(part 52) "MY MUSIC IS WHERE I'VE BEEN" Jameson '67

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Steve Clark was one of the funniest guys I ever met. He was also an alcoholic and a gambler. The fact that he had some success with a number of hit records allowed him to pursue his habits openly. No one really questions you when you're doing well.

When Steve agreed to pay me a $100 a week, it was for song writing. I became a Since Music writer and that's what I got a weekly sum of money for. Since Music was the name of Steve's publishing company at the time, and I wrote a lot of songs for him. All of what's on "Color Him In" is listed with BMI as published by Since Music, which is now defunct, and Steve Clark is dead.

I learned to drink on a daily basis with Steve, I mean really drink. He would drink at lunch in a place called "The Room At The Top" which was on the very top of the tower on Vine and Sunset, where Our Productions and Since Music had their offices. I hung out a lot with Steve so if he drank I drank. It wasn't like he set out to make me an alcoholic, he just drank a lot and so I drank with him. At the end of the day it was back up to "The Room At The Top" for cocktails and snacks. We did this every day, 5 days a week, for a couple of years.

As you can see I had two distinctly different relationships going with two entirely different kinds of people. Curt on the one hand, who was gentle and creative, and Steve on the other who was a heavy weight drinker and all business. This paradox of personalities placed me directly in the middle of a strange tug of war that, at times, caused me great confusion. I was still only 20 years old when I entered into the world of Curt Boettcher and Steve Clark and was about to learn a whole lot of stuff about a whole lot of things.

One of the high points of my life was coming in contact with certain musicians that played on "Color Him In." Jerry Scheff, who is one of the world's great bass players, was on "Color Him In" and a number of other recordings I made. He was one of the very best human beings I ever met in my life and that never changed.

Ben Benay, a world class guitar player for all time, was another who did all the tracks on the album. I have worked on more records with Ben Benay over the years than any other musician I have ever known. Mike Henderson played sax and did some keyboard work on a lot of the album. Toxi French, drums. Jim troxell, drums. Mike Deasy, guitar. Butch Parker, piano and an assortment of instruments. Jim Bell, oboe, horns, and vocals. Michele O'Malley, vocals. Lee Mallory, guitar and vocals, and of course Curt who arranged everything, and played a slew of instruments. He put together all the background harmonies and basically ran the show.

The choice of songs used on the album was for the most part up to me and Curt, but there was input from Steve and others if they had any strong views on songs and/or arrangements. In a lot of ways it was pretty democratic when you get right down to it. These people all had a say if they felt strongly about something involving the making of this record.

For example, "I Love You More Than You Know" was a good doo wop song. Everybody liked it and liked playing on it so it ended up on the album. "Candy Colored Dragon" is a lot like Curt, like a child who was visiting dreamland. Curt was "Peter Pan."

If you listen to the cut "Right By My Side" you can hear the track playing backwards in part of the song. This was something Curt and I borrowed from The Beatles and used on that track.

"The New Age" is a song I fought to put on the album against everybody's advice, and if you listen to my vocal you will notice that I have copied Arthur Lee's vocal style from Love's recording of "Little Red Book." That was the only time I borrowed from Love and I am proud of it. This is also the only song on "Color Him In" that I arranged and produced.

"Do You Believe In Yesterday" is another one of the LSD inspired tunes that arose out of Universal questions of life and death. "Do you believe in yesterday and everything she gave you? Do you believe that anything can ever really save you from dying?" Again, this album was inspired, rightly or wrongly, by the questions raised by the era of the 60's.

Everything was being questioned all of the time. The war in Vietnam. The social structure of the entire country, and for that matter, the whole world. Sex was accepted by the young as a good thing, as opposed to going to Vietnam and killing people or getting killed.

I have read on the internet where people have made fun of what was printed on the back cover of "Color Him In." They said how foolish it sounded to say that "My music is where I have been, what I have seen, how I feel, and who I am." But I'll tell you that was the truth for me. It was where I'd been, what I'd seen, how I felt, and who I was in 1966-67.

