Written by B. Jameson, No revenue of any kind from any source. No Airplay

(7) PENTHOUSE RECORDS "Reconsider Baby/Low Down Funky Blues" 1966-2008-Written by B. Jameson. No revenue of any kind from any source. No Airplay.

(8) PENTHOUSE RECORDS "Gotta Find My Roogalator/Lowdown Funky Blues" 1966-2008-Written by B. Jameson. No revenue of any kind from any source. No Airplay.

(9) CURRENT RECORDS "All Alone/Your Sweet Lovin" 1966-2008-Written by B. Jameson. no revenue of any kind from any source. No Airplay.

(10) TOWER RECORDS/ SIDEWALK RECORDS "Mondo Hollywood Soundtrack "Vietnam" 1967-2008-Written by B. Jameson. No revenue of any kind from any source. Some Airplay.

(11) RAD FILMS "MONDO HOLLYWOOD" The Film 1967-2008-Bobby Jameson. No revenue of any kind from any source.
Played In Theaters World Wide, Video, and DVD Sales.

(12) JOY RECORDS "ONE TOO MANY MORNINGS" by Bobby Jameson 1966-2008-written by B. Jameson, W. Jameson, B. Hinds. Re-release of "SONGS OF PROTEST AND ANTI PROTEST" in Canada and Europe. No revenue of any kind from any source.
Airplay Worldwide.

(13) VERVE RECORDS "COLOR HIM IN" 1967-2008-Written by B. Jameson. No revenue of any kind from any source. Airplay Worldwide. Re-released and UNLICENSED in 2006-07 as CD by FALLOUT RECORDS UK. Received $1000 and 50 cd's. Airplay Worldwide.

(14) MIRA RECORDS "HEY JOE" album and singles by THE LEAVES 1966-2008-containing "Girl From The East" Written by B. Jameson. No revenue of any kind from any source. Airplay Worldwide.


If you have not figured this out already, I am not living the life of a successful recording artist and writer. The list above may provide you with some insight as to how well I have done in the "Music Business.. Not only is this a factual account of how it has been, it is a factual account of exactly how it remains. It is pleasing to me to know that there are people who like some of my music and records, but it is another thing to realize in "real" terms what my life is actually like. It is like ZONE X.

I have never received any accounting from any publisher, record company, manager, or BMI and ASCAP for any of my songs and recordings from 1964 through 2008. I did not receive any money from AFTRA or Local 47 Musician Union for 95 % of my work on these recordings from 1964 through 2008.

(part 62) A VERY BAD TRIP ON OWSLEY ACID

I had very good luck with LSD until I ran into some of the very first Owsley Acid to hit Southern California. I knew a film director named Henry Jaglom, and he'd gotten a batch of this from San Francisco. He'd been warned about the stuff, and told that it was not your run of the mill street shit that had been floating around L.A. for the last couple of years.

Henry was a bit worried about the warning so he contacted me and said he'd gotten some high quality LSD from San Francisco, but didn't know how strong it was, and if I was willing to test it for him he'd lay it on me for free. Like an asshole I agreed, figuring, "How bad could it be? I've taken a lot of acid and never had a problem."

I met with Henry and he gave me a big fat gelatin capsule of this stuff. Without so much as batting an eyelash I dropped it in my mouth and smiled. I told him I'd get back to him the next day and tell him how good or bad I thought it was. I then drove to Bel Air and went to Jerry Doff's house. He was a lawyer I'd gotten to know, and where I occasionally stayed.

It was a huge mansion inside the gates of Bel Air and I settled into a small bedroom off the kitchen, which was used as a utility room and playroom for Doff''s kids. I didn't think anything about the fact that I'd just taken this stuff without any information about it, and was curious as to what kind of trip it would be.

I was lying on the bed and started noticing crayola marks the kids had made on the wall. I stared at one of these marks for awhile and it started to multiply. I looked away thinking I was just getting blurry eyed, and then looked back at the dot like mark.

Again, the marks started multiplying. They began flying off the wall into the room around me filling the air with thousands of flying dots. Pretty soon the whole damn room was filled with literally tens of thousands of furiously little spinning dots that seemed to attack me.

I became lost in my war with the dots, when all of a sudden I realized it was the acid kicking in and I was hallucinating. I got off the bed and stood up trying to clear my mind and gather my senses. I was beginning a trip that I knew nothing about and was entering a zone I had never known. I was totally unprepared to deal with what was coming.

As I stood in the middle of the room, all the depth perception of everything ran together as if that room, and everything in it, had become liquid as opposed to solid. It is difficult to find the right words to explain the enormity of the hallucinations I began to experience.

I had hallucinated before, but this was completely different. This had an edge to it that dwarfed any previous experience I'd had, and caused me to go in and out of deep psychosis. I completely lost sight of myself from within myself. I was a spectator of someone who was me. This will take no more than minutes to explain, but it took hours to occur, so keep that in mind as I describe to you part of what happened.

