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dweemeister · 11 months

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Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. (2023)

According to the American Library Association, there were over 1,200 challenges to remove library books or resource materials from an American school or public library in 2022. It was the highest number since the ALA started collecting data in 2003 and about half of these challenges result in a restriction or full removal of that text from circulation. Judy Blume’s Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. was one of the most frequently challenged books in the United States from its publication in 1970 through the 2000s due to its discussions of spirituality, girls’ sexuality, and menstruation. The recent book banning headlines in America tend to feature novels that have LGBTQ+ themes or have protagonists and/or prominent secondary characters who are non-white in tales surrounding racial relations. These contemporary debates might make the fury surrounding Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. seem quaint, in a culture far removed from the present. However, Blume’s book (and the debate surrounding it) remains relevant more than fifty years after its publication.

Perhaps it might surprise non-readers that Kelly Fremon Craig’s adaptation of Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. (henceforth, I will use simply Margaret in italics if referring to the book) is a gentle coming-of-age film in an environment sorely lacking such works right now. The lack of overly precocious children with a cynical wisecrack for every situation has few relations among its raunchy relatives of the last few decades; so too the absence of the meta humor and period-specific jokes of John Hughes’ (1984’s Sixteen Candles, 1985’s Ferris Bueller’s Day Off) movies. That cynical precociousness and audience-winking, period-specific humor could easily have appeared in Margaret if Craig, who also wrote the screenplay, made too many deviations from the source material. With Blume’s guiding hand as a producer, Craig’s as writer, and an enjoyable ensemble performance – especially Abby Ryder Fortson as Margaret – this is a worthy adaptation and entry into the American coming-of-age film canon.

Returning home to Brooklyn from a New England summer camp, eleven-year-old Margaret Simon (Fortson) is upset to hear that her parents Barbara (Rachel McAdams) and Herb (Benny Safdie) are soon to move to suburban New Jersey, leaving grandmother Sylvia (Kathy Bates) alone in New York. Shortly after arriving at the Simons’ new home, Margaret befriends eventual classmate Nancy Wheeler (Elle Graham), and her friends Janie Loomis (Amari Alexis Price) and Gretchen Potter (Katherine Kupferer). Through the school year, the girls will gossip about their classmates, talk about boys who catch their interest, bras, changes to their bodies, and more – the manner of their conversations, for middle school-aged characters, are unusual to see in films, let alone in literature. Meanwhile, their teacher, Mr. Benedict (Echo Kellum) assigns a yearlong research project to all. Noting Margaret’s answers on a getting-to-know-you assignment, he suggests looking into religion. That’s a touchy subject in the Simon household. Mother Barbara comes from a Christian family; father Herb from a Jewish family. Due to furious disagreements with Margaret’s grandparents, neither parent actively practices religion, nor have they imposed religion upon Margaret (she is free to choose when she “grows up”). Despite this, Margaret communicates to God on occasion about her hopes and concerns. Through the school year, Margaret will learn more about herself and religion, mostly on her terms.

Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret. also stars Isol Young as Laura Danker, a girl who is the target of nasty words because of her early puberty; Aidan Wotjak-Hissong as Margaret’s sort-of crush, Moose (I certainly hope that is a nickname); Landon S. Baxter as Nancy’s brother, Evan; Zackary Brooks as slick-haired handsome boy/shmuck Philip Leroy; and Kate MacCluggage as Mrs. Jan Wheeler (also PTA President). Mia Dillon and Gary Houston play Margaret’s maternal grandparents.

In terms of approach and tone, this is as finely-tuned a literary adaptation as there could be. Blume’s Margaret, slender as it is at under two hundred pages, is episodic by necessity and structure, often employing time skips of several days or a few weeks into a new chapter. Craig’s Margaret does so as well, but brief montages and editing from Nick Moore (1997’s The Full Monty, 2005’s Nanny McPhee) and Oona Flaherty ease the transitions – fully exemplifying one advantage motion pictures have over prose. The period detail in Margaret firmly grounds it in 1970. Together, the costume design by Ann Roth (1985’s Places in the Heart, 2021’s Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom) and production design by Steve Sakald (2005’s Thank You for Smoking, 2021’s Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar) transport the viewer to that period.

This adaptation contains a refreshing lack of major deletions from the original novel. All of the book’s important episodes, exchanges, ideas, and tender wisdom are in the film, and none of the secondary cast have been short-changed. If anything, the only notable alteration from Blume’s novel is the addition of a subplot for Rachel McAdams’ Barbara. Within this cast, McAdams is easily the most bankable movie star at present (with apologies the wonderful Kathy Bates, but her character is not as central to the narrative), which may have been the justification for this decision. Nevertheless, the subplot – which revolves around Barbara joining the school’s parent-teacher association (PTA) and volunteering for multiple committees – seems unnecessary, sidetracking from Margaret’s point of view (and Blume’s book is entirely written in Margaret’s voice). Thankfully, Barbara’s PTA experience does not have much screentime and always quickly reverts to Margaret. That the filmmakers did not fully trust Abby Ryder Fortson to carry an adult audience’s attention for the film’s entirety is disappointing, regardless of McAdams’ solid performance, as she needs to be the true star of this film.

Audiences may know Abby Ryder Fortson best as Cassie Lang from Ant-Man (2015) and its 2018 sequel. In her first film as the lead, Fortson is brilliant. She embodies Margaret’s guardedness and anxiety when first moving to New Jersey, especially in juxtaposition to the overly confident Nancy. Fortson also capture Margaret’s earnestness, as well as a few scenes of cruelty and thoughtlessness – crucially, Margaret’s worst moment feels plausible, and never seems as if the behavior is coming from some other character entirely. However, Craig’s screenplay, due to its inability to stay firmly in Margaret’s point of view, underserves her in the film’s final act when her maternal grandparents arrive. By no fault of Fortson’s, the film does not delve deeply enough into how Margaret feels about her maternal grandparents’ estrangement and attempts to reconcile with her parents. Fortson can only do so much in lending Margaret a mix of bafflement and uncertainty in these scenes in arguably the most emotionally charged scenes of the film. Here, the film is torn between Margaret’s feelings about her maternal grandparents and parents’ disagreements and how parental decisions can impact children for the rest of their lives. It achieves neither.

I have never been a teenage girl, nor was I raised in an environment where any of the Abrahamic religions were even tangentially part of my life (let alone being part of an interfaith family). Judy Blume probably did not have someone like me principally in her mind when she wrote her book. But in Margaret, I saw a glimmer of the past that I imagine many of you will see for yourselves, too. The incredible awkwardness of being a pre-teen is probably something you, the reader, would probably like to keep half-forgotten. Rare is the film that can summon those feelings: of wanting to grow up (and quickly!), only to realize that those milestones that we associate with maturity are perhaps not as earthshaking as we imagined them to be. True maturation is more elusive than what Margaret and her friends envision. Religion, the passage of time, and sexuality cannot confer it. And some grown-ups never quite discover that. Fortson, through her performance, and Craig’s screenplay deliver on all of this, even if Fortson herself might not realize it yet.

At eighty-five years of age, Judy Blume has had a modest cinematic renaissance this year. Her books, fixtures in American children’s and young adult literature, have curiously not often been adapted for television or film. But with this film and the documentary Judy Blume Forever premiering at the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year, that appears to be changing. On the television front, Netflix is currently in production on an adaptation of her young adult novel Forever… (another Blume work often finding itself on most banned/challenged book lists); also in the pipeline are TV adaptations of the Fudge series for children and the adult book Summer Sisters. For the New Jersey-born-and-raised Key West, Florida native, conversations about her legacy are underway. Despite her unassuming persona and the gentleness of both Margaret and its film adaptation, Blume has been a vocal critic of Florida’s recent Parental Rights in Education bill (also known as the “Don’t Say Gay” bill) and requirements to review books based on state guidelines mostly over gender identity, race, and sex. No surprise for an author who has been the target of book bans from almost the beginning of her career.

Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. arrives at a time when coming-of-age movies are, at least among the major and mini-major (such as Lionsgate, which distributed this film) American movie studios, no longer perceived as commercially viable for theatrical exhibition. Coming-of-age movies must be packaged within a superhero movie or tied to a franchise in order to find its way to American cinemas. The creative and financial heads of the superhero cinematic universes claim that their narratives can encompass genres/subgenres such as coming-of-age or political thrillers or historical epics, but their approach and distributional dominance precludes non-superhero affiliated films of such genres/subgenres from appearing in theaters in the first place. Their influence makes the existence of this film’s theatrical run – despite its apparent failure to find much of an audience beyond those who have read the book (non-readers of certain political stripes probably mistakenly thought this was a faith-based film from the evangelical Christian film industry or already knew about the book’s reputation and refused to see it) – a minor miracle.

Director Kelly Fremon Craig has worked on a coming-of-age film before surrounding a female protagonist in The Edge of Seventeen (2016). But Margaret – for its remarkable faith to the source material, engaging performances, and meticulous period detail – is an achievement surpassing that. Craig’s sensibilities as director and writer suit the film, and Fortson’s performance elevates it to the level of the most universal American coming-of-age movies.

My rating: 8/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog. Half-points are always rounded down.

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

#Are You There God? It's Me Margaret #Kelly Fremon Craig #Judy Blume #Abby Ryder Fortson #Rachel McAdams #Kathy Bates #Benny Safdie #Elle Graham #Amari Alexis Price #Katharine Kupferer #Kate MacCluggage #Aidan Wojtak-Hissong #Landon S. Baxter #Echo Kellum #Zackary Brooks #Isol Young #Mia Dillon #Gary Houston #My Movie Odyssey

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

Deadbeat Pt. 3

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut, cursing, abandonment, infatuation, cheating/divorce, angst, mild housewife kink, mentions of prostitution, mentions of alcohol, corrupt official

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

This is unedited, and I missed anything I should include as a warning let me know! This chapter introduces some new plots and conflicts, so it jumps around a little more than the previous ones.

I hope you all enjoy!

I also am having some writer’s block with my Obi-Wan Kenobi miniseries I was working on, so expect Part 3 sometime Sunday hopefully! So sorry for the delay on the final chapter.

Tags and Requests are OPEN

Part One // Part Two

Henry Curtis was one of the most infuriating people Lee had ever met. Curtis was a writer for the Columbus newspaper and constantly pestering the Sheriff. Curtis seemed to have a sixth sense for whenever the Sheriff did anything. He was desperately trying to catch the Sheriff doing anything but so far had remained unsuccessful. Curtis was the biggest obstacle Lee faced in winning re-election. The man would show up out of nowhere, pen and pad in hand ready to find anything that would be enough to keep the Sheriff out of office.

Maybe Curtis was just doing his job, but Lee always felt like it was much more personal. It was probably just his own resentment of the man who was just doing his job. But the man didn’t have to be so goddamn invasive. When the Sheriff had devised his plan on offering to rent a room from you, he was so tied up in his own mess of divorce and his somewhat confusing feelings towards you he had completely forgotten about the press. They would have a field day with the divorce alone, but now on top of everything else, Lee knew he should be more careful.

