Bob Dylan walks around London . . . . .
 |
| Bob and Debbie Gold |
I subscribe to a group of friends on Facebook who have a little club of Theme Time Radio Hour in a Bobby appreciation and I spotted today Meg Hansen had posted a little Debbie Gold story. I love these stories about Dylan being found in odd places and popping up at bus stops and on Beatles tours in Liverpool, or Dave Stewart's house waiting for "Dave" who turned out to be some builder or some such, Bob looking at some random house for sale in the rain . . . . . but I digress, seems Debbie Gold had a whole treasure trove of these and Megan shared this one :
"In memory of my amazing friend, Debbie Gold, and her big heart and great laugh and all of her fun stories, here is an endearing one about Bob Dylan. She adored him and she produced Dylan’s Good As I Been To You.
Debbie had stories about, well, everyone… from going trick-or-treating with Slash and hearing, “check out that costume – that guy is dressed up as Slash!” to the effing Cranberries, to knowing all the secrets of all the music execs! Unfortunately, she only wrote down a few of them.
About 15 years ago, I think it was right around when Debbie was first diagnosed with the cancer, we spent some time in Malibu at my apartment getting a few of her stories on paper. She told me she wanted to someday write a book, but she said, if she doesn’t write the book, she wanted me to hold onto the stories for her and not tell anyone that I had them; and then, after she passes away someday, she wanted me to “publish them” and “share them with her friends.”
Ironically, a couple of days after Debbie passed away, I saw Bob at a restaurant in Malibu and it reminded me of Debbie’s stories. I had to dig them out of storage and I need to re-type them, so probably one a week for the next few weeks, but here we go. Also, since I live in Malibu and I don’t wish to upset the good-looking guy around the corner who happens to have two empty horse stalls in his backyard, if Bob requests that I delete this, I will need to do so (to cover my tail, I left him the stories at his house in advance). More to follow.
xoxo meg
In Debbie’s own words…
At the Zoo
By Debbie Gold
I’ve often been asked such captivating questions as, “Hey, uh, what’s the difference between being on the road with Bruce Springsteen and Bob Dylan?” There is certainly more than one answer to that question, but the first thing that comes to mind is, when traveling around the world with Bruce, when I introduce him to any fan and/or industry person, the response is usually about the same. They almost always being jumping up and down, madly shaking his hand and exclaiming things like, “Wow, man, this is like unbelievable, Bruce Springsteen!! This is one of the most amazing moments of my life! I can’t believe it! Bruce, you’re my hero! Oh this is so cool…”
When introducing a fan to Dylan, the response is a little different. Inevitably, the one I introduce to Bob begins standing there, almost at a loss for words, eyes open real wide, and a look comes over their face that just about says, “I’m standing face to face with God.” I’ve often wished I could carry a video camera when traveling the world with Dylan and place it just over his left shoulder, so that I could capture all of the moments like that (complete with people spilling things and tripping over their shoelaces, etc.).
Can you imagine what it’s like to be looked at that way all the time? Also, Bob has a very distinctive look whereas once in a while, Bruce can blend into a crowd. Of course, as soon as someone notices it’s Bruce, I’ve seen that same crowd turn into a scene from “The Pied Piper.” Anyway, a reasonable amount of security is required for both of them when they go on the road, which brings us my next story.
On Dylan’s European tour in 1981, which I was lucky enough to be a part of, a handful of ‘handlers’ were put together for his protection. Though professional, and devoted to their jobs, once in a while I noticed there could be a bit of confusion as far as who was supposed to be doing what. On such rare occasions, I could picture them bumping heads, in a ‘Three Stooges’ kind of way, to make sure Bob was protected (it’s hard to believe, but Dylan’s always been more famous in Europe, making security even more significant). London, where this story takes place, was certainly no exception. Dylan was scheduled to play 5 nights at Earl’s Court, London’s 20,000 seat hall, beginning in a few days. It would be an understatement to say that the city was aware of Dylan’s presence.
The whole tour arrived in town a few days early, giving us a chance to get a head start working on what would surely be a busy week, and the musicians the opportunity to enjoy a few days off. The first afternoon, the phone in my hotel room suddenly started ringing with frantic phone calls from various Dylan staffers, beginning with one of his bodyguards, “Have you seen Bob?” he asked, hopefully.
“No, I haven’t,” I answered, “Has he missed an appointment? Is he supposed to be somewhere?”
“No, uh, that’s O.K., thanks,” he said hurriedly, before hanging up.
