(part 17) ME, MICK, AND ANDREW IN THE STUDIO

Mick and Andrew in the studio with engineer-Life.com

After some time, we all ended up in the studio with Andrew. Up until then I'd heard nothing about what he wanted to work on with me, so it was a burning question in my mind. For weeks, before ever coming to England, I'd wondered about it, and now I would find out. Andrew said he was going to play me a track that he'd already recorded called "All I Want Is My Baby."

He signaled the engineer to roll the tape and I listened intently to what came out of the speakers. It sounded a bit like a Phil Spector track, but not as well organized. In the middle of the song was a fuzz tone guitar solo, that, at that time, was pretty much off the wall. You gotta remember that this was before many effects were used in recording. It was before most of the feed back guitar players of a couple of years later. I liked the guitar solo, but the song didn't sound anything remotely close to what I did personally. As the tape came to an end Andrew and Mick looked at me in anticipation of my reaction.

"Well what do you think Bobby, is that fucking great or what?" asked Andrew. I was stuck. I didn't want to say the wrong thing, but I didn't want to be forced to lie about my opinion either. "Yeah, well that's pretty cool, Andrew, and I really like the guitar part, who's that playing?" I asked. "A member of a group called The Poets, said Andrew, "named Jimmy Page." At the time the name meant nothing to me because I'd never heard it before. "It's a great track," I said, "but I don't know if it's my kind of song, I mean, like something I'd do." There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. "Well let me play it again," said Andrew, "and show you how the vocal's supposed to go so you can get a better idea of what I want."
"Ok," I said reluctantly.

I felt the world shifting, and I didn't know what to do except go along with him. I eyed Peter and Lee to look for support, but they seemed unaware of my discomfort with the song. Andrew again signaled for the tape to roll and the track boomed out through the studio. He picked up a paper with the lyrics and started singing them for me, and then Mick began filling in with back-up vocals. It was quite a spectacle. I tried hard to concentrate on what Andrew wanted, as I eyed the lyric sheet, trying to sing what he was singing. I felt like shit inside and that old, "I don't want to do this," part of me began kicking my ass.

I just kept bearing down on the work in front of me trying to latch on to the feel of the song, but it was no good. I waved at Andrew to stop the tape so I could talk to him and the studio went quiet. "What's wrong Bobby?' he asked. "Look," I said, "I don't think this is my kinda song. Can I play you a couple of things I wrote so you can get an idea of how I sing?" He looked at me and said "No! I'm not interested in hearing your songs Bobby. I need you to concentrate on this song and get the vocal right, because I know you can do it."

Andrew had said no to my songs point blank. It was like getting slapped in the face, but at the same time, he'd managed to challenged me to work with him. He wanted to get me to go along, so I said, "Ok, play it again." The tape rolled over and over and over. My vocal got better, but I never thought it was much good. To me it just felt disconnected. I was jet lagged and miserable. I was ready to walk out, but stayed. At some point, Andrew suggested recording my vocal with the track so I could get a better idea of what it sounded like by hearing it. I agreed, and we pushed on. After awhile both Mick and Andrew teamed up on background vocals, as I sang the lead. After hours of working, Andrew said that was enough.

"What a relief!" I thought, because I was spent, from both the work and the continuing jet lag. Andrew seemed pleased about what had been done in the studio that day, but I was not. The possible exception to that was when we worked on another song for awhile just to change things up. The song was was called "Each And Every Day" and was written by Jagger and Keith Richards. It was far easier to learn and to sing than "All I Want Is My Baby" which Keith Richards and Oldham had written.

As we gathered our belongings together to leave the studio for the day, I shook everybody's hand and told Andrew I was starting to get it, and with a little more work, could probably record it. He smiled and agreed, and I felt somewhat better as we departed. I don't remember ever talking to Andrew again after that day, and I don't know why. I tried to, but all I ever got were people who worked for him. Not long after that one and only recording session, I was informed that the rough track I'd been led to believe was just for rehearsal was being released on Decca Records as a single, as is. It came out with a lot of publicity, and there was nothing I could do about it.

(part 16) SHRIMPTON, JAMESON, AND JAGGER

Jagger and Shrimton

Meeting Mick Jagger was the agenda for the day. I was still wiped out by jet lag, but I pushed it aside as we rode the London taxi to our destination. It looked like an old warehouse when we got there, but then everything in England was old looking to me. I was used to California, where something new popped up every day, so London was an experience everywhere I went.

Lee paid the cab and we found a door that appeared to be the way in, according to the instructions we were given for finding the place. Peter, Lee, and I walked inside and started guessing at how we were supposed to find anyone. We finally reached a point in the hall that was blocked off by a metal fence of sorts with a gate or door for entering.