Lee always had to be careful, especially if he was meeting Leroy Brown. Lee would make sure he drove way out of town, and always insisted they met at a different location every time. This would infuriate Brown but Lee was the only lawman he had working for him. Sometimes Lee would drive several hours out of the way, always at some deserted ghost town or some sad excuse for a diner or a bar. Always somewhere no one would recognize him.

Lee lied to you and told you he and a few of the deputies would need to drive out of town for a stakeout when he needed to meet with Brown. It was one of those nights, sitting in the cruiser with the headlights off, as he parked in an abandoned parking lot almost two hours out of town.

He had been able to put this off for a couple weeks, lying about other legitimate jobs getting in the way. Honestly, it was because he wanted to one, avoid anything that would cause suspicion from Henry Curtis hearing he was back in town and two, he was selfishly allowing himself to just spend his nights at his new home, spending all the time he could manage with you. It was like being in that little white house was a place where he could let himself be delusional, and time spent with you was what his life actually was, not this mess he was currently dealing with. He wanted out.

Lee knew he wasn’t a good man. He knew that his laundry list of offenses had tarnished his badge a long time ago. He knew what he was doing, and before he never cared. Now, he’s thinking about how his actions could affect you. You were innocent, unaware of everything he was stuck in. He knew you weren’t stupid, and he was sure the town knows some about his corruption. But now, he couldn’t rationalize away his actions for any reason when it came to you. Janie? She didn’t care and would encourage it. She’d be in on it too. She’d have no problem lying to ladies at Church or starting other rumors to keep the town talking about anyone but Lee. She was as power hungry as he was sometimes, which could be a testament as to how their loveless marriage held together for so long.

***

“Hi, I’m looking for a Ms. (Y/L/N)?” the man asked when he approached you, talking a seat at one of the barstools.

“Who’s asking for her?” you asked raising an eyebrow.

“I’m Henry Curtis, I work for the Columbus Dispatch.”

“The newspaper?”

“That’s the one.”

“Why are you looking for her?”

“I’m doing a story on her mother’s marriage to Harvey Tucker.”

“She’s not here tonight. But I can let her know you were here. Do you got a card?”

The man pulled out a business card from his wallet and slide it across the bar. You picked it up and read all the information before putting it in the pocket of your apron.

“Seems weird for the Columbus paper to want to do a story on that a month and a half after it happened,” you said skeptically.

“We did cover the story when it happened,” Curtis informed you. “Doing a follow up since the story broke about his wife missing.”

“Missing?” you ask. “Do they know what happened?”

“Robbed the bastard blind and then ran apparently,” Curtis said casually looking past you at the chalkboard on the wall. “Scotch, neat.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, grabbing the bottle from the shelf. “Has anything else been found out yet?”

“Not yet, that’s why I’m here. Checking in to see if she’d come back here because I heard Ms. (Y/L/N) still lives around these parts.” He then pulled a newspaper out of the inside pocket of his coat and started flipping through the pages.

“She has another kid too, right?” you asked, playing dumb. “A boy, I think. Do you know where he is?”

“Couldn’t say,” he sounded very indifferent, “Most likely went with her but who knows? I went to the Sheriff’s office to see if they knew anything but the Sheriff wasn’t there.”

“That’s too bad,” you say. “I’m sure Sheriff Bodecker would help you help if he can.”

Your statement made Mr. Curtis chuckle, but you didn’t follow up on it. You were just focusing on getting as much information about your mother and brother as you could.

“Speaking of Mr. Bodecker,” he began, “I recently saw his wife is getting remarried. Saw the announcement of the engagement in the paper.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” you respond, skeptically. You didn’t know why but you didn’t trust this man. It was something in the tone of his voice, or maybe it was just how he held himself. Very polished, a suit and a nice dress jacket. He looked very out of place in this town, and this little bar.

“You familiar with the Sheriff at all, miss?”

“Not too well,” you shrug, “Haven’t had any run-ins with the law myself.”

“Not even a speeding ticket?” He asks, only a little condescendingly.

“Can’t get a speeding ticket if you don’t have a car,” you point out.

“Touché,” he chuckles before taking a sip of his drink.

He doesn’t ask you anymore questions, and when he leaves, he gives you a five-dollar tip.

***

Lee receives his cut from Brown. There was nothing new to report on that front and his meeting went by smoothly. All Lee had to do was to turn a blind eye, and make sure the rest of the department stays unaware of the brothel’s existence. Brown always insisted on meeting with him, wanting to know what the Sheriff’s department was investigating and making sure his businesses stayed under the radar. He felt sick, and is preoccupied with the fact he has an envelope of dirty money in the cruiser’s glovebox.

It’s around midnight when he pulls up to the house. He expects that you’re already asleep, but he notices the lamp is on in the living room. He takes the money out of his glovebox and tucks it away into the inner pocket of his jacket. Coming inside, he finds you on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the business card Mr. Curtis had given you. You face is stained with dried up tears, and you still haven’t even changed out of your work clothes.

“What’s that?” he asks, the sight of you breaking his heart. He winces because he comes off a lot harsher than he meant.

“Some reporter came while I was at work wanting to talk to me,” you explain softly, you sound exhausted. “Wanted to talk to me cause he’s doing a story on my mother. Apparently, she’s on the run from the Columbus police.”

You extend your hand to give Lee the card. He feels his jaw clench when he reads the information. “What happened?” he asks, taking a deep breath and sitting down next to you.

“I pretended I wasn’t me,” you say, another tear rolling down your cheek. “He came in asking for me so I said I’d pass his card on. I didn’t want to tell him who I was because he didn’t explain why he was looking for me at first. I don’t know- just scared me. I’m more upset about the news itself than him.”

“You did the right thing,” Lee said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder comfortingly. He was angry, but he didn’t show it. It worried him, fucking Curtis snooping around this close to you. It made him feel protective, wanting to shield you from the whole ordeal. He had been on the receiving end of unsolicited attention from the press and he knew how ruthless they were. He knew this wouldn’t be the only time Curtis would try to get in touch with you. He’d find out where you lived, he’d continue to show up while you were working- the whole nine yards. He didn’t want you going through that.

Curtis talking to you also made him incredibly paranoid. It was his two worlds that he desperately wanted to keep apart were colliding. He knew it was impossible, but he so wanted to keep you separated from the other part of his life. It wasn’t who he wanted you to see. Hell, he hasn’t even been here for a month. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep you in the dark, at least that wasn’t entirely intentional. Actually, he wasn’t sure, maybe it was intentional. However, it wasn’t just you he wanted to hide aspects of his life from. He wanted his involvement with Brown and others hidden from every goddamn registered voter. You were no different, he tried to rationalize. But that wasn’t true. These feelings he harbored for you, were getting worse. He needed to unwrap himself from this situation, and for the sake of you finding out he was a shill, keep you away from that asshole. He didn’t want to let himself think about how the way you look at him would change.

And here he was, making the situation all about him. It was in his nature.

“He’s just going to show up again if I don’t call him,” you say, wiping your eyes. “Maybe I should just call him in the morning. Just be honest and say I don’t know anything. He can keep coming around but nothing is going to change.”

“I can take care of it,” he says. He couldn’t risk you talking to Curtis again. For all he knows, Curtis would tell you all about the story on the Sheriff he’d been trying to confirm for years. Lee knew he couldn’t let that happen. He fully intends on telling you, but how the hell do you bring that up? ‘Hey doll, I’m also on the payroll of every pimp and bootlegger in a ten-mile radius, just letting you know.’ It wasn’t going to come up, unless Curtis tells you about it. He’d be hoping to pull himself out if it, show you how you made him want to be better.

For now, he settles for comforting you, and just being there to take care of you. Make you feel better. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and lets you cry into his chest. He sighs, kissing the top of your head in a friendly way and you curl up against him. Under different circumstances, you probably wouldn’t have let yourself do this- show your vulnerability or allow anyone to comfort you like this. But it was all the events of the past month, your mother leaving, everything, just all hitting you at once, and you were happy you weren’t alone.

In the morning, you wake up on the couch with a blanket over you. You see Lee asleep in the chair, and you realize he stayed with you all night. It makes your heart flutter. You pull the blanket up over your chin and close your eyes again. You felt surprisingly well rested. The stress and worry were pushed to the back of your mind long enough to let you get some sleep. It still lingered in the back of your mind, but you reminded yourself that for now, there was nothing you could do. You had the day off, and you let yourself have a little longer time to sleep in.

You woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and the sound of sizzling on the stove. When you opened your eyes, Lee was no longer in the chair. You sat up and looked toward the kitchen, where you saw Lee with his back to you while he worked with the pans on top of the stove. The portable radio was positioned on the counter, and it was playing at a low volume, so it wouldn’t wake you up.

“Hey,” you say softly, still waking up as you walk into the kitchen.

“Morning, doll,” he says, glancing back at you for a moment. “How’re you feeling?”

“A little better,” you admit, grabbing a mug for yourself out of the cabinet. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the smell before making it how you usually take it. “Thank you for sitting with me,” you say honestly, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he says with a small grin. “I just wanted to help.”

“I really appreciate it, Lee,” you reiterate your thanks, hopping up to take a seat on the counter, watching him cook breakfast. “Didn’t know you knew how to cook,” you joke, making him chuckle.

“I’m full of surprises, sweetheart,” he smirks, making you feel flushed. You take another drawn out sip of your coffee to try to distract yourself. You watch his arms, and his hands as they maneuver and flex when he cooks. You imagine how they must feel, your eyes focused on the veins. You bit your lip and it reminds you of the dream you had a little while back when he first moved in. You imagine him stepping in between your legs as your propped up on the counter, his hands gently gripping your thighs and-

“I’ll get it,” you announce hurriedly as you hear someone knock on the front door. You hop off the counter careful to not spill your coffee, and head to answer the door. Lee watches you bounce out of the room, fixing your hair as you go and you don’t catch his smile.

“Arvin,” you say surprised, stepping out onto the porch. “What are you doing here?” you ask, with a small grin. You’re confused but nonetheless happy to see him.

“You look like you’ve been crying,” he observes, concern written all over his face.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say dismissively, “Just last night I was thinking about my ma and everything. Just had trouble sleeping is all.”

“The Sheriff didn’t do anything?” Arvin asked in a hushed tone, looking over your shoulder to see if Lee could hear you two.

“No, nothing, he’s been perfectly fine,” you say coming to the Sheriff’s defense. “I know you and Ms. Russell are worried, I know how it must look- but Arvin I swear he’s just my tenant. He’s been nothing but a gentleman.”

“Just making sure,” he says, letting it go for now. “Lenora asked me to bring these by for you.” He hands you the glass baking dish that you can see is filled with homemade cinnamon rolls. “She’s been practicing making all kinds of baked goods for when the Church does that bake sale and has me running all over town giving it away cause me and Uncle Earskell can’t keep up with it all.”

