I am so thrilled to find the Frynds Forum. I don’t ususally join in with Internet groups, but I just couldn’t resist the Frynds – y’all are awesome! I’ve spent all afternoon and evening here, and I must say, the information contained here for Lynyrd Skynyrd fans is amazing – it’s been nothing but thrilling detail after thrilling detail revealed! I don’t know that I’ll have much to add, but will certainly support and relish with great gusto what the experts have to kindly offer.
My personal experience with the band is, I guess, pretty typical for a teenaged girl in the 70s. I grew up in Southern California (Just like Ed King, I can say, I’m from the South – Southern California, that is!) so had access to good radio, record stores, and concerts. I was therefore lucky enough to hear their music on the radio from the beginning in ’73? ’74?, and was able to see original line-up at the Long Beach Sports Arena in ’76? ’77? I’m pretty sure that Robin Trower opened for them, and I had to have had my driver’s license – it was a fantastic show!
In the ’70s, my favorite album, was ‘One More From the Road’. I loved the excitement of the live sound. I remember staring at the album photos while listening to the record on my cheap plastic turntable, and thinking that the Honkettes were just about the coolest girls on the planet. I looked to them for my style inspiration, trying to copy their outfits exactly, but needless to say, I never achieved such elegance! And the guys! Good grief! They were the last word in ’70s cool-guyness: That hair – my god! Gary’s barkcloth coat! (Where’d he get that coat, anyway? It’s amazing!) The jewelry! Those platforms! And then there was the music, which was (and still is!) the nec plus ultra in ’70s rock, let me tell you. I was such a huge fan – Lynyrd Skynyrd was constantly playing on high volume on that rattlely, cheap little turntable in my room.
Until recently, I hadn’t listened to Lynyrd Skynyrd for quite some time. The plane crash really hit me hard; in some ways, it coincided with the death of an idyllic and truely remarkable rock and roll era. The deaths and suffering caused by that horrible crash, the subsequent tradedy of dear Allen, and the current state of the band just made me want to stick my head in the sand and consider this a closed period of my life. I’d half-heartedly moved on to other musical genres, wondering if I’d ever feel as thrilled about music as I once had.
Anyhow, as I was saying, I’ve recently begun listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd again, but only recently, because I felt so dearly afraid that Skynyrd wouldn’t have aged well (I’d not listened to them for 30 years!) Though it may sound odd, I really would have preferred to hang on to my happy memories, to remember them in my own way, so to speak, rather than disappoint myself with unhappy ghosts from the past. They sounded fantastic, however, even better than I’d remembered. I’d forgotten the power and perfection of the music, I’m extremely happy to say!
This happy reunion between me and Lynyrd Skynyrd’s music has been truely wonderful. I’ve rediscovered their work, been watching all the live footage I can dig up, scoured the internet for interviews, and read everything I can get my hands on. I can finally see what the Internet is good for [laughs!] – it’s truly a miracle that we can find these old images, snapshots, some of them, and the utterly charming interviews with Ronnie and Gary that I’ve been able to find. Those guys really had “It”, and it’s exciting to see how many people are newly discovering and enjoying the thrill of this band.
I’ve just recently read Gene’s book, which has echoed much of what I feel about Skynyrd, namely, it’s genius in its accessable complexity and perfection. It’s intelligent, and oviously crafted by a group of musicians where the sum was so much greater than the individual parts. I was floored by the stories of Hell House, and the dedication of these self-taught, down-to-earth musicians. It’s utterly remarkable, and I’ve never heard anything like it, ever. What a story – so beautiful, so sad, so powerful, so American. How I’d love to see a feature length film made about them, about the struggle, the romance, the success, the excess, and the rest … What a story. What a story. Truth is truly more remarkable than fiction.
Thanks so much to Gene Odom for making this website for the fans, for writing the book which needed to be written, and for continuing to contribute to the legacy of Lynyrd Skynyrd, the best American rock band! Please keep up this important work!
LYNYRD SKYNYRD - Asbury Park, New Jersey July 13, 1977
LYNYRD SKYNYRD
Asbury Park, NJ
July 13, 1977
By JAMES SIMON
Associated Press writer
ASBURY PARK, N.J. -
The rebellious, hell-raising image of rock groups is frequently just that — an image, say members of Lynyrd Skynyrd, a Florida band which does its best to uphold the rough and tumble ideal. “Nobody wants to read about ‘Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm ‘ , bassist Leon Wilkeson said with a smile after the band ended a year’s tour with a concert at Convention Hall here. “I’d love to read an article when an interviewer says, ‘Well, I went down to interview the notorious rebels of rock ‘n’ roll, expecting to get a black eye in the process.’ I’d like him to write the truth — they don’t get as drunk as you think, they really don’t get as high and they really don’t fight as much as they’re built up to.” Wilkeson said.
Despite the disclaimer, Lynyrd Skynyrd (pronounced Leh-nerd Skin-nerd ) cultivated the image carefully for four years as the band criss-crossed the country, giving 200 or more concerts a year of rowdy, guitar dominated rock and blues songs and working its way up to headline status. Stories of wild parties, drunken brawls and smashed television sets followed lead singer Ronnie Van Zant and the rest of the band wherever they went.
“The band went on tour with the Who first, so I guess some of their insanity rubbed off,” said guitarist Steve Gaines, adding he hasn’t seen any “real violence” in his year with the band. Gaines replaced guitarist Ed King last summer in one of the band’s several personnel changes. He is one of three lead guitarists in the group who give Skynard a full, powerful sound on songs like the show closing “Free Bird,” one of the best extended songs to come out of the 1970s.
But even on the 11-minute “Free Bird,” which fans start calling for as soon as the band walks on stage, the band’s loose and ragged image hides the fact the song is as rigid as any three-minute AM radio hit.
“The song’s got a structure. And it’s always the same way, at least since I’ve played with the band anyway,” Gaines said. “That’s the song they used to play in clubs and Ronnie jokes that they used to throw it in in clubs because it’s a good time waster.” The band’s lineup includes singer Van Zant, bassist Wilkeson, guitarists Gaines. Gary Rossington and Allen Collins, drummer Artimus Pyle, keyboard player Billy Powell and several female backup singers. Most of the attention is on the guitarists, who trade off lead passages easily although their sound is so thick that Powell’s keyboards rarely can be heard.
The One Percent Band Would Later Become Lynyrd Skynyrd
Lynyrd and Me
(Retrospective: A Lynyrd Skynyrd Story)
By Jere Beery
The main reason I’m sharing this story now is because I just turned 60 years old in March and I have been reflecting on my life. This story relates a very unique relationship I had with one of America’s greatest Rock & Roll bands.
In 1969, I was discharged from the Navy after spending a year and a half hospitalized from severe wounds I received in Vietnam. I was only 21 years old and medically retired from the U.S. Navy. My wounds were so bad that I was not really expected to accomplish much in my life.
At that time, the one thing I truly found comfort and inspiration in was music. While I was in the Navy I played bass guitar in a four piece rock band, and my 6 string acoustic guitar was my best friend during times of depression while in the hospital. So, when I got out of the Navy in 1969 I decided to explore the world of music. I started hanging out at a bottle club located on Forsyth Street in Jacksonville Florida, ‘The Comic Book Club’. I discovered that not only did I enjoy the live music, but dancing was great physical therapy for my many injuries. And the waitresses wore really hot skimpy outfits consisting of white short shorts, and a white navy-type top that showed off their midsections. Good music, booze, and good looking gals, what more could a young man ask for?
The Comic Book Club was really two clubs in one. From 7pm until midnight the club was a teen club, catering to kids under 21 years of age. At midnight the club would run everyone out and reopen at 1am as a bottle club for adults only. The club only served ice, cups and setups, and people would pay a cover charge to bring in their own booze. It was the only club in Jacksonville at that time to do business both as a teen club and a bottle club. The local bars in town were required to close at 2am, so after they closed everyone would head uptown to party until dawn at the Comic Book. It was a very popular place to be, and as it turns out, a historic place for music.
Within a very short period of time I made friends with the club manager, Jimmy Provost, and the house band, ‘Kijafa’ (aka Sunshine). Before long, I was doing odd and end jobs around the club for a few bucks a week and all the live music and dancing I could ever wish for. I became good friends with the bottle club band; guitarist; Charles ‘Smitty’ Smith, bass guitarist; Carl Crawford, and drummer; Donnie Sharbino. I started doing special lighting for the band and running their sound board. I was damn near living at the Comic Book Club, putting in many hours designing and building new effects and lighting for the group, while simultaneously doing jobs around the club for Jimmy Provost.