(part 51) CURT BOETTCHER AND BOBBY JAMESON: THE MAKING OF COLOR HIM IN

Telling the story about the making of "Color Him In" is different than the previous stories. This album was more specific in it's intention than the earlier recordings I made with the exception of "Vietnam/Metropolitan Man." Work started on the project in 1966 just prior to the "Summer Of Love" time period in 1967 which has been well documented as a central time frame and theme of the 60's.

"Color Him In" was a psychedelic work of the times. Much of what is on the record was inspired by LSD, Vietnam, and the Peace Movement. The overall context was freedom from the establishment or so we thought. It was basically a concept album, but most of the music's conceptual arrangements were Curt's. Songs I wrote like "See Dawn" dealt with duality. "What goes up must come down." The lyric "See dawn, see dawn the setting sun" attempts to look at things from opposite ends of a single spectrum simultaneously.

These pairs of opposites run throughout the work. Curt Boettcher was delighted by this kind of lyric. My words and melodies, according to Curt at the time, were like a playground for his arrangements. He would take the demos I made of me and a guitar, and arrange vocal harmonies and instrumentation around them. He would come up with entire arrangements based on a specific lick or chord progression of mine.

In "Jamie," which has a piano chord progression I used in writing the song, Curt built that progression into the dominant theme or sound for the song. He didn't just have some chords to follow, he made the progression stand out as the specific feature of the entire recording itself. If you listen to "Jamie" you will get the point.


"Jamie" from "Color Him In"

The album was recorded in it's entirety at CBS Studios on Sunset Blvd., in Hollywood. These were very up to date studios in the 60's when we worked there, but were run or engineered exclusively by Union members at the time. This was very problematic back then, because Curt was not even allowed to touch the equipment according to Union rules. Not only was this a nightmare for Curt Boettcher, but for others as well such as Brian Wilson. These guys, Curt and Brian, were better equipped to do the work than the Engineers who were running the equipment, but the rule was only the Union Engineers could run things. What you had, was two young genius's telling these old farts what to do and how to do it. It was a problem, but it also helped change things in the long run.

As far as the cover art for "Color Him In" went, it was Steve Clark's idea. The original picture was taken by Dan White in Hollywood in 1966. Steve thought up the idea about Color Him In, like a kid's coloring book, one evening when we were all drinking. The cover itself has always stood out and in some ways is more memorable than the music itself. I've had people say they didn't really like the record but they loved the cover.

Another problem we encountered in making Color Him In was that Curt Boettcher was trying to finish up an album with The Association at the same time. The Association wanted to produce themselves and argued with Boettcher all the time about who had the final say. So as you can imagine we were never just concentrating on one thing. We were always arranging time to suit numerous demands made by several different entities. This tended to make Curt crazy and unable to do what he wanted on some of our work.

Staying for a moment with problems involved in the making of this record, we found ourselves constantly up against the money clock. We always had a limited amount of time to do everything. Steve would tell us, "OK you've got 3 hours of studio time on Thursday to get something started or finished." No one ever really knew when these times were going to be available until the last minute. Because of this we were always under stress when most of the work was done. Musicians, like Jerry Scheff, would go from a Tommy Roe session to a "Color Him In" session back to back... Got pretty damn confusing.

Curt was surrounded by people who all became friends of mine, like Michele O'Malley, Jim Bell, and Lee Mallory. Fans of Curt Boettcher will readily know these names from other Boettcher works like The Ballroom and The Millenium. At one point I moved into a house with all of these people and we tried living together but it proved too difficult in the long run. Too many dominant personalities in one place. Working together was one thing, living together was another.

Curt and I were very close friends while we worked on "Color Him In." We were never anymore or less than friends. Those of you who are familiar with Curt's personal life can put your questions away. Curt and I were good friends. We liked working together and we inspired each other. We created a record in the 60's called "Color Him In." I have much more to say about the making of this record and the people who made it possible, but for now I have set up a pretty fair groundwork for the continuation of that story.

Before I go on with the making of "Color Him In" I want to tie up some loose ends regarding the other things that were occurring at the same time, like "The Monkees" audition. I had to meet with Phil Turetsky and tell him of my decision to go with Steve Clark and Curt Boettcher rather than become a "Monkee." Phil, who was extremely easy going as I have already stated, took it all in stride and said he figured that would be my decision. He was not surprised.