I managed to leave the room, because the smallness of it was unbearable. It felt, and appeared, that the walls, ceiling, and floor were all moving in towards each other, and that I would be crushed within them when they met. I stood out in the hall. It looked like it went on forever. As I stared down it's endless length I had no idea of where I was, or for that matter, who I was.

I was just a thing, thinking things, that had no connection to anything. When I was sure I was lost I would suddenly reappear to myself, realizing how powerful the drug I was on was. I had no capacity to control, in the slightest way, what was happening to me. I understand that using LSD is a form of giving up control, and just tripping out, but this was completely terrifying.

It was like losing your mind and being a witness to the fact that you were losing your mind. I finally made my way to Jerry's bedroom, which was massive, and tried to speak to him. He looked up at me and said, "Oh hi Bobby, how's it going?" I stared at him and tried to talk but no words came out. I couldn't make my mind formulate thoughts and turn them into words.

Jerry realized something was wrong and said, "What's the matter Bobby? Is something wrong?" I looked down at a coffee table on the floor and watched it start to disappear. It began at both ends simultaneously, disappearing as it moved to the middle and was gone. It just went away. Then all of a sudden it reappeared by the same procedure in reverse.

I was completely mesmerized by this visual phenomenon and would guess my silence started to scare Jerry. "Are you on some drug Bobby?" he asked. I motioned as best I could to the affirmative which understandably pissed him off. I couldn't blame him, because the whole damn thing was pretty weird and I was in his house.

He finally got that I was in deep shit and called UCLA Medical Center in Westwood. He was able to get a psychologist on the phone and described to the guy what seemed to be happening to me. The doctor asked if I could talk and Jerry handed me the phone.

I managed to mumble something incoherent into it when a voice came out of the ear piece asking, "Are you hallucinating now Mr. Jameson?" As the sound of this guy's voice echoed in my ear the telephone began to melt in my hand, and I remember distinctly thinking that the guy on the other end of the line was in no way any more equipped to deal with the situation than I was.

I sank into a deep sense of loss while the disintegration of my mind continued. I recall vividly just plain giving into the madness. At that moment I was sure I would never come back from where I was. What happened to me in fact, took 20 years to get over and to reach a point where I felt I'd gotten beyond it.

I am again telling you something that is intricately involved in the changes that occurred in me during the 60's. I feel obligated to report specific moments in time that I know were turning points for me, and because this trip was so powerful and frightening, I increased, once again, my dependency on other drugs.

My ever increasing intake of more powerful drugs and sedatives was the eventual downfall of the person Bobby Jameson, although much that was negative arose out of other actions I took as well. I have written about them here on this blog and will continue to write about them. I will add, that in the long run some good was gained.

(part 61) MONDO HOLLYWOOD, VIETNAM, NO AIRPLAY

Bobby Jameson from "Mondo Hollywood" singing "Vietnam"

Mondo Hollywood was released in 1967, as was Buffalo Springfield's "For What It's Worth," a song about the riots on the Sunset Strip, which were basically anti Vietnam War demonstrations.

The L.A. PD and Sheriffs had joined forces using the tactic of anti-loitering laws in an attempt to stop, or blunt, the anti-war movement locally.

My song "Vietnam" was in Mondo Hollywood and was about as meaningful to the current situation as a song could have been. But while "For What It's Worth" was given massive airplay, which it deserved, "Vietnam" was ignored.

"Vietnam" was one of the best Goddamned anti Vietnam War songs recorded in the 60's, and other than it being in Mondo Hollywood it was never heard by the general public.

Los Angeles radio at that time was dominated by people like Reb Foster and a bunch of self appointed control freaks that decided against playing "Vietnam" or anything else I recorded. Not only did that piss me off, and still does, but it kept "Vietnam," a relevant work, out of the picture completely.

From 1965 to 1967 I had written and recorded Chris Lucey "Songs Of Protest And Anti Protest" "Vietnam/Metropolitan Man" "Reconsider Baby" "Gotta Find My Roogalator" "All Alone" and "Color Him In" and had gotten no airplay.

When "Mondo Hollywood" came out "Vietnam" still got no airplay, even though the streets were filled with thousands of anti-war demonstrators. I knew it was intentional to keep "Vietnam" and Bobby Jameson off L.A. Radio.

As you might imagine, I was beyond pissed off, and completely fed up with the clique of punks in L.A.'s radio and music scene. Once again, this fueled my attitude problems that were increasingly becoming well known in the localized community of Hollywood, West Hollywood, and Beverly Hills.

As I look back on this now, I'm not all that sure that I was wrong in taking on the personality traits of a gunslinger prophet. In my mind there was a concerted effort to thwart all of my work. To this very day Bobby Jameson and Los Angeles have never come to any understanding of each other.