During this period of time I also made friends with the band that played the teen club. Ronnie VanZant, Gary Rossington, Allen Collins, Larry Junstrom, and Bob Burns were the members of a rock band called ‘The 1%’. They were extremely popular with the young crowd in the Jacksonville area.
Ronnie and I were about the same age, but the other members of The 1% were a few years younger and still in high school. Allen, Gary, and Bob attended Robert E, Lee High School on the west side of Jacksonville. I don’t remember if Larry Junstrom was still in school or not. I seem to remember he was a little older. Larry and I didn’t talk much. I was closer to Ronnie, Allen, Gary, and Bob.
Since we all worked at The Comic Book Club, we spent a lot of time in each other’s company and we all became good friends – and we often partied together. On several occasions, when Ronnie wasn’t around, Gary and Allen would come to me and talk me into buying them some booze. Somehow, we managed to keep that secret from Ronnie for months before he found out it was me that was getting them liquor. That led to a brief confrontation between me and Ronnie. I remember Ronnie reading me the riot act and I promised him I would never buy them booze again. Ronnie was not a very large individual, in fact I was a couple of inches taller than he was. But, he was raised on the rough side of Jacksonville with a bad-ass reputation, and I didn’t dare cross him. I wasn’t necessarily scared of him, but Ronnie’s presents had a way of demanding respect, and I saw no reason to test him or his resolve. You had to know Ronnie to know what I’m talking about. Besides, I wasn’t in any physical condition to be fighting any one. After that encounter, Ronnie and I became even better friends. We had an ‘understanding’.
The Comic Book Club had the reputation of the place to go for great music and impromptu jam sessions. Bands from all over North Florida and South Georgia would show up at the Comic Book on the weekends. And local bands would drop by after the bars they played at closed. Therefore, there was never a shortage of musicians wanting to sit in and jam. During the two years that I worked there I heard some of the greatest music anyone could possibly imagine. Sometimes, after a concert had taken place at the Jacksonville Coliseum, well-known groups and musicians would come in and jam until dawn. This included band members from Three Dog Night, Allman Joy (Allman Brothers), Wayne Cochrane and the CC Riders, Joe Savage, and Led Zeppelin, just to name a few.
Jimmy Provost was the manager of the Comic Book Club, but the club was owned by a guy named Art Isner (spelling might be incorrect). Isner owned several topless bars in the Jax downtown area. Jimmy Provost was a very large man weighing around 400 pounds. He was a French Canadian with a thick French accent. It was no secret that Provost had ties with organized crime both in Canada and Florida. During a brief time in early 1970, Jimmy Provost acted as booking agent for Ronnie and the 1% band. Provost would line up gigs for the band and they would go play other small clubs in the Jacksonville area. On several occasions I was given the task of going to these local clubs (like the Little Brown Jug) and collect the band’s money. Provost would take his cut and give Ronnie the rest. This arrangement only lasted a few months.
There are virtually no photographs of the inside of the original Comic Book Club. There was a very good reason for this. Jimmy Provost prohibited anyone from taking pictures in the club. His reasoning was simple. Among average Joes that went to the Comic Book – there were also drug dealers, pimps, bookies, prostitutes, pool hustlers and ex-cons. The Comic Book was a very rough place at times, and these people did not want their picture taken. This is the reasons that very few pictures (if any) of Ronnie and the band inside the Comic Book Club exist.
Sometimes, Jimmy would have some gangster-type friends drop by from out of town and he would close the club down to everyone but him, his friends, selected girls, and me and the band. Jimmy would put a sign on the door ‘Closed For Inventory’. He would make jokes about counting the ice cubes and cups. The Comic Book became a private party place for Jimmy and his friends. I won’t go into details, but whatever Jimmy’s friends wanted, Jimmy provided, money was no object. Jimmy had ‘connections’ on the JPD as well. So, no one ever interrupted one of Jimmy’s private parties.
One local band the frequented the Comic Book was ‘The King James Version’, a three piece rock group. The bass player for the group was a guy named Leon Wilkeson. Leon’s nickname was ‘Thumper’, from Thumper the fictional rabbit character from Disney’s animated movie Bambi. He got that nickname for the consistent way he played bass.
Around the end of 1970, the teen club band, Ronnie and ‘The 1%’, were starting to get the attention of promoters in the Jacksonville area. One afternoon while ‘Kijafa’ was practicing at the club, Allen and Gary dropped by and asked our collective opinion of a new name they were considering, ‘Lynyrd Skynyrd’. As much as I hate to admit it now, we all thought it was a dumb name. Little did we know how wrong we were.
When I wasn’t at the club, or hanging out with Smitty, Carl, and Donnie, I spent a lot of time at a small recording studio off of Philips Highway. The studio was called ‘Counter-Point’, and was owned and operated by a good friend of mine, Wally Eaton. Wally was the original bass player for ‘Dennis Yost and the Classic Four’. Wally had been in an auto accident which caused him to quit the band, but not before he had acquired four gold records for; ‘Spooky’, ‘Stormy’, ‘Traces’, and ‘Every Day with You Girl’. Wally was trying to get back into the music business by opening up his own multi-track studio. One very attractive girl that worked as a session backup singer for Wally was Leslie Hawkins. Leslie wasn’t with any one particular band at that time, but she had a very good voice and hung out at Counter Point picking up a few bucks and experience singing backup on whatever project Wally would be working on. Leslie would later join the Skynyrd group as a backup singer. I used the time I spent at Counter Point to learn everything I could from Wally about multi-track recording.
I don’t remember the exact date, but one night at the Comic Book things got really hot. Without notice Leon Wilkeson quit ‘The King James Version’ and joined the newly formed ‘Lynyrd Skynyrd’ band. All of a sudden Larry Junstrom found himself without a job, and lead guitarist for the King James Version (Bill something) found himself without a bass player. Bill was furious! In one brief moment the King James Version went from a working three piece band to a two piece out of work band. After Bill shoved his guitar through the front of his Marshal amp, he stormed out of the club looking for Ronnie. Fortunately for Bill, he never found Ronnie that night. Ronnie was no wussy and would have taken Bill apart in a Westside second. I personally witnessed Ronnie knock a guy out cold in the parking lot of the R&R Bar for talking trash about Ronnie’s girl friend. The R&R was another popular Jax night spot off Main Street. The loud mouth never knew what hit him.
Leon Wilkeson was not Ronnie’s first choice to replace bass player Larry Junstrom. Carl Crawford was by far the best bass man in the Jacksonville area at that time. Anyone that remembers Carl will support this statement. Not only was he one hell-of-a bass player, but Carl had a great voice that was ideal for hard-driving rock & roll. Ronnie, Allen, and Gary made several unsuccessful attempts to recruit Carl into the newly formed Lynyrd Skynyrd band before approaching Leon. Carl declined their offer and continued to play with Kijafa.
Some time later, while hanging out at Counter Point, Wally received a call from a sound engineer from another recording studio in Jacksonville. After Wally got off the phone he asked me if I wanted to go with him to hear Lynyrd Skynyrd’s new demo over at ‘Shade Tree’ studio just off Beach Boulevard. When we got there we listened to the very first demo of ‘Free Bird’ ever recorded and another song titled; ‘Need All My Friends’. I had heard Ronnie and the band play Free Bird many times at the Comic Book. In fact, I heard Free Bird before it even had words. But this new version was very different. When they played Free Bird at the teen club it was a slow song from start to ending. This new demo of the very same song started out just like I remembered it, but half way through the song it went into a driving double-time jam all the way out. What an improvement! Quite frankly, as much as I hate to admit it, I always thought their original version of Free Bird was somewhat boring. But this new version changed the entire feel of the song and my opinion. It was definitely an attention getter. Little did I know at the time I was listening to Rock and Roll history in the making.
For the next few weeks it was obvious that the boys of Lynyrd Skynyrd had found backing for their blossoming career. On several occasions I was approached by Ronnie, Gary, and Allen to join the group as their roadie. I turned down the offer each time and continued to work for three more years with Kijafa. I heard later that Billy Powell was hired in my place as roadie. Billy would later become the group’s keyboard player. Larry Junstrom found a new home playing bass with Ronnie VanZant’s brother Donnie and his band, ‘38 Special.’
By mid-1972, Kijafa and me had moved to Atlanta and were playing at a popular club in Underground Atlanta, ‘The Palace’. We changed the name of the group to ‘Sunshine’ and gained a loyal Atlanta following of fans.