He told me that either choice would have been the right one. He said it was important that I felt comfortable with my choice rather than do what others thought I should do and be miserable. I thanked Phil for his help at getting me pointed in the right direction, and told him that without it I would have just continued doing the same thing over and over without ever getting anywhere. He assured me it had been his pleasure and hinted that he wanted to keep being involved with me if that was OK. He said he'd make sure that Columbia was notified about my decision to turn down "The Monkees" television show.


"See Dawn" from "Color Him In"

(part 50) STEVE CLARK, CURT BOETTCHER, AND BOBBY JAMESON

In 1966 I was at a crossroads in my life. The war in Vietnam was raging out of control and was taking it's toll on America. There was a growing split between the anti-war forces and pro-war forces, and both sides were taking to the streets. Many of the arguments for war today were heard in the 60's. They are as wrong now as they were back then. There's one reason to leave and a thousand reasons to stay. It takes a lot of guts to leave but it is the only way to allow what is going to happen to happen and then heal.

In the 60's it was the same question. The streets of West Hollywood and Hollywood saw their share of huge violent street demonstrations against the Vietnam War. I don't think I missed any of them in all the time they were happening. I knew in my heart that I had been spared going because I'd been busted for drugs, but I couldn't just forget about Vietnam simply because I didn't have to go.

Sometimes on the "Strip" guys who were just out of boot camp would show up to beat up on "hippies" who they regarded as "pinko commie fags" and cowards. We actually had a gang who were always ready to go at it with these jerks when that happened so there was a lot of street fighting in the middle to late 60's over the war.

At the intersection of Crescent Heights Blvd. and Sunset Blvd. there was an island in the middle of the street. This is where "Pandora's Box" was located. Across the street was the "5th Estate" another well known 60's coffee house and "hippie" hangout. We fought with 1,000 or more L.A. cops and sheriff's officers one night over the war, and a newly imposed curfew and loitering law. It would make sense to keep this in mind when thinking back to all that the 60's had to offer.

There were real people who had real ideas about important things that swept this country into turmoil back then. It was by no means just a drugged out musical dreamworld. The drugs and music were always present but so were a lot of other ideas that represented the dynamics of the time.

I showed up at the Vine Tower to meet Steve Clark and Curt Boettcher at the arranged time and was unsure of what to expect. I had been told by Phil Turetsky, as I said, that Steve was an easy guy to get along with and that turned out to be the truth. He may have been a little too easy to get along with. None the less, I was welcomed into Steve Clark's world of Our Productions as a long lost child and felt immediately at home in those surroundings.

I told him about the "Monkees" TV thing and said I was up for a part in it and had to make a decision one way or another. He asked what was holding me back and I told him I was somewhat reluctant to end up a TV "bubble gummer" no matter how good it sounded. Steve was vaguely aware of my past and asked about the Billboard ads and Tony Alamo. He was also interested in the fact that I'd recorded with Mick Jagger in London.

We talked about my goals in the music business for awhile. Steve asked if I wanted to meet Curt Boettcher who was waiting in another office. "Yeah!" I said. While Steve went to get him I tried to anticipate what he would be like. When Curt showed up at the door saying, "Hi!" I knew he was nothing like I'd envisioned. He was not an arrogant record guy at all. He was small and fragile looking, like "Peter Pan" and had one of the most friendly interested smiles I had ever encountered.

He introduced himself to me and I returned the introduction as we shook hands. His voice was almost like a child but filled with interest and respect. He spoke to me as if he were thrilled to be there and appeared to relish every moment of the time we spent together that day. He asked about my music and I told him the best way for me to explain it was to play it for him which he was eager for me to do.

We sat in that office for an hour or more and I played song after song for him that I'd written in the past year or so. There was nothing I played him that he didn't like. From "Jamie" to "See Dawn" and "Candy Colored Dragon," etc., he was just pleased about what he heard coming out of my mouth. "We have to work together. I can already hear the arrangements for everything you're playing," he said.

He was like some frantic genius in full animation in front of me. His excitement was catching and I began to get excited right along with him. I seemed to know at that moment that Curt and I were destined to work with each other from that time on. Our Productions would be my new home and Curt and Steve Clark would be my new best friends. When Steve finally came back to join us he could see how well Curt and I were hitting it off. "I guess every things OK?" he said. "Every things wonderful," said Curt, "better than wonderful!"

