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

keyboard player a hard time over his sexuality and Bobby tried to get them to back off. As the three men delivered each deadly blow, Bobby’s will to survive made it very hard for them to end his life, but their numbers finally prevailed. What glory those cowardly men who still run free and un-convicted must feel when they repeat their brave heroics to their children and grandchildren. Bobby was a beautiful person whose life was taken by scum.
    But there was also an artistic enclave in existence in the Corridor and the place I frequented was called Alvin’s, short for Alvin’s Finer Delicatessen. Mostly it served students from Wayne State University, but at night, the old brick walls and rickety chairs and tables and the long beautiful bar became the place to witness some of the best music and art that Detroit had to offer. There was also a similar scene in Hamtramck, my birthplace but, for my taste, I spent most of my free time at Alvin’s. All of these clubs were very close to where I had originally started over at the Village.
    It was in the Corridor that I fell in love with the group Shadowfax. They were the kind of band that other musicians came to see because their music was so perfect. I came to be friends with George Konig, the bass player. George ended up flying all the way to Europe just to bring me a song he thought I should include on one of my albums.
    Another talented and gifted player I liked was Bobby McDonald, a local keyboard player. It was heavenly listening to Bobby sing and play the piano. Bobby was afraid to leave the Corridor and afraid of success. He didn’t think he was good. The truth is, he was brilliant. I proposed to him that he allow me to record a set of songs, but he wasn’t thrilled about the idea. Bobby never ate. He just drank and played when I knew him. He eventually died from the drink.
    It seems that many of the artists, save Tommy Ford, never made it out alive. Bill Hodson, one of the guitar players for Shadowfax, took his own life in New York City. I spent a great deal of my time over the late seventies and early eighties down on the Corridor. It was special. Dave Chambers still lives, God bless him.

Chapter 28
     
    S O THERE WE WERE, HAVING TO drag our bodies once again all over America in every little club and bar that Tom could find for us. And just like Sinclair and Kramer before him, we got to some of the gigs broke, only to find the club owner couldn’t pay us. This was the exact bottom end of the professional star days when the powerful booking agent made sure you had at least fifty percent of your money before you even went to the gig.
    It was something I observed many times watching older pioneers like Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis. They had to go through that same thing until they got fed up with it. People used to think they were strange and arrogant for demanding every little penny that was due them. But I understand completely. Bar owners take a chance on the door to be able to pay the artist. And then when you don’t get paid, you’re stuck and out of money. We were very disgusted with our lack of progress in the States when the call came to go back to Germany for our fourth tour. Naturally we were happy to oblige, but it was going to be another long tour before we could get into the studio. This time was different though, and the reason was a man named Jurgen Osterloh.
    At this point sometimes I was taking Kimberly with me overseas and sometimes I wasn’t. This time I was, and after the tour we had a couple of days to rest, so we made plans to run down to Paris for a few days. The last time I had been in Paris for pleasure was in 1968 with Susan. At that time we had flown over from England and did the typical
touristo
deal. We had no friends there and no business connections, so the trip was confined to restaurants, hotels, and photographs at famous landmarks. The only memorable moment came while we were walking down the long approach to the Eiffel Tower and had somehow been overlooked by the security forces surrounding the North Vietnam peace contingent that had come to Paris for peace talks with HenryKissinger. As we walked toward the approaching assembly of diplomats we were quickly surrounded, questioned, searched, and then released. This time with Kimberly would be much different.
    The Paris trip began in the German offices of Karsten Janke, our booking agent in Germany, as I was speaking with one of our agents, Neil Thompson. Neil eventually