The last time I saw the Skynyrd band together was on December 4, 1972. They were playing at another popular Atlanta music hall called, Funocchio’s. It just happened to be Gary Rossington’s birthday and he invited me, Smitty, Donnie, and Carl to party with the band after the gig. They were staying at a mission-style apartment complex in Buckhead. I don’t even remember how we got home that night. But, I do know we had a ball! No one partied harder than the Skynyrd boys! Their partying would become legendary over the years, and for good reason. A Lynyrd Skynyrd party usually ended up with a large bill for damages.
In 1973, Smitty was murdered in Atlanta. The band ‘Sunshine’ was no more. We all went our separate ways. I don’t know what happened to Donnie Sharbino, but I did run in to Carl in 1998 in Newnan, Georgia. Decades of drug and alcohol abuse had reduced Carl to a mere shell of the man I had known in the 70’s. He was in a bad way and failing health. Carl told me he gave up music shortly after Smitty was killed in Atlanta. That was very sad for me to hear because Carl was so talented and he could have gone a long way in the music industry.
Gary Rossington, Bob Burns, Larry Junstrom are the only three surviving members of the original ‘1% band’. Ronnie was killed in the 1977 plane crash and Allen died in 1990 from complications connected to being paralyzed from a 1986 car crash. I ran into Bob and his wife Marsha in 2003 in Atlanta. But, I have lost track of him now.
Looking back on it now, I can draw some conclusions and observations. Ronnie VanZant was a very unique individual. Ronnie was a very talented poet and writer who drew on his observations of the street and experiences in everyday life to create one-of-a-kind lyrics. Ronnie never claimed to be a front man or entertainer and he never pretended to be a great singer. He would be the first to admit this fact. His gift was a pure and profound earthy southern writing style which resonated from the bare soles of his feet as he stood center stage. Ronnie wrote about life and death. He painted vivid portraits of life with his lyrics, and he touched people with his raw sincerity and honesty in every song. Even his humorous songs had a gritty reality to them, like ‘Gimme Three Steps’.
I can’t remember ever seeing Ronnie write anything down. I’m certain he probably did at some point, but I don’t remember that. I can only remember him with both hands draped over the microphone, his head down, standing as if the microphone and stand were apart of his very being, trying different phrases and wording until he found something he liked. Once he locked in to something, it became stone and he moved on to the next phrase. I spent many hours at the Comic Book listening to Skynyrd practice and arrange their material. At the time, I had no idea how special that opportunity was. They were just a band, and I was just a guy that worked at the club.
Ronnie ruled as leader of the Skynyrd band. Whatever Ronnie said was law, and no one dared challenge him. Ronnie demanded loyalty and commitment from Allen, Gary, Bob, and Leon – and they all fed off Ronnie’s passionate drive for perfection. It was all for one, and one for all. In my opinion, that was the real key to their success. Sure, they had their fights and arguments. And sometimes a busted lip or bloody nose was incurred. But in some strange way these spats only made them tighter as a group. Ronnie always won, no one was ever seriously injured, and all was forgiven in a very short period of time.
When Skynyrd played a song, it was performed in total unity, as if one person were producing all of the individual parts simultaneously. Each note played to complement the next. Allen and Gary would spend countless hours, day after day honing their guitar skills. Eating and sleeping came second to their quest for musical perfection. They fed off of one another and challenged each other to create sounds and playing techniques that were totally original and unique. Nine times out of ten, if you saw Allen, Gary was with him. They went everywhere together.
Bob Burns was born to play drums. His high-strung personality and hair-trigger attitude added an edgy driving force to the group and their music. Bob had a rough childhood and abusive father. Beating the hell out of the drums was a way for Bob to release his build-up inner anger and pain. I’m not telling you anything Bob wouldn’t tell you himself. Bob was always on the edge, and eventually he would quit the group because of emotional instability. Bob would be permanently replaced by drummer Artimus Pyle in 1974. That fact does nothing to dampen or taint Bob Burns’s contributions to Lynyrd Skynyrd and Rock & Roll history.
After the 1977 plane crash, surviving members struggled with what to do next. In or about 1979, Allen, Gary, Leon and Billy started their own group, the Rossington Collins Band. They cut two albums that were moderately successful and received high reviews. However, in 1986 tragedy struck yet again. Allen was involved in a car crash which paralyzed him and killed his girlfriend.
From what I have heard, after months of soul searching, and at the request of family and friends, Gary Rossington, Billy Powell and Leon Wilkeson agreed to revive the Lynyrd Skynyrd band in the form of a tribute group. Ronnie’s younger brother, Johnny VanZant took his brother’s place as front man and lead singer for the Lynyrd Skynyrd Tribute band. In 2001, death visited the group yet once more. Leon Wilkeson died from liver failure. The current Tribute band continues to tour today playing sold out venues and performing all of Skynyrd’s hits. However, the song Free Bird is now performed as an instrumental without vocals in honor of Ronnie VanZant.
Over the years since the death of Ronnie and other key members of Skynyrd, Johnny VanZant has matured into a very confident performer and representative for Ronnie and the VanZant family. Most recently, Johnny teamed up with younger brother Donnie and recorded under the name ‘VanZant’. All in all, the VanZant family tradition of producing great music continues, and I’m certain Ronnie would be very proud of his younger brothers and the legacy he left them.
In the forty years since my days at the Comic Book Club, I have met many, many talented musicians, and I have listened to just as many tight and polished bands. However, I have never witnessed a group with the internal drive, raw talent, and undeniable passion, commitment, and fortitude for music that Ronnie VanZant and the Skynyrd boys had. Good bands are a dime a dozen, and great bands are born everyday. But, bands that leave an indelible mark on music and American history are extremely rare. The simple fact that Lynyrd Skynyrd songs continue to be featured in movies, television commercials, and ad campaigns on a regular basis provides credence to their historical influence. The artistic fiber of their music is permanently woven into the fabric we call ‘Americano’…
Well, that’s my story about Lynyrd and me. I am fairly confident that my recollection of dates is accurate. Although the many years that have passed have blurred some of my memories, my time at the Comic Book Club still remain crystal clear. I was witness to Rock & Roll history and for that I will always be humbly grateful.
As for me, I went on to do some fairly incredible things considering I’m a disabled veteran. During the 80’s I enjoyed a brief career in the motion picture business. However, my disabilities caused me to quit the movie biz. For the past 25 years I have been a veteran’s advocate fighting for improved healthcare for our men and women in uniform. Most recently, I have had the privilege of writing several public service announcements for Mr. Willie Nelson and Mr. Charlie Daniels. Both Willie and Charlie are big supporters of our veterans. I guess it would be fair to say, in a small way, I am one of the very few people on the face of this earth that has written anything for Willie Nelson and Charlie Daniels.
Sometimes, when I think back, I wonder ‘if’ I had accepted the offer to join Ronnie and the group as their roadie, would I have been on that airplane in 1977? That is a question that I will never know the answer to. One thing is for certain though, I am, and always will be an original member of the Lynyrd Skynyrd Family, and their biggest number one fan. And I am so grateful to have been a friend to Ronnie, Bob, Gary, and Allen.
There is no telling how far Ronnie and Skynyrd could have gone in the music World if they had not been torn apart by tragedy. Lynyrd Skynyrd was a one-of-a-kind band that will never be matched for the amount and quality of music they produced in their brief career. Their contributions to Rock & Roll defined an entire category of music, ‘Southern Rock’. Their induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2006 was more than earned and well deserved. An interesting side note, Lynyrd Skynyrd was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame on March 13, 2006, my birthday…
What happened to the Comic Book Club? The entire city block where the club was located was eventually torn down to make way for new development in the downtown area. I have no idea what happened to Jimmy Provost, but he was not in good health when I knew him. So, I assume he has probably passed away also. The only thing that remains of the Comic Book Club and the Rock & Roll history that was made there – are the memories that those of us who were there still have…
Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Artimus Pyle Held Onstage By Gene Odom
I traveled with the band off and on for a couple of years because I’d get tired of the road and want to come back home to work. Then, in late 1976, I decided to stay with the band full-time to try to stop their drinking and fighting habits. I was the only person that could say jump and they would say how high. This was because they knew I had never smoked or drank in my life and never will and because of this Ronnie Van Zant trusted me more than anyone in the world.