Next, his road manager called, asking nervously, “You haven’t seen Bob this afternoon, have you?”
“No,” I replied, hardly getting the word out before he thanked me and hung up. I remember shortly after a few more calls, walking out in to the hallway, near Bob’s room, and noticing at least a few of them pacing around, nervously.
A couple of hours later, back in my room, the phone rang once again, only this time it was Bob’s voice I heard on the other end of the line, casually asking me if I wasn’t busy, would I mind coming down to his room for a bit. I asked, “Bob, do you know that everyone’s in a panic looking all over for you? Do they know you’re back?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, totally uninterested, “Are you coming over?”
“Sure,” I said, “I’ll be right there.”
Bob looked relaxed and really happy as he greeted me at the door. “I had the best afternoon!” he almost burst, exuberantly.
“You did?” I asked, curiously, “What happened?”
“Well, I was feeling a little cooped up in this hotel room,” he began. “It looked like such a nice afternoon so I decided to take a walk. I put my sweatshirt on with the hood up,” (it was mid-July in London, but this was Bob’s best attempt at disguising himself) “and I went out and just started walking.”
“By yourself?” I asked, amazed.
“Yeah,” he began, enthusiastically, “and I first ended up walking all through Piccadilly Circus, where, of course, there were thousands of other people, and nobody said a word to me! It was so great so I just kept going. Then, I walked up and down King’s road and through Trafalgar Square, and still, I never said a word to anyone, and nobody spoke to me.”
“Wow, Bob, that’s unbelievable! That must have felt great.”
“It did, and so I kept going. It was such a beautiful day, too, so I went through Hyde Park, and was walking around for hours – it was so peaceful. I saw so many people and nobody ever said a word to me. Finally, I was making my way back to Regents Park (where our hotel was located), and I ended up in the Regents Park Zoo, just sitting quietly on a hill. It was so great, I could hardly believe it, and I didn’t want the day to end. Finally, I noticed it must have been 5pm, because the zoo was getting ready to close, and the zookeeper was politely getting everyone to leave. Eventually, the whole place was empty, except for me, and I didn’t notice, as I was busy pondering what a peaceful day it had been, when the zookeeper came over to me and said, ‘It’s closing time. I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave, Mr. Dylan!”
Meg Hansen
"In memory of my amazing friend, Debbie Gold, and her big heart and great laugh and all of her fun stories, here is an endearing one about Bob Dylan. She adored him and she produced Dylan’s Good As I Been To You.
Debbie had stories about, well, everyone… from going trick-or-treating with Slash and hearing, “check out that costume – that guy is dressed up as Slash!” to the effing Cranberries, to knowing all the secrets of all the music execs! Unfortunately, she only wrote down a few of them.
About 15 years ago, I think it was right around when Debbie was first diagnosed with the cancer, we spent some time in Malibu at my apartment getting a few of her stories on paper. She told me she wanted to someday write a book, but she said, if she doesn’t write the book, she wanted me to hold onto the stories for her and not tell anyone that I had them; and then, after she passes away someday, she wanted me to “publish them” and “share them with her friends.”
Ironically, a couple of days after Debbie passed away, I saw Bob at a restaurant in Malibu and it reminded me of Debbie’s stories. I had to dig them out of storage and I need to re-type them, so probably one a week for the next few weeks, but here we go. Also, since I live in Malibu and I don’t wish to upset the good-looking guy around the corner who happens to have two empty horse stalls in his backyard, if Bob requests that I delete this, I will need to do so (to cover my tail, I left him the stories at his house in advance). More to follow.
xoxo meg
In Debbie’s own words…
At the Zoo
By Debbie Gold
I’ve often been asked such captivating questions as, “Hey, uh, what’s the difference between being on the road with Bruce Springsteen and Bob Dylan?” There is certainly more than one answer to that question, but the first thing that comes to mind is, when traveling around the world with Bruce, when I introduce him to any fan and/or industry person, the response is usually about the same. They almost always being jumping up and down, madly shaking his hand and exclaiming things like, “Wow, man, this is like unbelievable, Bruce Springsteen!! This is one of the most amazing moments of my life! I can’t believe it! Bruce, you’re my hero! Oh this is so cool…”
When introducing a fan to Dylan, the response is a little different. Inevitably, the one I introduce to Bob begins standing there, almost at a loss for words, eyes open real wide, and a look comes over their face that just about says, “I’m standing face to face with God.” I’ve often wished I could carry a video camera when traveling the world with Dylan and place it just over his left shoulder, so that I could capture all of the moments like that (complete with people spilling things and tripping over their shoelaces, etc.).