“Tell her thank you for me,” you say with a smile, “And I’ll bring the dish with me to Church tomorrow- give it back to her.”

“She misses you I think,” Arvin says sheepishly, pushing his hands into his front pockets. “I mean- I do- I think my whole family does- we all do. I’m sorry my grandmother hasn’t asked you over in a while…”

“I understand,” you nod. “Reputation is an important thing.”

“I just didn’t want you to think it was because of us,” he says looking down at the porch, his eyes fixed on a loose board. “You know how she is- everything no matter the context is somehow a sin. Scared to death of her own shadow…”

“I know you’re not that resentful, Arvin Russell,” you chuckle and he relaxes. “And I don’t hold any hard feelings towards anyone in your family- you all have always been good to me.”

“Well, um,” he says awkwardly, looking like he was holding back from saying more. “I got to hit a couple more houses before I head to work, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at Church?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Oh- I wanted to let you know,” he says, turning around as he’s already heading down the front steps, “The principal down at the high school is looking for secretaries- Lenora heard and thought you might be interested. It pays like $35 a week, I think. You should call Linda Carson; I think Lenora said- that’s the woman who’s in charge of hiring people, I think.”

“I’ll call the school first thing Monday morning,” you say, grin stretching from ear to ear. Arvin nods and says goodbye again. You walk back into the house like you’re on top of the world. You couldn’t contain your excitement. That job if you could get it would be a dream. You’d be making so much more than you’re already making. You were so excited.

“You’re in a much better mood than when I last saw you,” Lee jokes. He’s sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper while he eats his breakfast. You notice that he made you a table setting- brought your coffee over and everything. You place the baking dish in the middle of the table and sit down.

“That was Arvin,” you say happily, and Lee feels his heart sink into his stomach.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, trying to not let on how his heart feels like it’s crushed. He knew it was only a matter of time before a boy would come around- whether it be Arvin or someone else your own age.

“Well, first he was just dropping off baked goods Lenora made,” you say gesturing to the dish on the table. “He’s going around to everybody, I guess. He mentioned the high school is looking for office secretaries- Lenora wanted me to know. Thirty-five dollars a week! I’m going to talk to Linda Carson about it Monday morning. Can you imagine? I could get a secretary job.”

Lee feels just a crash of relief wash over him. He’s so happy that you are looking at a new job. You deserve better than that bar. He knew you deserved the job just as much as any of the other candidates. You work harder than anyone he knows.

“That’s fantastic, sugar,” he replies. “You deserve it.”

“Do you think I have a chance?” you ask, feeling a little self-conscious- you knew you weren’t as experienced as other candidates would be for sure.

“Of course, I do,” he says, putting down the paper to give you his full attention. “I feel like you getting this job is a definite. There’s no doubt about it.”

“You’re just buttering me up,” you scoff, finishing up your food, making him chuckle. You may have also seen his cheeks redden, but you couldn’t say for sure. You finish off your coffee, and then bring you dishes back to the kitchen, leaving them in the sink. Lee turns his attention back to his newspaper and you head upstairs to get ready for your day.

When you head upstairs, Lee notices that you took the radio with you- and he could hear you were listening to music from upstairs. He decides before it’s too late to ring Mark Cunningham. The line rings a couple of times before Mark answers.

“Cunningham.”

“Morning, Mark. It’s Sheriff Bodecker,” he smirks.

“What can I do for you Sheriff?” he asks, the sound of shuffling paper comes through as well. Most likely flipping through the paper.

“I wanna call in that favor you owe me,” he says, casually pacing the living room, holding the receiver up to his ear and the base of the rotary phone in the other.

“Of course, Sheriff,” he says. A while back, Bodecker busted the principal making moonshine in his old barn that was at the end of his property. Lee looked the other way and was waiting for the right thing to call in a favor for.

“I want you to hire (Y/N) (Y/L/N) for the secretary job,” he says, looking to the stairs, making sure you aren’t coming. The music is still playing loudly from upstairs so he determines he’s still got time.

“That’s all?” Mark asked surprised.

“That’s all I want from you,” Lee replies. “I expect you can make that happen?”

“Without a doubt. When can she start?”

“Still have her come in for an interview. I don’t anyone else knowing I called you about this- including her.”

“Done.”

With that, Lee hangs up the phone, feeling really good about this decision. He knew how much that job meant to you- he could see it in your eyes and how excitedly you talked about it. He can’t wait to see you when you find out you get the position. He knows it’s going to make you so happy. He knows you’d be a fantastic candidate, but this just eliminates any doubt. He reasons that there isn’t much difference, since you were very likely to get it anyways. He just had to make sure.

He can picture you know, coming home from the interview- excited to tell him that you got the job. You’d be so excited you’d jump up and hug him tightly, just so overjoyed that you let your feelings take over. You’d wrap your legs and around his waist and he’d hold you up by holding the back of your thighs. You’d wrap your arms tightly around him and bury your head in the crook of his neck. You’d lift your head up to look at him, embarrassed at your actions and then he’d press his lips to yours. You’d gasp softly, but your lips would melt against his own and your arms would wrap tightly around his neck. He’d walk forward, pressing you up against the wall and he’d kiss your neck mumbling praises of congratulations against your skin as his name falls from your lips at how good he’d make you feel. It’s almost unbearable how bad he wants you.

He heads to him room to get ready for his day, but his mind is still clouded with thoughts of you. He thinks about how much he wants nothing more that to just pin you on his mattress. He wonders if you know how crazy you make him. Sometimes there’s something in your eye that makes him think you want him too, but he’s not sure. His better judgement holds him back from everything he wants to do. He thinks about how it must feel to have his head right in-between your thighs. Back in the kitchen together, he wanted to just get on his knees and worship you. The feeling of them pressing against him as he sucks on your clit and runs his tongue across your folds.

Serval hours later, he can’t shake the thoughts, even sitting in his office at the sheriff’s station- working on a Saturday yet again. He’s cooped up in his office, unable to get through any of the paperwork that has piled up on his desk. He’s thinking about you, again, but in this daydream, you’re bent over his desk- because you came by to see him on your break from work at the school. His office door locked and his blinds pulled so he can bend you over and take you right there- rough and fast, sending you back to work with a feeling of him still there between your legs well after you’re back at your own desk, still sore from the encounter.

“You got a visitor, Lee,” the intercom on his desk lights up.

“Send ‘em in,” he responds back, shaking his head to snap out of it. He needed to get a grip.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” you say, walking into his office. His eyes widen and he wonders if he’s still day dreaming. He discreetly pinches himself. You’re actually here, standing in his office, while he looks at you dumbfounded. Part of him would think he manifested it if he was a man of any faith. “You forgot this,” you say, putting his wallet on the desk. “You must have taken it out of your back pocket before falling asleep in the chair last night. It was laying on the coffee table. I figured I’d stop by with it while I was coming up this way anyways.”

“You’re a doll,” he grins, putting his wallet in his back pocket. “What are you doing?”

“I took the bus to the library to return some books, and now I’m going shopping for something to wear when I go in for an interview since I have the day off to go,” you explain. “I’m also probably going to get lunch after that before heading back home. I just didn’t want to be home in case that reporter stopped by. I’m not ready to talk to him yet.”

“I can take care of it,” he says, “He’ll make his way over here soon enough. I can talk to him.”

“You would do that for me?” you ask, the relief evident across your whole face.

“Yeah, I can talk to him, let him know you gave a statement here,” he says. You nod. “You know as much as he does, so it doesn’t matter if I tell him you don’t know shit or if you tell him.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” you sigh, so relieved thinking that you won’t have to hear from Henry Curtis again. “If he tells you anything about them… will you let me know?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you say, hurriedly walking over behind him and quickly hugging his shoulders. You then are back by the door again before he can register the gesture. “Are you going to be home tonight?” you ask, your hand on the doorknob.

“Not until late,” he says reluctantly, and he can see the disappointment on your face- unless his mind was playing tricks on him.

“Okay,” you say finally, “Um, I’ll see you later then.”

“Bye, doll,” he says when you walk out of his office.

Are you going to be home tonight? Your voice lingers in his head. It was such a harmless phrase that could’ve just been one of curiosity. Maybe you were just asking because you were thinking about what you were doing for dinner. It most likely just meant nothing. But, the look on your face when he said no makes him think otherwise. Did it mean you cared? That you wanted to spend time with him? You wanted to see him and be with him as desperately as he needed you perhaps? Just the phrasing itself makes his brain feel like putty. It’s like you’re waiting up for him. It’s like you share the house in a way that’s much more than just him renting a room from you. It’s like you’re his and he’s yours. It’s like saying our house… our home. The question was so intimate and implied so much more about how you saw him and what he was to you. He knew seeing him as how he saw you was next to impossible, but you saw him as more than the Sheriff and more than just the jerk living in your house.

Part Four

Taglist:

@scar-is-bi @jiminlife2k18 @asylummaniac01 @rosalynshields @charmed-asylum @jamesbuchananbuckybarnes1917 @alexandrathegreat3

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #smut #the devil all the time #angst #lee bodecker x y/n #arvin russel x you #arvin russel x reader

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artistjojo1228 · 5 years

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Rock and Roll Storytime #13: The 27 Club (Part 1: What It Is, Robert Johnson, and Brian Jones)

Considering that I’ve already talked about several specific stories involving the tragic seven, and how we’re all superstitious of the number thirteen, I feel it’s high time I talked about this... Also, I’m dividing this into parts so that I might be able to offer some more insight than I could if I were trying harder to stick into Tumblr’s character limit.

Robert Johnson, Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, and Amy Winehouse.

These seven names make up the most prominent members of the 27 Club, or as I like to call it, one of rock and roll’s oldest and most prevalent superstitions. Some people (like hack biographer Charles Cross) have stated that there is more of a statistical spike for musicians dying at twenty-seven, or just believe that musicians are more likely to die at 27.

I think this chart should dispel a lot of those notions...

I’m not superstitious of the club by any means, but what I’d still like to do is talk about what it is, and talk about the lives of the tragic seven in particular. Bear in mind, I might be including some of my own personal opinions and anecdotes on the matter, so please bear with me.

The 27 Club

In its most basic form, the 27 Club is a list of actors, artists, athletes, and most predominately musicians, who all died at the age of twenty-seven, typically as the result of drug overdoses, health problems, or car accidents. There is no official membership though, so I’ve heard of people including as few as three members and as many as eighty-one (okay, that last one was me counting almost everyone who’s ever been mentioned on the Wikipedia page as well as a camera assistant killed in a train accident in Georgia in 2014). For those sites who will list more than just the Tragic Seven, the earliest one is usually considered to be Alexandre Levy, a Brazilian composer who died of unknown causes on January 17, 1892, and the most recent member is generally considered to be someone who died in the last three years, such as Anton Yelchin, Kim Jong-hyun, or Fredo Santana. (Personally, the most recent member I’ll count is Tyler Skaggs, who died of an opioid overdose just twelve days shy of his 28th birthday on July 1, 2019).