I told him that I could see what drinking before a gig was doing to their performance, so I started taking the first limo to the auditorium. I’d take one bottle of Jack Daniels, two bottles of champagne, and give them away or pour them out, leaving one bottle of Jack Daniels and one bottle of champagne for the band when they arrived. They never knew what I was doing until it was too late and then they’d have to go out and play, sober as judges.
I knew my help was appreciated when Ronnie, Allen, and Gary came up to me one night and said, “We never thought we could play in front of 15,000 people sober. We appreciate what you’ve done for us.”
I finally did away with all the whiskey and champagne. The only alcohol left in the dressing room when they arrived was a six-pack of beer and part of it was left when they went on stage. It made me feel great to see Lynyrd Skynyrd play and perform the way I knew they could. When the accident occurred, all of the members of the band were sober and going to stay that way; I know because I was there. The rough and rowdy band that everyone knew, left when I came. The most expensive thing they broke while I was with them was a lamp and it was broken by accident.
I probably cared for Lynyrd Skynyrd more than anyone. I didn’t work for the money. I did what I did for my friends because a friend is worth more than money. He is worth a lifetime.
Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Allen Collins, Ronnie Van Zant and Gary Rossington
A friend was asking if Allen ever went fishing. Here is a hunting story.
On one of our hunting trips, Gary and Allen went with us to a place out in Middleburg. We were hunting for squirrels and weren’t having much luck so we all got back in the car to rest and get something to eat. We went back into the woods a couple of hours later. Ronnie, Gary, and Allen stayed together; I went another way. I was about fifty feet away from them when Ronnie fired a shot over my head into the trees and scared me to death. I said, “I’ll get you for that.” After about an hour or so I heard them hollering through the woods saying, “Let’s go home Gene. We’re ready to go. We’ll be at the car.” They didn’t know I wasn’t far away. I gave them about five minutes and then I started out. I saw them walking down the road side by side, so I crept up to them like an indian. When I got within about fifty feet of them, I hid in the bushes so they couldn’t see me. They were laughing, having a good time, and not expecting anything. I had twelve bullets in my automatic rifle and I started shooting the bushes and trees all around them. Ronnie and Gary hit the ground and Allen started running. It didn’t take long before my gun was empty and I came out laughing my guts out because they were screaming and hollering, “Hey, there’s people out here, stop shooting.” I said, “Get up from there and let’s go home. Ya’ll just made my day.” Allen was still running and Ronnie and Gary were so mad I thought they were going to shoot me. They were scared and shaking like limbs in a hurricane.
Every time I think about that I can’t help laughing. Those kind of days will be with me until I am dead and gone. Remembering days like that makes my life more livable today.
Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Heart and Soul – Ronnie Van Zant & Allen Collins
Got an email from a fellow who bought my first book off the internet. He asked what was the meaning behind the poems in the book. While in the hospital after the plane crash, my neurologist checked me for head injuries. He came to the conclusion that I did have some brain damage. Most likely it was in the area that controls memory. My motor skills and reactions and everything else was fine. Boy, that was 29 years ago and now my motor and reactions have lost a lot of horsepower. But he said I would have problems with my memory. I have probably have lost some and some may come back. I probably will have short term memory problems in the future. This doctor could see into the future because he was 100% right. So, while recuperating from the crash injuries I started writing things down. When I could remember old stuff or things I did not want to lose or forget I would just write it down.
It was hard sleeping. I was having nightmares, flashbacks of the crash and all kinds of other things. The doctor said it may take years to deal with the aftermath of the crash. After years of writing things down, stories, poems, and things about our lives together I had stacks of papers, not a book yet. About 5 or 6 years after the crash, the boys decided to try the Rossington Collins Band. That didn’t work and Allen and Gary decided to part ways. Gary formed his own band the Gary Rossington Band and Allen formed the Allen Collins Band. Allen asked me if I wanted to do his merchandising for him. Sure, I had a little insurance money left over from the plane crash, which was only 68,000 dollars. THAT’S ANOTHER GOOD STORY I WILL TELL SOON !!!
Allen also said finish your book, print some copies and you can sell them too. I found an independent printer and printed 10,000 copies. I had 2,500 Allen Collins Band T-Shirts printed. I can’t remember how much money I had invested, all I had I know that. Allen was having a hard time dealing with his wife’s death, which caused him great pain. I will get back to that later.
I wrote poems as I would remember, things that would come to me about our lives. When I put the book together which I published myself. I started and ended the book with a poem. The preface kind of explains it best I guess. Not wanting to forget or lose the memories of the life we shared together, this book was inspired by my emotions for my lost friend.
Ronnie and I were closer than brothers or even a father and son could be. We were friends. If you have ever been blessed with one true friend, you have been blessed with eternal wealth. This wealth can not be compared to money or fortune only to the emotions of true friends. This preface starts a story of life and emotions put into words.
Gone, but will never be forgotten
A true southern gentleman, I’m sure you’ll agree
That’s what Ronnie Van Zant was to me.
A singer, a writer, a friend of mine
Who I will remember till my end of time.
My dreams and memories will always represent
The joyous times that Ronnie and I spent.
He and Jesus were both common men;
They both died working for what they believed in.
God you could not have asked for and received
A finer man I do believe.
He sang of a bird that was free;
That bird to me is a great man named Ronnie.
If there is a Heaven and I hope there to be,
I’m sure he is there so deservingly free.
We were raised and grew up together day by day.
As I travel through this life I pray
That we may meet again and be together some day.
Your life long friend-
Gene Odom
December 23, 1977
As you read this poem you can see how words transform emotions and life. Others can’t feel the same emotions but they can see the words and have their own emotions from the feelings they have from reading about others lives. I guess its hard to explain. If we read each others minds then we wouldn’t have to read other’s writings.
This is the story of two boys in particular and a group of boys who grew up to be close friends. The book starts out in these words. This is my story. I did not have a person tell me what to say or how to say it. If you could hear me talk, then you could hear me write. I tell a short story about where we grew up and how we grew up on the west side of Jacksonville, Florida.
After about 10 pages into the book I start to talk about fishing. Ronnie had little time for fishing after he started getting his music going full time. But every time he could get away he would call me up. Lets go fishing I got a couple of days off. He loved to go large mouth bass fishing. We started fishing for black bass which is the other name for large mouth bass. I guess we started fishing together in the late 1950′s until his death. I was with him when he caught his 12 lb bass a couple months before he died. One of the greatest days of my life and I know it was one of his best days of his life. He would call me up, “Lets go to Delancy in the morning, I’ll call you about 4 or just come by and pick you up”. This poem will tell you just how I feel about him not being here to go fishing.
PHONE CALL
The bird still flys around my home,
the fish hangs on the wall.
That old truck still runs the same
And I’m just waiting on your call.
Those four-thirty calls we used to make
To wake each other up,
Are not forgotten to this day
And probably never will be.
The poles are now gathered with dust,
The boat sits idle and free.
Fishing trips I take these days
Are not what they used to be.
I lay and stare at the phone
And wait for it to ring.
All of a sudden I remember
I?m only in a dream.
I can lay back and remember the times we were fishing. Thanks to parts of this ole wore out brain, I can bring up pictures of us fishing. Our brain is a wonderful camera. I can see him dancing and jumping around in the boat, when I threw that big ole bass in the boat. We hugged and he said let’s go weigh it right now. I wished the whole world could see that picture in my mind. Hey. I’m the only person in this world with that image. I never thought of it like that! Oh yeah, he was a real good fisherman. On into the book, about 40 pages, the poem Ronnie’s Song is found. This poem came to me after a dream, one of many I have had about him.
RONNIE’S SONG
FIRST VERSE: I was asleep in my bed
In the middle of the night
When I awoke in a cold sweat.
I was dreaming of a happening,
A time in the past,
When I saw some friends of mine
In a distant place.
CHORUS: Was this a dream I was dreaming?
Was this a vision that I’d seen?
He told me to tell the boys to keep on playing
Cause there’s more to this song than I’m saying.
SECOND VERSE I saw a barefoot shadow
Walking toward me wearing a black hat
And a black shirt.
He spoke to me, I was in a daze.
Listen to me friend,
I’ve got something to say.
We talked for a while
Then he said I’ll be seeing you.
Take care of my boys friend,
You know what to do.
CHORUS
THIRD VERSE: He turned and walked
Right out of my sight,
Like a shadow would do
In the dark of night.
I said come back
I want to see, feel, and be near you.
A voice I’ve never heard before said
You have seen, you can feel
And he will always be near you.