There were a lot of details to work out before our new arrangement became a reality. I told Steve that I hadn't made a penny up until then and that I was bound and determined to get paid something before I said OK to any more record deals. He asked what I was talking about money-wise, and I told him I wanted a $100 a week for a minimum of a year. This may sound like a very small sum now, but from where I was coming from $100 a week for me was a fortune. Steve looked at me and smiled a big "Dennis The Menace" smile. That's what Steve Clark looked like. A huge "Dennis The Menace." He said, "I don't think that's a problem."

(part 49) THE SECOND MONKEE, LONG HAIR, AND THE 60'S

Each one of these posts, and the content, is written with a purpose. I do not talk about being busted, my drug use, or who was with me just for the hell of it. Each part played a critical role in what actually transpired in the scheme of things over time. For example. If I had not been busted for drugs I surely would have gone to Vietnam. The fact that Gail Sloatman, Franks eventual wife, was with me will again play a specific role in how things turned out.

I went back to Columbia to participate in the planning of the "Monkees" TV show. David Jones and I went with someone from Columbia to The Ashgrove, a folk club in Hollywood in the 60's. There was always new talent there so we went to scout out other potential "Monkee" candidates.

I was beginning to notice that what they expected of me was to be that shiny faced "pop star" personality that I had learned to dread in England. I had started growing a beard and my hair was getting longer and there were hints that they wanted me cleaned up.

It sounds like a small thing, but at the time I was extremely reluctant to once again be guided toward a personality that was not really my own. A lot of things had happened to me in the past couple of years and had changed me. I was not so trusting and naive as I had once been. For me it was a form of protection to decide for myself who I was rather than have that critical point determined by others.

This fact began to push and pull me in two different directions at the same time. I knew I would benefit in a lot of ways if I became one of the "Monkees" but I also felt that being true to myself at that point was of equal importance, at least to me if not to anybody else.

I spoke to Phil Turetsky about it because he had gotten me the original audition for "The Monkees." He didn't make a big deal about it, but in fact said he had someone else he wanted me to meet who was looking for a new artist who wrote and recorded their own songs. Phil said they wanted to make an album with that artist.

His name was Steve Clark and he had a production company called Our Productions. They'd had a hit with "The Association" and the song "And Then Along Comes Mary" which I was familiar with. He told me Steve had a genius kid he was working with named Curt Boettcher and thought I might get along with him real well.

A time was set up for me to meet with Clark at his office in the tower at Sunset Blvd. and Vine St. in Hollywood. I had a lot of songs at that point, because like I said, I had done a lot of writing at Zappa's house and the other house where the drug bust occurred.

Phil told me that Steve Clark would be as easy to get along with as anyone I'd ever met. This was a good thing, because I was having trouble with the endless personalities and egos of record executives and wanna be producers. I was leery at that point about who I met and how I'd react to them. I was, needless to say, somewhat edgier than I had been earlier.

I think at that point in my life I had a lot of frustration, anger, and disappointment bottled up inside me and was kind of a walking time bomb in the making. I used drugs and alcohol to steer myself in a particular direction. Drugs and alcohol were working for me at that point and had become a prominent part of my new personality.

I have to remind myself, and possibly the reader, that this was the 60's. Everything was alive and electric. Things moved at a ridiculously fast pace. For a growing number of people, drugs were not negative. They were part of the mind alteration and new philosophy of social understanding. Drugs were part of the mind expansion and new sense of freedom that was sweeping across America and the world, and I was determined, in my mind, to be at the front of the battle lines.

These brave words nearly killed me in the end, but at the time they were deeply and sincerely felt by myself and an ever growing number of others world wide. I still believe that the 60's did more to change the world than anything I have ever seen or heard about. I'm sure there are those who would agree, but believe that most of those changes were negative.

Even though I was as much a victim as a survivor of those times, I believe I learned some of my most important lessons from those years. Even now, I am looking for the kind of openness and peace that many pursued in earnest back then. The world would be a far better place than it has become with a whole lot more peace and love than exists today.

