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

never-ending cast of famous, rich, and accomplished stars, most of whom were none of the aforementioned. Steve was so genuine and politically astute that he was now working on a few years of “hipness” with his club, and the reputation was well established. So what were we doing here outside this Long Island mansion about to kidnap actor and comedian Alan King’s son as he left for school? That was the question I asked as I slid back into the limo. As near as I could tell Steve was having financial problems. Thank goodness wisdom finally prevailed and we quietly drove away.
    The impassive nature, abandoned self-awareness, grandly delusional and corrupting effects of my fame were starting to take their toll on me. I wasn’t going into a downward spiral, because I still had a couple of hits in front of me, but I would carry this lovely behavior with me for many years after the hits were over.
    There are some people, a small few, who make the necessary adjustments in life to accommodate fame, but I wasn’t one of them. I was extremely happy to be famous, but beyond that, I believed whatever power I held, away from Bob Crewe, was mine and under my control. I also didn’t consider myself addicted to drugs because I didn’t use them on a daily basis, but when I did use them, it was usually in excess. I also didn’t believe I was trying to suppress unpleasant feelings, because I had long ago buried them.
    What I didn’t realize was that in the great emotional upheaval of my childhood, all of my feelings were covered over as an adult and I felt nothing at all. Nor, because of my star status, was I made to suffer any immediate consequences for my actions. I had become a star and a zombie, so therefore I began taking on the airs and attitudes befitting a man of my great station. I didn’t become a prick or an abusive asshole. I became a fool.
    I began spending more and more of my free time in New York City, instead of going home to Susan and Dawn. In New York I could hang out with names and people I could only read about, had I not become a star. Besides, there would be plenty of time for my family after I had made all of these great connections and had many powerful friends. My favorite place to frequent was, of course, Steve’s place, and I often got up and jammed with other visiting artists.
    Steve’s place was like a circus. Tiny Tim performed from time to time, coming on stage with an old wrinkled brown paper bag from which he would pull out his ukulele. After each set he never hung out with us. Instead, he grabbed the train back to his mother’s place then turned around and returned to do the next set. It was some kind of weird phobia he had.
    One night Jimi Hendrix came in, as he had quite a few nights before. On this night I fully expected to sit with Jimi and quietly have a drink, as we had before. But, this time he asked me to go with him to his hotel room for a preview of his new album,
Axis: Bold as Love
. What a great talent! We listened to the entire album on a very elaborate sound system. Jimi had mixed it so sound moved around the room in an early conception of quadraphonic sound. I thought it was one of the coolest things I had ever seen. The best part was that I couldn’t believe that Jimi wanted my opinion. In addition to such special treatment I had the feeling Jimi thought well of me because when the time came that Jimi decided to break up “The Experience” he asked me to come sing with him. Me, being the fool I was, said no.
    Another night I jammed at a club where Stephen Stills and Neil Young played guitar and bass. I played drums and Otis Redding sang while Brian Jones, founder of the Rolling Stones, sat transfixed in the audience with a woman on either side. I arrived to hear a pre-release for Sly Stone’s “Thank You (Falettin Me Be Mice Elf Again)” and was offered as much cocaine as I could handle from a family size container that was once filled with Pond’s Hand Cream.
    I watched the triumphant entrance of The Doors into New York and had to hide from a fight afterward that Eric Burdon, founding member and vocalist for The Animals, referred to in his first autobiography. In England I attended the coming out party for the British band Procol Harum as they performed their hit “A Whiter Shade of Pale.” In one of the booths sat The Beatles, all dressed in their Sgt. Pepper uniforms. I walked downstairs to the toilet only to find huddled in a corner and playing an unplugged