1965 Bus Stop, Bus Go...

 My sister and would walk from our apartment at 89 Avenue de Wagram to the corner of l'Avenue des Ternes and la Rue Bayern, where the bus would pick us up to take us to the American School of Paris in Louveciennes.   At the time, there was a big Au Printemps department store on the corner.  I remember that there was a tower on the building. (Au Printemps was eventually bought out by FNAC)

When I think back, it always seems to be a gray, cold, and rainy day, maybe in November.  I am standing at the bus stop with my sister, I watch her get on the bus, then I turn around and go into the store.  In the entrance way, there is a place that makes berlingots basque, which is a triangular candy made with hot sugar.  It smells like cotton candy and the air is warm and humid.  I can see my breath.

Then I go inside to the stationery department.  I stay there for at least an hour or so, handling all the cahiers (notebooks), plumes (pens), et crayons (and pencils)*.  After that, I go home, stopping at the boulangerie across the street from our apartment to get something tasty so I can bribe my mother not to tell my dad I skipped school again.

However, when the weather is nice or I am going to meet my boyfriend, Patrice, I walk to les Champs Elysees and just wallow in the joy of being there.  When that is the plan, I meet my sister in the afternoon at the bus stop and we walk home together down la Rue de Poncelet.  She gives me all the pertinent information like what they served for lunch, etc., so that I will pass any cross examination that might be thrown at me.

It worked for a long time, that is until my mother saw me "sauntering" (her word) down les Champs Elysees with Patrice one day.  It just so happened she was sitting at one of the cafes.

She took it well.  My father, on the other hand, did not.

___________________
* I have always been drawn to paper and notebooks, maybe because of that innate need to express myself, whether by writing or by drawing, neither of which I can do.  It's one of the great frustrations of my life - how do I express myself, let everything that's inside come out?

1966 The Jimi Hendrix Experience

The Jimi Hendrix Experience made their live debut in the middle of October 1966 with four dates in France.

Upon his arrival in England, the guitarist’s manager, former Animals bassist Chas Chandler, introduced Hendrix to drummer Mitch Mitchell and bassist Noel Redding, the duo that would become the Experience. After a week of rehearsals, Chandler put the band on the road supporting the French singer Johnny Hallyday.

The opening date was at the Novelty in Evreux, France on Oct. 13, 1966, and the trek wound up five days later at the Olympia Theater in Paris. Also on the bill were Long Chris, the Blackbirds and, for the final date, the Brian Auger Trinity. Less than a week later, the Experience would make their debut in the U.K. 

Jimi Hendrix and Johnny Hallyday

The concert I saw in Paris on October 18, 1966, when The Jimi Hendrix Experience opened for Johnny Halliday, was their first performance ever recorded!  The band had only been together for about two weeks.

My friend, Roland, was a photographer for one of the Paris newspapers, and he invited me to go with him on his interview with this crazy new artists who played the guitar with his teeth and set it on fire.  Of course, I was thrilled.

We went to the Olympia and went backstage.  Roland and I went to a dressing room where a black man was sitting on a stool playing a guitar.  He looked up and said hello very quietly, then shook Roland's hand and shook mine.  I told him I spoke English if needed it, but Roland spoke pretty good English.  When he asked Jimi questions, I could barely hear his answers, and the whole time he was just strumming his guitar.  After a couple of minutes, someone told him he needed to get on stage, so Roland said they could finish after the show.

The curtain went up and there was a drummer and a bass player on stage, but no one at the mike.  Then the speaker announced "Ladies & gentleman"  and there was a terrific guitar noise, "from Seattle Washington" and there was another roar from the guitar that lasted a while, "the Jimi Hendrix Experience!" then Jimi came out, with his left hand in the air, playing the chords with his right hand.  It was incredible.  

We watched Jimi perform from the side of the stage.  The audience was spellbound and I was in shock.  The guitar alone was like nothing I had ever heard!  He played it with his teeth, yes, and he set it on fire.  