Hippie girls, for me, were the loviest creatures I ever met. Every now and then I see someone who looks like that picture in my mind and I am instantly returned to the Sunset Strip, Griffith Park, and the 60's.

(part 48) WELL I DON'T GIVE A DAMN, NEXT STOP IS VIETNAM

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The war in Vietnam was really starting to get out of control in 1966 and I was scheduled to be drafted into the army at any moment. There I was trying to get my life to make sense while worrying about getting sent to Vietnam. The "Monkees" thing was still on and I was trying to get over being in my first major drug bust which was as fresh as wet paint in my mind.

I had to sit in jail for 3 days thinking my life was as good as over, when out of nowhere I was just kicked loose without explanation. To this day I'm not sure what happened, but I figure the police had done something wrong, like not getting a search warrant, or violating some other provision of law.

LSD had been legal, but somewhere along the line in 65 they had written new legislation and I guess it kicked in sometime in 1966. I learned to pay far more attention to things like that after my arrest. Everybody heard about it, but because I was out on the street and it was the 60's, it didn't cause that much trouble. What I'm saying is that I was not avoided by anybody or blacklisted because of it. It didn't effect my position for example as a possible "Monkee".

My draft date came and I was ordered to show up at the draft board to be inducted into the military. I had no choice and I hadn't come up with any way to get out of it, so I just went there on the date specified. I stood out like a sore thumb and attracted negative attention from the wrong people as soon as I walked through the door.

"Well who the hell are you bright eyes, one of the Goddamn Beatles?" This was a question hurled at me, amongst others, as soon as I arrived. I tried to lose myself in the crowd, which was large, and not get noticed so much. I looked around at all these young guys of every color and description and it was not a pretty picture. Each one seemed to be terrified on the inside but trying hard to put the brave face on the outside.

I knew I was scared. Hell I didn't want to go to Vietnam, period. I thought I'd get shot or shoot someone on our side for ordering me around. I was as piss poor at following directions as anyone you've ever met. We were told to remove our clothes down to our underwear, and then got put through a bunch of arbitrary jumping-jacks for what purpose I don't know, maybe just humiliation.

It was real similar to what they'd done when I was arrested and booked for drugs. There didn't seem to be a lot of difference. I stood in line while some drill instructor screamed at us. I tried desperately to think up some way to get my ass out of this situation. I heard the guy who was doing all the yelling say, "Has anyone here been arrested in the last 6 months for narcotics?" I looked around the room and up and down the lines of some 300 or so guys and didn't see a single hand go up.

The whole room was silent and everybody else was doing the same thing I was. Looking around to see if anyone was stupid enough to raise their hand. "Me," I said, "I was arrested for drugs." All eyes turned toward me. "You what?" the D. I. screamed, "What the fuck makes you stupid enough to raise your Goddamned hand and admit to a chicken shit thing like that you asshole?"

I was scared but said, "You asked if anyone had been arrested and I had, so I told you." The Drill Instructor looked at me in utter disbelief. The whole room was completely silent. "Why you cowardly little shit. Do you see this yellow line on the floor asshole?" he screamed, "Yes Sir I do," I said, "Well I want you to follow that yellow line where ever it goes until you can't go any further, do you understand me?" he yelled, "Yes Sir," I said, "Well then move your ass and get out of my sight you goddamned little coward."

I pulled on my pants and hauled ass along the route of the yellow line. It went on for a long way and it was a big building in the crappy part of L.A. I went down halls and up a flight of stairs and down some more halls until it stopped outside the door of an office. I figured I was supposed to knock on the door so I did.

A voice yelled from inside for me to enter. I opened the door slowly and looked in. It was a tiny dark office with a desk and chair and that's about it. Behind the desk was another guy in uniform who ordered me inside. He had a similar personality to the guy who'd sent me there.

This schmuck wanted every detail about my arrest I could give him and was just plain pissed off at me. I filled him in on the details of my arrest and then he basically kicked my ass out and said I'd be notified by mail of the decision regarding my military status. That was it! I left the building and I was the only one who did as far as I know. Every one of those other guys was still there when I left. I have always wondered about it. Why I was out and they were in? I didn't know whether to be grateful or feel guilty.