The club started up after the sudden deaths of Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Jim Morrison between July 2, 1969, and July 3, 1971. The deaths were highly publicized affairs, and inevitably, people noticed the coincidence that these four had died at the age of twenty-seven, and of course, the notion of a 27 Club started up.

This notion was further popularized when, in 1994, Kurt Cobain was found dead, having died by suicide three days earlier. Reportedly, in an interview, his mother said (in part), “I told him not to join that stupid club.” Whether or not she actually said this is a matter of personal conjecture (especially once you realize that she actually abused her son for years and that he was homeless for a time because of her). In either case, some people think nowadays that she was actually referring to the fact that two of Kurt’s uncles and his maternal great-grandfather had also died by suicide (especially considering that research has since shown that trauma can run through families), but since most of the general public would likely be unaware of that, it was assumed that she was referring to the 27 Club.

The notion was popularized again in 2011, when Amy Winehouse died from alcohol poisoning. It gets creepier once you take into account that in 2008, she expressed fears of joining the club. In retrospect, it all seems cruelly ironic...

Since the notion first became popularized, the 27 Club has shown up in various movies (usually about individual members and all of varying quality), books, TV shows, comics (like the MAD magazine strip featured above), and songs.

And now that I’ve got the rundown, I’d like to go into more detail about the tragic seven...

Robert Johnson:

Admittedly, I might have shot myself in the foot with this one, since I already (recently) covered much of what is known/mythologized of his life (https://artistjojo1228.tumblr.com/post/188292315565/rock-and-roll-storytime-crossroad-blues-the-myth), but I’d like to give at least the basic rundown regardless. Much of what I’m about to relate was mainly dug up by researchers in the 1960′s and through no small amount of effort.

Robert Leroy Johnson was born on what is believed to be May 8, 1911 in Hazlehurst, Mississippi to Julia Major Dodds and Noah Johnson. He was the youngest out of ten or eleven children (sources vary). His mother’s husband, Charles Dodds, was reportedly forced by a lynch mob to leave Hazlehurst, and he moved to Memphis, Tennessee. Likewise, Julia also left, and two years later, she sent her son to live with Charles (who by now had changed his name to Charles Spencer). As a result, for a short time, Robert was known as Robert Spencer.

In 1919, Robert went back to live with his mother, and there is some evidence to suggest that he received some schooling in 1924 and 1927. When he was still a teenager, Robert had taught himself to play harmonica and jaw-harp, but had difficulties figuring out how to play the guitar. Still, like me teaching myself piano, he was, if nothing else, determined to figure out how to play it. After a number of incidents involving him annoying people with his utter lack of skill playing the guitar, he disappeared for a while. Most likely, he spent this time learning guitar from Ike Zimmerman in a cemetery, or from watching other performers on stage. However, the popular legend about his life is that he sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his exceptional talents.

As I’ve said, Robert, during one of his songs, would play rhythm, melody, and bass lines, stamp his foot to the beat, and on top of that, sing. I believe this anecdote from Keith Richards summarizes this best: “When I first heard it, I said to Brian, ‘Who’s that?’ ‘Robert Johnson’. I said, ‘Yeah, but who’s the other guy playing with him?’ Because I was hearing two guitars, and it took me a long time to realize he was actually doing it all by himself.”

In 1929, 18-year-old Robert married 16-year-old Virginia Travis. By this time, he had started going by Robert Johnson again. Sadly though, Virginia died in childbirth a few months later, along with the baby. Her surviving relatives blamed Robert for what had happened, because of his choice to sing secular music.

Yeah... back then, the blues was considered the “Devil’s music” by many, because, as I’ve said, just about everything fun and exciting for us is “evil” to the older generations and especially the hyper-religious. This could also be a reason why the legend of Robert selling his soul took off.

At some point, he had a child with a woman named Virgie Smith, and in 1931, he married Caletta Craft, and for a while, they settled down. However, at some point in or around 1932, their relationship came to an end, though sources disagree on whether he abandoned her or if she, too, died in childbirth (trust me, giving birth back then was a much riskier affair than it is now). In either case, Robert left home and became an itinerant musician, traveling around the country and playing popular songs on street corners (he also had a remarkable ability to play a song by ear). He traveled from town to town, employing up to eight surnames depending on where he was staying. During his travels, he lived with extended family members, various female companions (whom he’d known for varying degrees of time), and others. Those he was employed by often had little idea of his past (something that was easier to get away with back in those days). His friends state that he was well-mannered, soft-spoken, reserved in private, nice, and fairly ordinary, minus the extraordinary musical talents and love of women and booze.

In 1936 and 1937, Robert recorded the 29 tracks that would come to define his musical career and legacy (with 13 alternate takes surviving to this day). He achieved his first and only brush with fame when “Terraplane Blues” became a modest regional hit. I would also like to point out that the recordings are very lo-fi (typical of a recording of the day), and that when the recordings are slowed down to ~85%, it actually sounds much more natural. Of course, I will leave personal preferences up to you guys:

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As fate would have it, before he could get into the recording studio again, Robert died under mysterious circumstances on August 16, 1938, and was subsequently buried in an unmarked grave. His death certificate was eventually unearthed in the 60′s, and some researchers determined that he likely had congenital syphilis and that it was a factor in his death. But of course, the legends give a different version of events entirely.

The more popular version of the story of Robert’s death is that he was performing at a juke joint near Greenwood, Mississippi on August 13, 1938, and that he started flirting with the wife of the bartender. In turn, he poisoned Robert’s drink, though sources disagree on what the substance was, with varying sources citing strychnine (highly unlikely), lye, or even mothballs.

Robert reportedly managed to fight off the poison, but then, according to some sources, he caught pneumonia, and with his immune system already weakened, he just couldn’t fight it off, and he died a slow, agonizing death.

Today, three headstones mark the various locations where it’s believed he might’ve been buried, and a signpost marks the crossroads where he allegedly sold his soul to the devil all those years ago...

Brian Jones:

Once again, I might’ve shot myself in the foot, because I’ve already talked about various aspects of Brian’s life, including his multiple children (https://rockandrollstorytime.tumblr.com/post/188266868006/note-this-is-going-to-be-a-bit-less-light-hearted), drug arrests (https://rockandrollstorytime.tumblr.com/post/188266958481/rock-and-roll-storytime-6-the-rolling-stones), decline and eventual death (https://rockandrollstorytime.tumblr.com/post/188271810426/rock-and-roll-storytime-9-the-decline-and-early), and even how he brought the Rolling Stones together and gave them their name (https://rockandrollstorytime.tumblr.com/post/188272778331/rock-and-roll-storytime-10-how-the-rolling). Still, he is one of the Tragic Seven, so I might as well post the full version of his life story here.

Lewis Brian Hopkin Jones was born in Cheltenham, Gloucestershire on February 28, 1942 to Lewis Blount Jones and Louisa Beatrice Simmonds. He was the eldest of three children. First, there was Pamela, who was born on October 3, 1943. Sadly, just two years later, she died of leukemia on October 14, 1945. According to some sources, his parents told him she’d been sent away for misbehavior (which probably fucked Brian up for life), and according to Paul Trynka, her very existence was kept secret, to the point where even family friends had little to no idea of the fact that Brian had ever had a sister named Pamela. His other little sister, Barbara, was born on August 22, 1946.

However, at some point that same year, Brian suffered a bout of croup that left him with lifelong asthma.

Growing up, Brian performed very well in school, but he was often rebellious and despised the rigid conformity imposed by the headmasters, as well as the uniforms. In fact, in 1967, he confided to a psychologist that he was frightened by conformity in males. He even got suspended on two separate occasions for “inciting rebellion.” On one of his report cards, his teacher wrote, “Suffers from a domineering father and has to show off to compensate.” In addition, his childhood friend, Dick Hattrell, later said of him, “He was a rebel without a cause, but when examinations came he was brilliant.” Brian reportedly had an IQ of 130, and achieved nine O-levels and two A-levels and aced his 11-plus exams. (Please don’t ask me to elaborate further; I’m American and have very little knowledge of British schooling).

If Brian’s home life was lacking in parental love, then it definitely wasn’t lacking in music. Lewis was an aeronautical engineer, but he was also a piano teacher, and Louisa played piano and organ, in addition to leading the church choir. When Brian was eight, his mother started teaching him piano, but he soon needed teachers with more advanced skills as his own grew very quickly. In fact, it was later said of him that he taught himself to play the sitar, a notoriously difficult Eastern string instrument, in roughly an hour. He also learned the clarinet and was a choir boy.

In 1957, he first heard the music of Julian “Cannonball” Adderly, and developed a love for jazz and eventually blues as result. However, his parents greatly disapproved of this newer music, and were outraged when he sold his clarinet in lieu of a soprano saxophone. On the other hand, though, they did get him a guitar for his seventeenth birthday.

Brian’s life took another turn later on in 1959 when his girlfriend, Valerie Corbett, fell pregnant with his child. It should be noted that Laura Jackson’s book, Brian Jones, The Untold Life and Mysterious Death of a Legend, states that Brian blatantly refused to wear condoms (contraception was still a relatively new concept back then), and beyond that, various sources disagree on whether Valerie was just fourteen or seventeen when she got pregnant. In either case, it was a scandalous affair. Brian’s solutions for this seem to have ranged from suggesting a shotgun wedding to encouraging Valerie to get an abortion (which was illegal at the time). The situation reportedly worsened when Valerie’s father died of a heart attack, apparently tied to stress from the situation as a whole. What is clear though, is that Brian spent a portion of 1959 in Germany, and when Valerie gave birth to Barry David Corbett in early 1960, Brian wasn’t allowed anywhere near his son, and Valerie gave the child up for adoption, likely being forced to do so by her family (because back then, the fate of the child would usually be decided by the mother’s family).

Of course, Brian didn’t learn his lesson. In August 1960, a married woman gave birth to his daughter after a one-night-stand in late 1959.

Trust me, when it comes to illegitimate children, the mothers always get the short end of the stick.

After some time spent in Germany, Brian returned to Cheltenham. He subsequently began dating Pat Andrews, who was sixteen at the time, and on October 22, 1961, she gave birth to her and Brian’s son, Julian Mark Andrews. Brian named not one, but two of his sons after Cannonball Adderly (the other being Julian Brian, his son with Linda Lawrence), while in this instance, Pat chose the name Mark because of its simplicity. Reportedly, on the day his son was born, Brian sold four of his records, his most prized possessions, and bought an extravagant flower arrangement for Pat and clothes for his newborn son.

Sadly, this little family arrangement was not to last.