CHORUS
FOURTH VERSE Tell everybody I love them, especially my family
Tell them I’ll always be around
Cause I’m part of that old southern town.
Pray for me, think of me, let my name be a household sound.
I’m not far away, just in another town.
Thunder and lightning began to roar,
Drums and guitars began to soar.
A voice I’ve always known and loved
Cried out from the heavens above.
Keep on playing, one day we’ll all be free.
There is a couple of lines in this poem, at the time of the dream, I didn’t know what they really meant. Years later, I could see that Ronnie knew how things would turn out, even after he was gone but not forgotten. About a year or so after the crash, Allen and Gary were bummed out about what to do since Ronnie and Steve were gone. This was a huge loss; the singer and one of the best guitar players in the world dead. Allen and Gary, along with the alcohol and drugs messing with their minds, they just could not motivate themselves. I had written this poem about what had happened to the band. After the deaths of Ronnie and Steve, this comes along about 112 pages in the book.
SOUTHBOUND #1
Well, the train it got derailed
One day while steaming fast.
Now as it lays all broken,
I wonder how long she will last.
The engineer and conductor
Were lost at the wheel.
They were tangled in the mass
Of that great pile of steel.
No smoke now arises
From her stack,
But she lies only inches
From the track.
Cars that were left standing
Are now filled with dust.
Wheels that used to turn so fast
Are now full of rust.
The whistle and bell are silent now,
Will they be heard no more?
I’ll walk down to her boiler one day
And try to open the door.
Will she ever be turned up right,
Will she ever roll?
Her track still runs across the land
Under bridges that have no toll.
The original Lynyrd Synyrd Band paid its toll. A mighty high price. This poem kinda puts into words the airplane crash and how it left the band members. Ronnie Van Zant was the engineer and Steve Gaines was the conductor. Allen Collins was also a conductor but when Steve Gaines came on board, Allen moved on up to the front of the train. When I went to visit Allen, Gary happened to be there. I’ll never forget what they were doing, sitting on Allen’s couch just plain bummed. I said “Got a little something for you”. I blurted out this poem. Allen said, after I finished, “I don’t ever want to hear that again”. I said, “Well then, get up and start playing; it’s the only thing you can do. You wouldn’t know which end of a shovel to grab”. And that was the start of the action that resulted in the Rossington Collins Band. THAT’S ANOTHER STORY.
I ended the book with a poem and a great photo of Ronnie. This photo was really Ronnie, his hat, his black shirt, and that RVZ smile. One fine human being, you really had to know him to know how good he really was.
Gone, but will never be forgotten
The willows are weeping, the sky is clear
There will always be one good ole southern
Boy’s name spoken here.
Sitting and thinking of times that we’ve had,
Leaves me knowing I can never be sad.
Thinking or fishing or things that we’d do,
Life will never be the same friend, not without you.
Your passing sends chills through my spine,
But just to have known you has been so divine.
My nights are filled with sleepless hours,
Lying and thinking of times that were ours.
Our friendship was a wonderful thing;
A friendship like that could not be
Bought with the gold of kings.
I know where you’re at now; the music is beautiful.
I hope your life throughout eternity will be
The most pleasant and peaceful.
Your eternal friend-
Gene Odom
November 11,1977
This poem ends the book but not my memories. I still can see that ole willow tree in his yard, as boys we used to climb all over it, thinking of fishing or things that we’d do. Life will never be the same, friend, not without you. I find this to be forever true.
The printer told me it would be appropriate to put something on the back of the book.
Gene Odom was Ronnie Van Zant’s personal bodyguard, security for the Lynyrd Skynyrd band, and his life long friend. He never did any writing until after the airplane crash while he was recovering in the hospital. This book is about a natural life, pictured, and put into words. It took the death of his friend to bring out these feelings expressed in this book. Death to him is just another life.
DEATH
Death is eternal sleep
Where you never wake up
And the mountains you climb
Are never too steep.
Where your soul roams
In silent splendor
In a life where the living
Can only dream for.
Death is the end of one life
But the beginning of another
Where all men who dwell
Are known simply as brother.
Gene Odom
November 10, 1982
In memory of my brother
After viewing my old book and these poems, I sit here remembering the years and bringing back pictures of the past. Funny and sad what a simple mind can do. I got to take a break and clear my eyes, got some crying to do. I hate to cry. It makes my nose run faster than I can eat it.
Well back to the reason I put this book together. The Allen Collins Band. Allen put together a great band, but like I said, his wife’s death haunted him. Along with the alcohol and drugs tearing at his head. They made an album. The album was called ‘Allen Collins Band Here, There, and Back’. I heard MCA on the phone at his father’s office, saying this was the best album since ‘Street Survivors’. The booking agent was worried about Allen’s stability and staying on the road to push the album. Terry, from the agency, called me at home and asked could Allen make the tour that they were putting together. I told Terry, Allen gave me his word he could do it.
So, with 10,000 books and 2500 shirts, I set out. We did a couple of shows in Florida and moved up the east coast. I can’t remember all the places but there weren’t many. We did Norfolk, Virginia then up to New York. The books and shirts were selling great. I was thinking I would have to order shirts real soon. I believe we got to Poughkeepsie, New York, Allen’s dad said MCA shipped 250,000 copies to the east coast and they were selling real well. MCA was happy. While the band was playing, I was out selling books and shirts doing real good.
Big Lou walked up to me and said, look at the stage. I looked up and said, “What’s the matter?”. He laughed and said, “Where’s Allen?” I looked back up and sure enough no Allen Collins. Lou said that he had walked offstage. I knew the dressing room was across the stage and up some stairs. I ran up to the stage, walked across the stage, ran up the stairs and opened the door. There he was sitting on a couch. Allen said, “It’s over”. Man, before I could catch myself, I spun into a roundhouse kick. In the air, I changed my mind and kicked the refrigerator next to him. Scared him to death. I can still see the look on his face. I screamed, “I should kill you. Everything I have is in those shirts and books. What’s left of my crash money”. God, I was mad. I said, “You gave everyone your word; don’t that mean anything to you?” When he got to talk, he said, “Sit down and let me talk to you. Do you remember the other night when Jimmy pulled that Ronnie Van Zant look alike onstage to sing Sweet Home Alabama?” I said yeah. Allen said Jimmy walked to the back of the stage and passed out cold. Allen said, “Gene, Jimmy can drink 1 beer and pass out cold no matter where he’s at”. I said, “What?” Allen said, “Yeah, he can’t drink nothing. I can’t let him ruin my music like that”. Allen said, “Look at him, he’s not going to make it through the next song”. I said, “Man, you have put me in a bad way. I’m broke now and your word ain’t worth a damn”. Allen said, “My word is my music. Send your driver back home with the stuff and you ride with me. We’ll talk on the way back. This clown has to find another circus”. I’ll never forget what he said. Jimmy was a good singer but no drinker. On the ride home, Allen said, “Give me some time to get another singer and I’ll be back. Sit on the merchandise. I’ll be back and you’ll sell it all plus a lot more”. I knew Allen Collins. I trusted him. I knew his soul was good.
It wasn’t long after that, he was paralyzed in a car wreck. Gene Odom luck. There went the only way I could recoup my loss. Well, I could still walk and work. I could not hold a grudge cause I knew Allen.
I did go back to welding and ironworking. I knew which end of a shovel to grab. Nothing new to me. I worked until September 11, 1990 when I fell at the brewery in Jacksonville, Florida doing an add on. I got busted up again. This time I did not fall 10,000 feet, only 45 feet onto a pipe bridge. After a 30 minute rescue, back to the hospital. After the x rays, the doctor said, “What happened to your neck?” The old plane crash appears. The doctor said, “Well, your working days are over”. They were right. Workers comp put me on disability. Thank God for social security. It ain’t a lot of money but it’s better than a poke in the eye.
For being a good ole boy sure has cost me a lot. And that is ANOTHER REAL GOOD STORY!!!