His set only lasted 15 minutes (though it seemed much longer) and he sang three songs ("Killing Floor", "Hey Joe", and "Wild Thing").  When he was through, there was dead silence for a moment then the entire audience went berserk!  Needless to say, we weren't able to go backstage again.  I wish I remembered more about the concert, but it was sensory overload.  
He wasn't very successful in the US and like many artists, found better luck in Europe.  But it wasn't long before he was a sensation there, especially after Woodstock.

Unfortunately, not so many years later, David and I had flown to Paris for a weekend and were at the hotel talking to some of the Rolling Stones.  Mick said he was heartbroken after Jimi's death, but that he hadn't been able to go to the funeral because there was an arrest warrant for him if he entered the US.

I really want to go visit his grave one day.  It's in Renton.

1966 Beach Boys

The Beach Boys came to Paris to start their European concert tour on October 25, 1966.  My friend Yves and I decided to try to find their hotel.  It didn't take long.  I don't remember now which one it was, probably either the Plaza Athenee or the Ritz.

Carl Wilson, Bruce Johnston, Al Jardine, Dennis Wilson, Mike Love

We stayed around the lobby.  Since I spoke American, it was easy enough to convince the hotel staff that I was connected to them in some way.  My mother taught me a lot.  Finally, a young American male came out of the elevator and I recognized him immediately.  

It was Bruce Johnson.  He was a cousin of the Wilsons and only joined the band on tour so he could play some of the instruments.  I went up to him and said something inane like "Hi Bruce!"  He gave me a big smile and said "You're American?"  When I confirmed that, he said "Great!  Can you come with me?  I'm going to record stores to see if they have our Pet Sounds album".  I grabbed Yves (who was dumbfounded) and said that we would be glad to!  

Arcades des Champs Elyees

He called to a limousine and we piled in.  We went to the Lido Record Store, which was in Les Arcades des Champs Elysées.  I went there all the time, and in fact had drawn a portrait of Brian Jones that hung in their window for a couple of months.  Bruce went to the front and asked if they had any Beach Boys albums.  No one recognized him.  This happened at four or five different record stores around the Champs Elysees.  They had the albums, but no one recognized him.  He was crushed.

Carl Wilson, Al Jardine, Mike Love
Bruce Johnson, Dennis Wilson

When we got back to the hotel, the others (except Brian) were in the lobby.  Bruce introduced Yves and me to Carl, Mike, and Dennis. Of course, Dennis was my favorite.  Bruce told them how handy it was to have me around since none of them spoke French.  They were heading to the concert hall, the Olympia, and invited Yves and me to go along.  We did, of course.  They did a sound check for their concert that night.  Yves was beside himself.  We went to the concert but couldn't get backstage that night, which didn't bother us too much, because Dennis had told us to come back to the hotel the next day.

Mike Love, Al Jardine,
Bruce Johnston, Carl Wilson

Dennis Wilson, Bruce Johnston,
Carl Wilson, Al Jardine, Mike Love

The next morning, we went back to the hotel and as requested, called their room to let them know we were there.  They came down with their suitcases, etc., headed to Germany for their next concert.  I was wearing my favorite red felt coat that had a hood and silver clips down the front.  Dennis decided he liked it and asked if he could try it on.  I took pictures of him wearing it, and a lot of pictures of all the others sitting on their suitcases, etc.  Yves took some of me with all of them, and vice versa.  

Then Dennis asked if I would do him a favor.  The previous year, he had met a German girl who was going to meet him at Orly Airport and go to Germany with them.  Was there any way I could ride with her and then act as an interpreter?  She spoke German and French and I spoke French and English.  I said of course I could.

A little while later, a sporty little car pulled up and out stepped a very pretty and stylish girl with platinum hair.  I can't remember her name, but it was obvious she and Dennis were close.  I explained my mission to her and she was fine with it.  The Beach Boys got into their limo and I got into her car, leaving poor Yves standing on the sidewalk.  