Brian had longed to leave Cheltenham, and he saw his chance when, on a trip to London, he first met Alexis Korner, a blues purist who led the band Blues Incorporated. The older musician was impressed by Brian’s musical skills and knowledge, and as time went by, Brian started making more and more trips to London, staying with Alexis and his wife on such weekend excursions. Eventually, Brian moved to London, promising Pat he would send for her and Mark once he had the means to provide for them.

Unfortunately for her, this would be one of many promises that Brian wouldn’t keep.

It seems, in general, that Brian only set his sights on music, solely focusing his efforts on improving his skills. Laura Jackson’s book stated that, at one point in his life, Brian had held down 24 jobs in two years (😲). Among the various jobs he held were coal miner, factory worker, record store clerk, archivist, and bus conductor (despite his hatred of public transport, he loved buses and trains). However, none of these jobs lasted very long, with some lasting merely a week, or even less than that. He also tried applying to university, if only to placate his parents by telling them he’d get a job involving optics, but his application was withdrawn after someone (likely a landlord pissed with Brian after he fell behind on the rent) wrote to the school, calling Brian an “irresponsible drifter.”

On April 7, 1962, Brian, taking the stage name Elmo Lewis, performed as a guest with Blues Incorporated along with Paul Pond (later known as Paul Jones of Manfred Mann). By now, Brian was skilled with guitar, piano, clarinet, harmonica, saxophone, and most notably, slide guitar. It was on this night that two eighteen-year-olds, Michael Phillip Jagger and Keith Richards, first saw him. In 2010, Keith wrote, “We first met Brian Jones at the Ealing Jazz Club. He was calling himself Elmo Lewis. He wanted to be Elmore James at the time. ‘You’ll have to get a tan and put on a few inches, boy.’ But slide guitar was a real novelty in England, and Brian played it that night. He played ‘Dust My Broom,’ and it was electrifying. He played it beautifully. We were very impressed with Brian. I think Mick was the first to go up and talk to him, and we discovered that he had his own band, most of whom deserted him in the next few weeks.” Reportedly, Keith even kept nudging Mick and another friend, Dick Taylor (later of the Pretty Things), and whispered “It’s Elmore James! It is man! It’s fuckin’ Elmore James!”

The next month, Brian put an ad in the paper for aspiring blues musicians. The first to show up was pianist Ian Stewart, and before long, they were jamming to Robert Johnson’s “Sweet Home Chicago.” Then there was Mick, who agreed to join if Keith could come along. Initially, there was also Geoff Bradford and Brian Knight, but they left soon after, refusing to perform the works of Chuck Berry. They were replaced by Dick Taylor and Tony Chapman.

I’ve gone into more detail about this in the past, but when Blues Incorporated got a spot on a radio show, Mick and Brian agreed to hold down the fort. However, while Brian was trying to place an ad for the gig in the papers, he was asked to give a name for the fledgling group. Desperate, Brian saw a Best of Muddy Waters compilation on the floor, and Side 1, Track 5 was “Rollin’ Stone Blues.”

And thus, the band became “The Rollin’ Stones.”

They played their first show on July 12, 1962.

The next month, Mick, Keith, and Brian moved into a flat called Edith Grove. They would remain in the dingy flat until September 1963, and since then, that period of their lives has become simultaneously famous and infamous (Mick and Keith even commented upon it recently: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wNRKTFCA7c0&t=205s)

For now though, Brian and Keith spent their time developing what Keith later dubbed “guitar weaving,” where the guitarists would play off each other to the point where two guitars sounded like one). It’s a tradition that’s survived through to this day, including through several line-up changes within the Rolling Stones (this is likely seen in other bands to one extent or another too).

The band also fought through the winter of 1962/63, one of the coldest in Britain in over a century. In December, Bill Wyman replaced Dick Taylor on bass, and in January, Charlie Watts replaced Tony Chapman on drums. Early in 1963, Brian managed to get the group a residency at the Crawdaddy Club, after the Dave Hunt Group couldn’t make it due to the terrible weather and abysmal road conditions. By the end of March, the group had cut their first recording sessions.

And then, in April, Andrew Loog Oldham and Eric Easton made their presences known.

Motherfucking Andrew Oldham .

I believe my reasons for hating his guts will become a bit more clear as I continue with this.

In May, Andrew became the band’s manager, whilst Eric Easton became the band’s financial advisor. Because Andrew was 19 and under the age of 21 (age of majority in Britain at the time), his mother had to co-sign on just about every contract he signed, and he also couldn’t obtain an agent’s license.

Quickly, Andrew set his sights on Mick as the band’s golden boy (I mean, come on, those dance moves), as opposed to the kid who actually had blonde hair....

Begrudgingly, I will admit that if it wasn’t for Andrew, the Rolling Stones probably never would’ve found the level of success they did. He definitely got the publicity ball rolling (pun intended) with headlines such as “Would You Let Your Sister Go With a Rolling Stone?” For a while, he also served as the Stones’ producer on albums.

However, make no mistake, he, Mick, and Keith were terrible to Brian. I’ll try and go into more detail as I go along, but Andrew led a whispering campaign against Brian, Mick and Brian shared an intense rivalry in just about every aspect of their lives, and if Paul Trynka’s book is to be believed, Keith would throw things at Brian to the point of causing physical pain, or he’d otherwise pick fights with Brian.

Let’s also not forget that in 1963, Andrew made the callous decision to cut Ian Stewart from the band on the basis of him not fitting in with the others (he had a square chin and a 50′s haircut) and his belief that the fans would never remember more than five faces (we Linkin Park fans would beg to differ).

Look, I respect Mick and Keith as songwriters and entertainers, but it’s very hard for me to extend that same respect to them as people.

In either case, the Stones’ first single, a cover of Chuck Berry’s “Come On”, was released on June 23, 1963. From there, the band slowly but surely gained a following, and for a time, Brian retained some of his initial leadership role.

And then, while the band was touring in October 1963, they found out that Brian had an agreement with Eric Easton, and was receiving an extra £5 for every show.

Keep in mind, Bill Wyman later wrote that, at that point, they were earning £193 a week. Even accounting for inflation (and in my case, currency exchanges), that’s less than ten percent of what the band was earning.

Still, because everyone had been under the impression that they were earning the same amount of money per member, it caused the first rifts between Brian and the rest of the band, and laid the foundations of his eventual ousting from the band he’d worked so hard to create.

By June 1964, the Stones had gained a respectable following on their home turf, but they had a harder time gaining a following in America, largely due to the fact that they hadn’t had a major single yet, and not helped by how people like Dean Martin made fun of their “long” hair (let’s face it, by today’s standards, their hair would generally be considered short nowadays).

They started to gain that following with the release of the songs “Time Is On Our Side” and “It’s All Over Now.” It only increased with their performance on the TAMI show in late 1964.

There’s a couple things I should note now. First, a couple months before, Andrew made the push for Mick and Keith to start writing songs (his reasons for focusing on the Dartfordian boys are beyond me). See, originally, the Stones were a Blues cover band, and in his earliest days as their manager, he tried to market them as a Beatles counterpart (complete with matching suits and hairstyles), which horrified the Beatles, who were actually good friends with the Stones even in their early days. However, he soon eschewed that in favor of marketing the Stones as the “anti-Beatles” (even though both bands reportedly even timed album releases so that neither’s success would encroach on the others’). Even so, with this move, Andrew was clearly taking some inspiration from the Lennon-McCartney partnership in trying to push for a Jagger-Richards partnership. Keith claimed years later that Andrew locked them in a room until they could come out with some songs, but Mick has denied that this ever happened. In either case, one of their earliest songs would be made famous by Marianne Faithfull: “As Tears Go By”.

Second, there is a lot of debate as to whether Brian could actually write songs. Mick, Keith, Ian, and Andrew have all basically said that Brian couldn’t write a song for shit. However, Brian’s girlfriend in 1964, Linda Lawrence, said that she and her mother saw Brian writing songs, but when he tried to bring up his ideas to the other Stones, he would be coldly dismissed, with Keith once saying, “It sounds like a bloody Welsh hymn!”

(At this point, I’d like to ask, “What’s wrong with Welsh hymns?”)

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Some sites on the internet allege that Brian did write songs, a couple were recorded, and one even features him singing! Trust me, aside from the above examples, Brian singing lead or co-lead on any song is woefully rare. However, if the acetates in question do exist, then they certainly haven’t been released.

To this day, the only writing credits Brian has to his name are a jingle for a Rice Krispies commercial and the soundtrack for Mord Und Totschlag, which has never been officially released (more on this later). Also worth noting is that in the 90′s, one of Brian’s poems was set to music, but that’s a very loose example, since he is only credited with the lyrics (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8gEE4I7ORlY).

In any case, as time passed, Brian became more and more alienated from the Stones, Sometimes, it was because he missed out on concerts (make no mistake though, he only missed 12 out of some 930 Stones shows in his lifetime, and it could usually be chalked up to health problems). Other times, it’d be because of something Brian said or did, such as when Brian disappeared for a few days when he was contemplating leaving the band due to the stress and bullying in April 1965.

There’s many other things, big and small, that I could talk about. In either case, it seems that whether Brian did something or not, it’d invariably come back to bite him in the ass.

Also during this time, he had his last two confirmed children. First, there’s the aforementioned Julian Brian, his child with Linda Lawrence born in 1964. Linda and Pat later tried to file lawsuits against Brian for child support, and in both cases, they received either a lump sum or payments from the government. Later on, in 1970, Linda married Brian’s friend, Donovan Leitch. Then, while he was dating Linda Lawrence, Brian was having an affair with 19-year-old Dawn Molloy. When she became pregnant, Andrew told Brian to stop seeing her. Andrew later coerced Dawn into signing an agreement that she would never tell the press or the public that Brian Jones was the father of her baby, which was witnessed by Mick Jagger of all people. In addition, she also received £700 for her silence. She later gave birth to Brian’s fifth child, Paul Molloy, in March 1965 and was forced by her parents to give the baby up for adoption. Fortunately, this tale of woe does have a happy ending in that mother and son were reunited in 1994, and both have since spoken out about their experiences. Paul (renamed John Maynard) later stated, “First, I'd probably hit him for what he did to Dawn. Then I'd brush him down and ask him if he wanted a coffee. I'd like to chat with him. To get to know him and for him to get to know me. He'd like me, I know he would. I'd want him to be proud of me. To be honest, I'd just want him to be my dad.”

On September 14, 1965, Brian met German-Italian actress Anita Pallenberg. She apparently went for him because he was the most popular member of the Rolling Stones at the time, and they also were both fluent in German, so part of their early connection was built on that.

The Who’s Pete Townshend later stated, "We hung out a lot from about 1964 to 1966. Part of the time he was seeing Anita Pallenberg. She was a stunning creature. I mean literally stunning. It was quite hard to maintain one’s gaze. One time in Paris I remember they took some drug and were so sexually stimulated they could hardly wait for me to leave the room before starting to shag. I felt Brian was living on a higher plane of decadence than anyone I would ever meet.”

