Devils & Blue Dresses: My Wild Ride as a Rock and Roll Legend

nurture those one-on-one relationships that made someone in his presence feel special. He loved fine clothes when he was out and about, but he was equally comfortable in jeans, boots and t-shirts. He smoked expensive cigars, had a taste for Courvasier and cocaine, and valued and respected women.
    After all was said and done, George was one of those Cass Corridor artists who, unfortunately, would burn out or die without ever having given the world what we in Detroit had come to cherish as a part of our rich musical heritage. I loved the way George treated me as an equal, even though deep in my heart I was jealous of his purity as an artist.
    Karsten Scholermann was a young German entrepreneur who had been introduced to me by Uwe Tessnow. He liked me very much and was a fan. He had a little dance club in Hamburg and was also involved in a steak house restaurant in the business district. He had done the ’86 tour (we called it the “In Search of Heidi” tour) and now invited us back. My daughter had been kind enough to accept my invitation to accompany us in 1986, but this time there wasn’t enough money, and besides, if anyone came it should have been Joel.
    My relationship with my children was unusual. If ever there was a young woman who wanted desperately to know her father, it was Dawn. Through all those years, from the time I left her and her brother to be raised by their mother, we had to deal with separation and a quiet distance that I had failed to remove from their lives.
    In prior years, Kimberly and I had them for holidays––Christmas, Thanksgiving and Easter––and they celebrated with Kimberly’s family as well as mine. Sometimes we took them up north to Kimberly’s parent’s cottage for snowmobiling and things like that, but it was never like the early days when we were home where they came every other weekend or so.
    I remember when Joel was younger and it was more important for me to get him on the empty stage before one of our gigs, turn on the spotlights, kill the houselights and let him get a sense of the power that awaited him, instead of allowing him to remain by my side where he wanted to be. Dawn had gone through a painful and turbulent period in her teens, and Joel had taken up guitar in what I believe was an effort to please me.
    All the neglect and harmful lack of love that I showed those beautiful children was finally and angrily taking a toll on the only things in the world that I created that was of any real value. Even though I didn’t understand the depth of the hurt I had given them, I did understand and acknowledge my selfishness. You can tell someoneall day long that you love them, but unless you are willing to sacrifice to prove it, you are a liar.
    A couple of years ago I had the fortune of attending one of Joel’s poetry readings at Wayne State University in Detroit. Joel, by the way, teaches in the English department there. He has won several awards, including the John Clare Award for poetry, the Tudor Scholarship for creative writing, and the Phillip Lawson Hatch, Jr. Memorial Writing Competition.
    At the reading, Joel’s confidence surprised me, and the passion he brought to the reading was real. So real, in fact, that the entire audience sensed the fuel feeding his fire, as his booklet for the program printed out his rage and hatred for me. He won an award that day, and I was proud of him.
    The band and I responded to Karsten’s invitation and went over in the winter of 1988. I remember two things about the tour. One was that John Badanjek, as talented as he was, could not master the free flowing style on drums that Wilson Owens had created. It was particularly obvious on some of our more popular songs such as “War” or “Er Ist Nicht Mein Prasident.” John had a vicious attack that was unparalled if you were doing straight ahead rock songs, but he lacked the sensitivity and lightness of touch that made Wilson’s dynamics so vital.

     
    When faced with his shortcomings, John decided that the best way to counter my insistence to equal the necessary beats was to chide me into believing that my German fans wouldn’t want to hear those songs if they were instead offered some straight ahead rock ‘n’ roll. John’s inclusion into the band also ushered in an era of frequent complaining and criticism over the way I ran my business affairs in Germany.
    This criticism would eventually come back to, and include, my dealings in America. But, for the moment, I