The thing that impressed me most about this girl was that she had a record player in the car, a turntable that slid in and out.  I had never seen such a thing.  She was really nice, and told me how she had met Dennis when they were on tour last year and had been waiting for them to come back to Europe.

When we got to Orly, of course there were tons of fans there.  The girl and I went to the First Class Lounge and found the Beach Boys.  That's the only time I ever saw Brian.  

It was an interesting experience.  Dennis had his arms around this girl and would murmur something to ME.  I would translate it and murmur it to HER, and so on.  Bizarre, but fun.  We all three got a kick out of it, to say nothing of the others.  Then Dennis turned to me and said, "Could you come to Germany with us?"  I was speechless.  Of course I wanted to say YES!  Travel with the Beach Boys?  But I knew there was no way.  I was still living with my parents.  My dad would have had Interpol after me.  It broke my heart to say no.

I stayed at Orly and watched their plane leave.  As with the Moody Blues, a few people asked me who I was.  "No one", I said, "I am no one, je ne suis personne" but they didn't believe me. 

Years later in 1983, when I heard Dennis had died, it was personal.  I remembered how much fun he was, how much he laughed, and how sweet he was.  But I wasn't surprised.

They say I live a fast life. Maybe I just like a fast life. I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world. It won't last forever, either. But the memories will 

... Dennis Wilson

1966 La Loco,The Animals, and The Streak

One night my friend Yves and I were at La Loco, the rock nightclub in Paris.  The band was Eric Burdon and the Animals, who were quite well known by then.

Eric Burdon and The Animals at La Loco 1966

La Loco 1966

La Loco 1966

Cream at La Loco 1966

The Hollies at La Loco in 1966

The Who at La Loco in 1966

As usual, during the performance, Yves and I sat on the dance floor, which was blocks of lighted tiles.  I was sitting on the edge right in front of Chas Chandler's amplifier.  They were rocking pretty hard, and the dance floor, and probably the stage too, was vibrating.

I was wearing my favorite outfit,  a cream-colored pantsuit made of fine wale corduroy, with a longish fitted jacket and slightly bell bottom pants.  I loved it.  As were were sitting there enjoying the show, suddenly I felt a stunning hit to my head, on the front, just behind my hairline, and just to the right of my part which was in the middle.  The next thing I knew, I was lying on the dance floor, Yves looking down at me, and the owner of the club pressing a napkin to my head.  The band had stopped.  

When I was finally aware of what was going on, the owner took me upstairs to his office suite and made sure I was all right.  He took me to his bathroom and helped me wash all the blood off my face.  There was blood all over my turtleneck and a few drops on the lapel of my jacket.  There was quite a bit on the pants.  I was traumatized by the blood.  When he got the bleeding pretty much controlled, he told me there was a fairly deep cut in my scalp.  He asked if I wanted him to take me to the hospital and I said absolutely not.  I had noticed some blood on Yves so I asked how he was.  Apparently, he just got a glancing blow on the shoulder - the blood was mine!

The owner made me drink some kind of alcohol and told me to lie down on his couch and he would send Yves up, which he did.   

Yves told me that Chas' amp had fallen over right onto my head.  The band immediately stopped playing and after they hauled me upstairs, they moved the equipment and started again (after they cleaned the blood off the lighted floor tiles of course).

We stayed upstairs for about a hour, then went back downstairs.  The Animals were done by then, and we sat at a table and took it easy.  When the club closed, the owner got me a cab and paid for it.  When I got home around 2:30 am, everyone was asleep of course.  I probably spent an hour in the bathroom trying to see my injury but I really couldn't so i went to bed. 

The next morning, I had my sister look at it and she thought it was bad.  My mother said I needed stitches and that I should have let the owner take me to the hospital.  My dad just shook his head.   I had a headache for a few days, but otherwise, I was fine.