Many Stones fans who know of Brian’s story tend to hate Anita to varying degrees (based on personal observation). As this progresses, I hope that at least some of the reasons will become clear.

According to Paul Trynka, Anita gave him the confidence to go up against Mick and Keith, and it was her that helped him become the fashion icon he is remembered as today (and that’s how I also know he’d apparently wash his hair up to five or six times per day). Though, in general, Brian started to act a bit more willfully, if not a bit irrationally at times.

However, their relationship was far from a healthy one.

Actually, it’s probably comparable with Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen and Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love in terms of how messed up it was.

For me, the morally objectionable part isn’t that they were apparently into S&M, but rather that they abused each other, both physically and mentally. More often than not, though, Brian will invariably get most of the flak.

Take, for example, this quote from Keith Richards, “I would hear the thumping some nights, and Brian would come out with a black eye. Brian was a woman beater. But the one woman in the world you did not want to try and beat up on was Anita Pallenberg. Every time they had a fight, Brian would come out bandaged and bruised.”

In addition, one of the most circulated stories about their tumultuous relationship was the time Brian broke his wrist in September 1966.

Reportedly, Brian told the press that he’d broken his wrist in a stupid accident. However, most others say that Brian broke his wrist during another fight with Anita, either on a metal window frame or on her face (sources vary).

Bill Wyman has this to state about the matter: “While Charlie and Shirley were on holiday in Greece, Brian made plans to take a holiday in Morocco, a country that fascinated him, with Anita and antique dealer Christopher Gibbs, a friend of his as well as of Mick and Keith. The party flew to Tangier on 28 August, but the trip was quickly marred by tensions between Brian and Anita. This couple, so magnetically drawn together, began squabbling about almost everything- both in the privacy of their room and publicly in restaurants. There were stories of fights and after seven days Brian returned to London with a broken left wrist in a plaster cast. Various reasons were given. First Brian said he broke it while climbing; Christopher Gibbs declared that Brian tried to hit Anita, missed, and hit the metal frame of a window; and finally Brian stated: ‘I fell on a slippery bathroom floor and trapped my hand under my hip and the bath. That’s the real story.’ Nobody who knew Brian’s record of fisticuffs with women doubted that the broken wrist was traceable to an altercation with Anita.”

I should mention that before this incident though, 1966 was one of the Stones’ most musically innovative periods, with Brian almost entirely eschewing the guitar for most of the rest of his career with the Rolling Stones. He brought the sitar to “Paint It Black”, dulcimer to “Lady Jane”, marimba to “Under My Thumb”, and so on. In fact, in his lifetime, Brian had learned many instruments, including piano, clarinet, saxophone, guitar, harmonica, slide guitar, mellotron, bass guitar, rhythm guitar, marimba, euphonium, recorder, dulcimer, recorder, drums, vibraslap, autoharp, congas, harpsichord, vocals, tambourine, maracas, organ, koto, double bass, kazoo, oboe, trumpet, tanbura, harp, flute, clavinet, vibraphone, banjo, accordion, glockenspiel, xylophone, and trombone.

And like I’ve said, I can’t even play the piano yet (or harmonica for that matter).

In 1966, Anita got a leading role in the movie Mord Und Totschlag (A Degree of Murder), and Brian asked the director, Volker Schlondorff, if he could do the soundtrack, and agreed to do it for free. The director and the musician apparently became pretty good friends during this time, and Brian also brought in Jimmy Page (guitars), Nicky Hopkins (piano), Kenney Jones (drums), Glyn Johns (engineering), Peter Gosling (vocals), and Mike Leander (orchestra) for an assist. Even if lyrics were a stumbling block for him, it is this that shows that Brian had the potential to be a great songwriter. However, while on set, Brian could be difficult. For one thing, he procrastinated (I can relate). In addition, his insecurity often bubbled to the surface. Schlondorff himself later stated, “He was driven by this narcissistic need, to be recognized, to be loved, for attention. And Anita was stronger than he was at that moment. She could control things, by giving attention, or withholding it, or by treating him in a very condescending way. Then he’d get nasty, in the sense that he’s the one who’s got the money or whatever, so he’d punish her that way. And I’m certain he’d treat her physically badly, too. So he already was, in some ways, an unhappy and pathetic figure”

Even so, the film premiered at Cannes on April 19, 1967, though by then, Brian and Anita had split. While the movie finally got a DVD/Blu-Ray release fifty-two years later, in 2019, the soundtrack still has yet to be released.

On February 12, 1967, Keith’s home, Redlands, was raided after the tabloid News of the World (thankfully defunct now) tipped off the police that drugs were being done at a party. Mick was charged with drug possession and Keith was charged with allowing his home to be used for the smoking of cannabis.

Not long after, Andrew fled to America, and was fired in September 1967, being replaced by Allen Klein in the process.

On the advice on their lawyers, Mick, Keith, Brian, and Anita left the country.

I should note that by now, Brian was addicted to alcohol, nicotine, LSD, marijuana, cannabis, prescription pills, and god only knows what else.

At this point though, Brian was far from being fit to travel. In March, as the group made a stopover in Gibraltar, Brian (probably high) got it in his head to play the soundtrack for Mord und Totschlag for some Barbary monkeys. The monkeys, being monkeys, didn’t take too kindly to that, and scampered off. Brian didn’t take this very well, and between having an asthma attack (which Anita and Marianne apparently thought he was faking for sympathy) and screaming profanities that would probably make hardened sailors blush, he was weeping, reportedly shouting, “No one likes my music!”

Yes, at first glance, the incident would seem comical, but all I see is a man truly beginning to fall apart at the seams.

In Toulouse, Brian fell ill with pneumonia, and had to spend several days in the hospital, including his 25th birthday. Keith and Anita went on ahead, and started up an affair behind his back.When Brian was able to finally rendezvous with the rest of the group, the affair between Keith and Anita did not go unnoticed by him. The only certainties about what happened next are that Brian paid for the services of two prostitutes, and something happened between him and Anita.

Trust me, it’s best not to use the movie Stoned as a source for this.

In his autobiography, Keith had this to say about the events of that fateful night: “And of course Brian starts his old shit again, in Marrakech in the Es Sadi hotel, trying to take Anita on for fifteen rounds. His reaction to whatever he sensed between Anita and me was more violence. And once again he breaks two ribs and a finger or something. And I’m watching it, hearing it. Brian was about to sign his own exit card and help Anita and me on our way. There’s no point to this noninterference anymore. We’re stuck in Marrakech, this is the woman I’m in love with, and I’ve got to relinquish her out of some formality? All of my plans of rebuilding my relationship with Brian are obviously going straight down the drain. In the condition he was in, there was no point in building anything with Brian. I’d done my best... Now it was just unacceptable. Then Brian dragged two tattooed whores- remembered by Anita, incidentally, as “really hairy girls”- down the hotel corridor and into the room, trying to force Anita into a scene, humiliating her in front of them. He started to fling food at her from the many trays he’d ordered up. At that point Anita ran to my room.”

Byron Gysin, who was with the Stones during their stay in Morocco, had this to say: “Expensive ladies. This one cost Brian a packet, the whole packet: Anita and the Stones, his life as a musician, and eventually his life.”

Upon what was done, Keith similarly had this to say: “I thought Anita wanted out of there, and if I could come up with a plan, she would take it. Sir Galahad again. But I wanted her back; I wanted to get out. I said, ‘You didn’t come to Marrakech to worry that you’ve beaten up your old man so much he’s lying in the bath with broken ribs. I can’t take this shit anymore. I can’t listen to you getting beaten up and fighting and all this crap. This is pointless. Let’s get the hell out of here. Let’s just leave him. We’re having much more fun without him. It’s been a very, very hard week for me knowing that you’re with him.’ Anita was in tears. She didn’t want to leave, but she realized that I was right when I said that Brian would probably try and kill her.”

And so, the next day, Keith, Mick, and Anita hightailed it out of there, leaving Brian stranded in Morocco.

About this, Gysin states, “Less than half an hour later, Brian is on the blower to me, sobbing: ‘Come! Come quickly! They’ve all gone and left me! Cleared out, I don’t know where they’ve gone. No message. The hotel won’t tell me. I’m here all alone, help me. Come at once!’ I go over there. Get him into bed. Call a doctor to give him a shot and stick around long enough to see it take hold on him. Don’t want him jumping down those ten stories into the swimming pool.”

Brian never forgave Keith.

Brian’s father blamed Anita for breaking his heart, but those who were closer to Brian, such as Linda Lawrence, said that it was the betrayal of Mick and Keith, the men he’d once considered brothers, that really broke him.

In either case, Brian slipped into a downward spiral from which he’d never recover.

On the subject of Brian’s drug use, Mick later stated in the 2012 documentary Crossfire Hurricane, “Keith and I took drugs, but Brian took too many drugs of the wrong kind and he wasn’t functioning as a musician. I don’t think he was that interested in contributing to the Rolling Stones anymore.”

On May 10, just as Mick and Keith were being formally charged with various drug offenses, Brian’s home was raided by police. They found marijuana, cocaine, and methamphetamine in his house. He confessed to marijuana use, but denied he used stronger substances (I’ll leave it up to you guys whether you believe that’s true or not).

Mick and Keith were sentenced to various prison sentences in June, released on appeal shortly after, and in July, Keith’s sentence was overturned entirely, while Mick was given a years’ probation. Their release was in large part due to the public outcry that resulted from the trials.

But where Mick and Keith seemed to blossom in the aftermath, Brian seemed to only wilt.

Against his lawyer’s advice, Brian plead guilty. On Allen Klein’s advice, he isolated himself from the Stones even further. Above all else, he didn’t take the matter as seriously as he could or should have.

On October 30, Brian was found guilty of cannabis possession and allowing his home to be used for the smoking of cannabis.

He was sentenced to a total of twelve months in prison.

Reportedly, during the night, Brian was taunted by guards, who threatened to cut the long, blonde hair he was so proud of.

He was released awaiting appeal the next day, but he’d been deeply shaken by the experience. In December, his case went on appeal, and because his defense testified that he had an “already fragile mental make-up” and his doctor said that Brian was “anxious, considerably depressed, and potentially suicidal”, Brian was fined, given three years’ probation, and given strict orders to seek professional help.

Even so, Brian’s health, social, mental, and physical alike, continued to decline.

Another anecdote that lends credence to this: in January 1968, Brian (by now sporting a beard that even die-hard fans tend to recoil from in horror), joined his friend, Jimi Hendrix, during the recording sessions for “All Along the Watchtower.” (Prior to this, Brian had introduced Jimi to an American audience at the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival). Brian’s first attempt at contributing to what would become Jimi’s most iconic song (even impressing Bob Dylan, who originally sang/wrote it) was to attempt a piano line. However, Brian was incredibly drunk at the time, and could only produce off-key clunking.

