(part 22) A NEW COMPANY AND A NEW START

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I left the "Ad Lib Club" that night with a changed mind about the current crisis I was living in. Even though I'd lost my connection with Andrew Oldham, it was now immediately evident that there was, and would be, interest in me as an artist in London. I felt a bit more at ease, but vowed to stay on the job until I accomplished my task, which was to secure a new deal with a new company.

I knew "The Pretty Things" people were serious, and looking back on it now that's where I should have gone. But where I was in my mind back then was scared. I think at the time I thought I needed people who appeared more prominent, and that's what I continued looking for until I found it. Once again it turned out to be the wrong move.

"The Pretty Things" and their people were down to earth and straight forward. I incorrectly assumed that to be a negative back then. I don't know why, but if I'm honest about it I was just wrong about them and have always regretted it. I foolishly believed that people in expensive suits were somehow better than ones who didn't dress up to do business. It probably had to do with the appearance of money, and since I didn't have any I wanted to be around what I thought were people who did. I was very insecure and it showed itself in many different ways now that I look back on it.

Be that as it may, I was finally introduced, probably at the "Ad Lib Club," to a group of English businessmen who all wore 3 piece suits and ties and talked all that high class bullshit I was searching for. Chris Peers and Harry, I'm sorry I can't remember his last name, represented a new company called Brit Records, which turned out to be the forerunner of Island Records, Chris Blackwell's company. They had a hit with a girl named Millie Small called "My Boy Lollipop" and were out shopping for new artists. I was looking for a new company, so it was a match made in heaven, or so I thought.

They agreed to take me on and pay my rent, and make sure I didn't starve to death. They agreed to give me a small allowance each month so I wouldn't walk around penniless. Now when I say a small allowance that's what I really mean. Probably 60 or 70 dollars a week. I never had any money. I was about to cut my 4th record, for the third company, on two different continents, in less than a year, and I still hadn't made 10 cents. So 60 or 70 dollars a week was like a windfall to me.

I ended up moving from Belgravia where I was first located, kind of like the Beverly Hills of London, to Knightsbridge. Still nice, just not as nice. I was dating an English girl named Judy Foote who's father was in the House Of Commons, kind of like the House of Representatives here. Anyway, PJ Proby, who was an American from Texas, and a big pop star in England when I got there, introduced me to her and we kept on seeing each other over the next few months. She had a thing for "American Pop Stars" as she called them, and that was her interest in me an "American Pop Star."

As I settled into my new surroundings the story of the "glove" just kept getting bigger and bigger. It had became part of my new public persona as it were. I'd always thought it was just some stupid thing I'd done for attention, but people liked it and wouldn't let it go. While I was looking to get into a new cycle of creativity, and work on songs that I wanted to record, the English press was more interested in "the glove." But I was determined to make good on my second chance with the British audience.

(part 21) ALCOHOL SAVED MY ASS

The Pretty Things ImageLibrary/ZANI

I remember feeling as scared as I have ever felt. I had never been in the situation I found myself, that night in London, in 1964. I was absolutely on my own and did not know what I was going to do. The guilt from hitting Lois was overwhelming, while at the same time the anger at her for attacking me after shacking up with some playboy mogul for a couple of weeks was real.

I went back and forth for hours until I'd worked myself into a frenzy of confusion and fear. I had no money to speak of and had nothing going in the way of any business contacts or opportunities. I had always relied on others to do the business while I concentrated on the music. Even though the people I'd trusted had pretty well made a mess out of things, I still wished there was someone who could take the reins and guide me in the right direction.

As I sat alone that night I thought I was going to lose my mind. I went and got a drink of scotch from a bottle we kept around and poured a big glass half full. This was to change my life, though at the time I didn't know it. I was just trying to calm down and gain some sort of control over myself.

As the alcohol began to take effect I found myself begin to think more clearly and rationally. I began to formulate a plan in my head about what I could do to help rectify my crumbling situation. First, I thought, pull yourself together and act like somebody who knows what they're doing. I went and took a shower, washed my hair, and dressed to go to the "Ad Lib Club."

"I was a Goddamned pop star," I thought, and I was going to Goddamn well act like one and look like one. Honestly, it was all I knew how to do. Kinda like a good whore dressing up to do business. In essence, I was a good little "pop whore." I have nothing but admiration for whores by the way, because I am one. I looked at myself in the mirror in the living room of my flat, which was full length, and I looked good. I looked like a "pop star."

I finished my drink and headed for the street to hail a cab and go sell myself to the highest bidder. That was my plan! To present myself at the "Ab Lib Club" and circulate the message that I was looking for new representation and a new record deal. That night started a long time trend for me called "have a drink and make a new deal." I became a professional at starting over and over and over. In fact I'm currently doing it again.

As I milled through the crowd at the "Ab Lib" I looked for familiar faces as a form of anchor for my still newly fractured reality of being alone and unemployed. I ordered a drink, because I wasn't about to let the fear from earlier that night get a hold on me again. Alcohol was clearly my friend and ally.