My corduroy pants were ruined, but we were able to save the jacket.  In fact, David used to wear it on stage when he played with his band.

One added benefit was that I had free admission to La Loco for life!

About a year or so after this happened, I noticed something strange with my hair; in the area of the scar it was growing in white!  I loved it.  It was a permanent reminder of that night.  Ever since then, I have had a white streak in that spot.  I started parting my hair there, because it made a nice effect.  Now,even though my hair has a considerable amount of gray, I can still see my white streak.

In an odd twist of fate, Eric Burdon played at the one and only music festival held here in 2010.  I was excited, because I wanted to ask him if he remember that episode at La Loco.  The concert was good, and after he came offstage, I couldn't wait to go backstage and meet him.  My friend Jody and I stood in line to get into the tent they had set up, and we met one of the other bands who had played, Wishbone Ash.  They were very nice.  But then everyone was told that Mr. Burdon would not be giving autographs or talking to fans.  I asked for a special visit because I wanted to see if he remember something that had happened close to 45 years prior, but they weren't having it.  I was horribly crushed.

Eric Burdon 2010

Wishbone Ash 2010

 

1966 La Loco et le Metro

La Loco 1966

Every Saturday night, my 'gang' and I would go to a club called La Locomotive (knows as La Loco).  It was in the basement of the famous Moulin Rouge.  

Rock bands from England would come over and do shows there every week. There was a black and white checkerboard dance floor that was lit from underneath.  I didn't dance, I just sat with my friends and watched the bands and the dancers.  It was an incredible place.  

La Loco 1966

The Hollies at La Loco 1966

The Who at La Loco 1966

Cream at La Loco 1966

Some of the bands we saw were The Who; The Hollies; Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick, & Tich; Cream The Animals; probably a lot I have forgotten, and a lot of French bands and singers.  DD,D,B,M,&T were there so often that we called each other by name.  They had a hit called "Bend It" at the time.

Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick, & Tich

By the time they closed at 2:00 am, the Metro had stopped running for the night and didn't start again until 5:00 am.  


My friends and I (or usually Yves and I) would just wander the streets until it was time for the Metro to open.  Sometimes we would find a quiet doorstep and just sit and talk.  If the weather was bad, they let us stay in the lobby of Le Moulin Rouge.  Then at 5:00 am, I would get on my Metro and Yves and whomever else was with us would get on theirs and we would all go home.  I never felt at all afraid riding the Metro at 5 am.  It seems crazy now. 

One night in particular I remember Alain, Yves, and I were walking down a cobblestoned street after La Loco closed.  It had been raining and the cobblestones were shining from the water.  Somewhere, "Ruby Tuesday" was playing on a radio and I remember walking with my two friends, swinging our arms as we held hands, and thinking how perfectly happy I was.  The lyric "Goodbye Ruby Tuesday, who could hang a name on you, when you change with every new day, still I'm going to miss  you."  And it suddenly occurred to me that was Paris.  She changed all the time, and yet, she was so much a part of me.  I can honestly say that 50 years later, that is still true.  She always will be.  

Goodbye Ruby Tuesday

Who could hang a name on you?

When you change with every new day

Still I'm gonna miss you

There's no time to lose", I heard her say

Catch your dreams before they slip away 

1965 My Parisian Gang

My gang consisted of:

• Francois Lloyd, my first boyfriend (Well, there was Reynaldo but that's a different story).  Francois always said his father was some famous Frenchman who abandoned his mother before he was born.  I seriously always doubted that.  He was an odd duck.  He was cute except for bad skin.  He had great chestnut colored hair that he wore like Ronnie Bird (my crush).  Francois and I would go up to the maid's room on the top floor of our apartment building and spend hours on the bed. We never really did anything, but the desire was there.  I always had a special place in my heart for him because he seemed like a tragic figure.
• Yves.  He was my best buddy.  He was the one would go anywhere and do anything.  I don't know anything about his family life, never did.  I don't know where he lived or what his last name was.  And yet, we were best friends for 3 years.  He was the one I took with me on my rock and roll adventures.  We were really close.  It was him who was spattered with my blood at La Locomotive.  Whenever he would come to the apartment, if Daddy was there, Yves would run down the hall to my room like a scared rabbit.  Daddy got a terrific kick out of that.
• Alain Lesage.  Diddy and I met Alain at a Moody Blues concert at L'Olympia.  He was sitting in the row in front of us.  (Read my post about Ostrobogulous).  I went to Alain's dad's apartment in Orly many times, mostly to see Claude, his older brother.  Alain was a little more responsible than Yves and sometimes refused to come with us if he thought we would get in trouble.
• Claude Lesage.  He wasn't really part of the gang.  He was usually busy working or playing with  his band, David et les Prophetes.  I met him the same night I met Alain at the concert, though at the time I thought he was someone important.  It was only after I had started hanging out with Alain and Yves that I met Claude again.  Of course, in 1969 I married him.  He was David.
• Sometimes my sister Lydia was part of the gang, but she was 5 years younger.  Claude and I were about the same age, and Yves, Alain, and Francois were a couple of years younger than me.

About Reynaldo...  He was a waiter at L'Hotel Continentale where we stayed for 6 weeks until we moved into our apartment.  He was Italian and very good looking.  We would call the kitchen and order meat for our dog, Benjamin, who we got about 2 weeks after we moved to paris. Reynaldo was usually the one who brought it up.  We used to talk a lot.  After we left the hotel and moved to our apartment, he took me out on a date once.  It was fun.  But we just went out on one date.  I don't know why.

1957 Les Escargots

When my dad had to go to Paris for whatever reason, we often went with him.  One night, he decided to take us to Maxim's, the most expensive and most famous restaurant in Paris, and maybe the world.

It was June 26, my mother's birthday.  He and I hatched a plan that I would order escargots (snails) and I would eat them.  He basically trained me on how to do it, never to chew them, just to suck the garlic and butter out and then swallow them.  I was pretty scared, I was afraid I would throw up all over the beautiful white linen tablecloth and get us kicked out. 

When I told the waiter I wanted "les escargots s'il vous plait" the expression my mother's face was priceless.  But then they arrived and I wanted to chicken out.  One look from my dad though, and I knew I couldn't.  So I took a deep breath and in went the first one.  It wasn't so bad with the garlic and all, but when I had to swallow it, that was hard.  But I did it!  I don't know how many there were, probably at least one thousand, but I did it, I ate all of them!

My dad was so proud of me.

1966 Witness

My dad worked outside Paris somewhere (I can't remember where now).  His drive home was fairly long, but usually uneventful.  One night, though, when he came in he was visibly upset, and he wasn't someone who showed emotion much.  Apparently, while he was on the highway and everyone was going at a high rate of speed, there was an accident right in front of him. He saw someone go flying from the car and onto the highway, and then be run over by several other cars.  He pulled over right away, but there were a lot of other people who had done the same, so he came home.  He was very shook up.

A few days later, the police came to interview him, I remember my mother acting as his interpreter because his French was not good.  A couple of months later, he had to testify at a trial.  Three people died in the accident.   It upset him tremendously.

1966 Richard and Tom

While I was living in Paris I often went with my friend Roland, who was a local photographer, to meet stars who came to play at the Olympia.  

Once I went to a hotel where Tom Jones and Little Richard were staying; they were having a concert that night.  Roland and I were the only ones there.  While we were waiting in the courtyard of the hotel, a limo pulled in.

The chauffeur opened the door and Tom Jones stepped out.  Roland took a few pictures of him, and Tom Jones stopped and posed.  