For once in his life, Brian’s musical abilities had failed him.

It got to the point where Jimi shot sound engineer Eddie Kramer a look that said “Can we get him to stop?” At that point, Eddie ushered Brian into the control room, where he fell on the floor and passed out.

Brian did eventually contribute percussion in the form of the vibraslap, which can be heard in the opening bars of the song. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLV4_xaYynY)

In May, a little over a year after his first arrest, Brian was arrested for cannabis possession for a second time. Sources disagree on whether or not Brian had been trying to get clean, but those who believe Brian was making that effort lean towards the opinion that this time, the cops planted the dope on Brian (including myself).

This time, Brian plead not guilty, and though his defense argued that the evidence against Brian was circumstantial at best, the jury found him guilty regardless. This time however, the judge was much more lenient and decided to let Brian off with a fine and a stern warning to not appear in court again, offering him the same treatment he would’ve gotten had he not been famous.

From here, most of the remaining anecdotes paint a bleak, contradictory picture of Brian’s life, showing him as a man continually absent from recording sessions. If and when he would show up, he’d generally be too intoxicated to properly contribute (his most likely vices at this point likely included alcohol and Mandrax).

The last Rolling Stones album to feature him as a major presence was Their Satanic Majesties Request (1967).

His last major contribution to one of their songs was the slide guitar on “No Expectations.”

For more context, I will take a paragraph from Paul Trynka’s book, “Other insiders share [George] Chikantz’s perception of a hardness at the heart of the Stones, most notably Jack Nitzche. Throughout 1965 and 1966 he’d noted rancour during the band’s RCA sessions. When he resumed work with the band towards the end of 1968, he reckoned the atmosphere had changed- for the worse. His vignette of seeing Mick with Brian is chilling. “Brian came up to me, looking pretty shaky, and asked me what I thought he should do- he didn’t know where he fit[ted] in. I told him to just pick up a guitar and start playing. Then he walked over to Mick and asked, “What should I play?” Mick told him, “You’re a member of the band, Brian, play whatever you want.” So he played something, but Mick stopped him and said, “No, Brian, not that- that’s no good.” So Brian asked him again what to play and Mick told him again to play whatever he wanted. So Brian played something else, but Mick cut him off again- “No, that’s no good either, Brian.”’”

Of this time period, Mick stated, “ You certainly didn't know if he was going to turn up and what state he was going to be in and then, what he was going to be able to do in that state. What job could you give him? And then, one time, when we sat around, on the floor, we played, in a circle, playing "No Expectations". And he picked the guitar and played a very pretty line on it which you can hear on the record. And that was the last thing I remember him doing that was Brian. Or, the Brian that could contribute something very pretty and sensitive and it made the record sound wonderful.”

The Who’s Pete Townshend, also stated, “When we played The Rolling Stones’ Rock and Roll Circus I was very upset about Brian’s condition. I was upset at Keith Richards’ green complexion, too, but he seemed in good spirits. Brian was defeated. I took Mick and Keith aside and they were quite frank about it all; they said Brian had ceased to function, they were afraid he would slip away. They certainly were not hard-nosed about him. But they were determined not to let him drag them down, that was clear. Brian certainly slipped away that evening. He died soon after.”

Keith himself later stated, “We didn’t even expect him to be there. If he turned up, we’d find something for him to do I'd ask him, "You got anything?" You know, "What do you think about this? Want to put something over this?" Or, but, eh, by then he was already in Bye-Bye Land. “

By now, it’s clear to me that Brian was either unable or unwilling to seek proper treatment for his addictions or mental health ailments, and very few, if any of the people in his company were willing to either help or intervene.

The Rock and Roll Circus was the last time Brian performed with the Stones.

The last songs he ever played on were “Midnight Rambler” (congas) and “You’ve Got the Silver” (autoharp).

Six months later, the Stones were making plans to go on tour for the first time since 1967. However, it was soon brought to the attention of their lawyers that Brian would be unlikely, if not entirely unable to get a work visa in the USA due to his prior drug convictions.

Due to this and Brian’s increasing lack of contributions to the band’s music, Ian Stewart suggested that they let Brian go.

Ultimately, it was Mick and Keith’s decision, and they decided to take Ian’s suggestion to heart. First, they brought on 20-year-old Mick Taylor as their new guitarist. Then, on June 8, 1969, Mick and Keith went to Cotchford Farm to give Brian the news, bringing Charlie along in case a fight broke out. Brian, however, decided to back out gracefully, and in various press releases, including Brian’s, it was made to appear as if Brian had elected to leave the band entirely of his own accord.

I should talk about the last photos of Brian ever taken, shot by Helen Spittal on June 23, 1969, nine days before Brian’s death. Most people would only really see the heavy bags under his eyes and the obvious weight gain and all they see is a man near the end of his rope. But for me, in some of the photos, I can still see a tiny spark of life in those sea-green eyes of his; the tiniest spark of hope that, if things had gone differently, he could’ve gotten better.

Maybe I’m just biased.

Either way, it was never meant to be.

Even now, there is considerable debate as to whether or not Brian was still doing drugs. Some say that Brian was making a decided effort to get off of drugs. Laura Jackson’s book even claims that Brian hated even taking prescription drugs by now. In her book though, his girlfriend at the time, Anna Wohlin, claimed that he’d been doing cocaine after Keith left some at his house as a gift (even though Brian had denied using cocaine just two years earlier). In addition, Brian had been prescribed Black bombers (durophet), Valium, Mandrax, and Piriton on top of his inhaler.

Even though the witness reports taken from the time are contradictory, they’ve been my most valuable source in my research. Besides, I remember seeing in a documentary called Killing Lincoln that of the hundreds of witness reports taken in the immediate aftermath of the assassination, none of them matched up. For me, it’s a matter of piecing together what generally correlates between the accounts. What is generally agreed upon in the case of Brian’s death is that he was with Anna, Janet Lawson, and Frank Thorogood, and he decided to go swimming in 80°F water. Frank was all for it, but Anna and Janet expressed concerns. Most of you reading this will know the rest.

Above, you’ll see Janet’s testimony, taken on the morning of Brian’s death. I know you can all read, but I’d still like to highlight a couple of her statements in particular.

“Brian guided us back to the house with a hand torch. It was clear that he was unsteady on his feet as the light was unreliable. He seemed to be talking quite sensibly, I believe about the drainage scheme. Nevertheless, it was obvious that he had been drinking. ...Brian attempted conversation, but it was a little garbled ‘and he excused it by saying, ‘I’ve had my sleepers’ or some such phrase. From this I gathered he had taken sleeping tablets.”

At this point, I feel it’s important to note that a, Janet was a registered nurse, and b, Mandrax and black bombers are no longer legal or distributed, and beyond that, some of the drugs Brian was taking at the time of his death feature side-effects such as seizures, drowsiness, unsteadiness and other problems with coordination, slurred speech, and others. Alcohol (equivalent to seven whiskeys) definitely wouldn’t have helped whatever cocktail of drugs Brian had taken that night.

In my not-so-professional opinion, whether he went swimming or not that night, Brian was several levels of screwed.

“I saw that Brian had great difficulty in holding his balance on the spring board. Frank was doing his best to assist him but not very successfully. Eventually, Brian flopped into the water and yet despite his condition seemed to be able to cope and made his strokes in the deep end. His movements were sluggish, but I felt reasonably assured that they all were able to look after each other.”

I think most doctors nowadays would tell you that in any event where someone’s been drinking, it’s best to have someone sober in the immediate vicinity to make sure nothing bad happens (like drinking and driving).

Of Brian’s death, Janet states, “I went out to the pool and on the bottom I saw Brian. He was facedown in the deep end. He was motionless and I sensed the worst straight away.

“I shouted under the open window of the bedroom to Anna who was speaking on the telephone. I ran into the house and shouted to Frank. Both joined me- I was by then in the water but realized I couldn’t manage him alone and I shouted to Frank to get into the pool to get Brian out.”

Still, she’s a registered nurse and she just left him on the bottom...? 😑

“I returned to the pool to get Frank to use the ‘phone and he and Anna were struggling to get Brian out of the water. I helped and we eventually got him out. He lay on his back and as Frank went to the house to ‘phone I turned the body over and attempted to pump the water out of him. It was obvious to me he was dead but I turned the body back and I told Anna how to apply mouth to mouth resuscitation as I applied external cardiac massage.

“I carried on for at least fifteen minutes but there was no pulse.

“The three swimmers were in such a condition that I was tempted to return to the flat but I had a moral obligation to keep an eye on them because I sensed they were all being very stupid- I suppose as a nurse I felt responsible.”

Brian Jones was pronounced dead early in the morning of July 3, 1969, though the coroner estimated that his death happened at sometime near or around 11:30 PM on July 2, 1969. Based upon the evidence that Brian’s heart and liver were twice as large as they should have been for a man of his age, he was suffering from pleurisy and other bronchial trouble, and the aforementioned quantities of alcohol and prescription drugs found in his system and noting the pink foam (sputum) in his nostrils and the lack of evidence of an asthma attack, it was ruled as a case of “misadventure.”

In layman’s terms, Brian had drowned due to a cocktail of prescription pills and alcohol.

To this day, however, theories persist that Brian’s death was either an act of manslaughter, perpetrated by Frank Thorogood in a bout of drunken horseplay gone terribly wrong, or that Brian was intentionally drowned, either for firing Frank, trying to start a supergroup with John Lennon and Jimi Hendrix (Jimi’s camp denies this), having an affair with Princess Margaret (yes, really), or for just about every other reason in the bloody book you can conjure up.

Really, though, I once again have to ask, if Brian was really murdered, then why is so much of the evidence circumstantial, and why did so many of the supposed witnesses fail to come forward for a good decade or three after Brian’s death. Seriously, I don’t think someone like Tom Keylock would have the sort of political reach to uphold an entire conspiracy. None of it makes sense, and I’ve been studying this case for five months.

Two days after his death, the Stones performed a free concert at Hyde Park. It was originally meant to be an introduction for Mick Taylor, but it became a tribute to Brian in light of his death. A giant picture of Brian sat on the side of the stage, Mick read two verses of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Adonais, and thousands of butterflies were released, though by that time, many had died due to the boxes not being properly ventilated. The Stones in the Park Concert would never be regarded as their technical best, but it was still regarded as a success. Also interesting to note; before the concert, officials were worried about potential widespread property damage and general unruliness. But then, the night before the concert, fans started showing up, and since they were being quiet and respectful, police let them stay, even after the park’s usual closing time at midnight. Contrary to popular belief, the property damage only totaled £100, with the worst of the damage being inflicted upon a tree that had been planted the previous year. The fans even helped clean up the park after the show, and those who collected the most trash were rewarded with free Stones LPs.