I ran into the band "The Pretty Things" along with some of their management, and made it clear to them that I was seeking a new deal. They were interested right off and said so quite clearly. I felt as though they were an ace in the hole for me, and it relieved some of the pressure I'd been feeling. But remember! I said, "I was a whore!" and like a good one, I was gonna keep on lining up interested clients as long as I could.

Even though I'd been abandoned by everyone I'd started out with, it didn't mean that there wasn't significant interest in me as an artist. Like it or not, I was very well known in London at the time, and in the world of celebrity that counted for a lot. "The Pretty Things" management were no fools. They recognized the potential and voiced their opinion quickly. I have always remembered them with great fondness for that.


Pretty Things clippernolan.wordpress.com/

(part 20) SO NOW WHAT DO I DO?

1964 Dave Lawson

After the "Ready Steady Go" television debacle I felt like hiding underground forever, but the publicity raged on anyway. I couldn't believe they were still promoting the record after what I'd done on TV, and I couldn't get Andrew to meet with me. I began assuming the worst, which was, that he had no plans to talk to me, ever.

I complained bitterly to Lee and Peter about Andrew refusing my calls, but they were unsuccessful at getting a response from him either. It became apparent that Oldham had done a one shot deal with his Bobby Jameson project, and if "All I Want Is My Baby" wasn't a big hit, which it wasn't, he was not planning to do a follow up.

The investor friends of Lee Karsian, the people who had paid for me to come to England, began questioning Lee about the Oldham deal and any further plans regarding another record. From what I could gather, because I hadn't been in on the original deal Lee and his partners made with Andrew to get me to England, Lee had simply trusted Andrew and there was no contract, or it was limited to a single release.

To this day I still don't know what actually happened--so much for trusting the adults. In both the case of Tony Alamo and Andrew Oldham there were no contracts that I ever signed. It seems that people were just taking shots and releasing a record and waiting to see how it went. In the case of "I'm So Lonely" it did pretty well, but in the case of "All I Want Is My Baby" it had not lived up to the hype.

Tony Alamo and I could have continued, but he had flipped out on his God trip. Andrew on the other hand appears not to have had any follow up in mind unless my record with him was a big hit, which it proved not to be. Although I had been treated pretty well since I'd come to England, lived in a nice flat, and was treated like a star, things had begun to unravel over the months since I'd first arrived.

The mood of everything changed. Lee had obviously pissed off his London contacts when they learned there was no real agreement to continue forward with Andrew Oldham and Decca Records. I was just someone who had cost them a lot of money and hadn't paid off in the way they believed I would. I was now just dead weight to them. A bad investment. Because of this Lee Karsian bailed out and went back to America, saying he had to leave because of pressing business in the states. He has not spoken to me since that day.

I was notified by messenger that I still had the use of the flat, because of a lease, but that it would run out in a matter of weeks. As if things weren't going bad enough, Peter Caine's girlfriend Susi, came over to London with Lois Johnston out of the blue. It seems Susi came to London to tell Peter that he could either stay in England forever with me, or go back to America with her. "It was one or the other," Peter told me. He said he had no choice but to go back with her, and within a week they were gone as well.

I was now in London alone, and was 19 years old with no one to turn to except myself. I had been at the top of the pile a few months before, but now found myself struggling to make sense out of what was going on. When I least expected it, Lois showed up at my door. In case you don't know or don't recall who Lois is, she was the ex wife of the man Tony Alamo had conned into guaranteeing payment for the Billboard Magazine ads. I'd been living with her in L.A. before I came to London. Anyway here she was, standing at the door looking like a million bucks, but I had mixed feelings about her showing up.

Why? Because she had come from the U.S. with Susi over a week before and this was the first I'd seen of her. It seems, according to her, that she had been a guest of Victor Lownes who ran the Playboy Club in London. So here she was coming over to visit with me. I told her I wasn't too happy about playing second fiddle to that guy and asked her "why she even bothered to come at all?"

Her reply was almost life threatening at the time. I was already feeling like an abandoned child, because everyone had left, when Lois lit in to me saying "I was a failure and that everybody knew it except me, and that she had decided that if no one was going to tell me then she would." Her words hit me in the face like a hammer and I told her to "Shut up!"

She just kept going, and going, and going, like a mother scolding a child. I lost it! I slapped her across the face and said, "Get the fuck out and leave me alone!" She refused to leave and I slapped her again. I had never hit a women in my life, but I hit her. I was not prepared to handle the verbal attack on me, and hitting her was all I could come up with to make her stop.

There is no justification for what I did. I am telling you what happened. It is for the reader to decide how I should be viewed in light of this information. Lois finally withdrew and I sank into a state of depression like I had never known. I was totally alone and had no idea of what to do.

(part 19) "THANK YOUR LUCKY STARS" OR "READY STEADY GO"

The record came out, "All I Want Is My Baby/Each And Every Day" preceded by a lot of promotion. I'll give Andrew Oldham and Decca UK their due, they pumped the record hard, but that made it worse for me personally because I had no faith in it. I felt like, "Oh no! You're not goin' to put that out are you?"

When I was doing "I'm So Lonely" at least I believed in it. But this was entirely different. All of a sudden I was doing interview after interview and I didn't even like the record. I was torn between the hype and the fear that it would bomb, which it did. I kept trying to get to see Andrew, but it was no use, he was not talking to me.