Seated at a small wooden table on a chair was a very attractive girl with a notebook and pencil, who I guessed was taking names of visitors. It was Chrissie Shrimpton, Jagger's girl friend. She was the first one to greet us. "Hi," I said, "I'm Bobby!" "Bobby Jameson from America," she said, looking right at me. "We've been expecting you. My name is Chrissie." "Ah well yeah, hello! This is Peter Caine and Lee Karsian. They came to England with me, and." I felt like such a jerk. I was mumbling and stumbling like some kind of schoolboy.

"Andrew's in the studio finishing up on something," she said, "but he shouldn't be long. Would you like some tea or coffee?" she asked? We gladly excepted and named our preferences. As she left we all looked at each other, and Peter said, "God is she good looking!" "Yeah!" I said, "I think she's Jagger's girl friend. She's really pretty." I lit up a cigarette and dragged on it trying to look calm, but inside my nerves were on edge and the anticipation of what was coming next was beating my head in.

After a few minutes Shrimpton returned with a couple of cups, and left to retrieve more. When she came back the second time, Mick was with her. I stared at him for a moment, trying to make sure it was him and just blurted out "Hi Mick!" I started walking toward him to shake his hand. Peter and Lee straightened up as if at attention as Mick and I greeted each other.

Strangely enough he was really low key and kind of bashful it seemed. It surprised me, because the only picture I had in my head of him was The Rolling Stones playing "NOT FADE AWAY" and Mick's vocal. So a low key Mick Jagger in person was pretty different than what I had expected. After I introduced Peter and Lee, Mick and I kind of moved off to the side to size one another up. After asking about our flight over, Mick moved directly to the subject of America.

He wanted to know as much as I could tell him in the short amount of time we would have to talk together. He asked about The Beatles and said, "They're really huge over there aren't they?" "Yeah," I said, "but you guys are just about as big." Then the strangest thing happened. Mick said, "No way man, no way." "No, really Mick," I said, "The Stones are just about as big there as The Beatles." He just stared at me, as if he were trying to figure out whether I was bullshitting him or not. "You're having me on mate," he said smiling, "you're just having me on."

I figured, "having me on" was the English version of, "you're putting me on." "No, I'm not," I insisted, "I'm telling you the truth." He then seemed to know I was telling him what I really believed. "Look," I said, "When I was in Cleveland, that's a big city in the US," I didn't know if he knew or not, "they were running a contest on the biggest radio station there, to see who was more popular, The Rolling Stones or The Beatles, and it was pretty much of a tie," I told him, "You guys are really big in America. Like it's The Beatles and you."

He just stared at me. He seemed to be waiting for the punch line that never came. He could not believe what I was telling him, but then again he couldn't not believe it. I'll never forget how surprised I was to find out that day that he really didn't know how incredibly huge The Rolling Stones were in America. The look on his face when I first told him will stay with me forever.

(part 15) LONDON BRIDGE IS FALLING

The day was grey and drizzling. I remember it being like that most of the time I was in England, just cold and damp. For a kid from Southern California and Arizona this was a big change. It colored everything I did there whether I knew it or not at the time. Peter, Lee, and I ventured out into the city in one of those famous black cabs that forever roam the streets of London.

We did a little sight seeing and tried our hand at English food which was a shock in itself. I finally learned about Whimpy Burgers, but not soon enough. This was not like the US where you could always find some place that had something you liked. It was a whole new ball game and most of the time a poor experience.

I don't remember exactly where we were when this happened, maybe Picadilly Circus, but a brand new 1964 Chevrolet drove up and everybody on the street stopped to look at it. They were gawking like it was the rarest thing they'd ever seen. While they stared at the car we stared at them. It seemed to me that whoever was driving had just parked in the middle of the street and gotten out.

He was a young guy, maybe early 20's, when all of a sudden I heard, "Bobby! Bobby Jameson, is that you Mate?" I figured out quickly enough that it was Andrew Oldham. "Yeah it's me, you must be Andrew?" I said, as he approached. "What an accent," he replied. That was something I had to get used to. Everywhere I went people would comment on my accent which was quite strange at first.

"I didn't have an accent," I thought, "they did." "Alright!" said Andrew, "Well let's get you out of the road so we can be properly introduced." We all piled in the Chevy and headed out into traffic. Everything was going the wrong way it seemed and was just something else I'd have to get used to.

"Where'd you get this Chevrolet, Andrew?" I asked, "I'd of thought you'd be driving a Rolls Royce or something?" He said he used to have a British sedan, but when he got the American Chevrolet it was like nothing he'd ever imagined. "People go wild over it," he said, "everywhere I go." Man did he like that car.