For a place and a person, to have played such a key role in each other's existence in the 60's, I am still at a loss to understand or accept graciously that history.

Country Joe And The Fish, and their absolutely perfect song, "Fixin To Die," about the Vietnam War, was another of the milestone efforts of some, to put words and music to the feeling's of so many toward one of this nation's sorriest mistakes. I personally am utterly pleased that works such as this were not overlooked or unheard.

(part 60) "PARTLY FACT AND PARTLY FICTION"

Dean and Dean


Terry Melcher

After the release of "Color Him In" in 1967, I started dating Deana Martin, the daughter of Dean Martin. I used to spend a lot of time at the Martin house, and it was just another one of the many contradictions about my life. I spent so much time on the streets of Hollywood and West Hollywood that I became known as "The Mayor Of Sunset Strip," a position later given to Rodney Bingenheimer, and then Kim Fowley.

I was having trouble fitting into all the different personalities that were part of my life. I met Terry Melcher at the Martin house, and he was dating Gina Martin, the older sister of Deana. We did not like each other. Terry considered me another run of the mill singer/song writer, and I considered him the no talent son of Doris Day.

He took too much credit, in my opinion, for producing Brian Wilson's work and the same with The Byrds. Brian Wilson produced The Beach Boys, and The Byrds produced The Byrds. Terry Melcher took the credit, because he could, and I let him know that's what I thought, so he was not too fond of me.

At some point in 1967 I began to realize that "Color Him In" was not the resounding hit I had hoped for. Verve Records, it seemed, had backed off on promoting the album, and as usual L.A. radio was giving me 0 airplay. I bitterly complained about this but to no avail. I turned my frustration toward the streets again, and immersed myself in the culture of protest demonstrations against the war and police brutality.

One would have thought that as much press as I was getting on the streets, L.A. radio would have embraced me, but they did not, ever. My reputation with the inside crowd in Hollywood's music business sucked, and still does today. I didn't kiss enough ass, but I did show up at places like the Martin house, so people like Terry Melcher, and others, were irritated by me and my ability to infringe on their ranks. It was like a high school clique of special cases, and they kept asking each other, "Who the fuck is this Jameson guy?"

I was cutting some demo's one day for Screen Gems Music, something Steve Clark cooked up. Lester Sill, who was the head of Screen Gems at the time, had a son named Joel, and he was producing my demo session. The players were Jerry Scheff, Ben Benay, Jim Troxel, and people like that, really good players, but this asshole, Joel Sill, kept interrupting every take to tell us how to play.

Finally I'd had enough, and told him, "Shut the fuck up, Sill! Quit fucking with us!" Joel got on the the talk back mic from the control room and started talking shit to me, and that did it. I threw down my guitar, yanked off my ear phones, and went after him. He ran.

It was part of the personality of "quit taking shit from assholes" that I'd developed. The other musicians approved of what I did, because they couldn't do it. None of them liked Sill, but had to tolerate him so they could keep on working. I, on the other hand, didn't give a shit, and had taken more than my share of bullshit from ego maniacs. I was now willing to take them on just about anywhere. I'm sure this did not help my cause.

I was drinking all the time. I popped pills, and took too much LSD. I was volatile and mouthy. I would fight damn near anybody who gave me a reason. I looked like a cross between Jesus Christ and Wild Bill Hickok so there was always some dumb son of a bitch who would say something stupid to me like "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"



The reason for telling you these things is to keep reporting the changes in circumstance and personality that were occurring in my life, the context of what I was doing, where I was doing it, and some of the people involved. It is important to keep up with this, because each new part and person played some role in what occurred.

I was like a ping pong ball bouncing off each new situation and person I encountered. I never got settled into anything before it would change again and I would have to start over. If you look back at what I have already told you it is obvious that no set of conditions, persons, or circumstances lasted very long.

The only thing I could count on staying constant was change. I was getting arrested during street demonstrations and then getting out so I could show up at the Martin house. It didn't make any sense, my life was a pin ball machine. I was torn between the luxury of Deana's life and the hard edge of the streets.

I was torn between the Terry Melchers and the Joel Sills, and my own need to create music that stood for something. Everything always seemed to be at odds with itself. I could not get all the pieces to work at the same time, even though the pieces were there. I was barely 21 and was a total maverick amongst mavericks.

I am not blowing my own horn in making that statement. Maybe it would be more accurate to say I was an outcast amongst mavericks. Al Ruddy once said to me, "If I knew what to do with you Bobby, I'd do it, but I don't." I thought that was a pretty honest remark, Al produced "The Godfather" for 20th Century Fox in the old days. The more I defined myself the less defined I was in the eyes of those who had the power. They knew me but kept their distance, as Kris Kristofferson once wrote, "he's a walking contradiction, partly fact and partly fiction."