But getting back to Allen Collins Band or Allen, like I said about Ronnie, you really have to know him. The band, his wife, the only 2 things that he was comfortable with were gone. Some things really do affect the brain and soul. My heart ached for him, not the drunk or drugged out Allen, but the Allen I really knew. After he was paralyzed in the car wreck, in the hospital, he did not let no one but his family see him. I would go up there every other day, only to be turned away. All I heard was he was so depressed and did not want to live. After a couple of months, I made my mind up it was time to see him. No one else knew what was in my mind. I walked up the hall right past Allen’s sister. She screamed, “No, you can’t go in there”. Allen’s mother was standing by his bed. I said, “Get up, boy. Let’s go fishing!” Allen’s mother said, “Gene, Allen’s paralyzed”. I said, “I know he’s paralyzed. I want to use him for crab bait, he won’t feel a thing. Hang him over the boat, let the crabs hang on and shake them into the boat”. I said this fast. Allen started laughing. I mean laughing hard and loud. The nurse and doctor came running in. Now, this is the first time you have laughed. Allen said, “Come here, only Gene Odom could do this. That was funny”. He said, Crab bait, that’s all I’m good for from the waist down. That brought another laugh. He told his mother and sister I could go and come as I pleased. He was mentally better after that. While he was in the hospital, after he came home, that was tough on him. This ended the Allen Collins as a musician. His spirit was paralyzed too. I don’t believe he would have lived as long as he did after his accident if not for his dad. Larkin Allen Collins Sr. Allen Collins the man, the band, the spirit of Lynyrd Skynyrd, AKA 1%.
Salina Journal, Salina, Kansas
June 29th 1975
By ERNEST LEOGRANDE
One of the strongest new sounds in rock music is something that’s been labeled Southern rock, and Lynryd Skynyrd is one of its representative names. Maybe not an easy one to pronounce, but a big one.
Try it this way, the way the band says to do it: Lehnerd Skinnerd. “It was made as a joke,” the band’s leader Ronnie Van Zant, said, “and we’re still gettin’ trouble with it.”
The name goes back to high school days when the band being formed by schoolmates Ronnie Van Zant vocalist, Allen Collins and Gary Rossington, guitarists and Bob Burns, drummer.
They had a gym teacher who used to tell them their hair was too long. They thought it would be a good joke to use his name (changed a little for safety’s sake) for their group. It stuck and now covers a band expanded to take in bassman Leon Wilkeson and keyboard man Billy Powell. Burns just dropped out, to be replaced by drummer Artimis Pyle, “Like in Gomer,” Ronnie said.
What the group used to do a lot was drive the 300 miles from Jacksonville, Fla. where they lived, to play dates in Atlanta, Ga., where Al Kooper discovered them and signed them to a record contract with his new label, Sounds of the South.
“The Allman Brothers were definitely the group that opened up the door for the Southern groups,” Ronnie said. “There are some young musicians down there that are very good. “The Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead had their scene. There was a scene in New York. Now the South has theirs. How long it will last I don’t know. I’m just glad we have it.”
The song which made them famous, “Free Bird”, is an excuberant excercise with sweeping, runaway guitar riffs , dedicated to Duane Allman. “All Southern groups associate with one another, ” Ronnie said.
The song, written by Ronnie and Allen, is a statement of the need to be free, on the road, and not bound by romantic entanglements. The group and road crew are not crazy about flying to gigs, so they’ve done what so many traditional country and western singers have done: bought and outfitted a bus for traveling.
Lynyrd Skynyrd’s bus sleeps 12, has a living room with color TV and individual rooms for sleeping. It’s on the truckers’ radio band, a network linking commercial drivers so they can pass information back and forth. Drivers on this band take code names for their vehicles. So if you happen to tune into that band and you hear a message from Free Bird, you’ll know who it is.
Another of their songs, “Sweet Home Alabama”, also proved extremely popular. It was an answer to Neil Young’s “Southern Man”, which had had some hard things to say about life in the South. Ronnie said Al Kooper and Neil Young had bumped into each other and discussed “Sweet Home Alabama”, and there were no hard feelings.
“He was real happy about the song,” Ronnie said, which is hard to believe since at one point the song remarks, “Well, I hope Neil Young will remember/A Southern man don’t need him around anyhow!”
Also, later that night, with Lynyrd Skynyrd headlining a sold-out concert at New York City’s famed Academy of Music, Ronnie responded to the sight of some kids in the front seats waving a Confederate flag and stated, in blunt terms, as the song struck its opening chords, that he didn’t care what Neil Young thought.
At one point in our conversation that afternoon Ronnie had been talking about how much emphasis he put on his arrangements for the group, especially since it has 3 lead guitars. “We put our music together, piece by piece, like a jigsaw puzzle,” he said. “Times we all play together, other times 2 of us play harmony and one rhythm and then at times one will just play the chinks, fillin’ in.”
He said his inspiration for arranging had been the way the Buffalo Springfield worked, which is a bit ironic when you know that Neil Young was one of the key men in the Buffalo Springfield. But then there’s a theory that true art exists on its own, separate from political or sociological feelings.
Anyway, if Ronnie is representative of Southern men, he’s a good representative — genial, accommodating and with a sense of humor. He did lapse into some criticism of New York City as representative of the North. “It’s ridiculous,” he said, “to come from places in the South where you can get all you can eat for $2.50 and pay $12 here and not get filled up.”
LYNYRD SKYNYRD at Funocchio's in Atlanta, Georgia 1972
In 1972, I was searching for a great three-chord band to produce. The radio was logjammed with progressive rock like you wouldn’t believe: Yes; Pink Floyd; Emerson, Lake and Palmer; Genesis; King Crimson. As a student of rock history, I knew it wouldn’t be long before basic rock returned like the cavalry, and I wanted to be leading the charge, albeit behind the scenes.
And so, in 1972, I heard Lynyrd Skynyrd making their Atlanta debut at a very dangerous club on Peachtree Street called Funocchio’s. They were playing a weeklong engagement, and each night I’d hear another great original song from them and knew I’d found the band I was searching for.
As I got to know them, I marveled at their work ethic. They had a shack on the swamp in their native Jacksonville, Florida, where they rehearsed constantly, honing their original material into polished, shining steel. They may have had three guitar players, but they understood restraint. Of all the bands I’d come across in my life, they were the finest arrangers. “Sweet Home Alabama” sounds like seasoned studio musicians twice their age.
Ronnie Van Zant was Lynyrd Skynyrd. I don’t mean to demean the roles the others played in the group’s success, but it never would have happened without him. His lyrics were a big part of it — like Woody Guthrie and Merle Haggard before him, Ronnie knew how to cut to the chase. And Ronnie ran that band with an iron hand. I have never seen such internal discipline in a band. One example: These guys composed all of their guitar solos. Most bands improvised solos each time they performed or recorded. Not them. Ronnie’s dream was that they would sound exactly the same every time they took the stage.
After three or four albums, Lynyrd Skynyrd transcended the Southern-rock tag. They became one of the greatest rock & roll bands in history. They feared no one. On their very first national tour, they opened for the Who. And got encores!
When Ronnie went down in that terrible 1977 plane crash, the forward progress of the band ended. After the survivors all healed, they miraculously reassembled. Ronnie’s kid brother Johnnie took over, and you had to rub your eyes to make sure it wasn’t Ronnie. But while the band could duplicate the majesty of past live shows (and still can), the heart and soul of the band was gone forever. LYNYRD SKYNYRD DOCUMENTARY
Lynyrd Skynyrd Dixie
LYNYRD SKYNYRD: Hell On Wheels Puts On The Brakes
Los Angeles Times, Sunday, October 24, 1976
By Cameron Crowe
When Lynyrd Skynyrd finally broke into the top 10 last month with it’s fifth album, “One More From The Road,” singer-founder Ronnie Van Zant could hardly wait to celebrate by canceling all future interviews. “This band doesn’t owe anything to anybody,” he declared happily. “Most of the media people, especially the press, have consistently portrayed us as either children or a bunch of rowdy drunks. That may or may not be true, but I know I’d much rather deal with the audiences that really put us there.”
After 10 grueling years of almost constant touring, Dixie’s Lynyrd Skynyrd are anything but children. Their notoriously long record of pillage and arrest however, does prove one thing. To the absolute delight of it’s hell-raising following, the band has boozed and brawled it’s way to the top. But now, bolstered by the confidence that only long-sought success can bring, 27 year old Van Zant is talking about changing that too.
“We like to have a good time and we will raise hell, but I assure you there won’t be as much skull-busting going on anymore.” Nursing a whisky in the hotel bar before Skynyrd’s recent apperance at the sold-out Starlight Amphitheater, Van Zant spoke in almost scholarly tones. “There was a point when it looked like everyone was going to be a (Keith) Moon in this band. That doesn’t work. Televisions out the window, fistfights over mistakes in the show… now, instead of people punching each other out, we just levy a fine. The best way to hit a man is in his pocket. Hitting him does no good. Breaking up a hotel room doesn’t change anything.”