I looked out the window, at London zipping by, while Peter and Lee talked to Andrew about the schedule and what to expect in the next few days. I was tired from the long flight and my sense of direction was nonexistent. I couldn't figure out where we were or where we were going. It always seemed like we were moving in circles.

After an hour or so of driving around London and getting acquainted, Andrew dropped us off at our hotel. We stood on the sidewalk out front and watched as the Chevy Belair drove out of sight. "Man he likes that car," we all said, and laughed as we walked inside.

Andrew was a tall lanky guy with longish curly hair and glasses. He looked like kind of a geek, but handled himself well, and had an air of self assuredness about him that made you think he was on top of things. He didn't hesitate when he spoke and had no shortage of opinions about everything. After the first meeting we all pretty much decided we liked him from what we had seen and began looking forward to the coming events and meeting Mick Jagger.

The jet lag was killing everyone, so we thought we'd try and get to bed early and get ready for the next day. The trouble with that kind of jet lag is, you're tired as hell, but your body won't go to sleep. This ended up in the long run being a major problem for me.

(part 14) NO ONE KNEW WHERE I WENT

Peter Caine finally came up with a guy named Lee Karsian, who worked at Ashley Famous Artists. Lee was extremely interested in becoming involved, and had contacts in London who he notified about the Andrew Loog Oldham offer. Once the people in London were satisfied the letter I had received was indeed legitimate, they agreed to finance me coming to London.

They arranged pretty much everything and I assume, because I have never known, that they were in for some sort of piece of the action, believing it was a sure fire arrangement with a substantial benefit for them in the long run. Once again, no one ever brought me a contract to sign or told me any of the details of the arrangement to get me to England. Honestly I never asked because I just wanted away from Tony Alamo. It wasn't important to me at the time, how I got there, it was that I got out of California and as far from Tony as I could.

That's why I went to England. Most people thought, and I guess still think, that it was a big opportunity for me to go there and record with Mick Jagger. But what they don't know is that by me going to England at that time, I killed my career in America. My record "I'm So Lonely" was left to die when I vanished, and I do mean vanished. No one knew where I went except the small number of people who were involved with getting me there. It wasn't until I released a record in England that anyone really knew what had happened to me.

Possibly no one cared one way or another, except for Tony. Peter Caine, Lee Karsian, and I boarded a Plane at LAX and my life changed again. It was still the year 1964, and I had already gone from no one to someone, and now I was on my way to England to do something I had never intended to do. It would have been one thing to go there because my record was doing well, but that was not the case. I was basically starting from scratch in a foreign country and had no idea of what to expect when I got there.

I barely knew Lee, and Peter kept assuring me that it would all be OK when I got to London and met Andrew Oldham. I remember it took a long time to fly to England, a lot longer than I'd imagined. It was the middle of the night and I stared out the window at the lights on the wing and listened to the engines hum out over the Atlantic Ocean. It was an eery feeling being up there at 19, wondering how it was going to turn out. I thought about Tony and all that we had done together, and wished he hadn't screwed it all up. I felt kind of scared and alone, but I was glad that Peter was with me, because I knew he wasn't going to let anything get out of hand along as he was there to keep an eye on things. He and Lee seemed to hit it off from the start and that made things run pretty smooth.

We started the landing approach and I gazed out the window at the yellow lights all over. Lee said that they used yellow lights because of the fog in London, and I said, "Oh yeah, the London fog. I remember that. They gotta lot of fog here in England." I was like a tourist making comments. We were met at the airport by some people and there were no crowds and no cameras. Just a few of Lee's associates and a driver who took us in to Knightsbridge, I believe, and dumped us at what I remember as being an Inn or Bed And Breakfast kind of a place.

It was dark, damp, and cold, and everything looked old and tired. I wasn't too sure what I'd gotten myself into, but it was a long way from California and Tony Alamo and that made it tolerable. The next day was like coming to after a bad drunk. All that time on the airplane, and the times were all changed around, so I started off confused and stayed that way for days. I knew I was going to meet Andrew Oldham and I didn't feel too good. The jet lag and different surroundings played havoc with my brain, but I used what I'd learned on the road and just moved forward through the day. Peter and Lee weren't doing much better, and I think that helped because we started joking about how screwed up we all were and got a good laugh out of it.

(part 13) NOW WHAT DO I DO?

Andrew Loog Oldham

I had already received a letter from Andrew Loog Oldham in England, who was the producer of The Rolling Stones at that time in 1964, but I had not responded to it until after the last incident with Alamo. I had grown wary of Tony over time, but now I was afraid of him. I thought he'd completely flipped out after what he'd said in the office and to me afterwards on the sidewalk outside.

As I mentioned earlier, Peter Caine was the photographer on most of the pictures used in Billboard. He had also become my close personal friend, and I relied on him heavily once I knew I had to get away from Tony. The letter from England was an offer by Oldham of sorts that basically stated, "If you ever get to London I'd be interested in working with you." My previous disregard to his invitation now looked like my chance to leave America and get as far away from Tony as I could.