Months later I received a letter from the government telling me that I had been reclassified as 1-Y. I didn't know what that meant so I found someone who did. I asked them what 1-Y meant and they said, "It's a National Security deferment." "Well what the fuck does that mean?" I asked, "It means if the Russians attack Long Beach the army will take you, otherwise you're out." "You mean I don't have to go to Vietnam?" I asked. "Right! You don't have to go to Vietnam."

(part 47) ZAPPA, GAIL, AND BOBBY JAMESON

I started going up to Zappa's house in Laurel Canyon and writing songs on his living room floor after Frank and me made a couple of records together. Most of what I wrote there was a lot of stuff used in the making of Color Him In, though at the time I had no idea that would be the case. I just liked hanging around with Frank because all either of us did was work all the time.

We didn't talk a lot, because we were busy doing stuff and were both comfortable with that arrangement. But on one particular day Frank did want to talk and it was about my girlfriend Gail. Gail use to go with me to Frank's and just hang out while we were working on music or Frank's film. I knew she and Frank got along well and that was fine with me. That afternoon when he asked if he could talk to me about something it was different than all the other times Frank and I had been together.

I could tell it was important to him so I really gave it my full attention. Like I said, it was about Gail. I could see he was having a tough time getting to the point and I realized it was because he didn't feel too comfortable bringing up the subject. "I know Gail's your girlfriend," he said, "but I wanted to know how serious you were about her?" "I don't know Frank," I answered, "I just kind a hang around with her you know. I don't think I'm too serious about her other than we just like to hang out, why?"

"Well," said Frank, "I really like her and I don't want to cause you any problems, so I thought I better ask you about it and..." "Hey man, no problem," I said, "If that's all it is don't worry about it. You can do whatever you want. I'm not gonna be bothered by it." Frank stared at me for a second or two and then said,"Really?" "Really man," I said, "it's OK. If you like her and she likes you then whatever you guys decide to do is fine with me." He seemed immediately relieved and that was all that was ever said about it.

Gail was living with me up at the house off Woodrow Wilson Drive, where all the LSD was being sold. I don't think I ever remember Gail getting loaded much. She just happened to be around people like me who did. I had a bedroom at the house, with a bathroom attached that was directly across the hall from the front door. On one particular night Gail was in the bedroom and I had gone into the bathroom to write.

I used to sit up on the sink. It was big, and I'd lean against the wrap around mirrors in there and write lyrics. On this one night I dropped some acid and was waiting for it to kick in. While I was noticing the first waves of getting loaded, I heard this loud pounding on the front door about 12 feet from where I was sitting. The next thing I heard was a huge crash coming from the hall outside the bathroom where I was starting to hallucinate.

I jumped off the sink and went through the door to the bedroom where Gail was now standing at attention, it appeared, and staring wide eyed at something. The look on her face was fear, but I didn't know about what. I was hallucinating so much at that point I couldn't figure out what was going on. I heard something like yelling, but I couldn't make out what it was or where it was coming from. I just kept moving around the room trying to put the pieces together when all of a sudden I heard clearly, "Stop moving or I'm going to kill you!"

I looked in the direction of the sound and into the barrel of a 12 guage police riot gun which was aimed at my face. The guy with the shotgun was shaking and yelling for me to quit moving. If you can imagine, try to think what a 12 guage shotgun barrel looks like when you're hallucinating on LSD. All at once reality slammed back into my consciousness. We were in the middle of a drug bust and this guy was an undercover plain clothes narc! Fuck! What a trip!

I was hallucinating like a son-of-a-bitch and was in the middle of a drug bust with a guy about to shoot me. Finally I stopped moving. I stood deadly still at that point and glanced over at Gail who looked like she was gonna have a heart attack. This was one of the worst nights of my life and I'm sure hers too. It went on for hours while about 14 cops went through everything in that house.

I sat handcuffed on the floor and just tried to keep remembering what was happening and that I was on a drug. I kept saying to myself over and over again, "Don't lose it Bobby, don't freak out or these guy's are gonna kill you. Keep it together man, keep it together." I think that was the last time I saw Gail until the 70's when I ran into her and Frank at a recording studio. She was then Gail Zappa, and wanted nothing to do with me.