“Our manager hit me with a bill the other day for $29,000 worth of damages. Some people work a long time for $29,000 and I tore up that much without even thinking about it. I can’t believe it… and it won’t happen again. Before the success of the live album, (“One More From The Road”), there was a lot of heavy pressure on us, which is no real excuse, I know. But we’ve been trying very hard to become a little bit more professional in our business. Just in our business though. We’d be crazy to start dressing up our stage. And the playing will always be as rough-house as always. I promise you that.”
Formed while the members were still attending high school in Jacksonville, Florida, Skynyrd was the master plan of Van Zant and guitarists Gary Rossington and Allen Collins. The name of the group comes from their gym coach, Leonard Skinner, who expelled them for long hair. Now a real estate salesman, Skinner introduced the band at a recent show in their hometown.
“The whole idea of the group,” recalls Van Zant, “was decided in the very beginning. We’ve stuck with it ever since.” It was, basically, to hone their hard rock cum country-blues material into a dense three guitar attack. Adding former Strawberry Alarm Clock guitarist Ed King, keyboard man Billy Powell, bassist Leon Wilkeson and drummer Bob Burns, the band was complete. Their goal? Van Zant: “To have fun, what else?”
It was a good thing. During their six years on the Southern bar grind, there was little else to be had. “Talk about dues, we paid a damn ton of ‘em,” cracks Van Zant. “So many that if things ever went too smoothly, it would ruin the group.”
Eventually, the huge breakthrough success of the Allman Brothers Band, another guitar oriented outfit from the South, paved the way for Skynyrd’s signing with MCA Records in the summer of ’73. Today, Gregg Allman’s recent bitter revelations that his band broke up this year with only $100,000 to split six ways have left Van Zant quieted by the ironic turn of events. “When Skynyrd is through, we will have probably quadrupled that per person,” he somberly reflects. “But if it hadn’t been for them, (Allman Brothers Band), we wouldn’t have gotten one penny.”
Van Zant also refuses to gloat over or publicize the fact that Skynyrd – with three gold and two platinum albums to it’s credit – is now easily the South’s biggest band. “If you ask me,” he says, “we’re closer to the classic British rock groups like Free then anything else.”
Van Zant even brashly dismisses the hit single “Sweet Home Alabama”, Skynyrd’s chest pounding reply to Neil Young’s “Southern Man” as “more of a joke than anything else.” He takes a gulp of of Jack Daniels, “Hey, I love Neil Young. My wife plays his records around the house all the time. He even dug the song himself. He understood that we weren’t serious. You gotta write about something. It’s tough.”
In the two years since “Sweet Home Alabama” though, writing has been the least of Skynyrd’s problems. Drummer Bob Burns – swiftly replaced by Artimus Pyle – was the first to bail out of the group’s never ending tour schedule. Integral writer and instrumentalist Ed King was next to leave in mid-’75, this time out of “total exhaustion”. Initially, the group attempted to restructure it’s sound around the remaining two guitars. Veteran producer Tom Dowd, (who has worked with everyone from Otis Redding to Eric Clapton), was called in to replace their original mentor, Al Kooper. The result was last year’s “Gimme Back My Bullets”.
While Dowd has made enthusiastic believers of the group, (“He taught us more then we ever thought we’d want to learn,” claims Allen Collins), “Bullets” remains the least successful of Skynyrd’s albums.
“Tom is still the best and only producer for this group,” Van Zant states flatly. “We were going for a completely different sound… and it didn’t work. We had always been so heavy and muddy, we decided to make a clean Lynyrd Skynyrd album. The material was good, it was just too… refined.”
The band learned a quick lesson about it’s fans. “We decided immediately to do an honest live album with three guitarists,” he continues, “and get back into the thing that had always worked so well. We had always been saving a Skynyrd live album as our trump. An intact recording of the band in concert. No overdubbing… no ‘Lynyrd Skynyrd Comes Alive’ for us. All we had to do was find a third guitarist.
After auditioning such luminaries as Leslie West and Muscle Shoals session whiz Wayne Perkins, the band finally settled on Steve Gaines, the unknown guitarist brother of one of Skynyrd’s backup girls. “I expect we’ll all be in Steve’s shadow one day,” Van Zant boasts. “This kid is a writing and playing fool. Just wait and see. He’s already scared everybody else into playing their best in years.”
As for maturation of his fellow band mates, Van Zant is decidedly less sure. “We were babies when we started this band,” he states, “and, to me, the other guys still are. There was a time when I’d get really drunk in this bar and say, ‘Who is the meanest mother here?’ You got a date with me outside.’ For the hell of it. The other guys are mostly still at that point. They’ll learn.”
Gary Rossington and Allen Collins, both car crash victims last Labor Day weekend, were slapped with hefty fines. “It’s a terrible thing when you get behind the wheel and you’re so drunk that you can’t drive a car to begin with. Those boys will pay for it. Allen hit a parked Volkswagen and knocked it across an empty parking lot. That was just a fender-bender compared to Gary’s.”
Rossington’s well publicized accident forced Skynyrd off the bill with Aerosmith at it’s recent Anaheim Stadium show. “I can’t tell you how mad I got at him for that,” fumes Van Zant. “We’re glad he’s gonna make it, he’s tremendously lucky to be alive… but it was his fault. He passed out at the wheel of his brand new Ford Torino, with his foot on the gas. He knocked down a telephone pole, split an oak tree and did $7,000 worth of damage to a house. That’s being just plain stupid. I told him that on his hospital bed.”
Van Zant shrugs, “You know, the biggest change in myself that I’ve noticed is that for the first time I’m really thinking about the future. I’m 27 now and I’ve got a baby girl and I plan to stick around and watch her grow up. I also plan to collect for the last 10 years of self abuse.”
With “One More From The Road” only accelerating up the charts, there is still no end in sight. Future plans include a television special, the group’s promotion of a Toyota automobile named ‘Freebird’, (after their in concert tour de force), a country album from Van Zant, another Lynyrd Skynyrd studio album and, of course, a worldwide tour. Just how does a man keep his sanity throughout?
Ronnie Van Zant smiles softly to himself and calls over a cocktail waitress. “Bring me another drink,” he says.
Lynyrd Skynyrd - Ronnie Van Zant, Allen Collins, Leon Wilkeson and Gary Rossington
Peter Rudge
Memories Of Lynyrd Skynyrd and Peter Rudge
Chris Charlesworth, Rock’s Backpages, 2001
LYNYRD SKYNYRD WAS MANAGED BY my friend Peter Rudge from late 1973. Rudge’s main pre-occupation at this time was The Who, for whom he’d worked in a quasi-managerial capacity since 1969.
As Kit Lambert and Chris Stamp shirked their responsibilities and fell out of favour, Rudge became The Who’s day-to-day manager in 1971, then set up in business in New York to look after their US affairs. His company was called Sir Productions and their offices were located on 57th Street, not far from Carnegie Hall. In October, 1973 Lynyrd Skynyrd supported The Who on their US Quadrophenia tour and Rudge took over their management around this time. In due course he would also manage .38 Special, whose singer Donnie Van Zant was the younger brother of Ronnie, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s charismatic singer and principal songwriter, and two other bands – The Dingoes, from Australia, and LeBlanc & Carr, from Muscle Shoals.
Peter Rudge was a smart, fast-talking, street-wise Cambridge University graduate who loved sport and could handle himself well if things became physical. At Cambridge he’d booked bands for college events and on one occasion in 1966 booked The Who for a college ball. According to his account, he’d received a telegram from The Who’s management 24 hours before the gig cancelling but instead of accepting the situation he’d got on a train to London and marched uninvited into Kit Lambert’s offices at Track Records in Old Compton Street demanding the group perform and threatening to sue them if they didn’t. Lambert was impressed by this show of bravado and offered him a job on the spot. In the event he graduated first, then turned up at Track where he was given the onerous task of ‘looking after’ The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown. It was only a matter of time before his business acumen led to him ‘looking after’ Track’s main attraction, The Who. His specialty was organizing US tours and he became so good at it that Pete Townshend recommended him to Mick Jagger when The Rolling Stones were looking for someone to run their international tours after the death of Brian Jones. Rudge’s ultimate ambition was to build up a stable of successful acts and Sir Productions was the umbrella under which this goal was to be achieved. It had eight employees, including a girl on the west coast, an accountant and a travel agent.