I believed, and still do, that had I stayed, Tony would have tried and possibly succeeded, in conning me into believing everything could be worked out and we could go on. I didn't want to stick around and find out, so I implored Peter to find someway to get me to England. I had no idea what to expect from Tony once he knew I wasn't going to talk to him. I avoided all contact with him and kept a constant eye out for him.

I knew Tony believed his golden egg was being stolen from him and he wasn't about to let that happen. His position was that I was his property, because he had made me into something of value, but after the office trip I was convinced that he was capable of just about anything. I had no money, but I was still living with Lois, the ex wife of Gordon Gessler, the guy Tony had conned into backing the Billboard campaign.

My life was like a hurricane and the only way to live in it was in the calm of the eye of the storm. Everything outside of that was madness. This meant that all my energy was directed at one goal. Get out of here before something really bad happens. Tony had no contract with me, another flaw in his thinking, so he couldn't legally force me to do anything. This is why I was able to walk away from him in 1964, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

He had never paid me, as I've stated, so I wasn't suddenly going to be without money, hell I never had any to begin with--again another flaw in the character of Tony Alamo. No leverage! He always managed to chase people away, without having some sort of leverage to get them back. As weeks went by I kept hearing things about how Tony was not going to let people steal me away from him now that I was the star he'd made. The constant reports of these kinds of things just kept me on edge and I in return put pressure on everyone around me to get me the hell out of LA and away from this crazy bastard.

(part 12) THE OFFICE, THE MEETING, THE END

Tony Alamo

Tony's position was always "Let me do the dirty work and the business." He kept me away from everything by playing to my one true weakness, which was, "You are the star. You are untouchable. I'll deal with these people, because I know how they think and what they want." I pretty much went along with believing I was a star. He never told me anything about what he was doing when I wasn't around, and I was too inexperienced at the time to demand that kind of cooperation from him. It was Tony and me for sure, but with Tony always taking the lead when it came to deals and money. But the day came when one of Tony's deals required my willing participation with him to accomplish it.

Tony set up a meeting in Beverly Hills with an investor and he told me I had to go with him and meet the guy. I agreed to go not suspecting that my entire world would be turned upside down by the end of that particular day. Prior to the actual meeting I have no recollection of how I got there. I don't remember whether I went with Tony or met him there. I recall vividly being with Tony as we entered the building where the meeting took place. It was on a corner, south of Wilshire Blvd., but I don't recall the exact streets. There was a set of steps going in maybe 3 or 4 steps to the entrance. No one was with us when we went into the office and no one, but the person we were meeting was there when we met him.

The three of us were the only ones there. The man was kind of short, a little overweight and balding. He was friendly and smoking a cigar. He appeared to be jewish, and I don't mean this in a belittling way, he just appeared to be a jewish guy from Beverly Hills, pretty typical. His office was pleasant, but not lavish. It was one large room maybe 40 by 25 feet. At the far end of the room was a desk and chair where the man went, sat down, and faced us. I don't remember if the Billboard ads were up on the wall, but it's possible.

I stayed at the opposite end of the room and sat in a chair a few feet from where we came in. I didn't know what to do so I just sat there trying to look like a star. Tony stood in the middle of the room between the man's desk and my chair. I don't recall what was said, because Tony and the guy were going back and forth for a while. During this exchange Tony took a particular stance in the middle of the room which is hard to explain without sounding like I'm joking, which I'm not, but it kind of looked like a bad impersonation of Elvis Presley.

Tony stretched out one arm and pointed at me and uttered out loud "That is Jesus Christ and if you," now pointing his other arm and finger at the guy, "do not give him $50,000 he will point his finger at you and you will die!" I looked over at the man just in time to see that his face looked frozen. His jaw fell open and his cigar just kind of rolled out onto his desk. Other than that he didn't move a muscle, but stared at Tony in disbelief, who was still standing with his arms stretched out in the middle of the room.

I could not believe what was happening. I had no way of knowing this was coming, and had no way of dealing with it now that it was here. I remember staring at the floor trying to decide what to do. I just stood up, didn't say anything, and walked out the door as fast as I could. I reached the sidewalk and kind of walked around in little circles hoping that Tony would come out and tell me it was all a joke and that everything was OK. In a few minutes Tony did come out the door and down the steps toward me. "Why did you say that Tony," I pleaded, and stood waiting for some rational explanation to what I had just witnessed. "Because it's the truth," he said, looking right at me. I stared at him in a second wave of disbelief and was devastated by his response, knowing fully at that moment my world had just ended. "No it isn't Tony, no it isn't."