I started making up things about myself to deflect the interest in me, but it just seemed to make things worse. I took to wearing one "black glove" as a goof, and it got famous. I did a story with a London newspaper on "the Glove," which it became known as, and people took it seriously.

Somewhere during this time frame I had a visit from Brian Jones, and we liked each other right off. He came by my place one afternoon and we just talked about a lot of things. He was intelligent and sensitive and did seem taken by his own fame. He told me about his passion for animals as we sat together smoking hash in my flat. We spent the afternoon hanging out for the most part.

A year later by some quirk of the universe, Brian's picture would end up as the photo on the cover of the Chris Lucey album "Songs Of Protest And Anti Protest," which I wrote and recorded when I went back to America in 1965. I did not speak to Brian again, but have always remembered the day we spent together. I consider myself lucky to have had that time with him, and it is those kinds of moments from my past that I hold on to. They are some of the things that made it all worthwhile in the long run.

As the publicity increased, I was introduced to a very popular club in London called "The Ad lib Club," where everyone who was anyone went at night. It was the "In Place" in 1964 and I was like the "American Pop Prop" along with P J Proby, so it was easy to mingle with just about everyone.

I used to sit at the little tables that lined the walls of the place and drink Mateuse wine with the Beatles. Every time John Lennon saw me he'd say. "Eh, here comes "The Glove." Hey Jameson whot's wrong with yer hand mon, do ya ave a diseese or somethin?" I think he got a big kick outta doin' that because he did it a lot. It was a trip sitting there with The Beatles at 19 years old because I was a huge fan. So now here I was in London sitting right there with them and having John make fun of the glove thing.

I was getting the star treatment alright, but underneath the outward appearances I was just plain worried about having to go on British television to lip sync the record. In my gut I knew it was gonna be bad, but when it actually happened it was worse. I tried everything I could think of to get people to reconsider what they were doing. I told them all "Let's do the other side, "Each And Every Day," it's a better record.""No!" they said, "We're not going to do that Bobby, it's gonna be fine." It was not fine. It was a disaster.

Have you ever been around people when they've convinced themselves of something, even though they're wrong? Well that's the way this was. For whatever reason, and to this day I still don't know why, everybody was just locked into Andrew's track record and believed if Andrew said it was good, it was good, whether it was or not.

So the day finally came and I told Peter I hated the goddamn record and wished I'd never heard it or worked on it. He kept telling me it would be OK, and I remember listening to him and trying to believe it myself at that point. I mean what the hell was I supposed to do? I was gonna be mouthing this thing live on TV whether I wanted to or not, so I tried to get with the program and give it my best shot.

The trouble with a pre-recorded dud is that it's still a dud, even if you give it your best shot. I remember the announcer on either "Thank Your Lucky Stars" or "Ready Steady Go" saying, "and our next guest, all the way from America, is Bobby Jameson singing his hit record "All I Want Is My Baby." As the music started I was directed by someone to move out on the floor into camera range and walk slowly through a visual set while lip syncing the song.

Good Luck! I had no idea which way he wanted me to go. I kept watching the guy directing me and forgetting the words of the song. I still didn't have the lyrics down pat, so I didn't remember where to come in with the vocal. I just kept screwing it up and knew it as it was happening.

I had never been in that position before. I always knew where the song was, but not this time. This wasn't my song and it wasn't me. It was forced, and I could hear it as I tried desperately to find my place. I sleep walked my way through the rest of the song feeling ashamed deep down inside. I don't recall anything after that. Not leaving or speaking to anyone.

(part 18) WHY I TELL MY STORY AT ALL

Had it not been for the internet, I would have remained little more than a blip in the history of rock n roll. But because the internet allows every conceivable fact and thought to be captured, saved, and reborn on the web, I was swept out of my corner and reissued into the current world.

No one has ever gotten the story straight, so I have taken it upon myself to carefully and methodically go through specific highlights from my past and put them in order. I grew weary of reading the bullshit passed off as fact by so called music history experts.

From what I can tell most of these people print rumor as fact, because that is easier than getting the facts. I have contacted numerous sources who publish this crap, and made myself available to them, but they have chosen to ignore me. When written material can, but will not be changed, because someone can't or won't admit they're wrong, I would say that same material, and those who write and publish it, are just plain bogus.

If someone gains a reputation for historical content regarding music business history, and then is found to be completely inaccurate, I would have to say that their reputation is as false as the facts they have written. I don't particularly care if you like what I am saying, because I am not saying it to get you to like me. I am telling my story because it is my story. I have waited 43 years to set the record straight and if some toes get stepped on, then so be it.

My whole life was altered repeatedly by the events that I am relaying here. As a reader, you have the choice to decide whether you believe what I say or not. I have no control over the opinions of others. What I have here is an opportunity to give you my version of the facts as I remember them and frankly relive them, as I tell my story. I am by no means a special case regarding the misrepresentations by these so called historians. I am just one of many whom I hope will likewise take time to set the records straight.

Bobby Jameson (aka) Chris Lucey Jan 5, 2008

(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.