I worked for Sir from March 1977 until the end of that year, at which point Rudge drastically reduced the size of the company, a decision brought about as a direct result of the Lynyrd Skynyrd plane crash. The reason I worked there in the first place was because of my long-standing friendship with Peter which came about through my fondness for The Who. During my years on Melody Maker Rudge had told me that if I ever felt like leaving MM, he’d give me a job, and he was as good as his word. At Sir I worked on promoting his bands and getting them publicity, but I also went out on the road with both The Dingoes and LeBlanc & Carr as their tour manager, dealing with day to day events on the road, collecting and disbursing cash, making sure the rest of the crew did what they were supposed to do and everyone got from place to place and to the gigs on time. By the time I got to Sir, Rudge’s relationship with The Who was fast deteriorating, largely because he’d been devoting a disproportionate amount of time to The Rolling Stones, and The Who felt he’d somehow betrayed them by shifting his loyalty. Also Bill Curbishley, strongly supported by Roger Daltrey, had emerged as a formidable rival for The Who’s management.
During 1977 I saw Lynyrd Skynyrd perform about half a dozen times, arranged various press and radio interviews for them and helped produce the press kit that accompanied the ill-fated Street Survivors album. By this time Skynyrd were at a peak of popularity, their previous (double live) album One More From The Road having sold over a million copies. Much of their popularity could be put down to Rudge’s hard work ethic – they played something like 200 gigs a year under his management, and just got better and better at it. Now the top prize of a headlining show at Madison Square Garden was within their grasp.
The seven individual members of Lynyrd Skynyrd all drank like fishes, took all known illegal drugs, ran after anything female on two legs and liked nothing better than to fight with their fists, either against others or amongst themselves. Singer Ronnie Van Zant, who sang barefoot because, he said, he liked to feel the stage burn beneath his feet, was the toughest of the lot and he could more or less silence any of the others with the threat of a beating. Before their shows Skynyrd liked to psyche themselves up in their dressing room, winding themselves up by breathing deeply together like US football players, passing the Jack Daniels around in a ritual drink, willing each other on to perform as if their lives depended on it. Rudge, a sports fanatic, encouraged this. It worked, too.
Group meetings in Rudge’s big office were all day and night affairs at which bottle after bottle of Jack Daniels was consumed, piles of coke snorted, and carton after carton of cigarettes smoked. Voices were often raised and the language was as bad as you could hear anywhere. Anyone who’d crossed them was dead meat. MCA Records threw a party for them that summer at a bar near Nathan’s Restaurant which almost got out of hand when someone made a loose remark to one of Skynyrd’s women. Keith Moon, then living in LA, turned up in a loud pinstripe suit, drunk as a kite, and Rudge told me to keep Moon away from him as he’d probably beg for money. It was my first intimation that Moon, of all people, was broke – and sick with booze too. He was very podgy, glassy eyed and mournful.
I took particular pleasure that same summer when Skynyrd appeared as the penultimate act on an all day show at Philadelphia’s JFK Stadium and half the audience of 100,000+ walked out during Peter Frampton’s very limp closing set. They’d played an hour’s set – short for them – and restricted themselves to their best known songs, performed back-to-back with a minimum of fuss and maximum of swagger. The closing ‘Freebird’, their best known song, brought that huge crowd to their feet and as I watched from the side of the stage, just behind their amplifiers, it seemed to me that all 100,000 of them were stomping and cheering as the band played faster and faster, running away down the tracks to the song’s stupendous finale. Perfect. Philly conquered. Rudge and the band were laughing all the way to the bank, or so we all thought.
Unfortunately all the graft – and, believe me, Skynyrd grafted – came to nought as a result of the events of October 20. I was actually due to fly to Baton Rouge in Louisiana the following morning, pick up the Street Survivors tour which was three days old and co-ordinate various interviews I’d set up for them along the way, mostly at Texas radio stations, and I was looking forward to it as I’d never been to Texas before and a visit to the Lone Star State alongside Lynyrd Skynrd was likely to be an interesting experience. I would, of course, have travelled on the same private plane as the group and had the crash occurred 24 hours later I might not have been here to tell this tale.
My first intimation that anything was amiss came when a girlfriend of mine in St Louis called Debbie Moore rang me at home in New York. She told me she’d just heard on the local news that a private plane had come down in Mississippi and that it was ‘believed’ that the rock group Lynyrd Skynyrd was aboard. Did I know? Of course I didn’t. I then called UPI who confirmed that a small plane had indeed come down near a place called McComb. I then tried to call Rudge at home. His wife Frankie answered. Peter had just heard too. He was on his way to the office. I grabbed a cab and went straight there. I was the first to arrive and the phones – all five or six lines – were all ringing at once. It was pointless to try and answer them. I called UPI back and explained who I was and how I would be prepared to help them with regard to accurate information on Lynyrd Skynyrd if they could keep me up to date with developments from McComb. We agreed to help each other and stayed in touch all night.
Then Rudge arrived. He’d been to pick up a carton of cigarettes because he knew it would be a long night. I told him everything I knew and what I’d done. He looked distraught and opened a bottle of red wine but he somehow maintained his composure until, eventually, around 1 am, we heard that Ronnie was dead. Then he went alone into the office kitchen and wept. In the meantime all the office staff had arrived. The girls who worked at Sir manned the phones all night, crying as they did.
The various wives and girlfriends of the guys in the band and the road crew, almost all of whom lived in and around Jacksonville, were on the lines permanently, wanting to know the latest news from McComb. Eventually they all gathered at the home of Ronnie’s wife Judy and what dreadful scenes of hysteria and grief that house must have witnessed that night I can barely imagine. We relayed the news, almost all of it bad, as best we could to the girls in that house, every one of them unsure whether their men were dead or alive. The job of telling Judy that Ronnie was dead fell to Rudge. Radio stations were calling, wanting statements from me; reporters were calling. I believe my choked-up voice was heard on over 30 stations across the USA that night. Friends of Rudge and the band called offering help; private planes were put at our disposal. It went on all night and I got home dazed at around 9 or 10 am the next day. A night like that is not something you forget easily.
Six people died – Ronnie, guitarist Steve Gaines, his sister Cassie (who sang back up), their tour manager Dean Kilpatrick, and both pilots. All the band sustained bad injuries, as did some of the roadies and lighting crew. Those at the front of the plane came off worst, those at the back were less badly injured. Inevitably the group and those closest to them were at the front, with the part-timers at the back. The word was that Ronnie was flat out drunk, lying in the aisle, when the plane went down. No one could move him to a seat, let alone strap him in. He and the rest of the band had been drinking hard all day in a hotel in Greenville, South Carolina, waiting while the plane was got ready. Someone said something about the pilots having been drinking too.
All sorts of stories came out at the inquest: how the band, and Ronnie in particular, had complained to Rudge that the plane was dodgy and he’d complained to Ron Eckermann, their tour manager and told him to get it fixed. Someone said they saw flames coming from the engine on their flight from Miami to South Carolina the previous day. Eckerman was due to get the plane serviced in Baton Rouge. In the event, it seemed that the plane had ran out of fuel – there being no fire when it crashed – but it was obviously burning up fuel faster than it should have done.
Nothing was ever the same again at Sir Productions. The whole company seemed to go into a kind of stupor. All the plans we’d had for Skynyrd and the other bands were dashed. In two weeks time they would have headlined Madison Square Garden for the first time. It really did look like the were about to be elevated to the top bracket of touring rock bands, though how they would have dealt with it God only knows as they were such a wild bunch, eternally drunk, drugged up and fighting amongst themselves. Skynyrd were bringing in plenty of money and without them the funds dried up, so it was obvious Sir wouldn’t last. Rudge told me I’d have to go just before Christmas, 1977, and gave me a cheque for $2,000 which he didn’t have to do.
Later, after the funeral, the grief turned to anger, and there were terrible recriminations: lawsuits, bad vibes, fights with Rudge, deep shit. At least one surviving roadie committed suicide and another went mad and was institutionalized. Guitarist Allen Collins never really recovered and died from pneumonia several years later. In the meantime he’d crashed a car in which his girlfriend was killed. Rudge himself went into a terrible tailspin, almost killing himself with booze and coke. It cost him his marriage. When I walked out of Sir Productions I didn’t see him again for 22 years, but now he’s remarried, dry and clean after a cancer scare (he’s even given up cigarettes and he was once a 60-a-day man) and evidently happy. His son Joe, whom I remember as a baby, now works for MTV. At one time Peter was on the brink of controlling the fortunes of two of the three biggest British rock acts in the world. Ironically, the remains of the third – Led Zeppelin – is now controlled by Bill Curbishley, who took over The Who from Peter.
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