Can you imagine what it’s like to be looked at that way all the time? Also, Bob has a very distinctive look whereas once in a while, Bruce can blend into a crowd. Of course, as soon as someone notices it’s Bruce, I’ve seen that same crowd turn into a scene from “The Pied Piper.” Anyway, a reasonable amount of security is required for both of them when they go on the road, which brings us my next story.
On Dylan’s European tour in 1981, which I was lucky enough to be a part of, a handful of ‘handlers’ were put together for his protection. Though professional, and devoted to their jobs, once in a while I noticed there could be a bit of confusion as far as who was supposed to be doing what. On such rare occasions, I could picture them bumping heads, in a ‘Three Stooges’ kind of way, to make sure Bob was protected (it’s hard to believe, but Dylan’s always been more famous in Europe, making security even more significant). London, where this story takes place, was certainly no exception. Dylan was scheduled to play 5 nights at Earl’s Court, London’s 20,000 seat hall, beginning in a few days. It would be an understatement to say that the city was aware of Dylan’s presence.
The whole tour arrived in town a few days early, giving us a chance to get a head start working on what would surely be a busy week, and the musicians the opportunity to enjoy a few days off. The first afternoon, the phone in my hotel room suddenly started ringing with frantic phone calls from various Dylan staffers, beginning with one of his bodyguards, “Have you seen Bob?” he asked, hopefully.
“No, I haven’t,” I answered, “Has he missed an appointment? Is he supposed to be somewhere?”
“No, uh, that’s O.K., thanks,” he said hurriedly, before hanging up.
Next, his road manager called, asking nervously, “You haven’t seen Bob this afternoon, have you?”
“No,” I replied, hardly getting the word out before he thanked me and hung up. I remember shortly after a few more calls, walking out in to the hallway, near Bob’s room, and noticing at least a few of them pacing around, nervously.
A couple of hours later, back in my room, the phone rang once again, only this time it was Bob’s voice I heard on the other end of the line, casually asking me if I wasn’t busy, would I mind coming down to his room for a bit. I asked, “Bob, do you know that everyone’s in a panic looking all over for you? Do they know you’re back?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, totally uninterested, “Are you coming over?”
“Sure,” I said, “I’ll be right there.”
Bob looked relaxed and really happy as he greeted me at the door. “I had the best afternoon!” he almost burst, exuberantly.
“You did?” I asked, curiously, “What happened?”
“Well, I was feeling a little cooped up in this hotel room,” he began. “It looked like such a nice afternoon so I decided to take a walk. I put my sweatshirt on with the hood up,” (it was mid-July in London, but this was Bob’s best attempt at disguising himself) “and I went out and just started walking.”
“By yourself?” I asked, amazed.
“Yeah,” he began, enthusiastically, “and I first ended up walking all through Piccadilly Circus, where, of course, there were thousands of other people, and nobody said a word to me! It was so great so I just kept going. Then, I walked up and down King’s road and through Trafalgar Square, and still, I never said a word to anyone, and nobody spoke to me.”
“Wow, Bob, that’s unbelievable! That must have felt great.”
“It did, and so I kept going. It was such a beautiful day, too, so I went through Hyde Park, and was walking around for hours – it was so peaceful. I saw so many people and nobody ever said a word to me. Finally, I was making my way back to Regents Park (where our hotel was located), and I ended up in the Regents Park Zoo, just sitting quietly on a hill. It was so great, I could hardly believe it, and I didn’t want the day to end. Finally, I noticed it must have been 5pm, because the zoo was getting ready to close, and the zookeeper was politely getting everyone to leave. Eventually, the whole place was empty, except for me, and I didn’t notice, as I was busy pondering what a peaceful day it had been, when the zookeeper came over to me and said, ‘It’s closing time. I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave, Mr. Dylan!”
Meg Hansen
N.B. if Meg wishes me to remove this please get in touch but it is so brilliant I just had to share it here in memory of Debbie Gold
and of course as synchronicity would have it Big O have posted a nice bootleg this morning of the Osaka gig around the time of the legendary Budokan concert in Japan
Bob Dylan - Osaka 1978
It has had quite a bit of work done to tidy up but is highly listenable
and of course as synchronicity would have it Big O have posted a nice bootleg this morning of the Osaka gig around the time of the legendary Budokan concert in Japan
Bob Dylan - Osaka 1978
It has had quite a bit of work done to tidy up but is highly listenable
No comments:
Post a Comment