I walked up and asked him if I could have his autograph and he very rudely said "I don't have time for that now".  But he stopped again before he entered the building so Roland could take some more pictures.  

I was crushed.  I wasn't much of a fan of his, "It's Not Unusual" was okay, but not really my style.  My mother loved him though, and I was going to get the autograph for her.



About 30 minutes later, a car pulled up and Little Richard got out.  

I was blown away, he has been one of my idols forever.  

I wasn't even going to ask him for an autograph I was so starstruck. 


Roland took some pictures of him and then Little Richard turned to me and said "Honey, aren't you even going to ask for my autograph?"  His face was one huge smile.  I said "Of course I am" and when I went up to him, he gave me a big hug.  

What I remember most was how strong he was and how beautiful his skin was. I couldn't believe it, I was hugged by Little Richard - Little Richard!!!  I loved him.  And what a contrast.  A legend and an upstart.  There's a lesson in that somewhere. 

1966 Loved to Death

When I was in high school in Paris, for my English class we had to write an essay/short story about the dangers of fame.  My subject was Keith Relf, lead singer and founder of the Yardbirds, one of my favorite bands.  There was something mysterious about Keith. 

The story was written in a stream of consciousness style.  I got an A for content, an A for creativity, and a D for grammar.  My mother was so irate she was going to drive all the way to Louveciennes to confront my teacher.  I talked her into just writing a letter, which I never gave to my teacher.  I loved my story, so I really didn't care what anyone else thought.  Not only that, but I was one of three chosen by the teacher to read our stories out loud to the class.  It was not what the other students expected.  I wish I still had it.  

Keith Relf

"If there is any consolation to be taken from the tragic death of Keith Relf, it is that he died doing what he loves; making music.  The former Yardbirds frontman was playing an ungrounded guitar in his basement when he was electrocuted on May 14, 1976.  He was 33."

That isn't how he died in my story.  He was torn apart by his loving fans.

1966 Hamlet and Omelette

When we lived in Paris, my friend Alain (brother of David, who became husband #1), gave me a couple of baby hamsters.  

I had a red hooded jacket that I absolutely adored, and they would stay in the hood.  They lived in a small cage in my bedroom.  The cage must have been makeshift because they always escaped.  Usually they ran around my bedroom because I kept the door closed.  I didn't want our Cocker Spaniel, Benjamin, to eat them.  

At night, though, I usually left my door open so I could hear my dad's alarm (clock radio tuned in to a German station that played military marching music first thing in the morning).  

One morning, while it was still dark and before the alarm went off, I heard a bloodcurdling scream.  I jumped out of bed and ran into my parents' bedroom, where my mother was sitting up in bed, pointing at her pillow.  There, rignt in the middle of the pillow, were Hamlet and Omelette, sitting up looking at me.  My dad was still asleep, as was my sister in her room.  I grabbed the hamsters and ran back to my room.  Fortunately, I made it before a bellowed with laughter.  After that, the hamsters were threatened with death if they ever escaped again.  

Actually, not long thereafter, we realized that Hamlet was a male and Omelette was a female.  Omelette eventually had babies, and then Hamlet killed her and the babies.  It was a massacre.  He was alone after that, the murderer..

1967 The Troggs

The Troggs
(Chris on left, Reg on right)

I saw The Troggs at the Olympia in Paris and went backstage, as I always did.  

Reg (singer) told me to come to their hotel and hang out.  He said he wasn't allowed to tell me the name of the hotel though.  Then he started singing "California Here I Come" (it was the Hotel California on the Champs Elysees, of course).

 When I went to the hotel, they were hanging out in the lobby with a bunch of people, they were hysterical.  I think I laughed straight for 3 hours.  At one point, one of them (Chris) pulled the chair out just as Reg (who was not skinny) was about to sit down  and he fell on his ass  He was a good sport.  They were great guys.  Reg died in 2013.

Hotel California, Champs Elysees, Paris