Brian’s funeral was held on Thursday, July 10, 1969. He was buried in Cheltenham, though Laura Jackson’s book claims that he’d once told Helen that he wished to be buried at Cotchford Farm after his death. Even then, it’s doubtful that Brian would have wanted to be buried in the town he’d wanted to escape for so long, which is why people like myself and Caitlin Doughty (check out “Ask a Mortician,” it’s amazing) will advocate in favor of telling your family what you want done with your body after you die. The funeral was presided over by Canon Hugh Evan Hopkins. In my opinion, (this is not meant to be anti-religious) he made an ass of himself with the speech he gave: “He had little patience with authority, convention, and tradition. In this he was typical of many of his generation who have come to see in the Stones an expression of their whole attitude to life. Much that this ancient church has stood for in 900 years seems totally irrelevant to them.”

It might not be the worst speech I’ve ever heard about being delivered at a funeral, but dammit, no wonder Keith has never concerned himself with “petty morals.”

The only members of the Stones in attendance were Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts. Mick and Marianne were on a plane to Australia to begin shooting Ned Kelly. They later claimed that the people behind the film wouldn’t allow them an extension so that they could attend the funeral. Years later, Keith also had this to say: “It was going to be too much of a circus. And, anyway, I didn't ever go to my mother's funeral or my father's. We didn't have one. We're like that in my family. You know, my dad is now an oak tree. We put his ashes where there's an enormous oak tree growing and every year he gets a little bit bigger. And my mum, she said, "Don't make no fuss over me, boy." "I promise I'll make no fuss, mum." And Hyde Park was the funeral.”

We’ll just have to go with that...

Brian was buried in a silver and bronze casket that was allegedly paid for by Bob Dylan, wearing a powder blue jacket, white shirt, and black tie with his hair lightened and cut in its trademark bob. By all accounts, it looked as though he were sleeping. His parents had wanted to keep the whole affair private, but then somebody in the Stones’ management got a hold of the information and leaked the details to the press. The heartless leeches even wanted to get pictures of Brian lying in his coffin, but his parents managed to prevent that from happening, so there’s that at least.

In regards to the rest of the world, Jimi Hendrix dedicated a song to Brian on American television, Jim Morrison wrote the poem “Ode to L.A. While Thinking of Brian Jones, Deceased”, and Pete Townshend wrote the poem “A Normal Day for Brian, A Man Who Died Every Day.” By coincidence, Hendrix and Morrison later died at 27 within the next two years (but that’s a story I’ll have to talk about next time).

Two years after his death, Brian’s only solo album, Brian Jones Presents the Pipes of Pan at Joujouka was released in October 1971. It had been recorded on another one of Brian’s trips to Morocco in 1968, and aside from a few sound effects, he only served as the album’s producer. If nothing else, it truly shows how appreciative Brian was of Moroccan music in that he mostly just let their music speak for itself. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LwEoDGeNyrE&t=613s)

Also, am I the only one who strenuously objects to the phrasing “In Affectionate Remembrance of...” on Brian’s and Pamela’s gravestones? No? Okay then...

According to one (possibly apocryphal) anecdote, Keith once said to Brian, “You’ll never make thirty, man.”

Brian’s response?

“I know.”

Death hasn’t been kind to Brian Jones. If anyone remembers him, it’s generally for his early death. The hatchet still has yet to be buried between Mick, Keith, and Brian. They rarely speak of him, and whether it’s a kind word is extremely variable. More often than not though, it’s not kind, emphasizing his faults of character over everything else. Bill is the only one who’s truly stood up for Brian over the years, and his portrait of Brian is one of the most nuanced we’ve gotten from the Stones’ camp: “ There were at least two sides to Brian's personality. One Brian was introverted, shy, sensitive, deep-thinking. The other was a preening peacock, gregarious, artistic, desperately needing assurance from his peers. He pushed every friendship to the limit and way beyond.” Many of Brian’s achievements have gone largely unnoticed, which is a shame, because I think that although Brian had major personality flaws, it’s important not to forget that he had a good side as well, and that he was a musical genius, and it’s a shame that we never got to see the post-Stones life Brian could have lived.

If nothing else, I’d like to leave this part off with a poem Brian wrote in 1968 that was featured on the back of the compilation album Through the Past, Darkly (Big Hits Vol. 2):

“When this you see, remember me

and bear me in your mind

Let all the world say what they may

speak of me as you find.”

Sources/Further Readings: https://www.upvenue.com/music-news/blog-headline/1026/the-27-club-musicians-who-died-at-27-years-old.html

https://coloradosound.org/27-club/

https://www.seattlepi.com/news/article/P-I-s-Writer-in-Residence-Charles-R-Cross-1229072.php

http://sciencenetlinks.com/science-news/science-updates/27-club-myth/

https://www.inquisitr.com/13488/stating-the-obvious-amy-winehouse-fears-early-death/

https://www.hse.ie/eng/services/publications/mentalhealth/media-guidelines-for-the-portrayal-of-suicide-3.pdf

https://www.samaritans.org/about-samaritans/media-guidelines/

https://spinditty.com/artists-bands/The-dead-at-27-Club

Remastered: Devil at the Crossroads

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-ppLCkvPJU

https://theconversation.com/the-27-club-is-a-myth-56-is-the-bum-note-for-musicians-33586

https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-lists/the-27-club-a-brief-history-17853/robert-johnson-26971/

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/james-douglas-morrison-poet-dead-at-27-40343/

https://www.insider.com/27-club-celebrities-musicians-died-27-years-old-2017-9

https://coloradosound.org/27-club/

https://www.forever27.co.uk/hall-of-fame.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/27_Club

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Johnson

https://www.udiscovermusic.com/stories/devils-music-myth-robert-johnson/

https://www.robertjohnsonbluesfoundation.org/biography/

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/25/obituaries/robert-johnson-overlooked.html

https://www.biography.com/musician/robert-johnson

https://www.rockhall.com/inductees/robert-johnson

https://www.allmusic.com/artist/robert-johnson-mn0000832288/biography

http://musingsonmusic.com/2013/01/15/Robert-Johnson-as-told-by-Keith-Richards/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=feIaNfFONWo

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/YMMV/RobertJohnson

https://www.nytimes.com/2014/11/17/arts/brian-jones-the-making-of-the-rolling-stones-a-biography.html

https://www.popmatters.com/jameselmore-skyiscrying-2495952033.html

https://www.arkansasonline.com/news/2019/jun/30/gone-for-50-years-stones-brian-jones-20/

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/brian-jones-sympathy-for-the-devil-182761/

https://books.google.com/books?id=4JD9fio-iLkC&pg=PA206&lpg=PA206&dq=Mick+Jagger+and+Keith+Richards+visited+the+Ealing+Club&source=bl&ots=U6uNKnlMDP&sig=T3iJowA4Zd-o_NkgGcKKS-3g3qA&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiPr7Wawo7TAhUm5oMKHW6kCMgQ6AEIQjAJ#v=onepage&q=Mick%20Jagger%20and%20Keith%20Richards%20visited%20the%20Ealing%20Club&f=false

https://rockinsociety.wordpress.com/2013/01/19/200/

https://ultimateclassicrock.com/mick-jagger-keith-richards-met-brian-jones/

https://www.post-gazette.com/ae/books/2014/11/30/Paint-it-black-Brian-Jones-The-Making-of-the-Rolling-Stones/stories/201411300179

https://www.villagevoice.com/2019/07/03/when-the-angels-and-400000-others-said-goodbye-to-brian-jones/

https://books.google.com/books?id=SvuiDwAAQBAJ&pg=PT336&lpg=PT336&dq=brian+jones+five+pound+note&source=bl&ots=A2Z3-2WKrk&sig=ACfU3U25rObwcTlgfYBh_WvD_DqTQCSwpw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiT8NL66aflAhWVpp4KHU6PAGUQ6AEwFHoECAoQAQ#v=onepage&q=brian%20jones%20five%20pound%20note&f=false

https://books.google.com/books?id=SnjZCwAAQBAJ&pg=PA112&lpg=PA112&dq=brian+jones+five+pound+note&source=bl&ots=tJhp59sj7C&sig=ACfU3U3tjfdMLOmX8wisSoKI7zWDMgFAkw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiT8NL66aflAhWVpp4KHU6PAGUQ6AEwEnoECAkQAQ#v=onepage&q=brian%20jones%20five%20pound%20note&f=false

https://londonist.com/london/features/is-dartford-the-most-rock-n-roll-town-in-england

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/1964/03/14/melody-maker-would-you-let-your-sister-go-with-a-rolling-stone/

http://www.criminalelement.com/reich-and-roll-a-degree-of-murder-german-1967-film-movie-murder-cannes-rolling-stones-brian-jones-anita-pallenberg-brian-greene/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/2013/07/06/anna-wohlin-talks-about-brian/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/2005/11/16/anna-wohlin-talks-to-the-independent/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/2005/03/31/dawn-young-interviewed-by-beatzenith-com/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/1968/05/11/child-of-the-moon-promotional-video/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/1981/06/23/suki-potier-passes-away-aged-33/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/1985/12/12/ian-stewart-passes-away-aged-47/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/

https://brianjonestimeline.wordpress.com/1965/09/14/anita-pallenberg-meets-brian-jones-backstage-at-circus-krone/

https://www.crfashionbook.com/celebrity/a22115807/anita-pallenberg-the-rolling-stones-brian-jones-keith-richards/

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2017/jun/14/anita-pallenberg-anything-but-a-passenger-on-the-stones-journey

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/why-anita-pallenberg-rolling-stones-muse-was-queen-of-the-underground-204744/

https://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/entertainment/music/sd-et-music-anita-pallenberg-20170613-story.html

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/life/anita-pallenberg-knew-swinging-sixties/

https://www.alainelkanninterviews.com/anita-pallenberg/

https://www.earcandymag.com/rrcase-brianjones.htm

https://www.theolivepress.es/spain-news/2016/09/20/rolling-stones-guitarist-brian-jones-played-to-gib-monkeys/

https://www.nytimes.com/1994/10/16/books/sex-and-drugs-and-mick-and-keith.html

http://www.angelfire.com/rock3/sixtiesfish/mybrian/briongysin.htm

https://ultimateclassicrock.com/brian-jones-jimi-hendrix/

https://borntolisten.com/2018/01/21/january-21-the-jimi-hendrix-experience-recorded-all-along-the-watchtower-in-1968/

http://www.angelfire.com/rock3/sixtiesfish/1menu.html

http://www.covermesongs.com/2014/03/the-story-behind-jimi-hendrixs-all-along-the-watchtower.html

https://ultimateclassicrock.com/45-years-ago-jimi-hendrix-records-all-along-the-watchtower/

http://www.angelfire.com/rock3/sixtiesfish/mybrian/montereypop.htm

https://borntolisten.com/2018/01/21/january-21-the-jimi-hendrix-experience-recorded-all-along-the-watchtower-in-1968/

https://www.drugs.com/sfx/miltown-side-effects.html

http://drugcentre.org.za/depressants/Mandrax

https://www.healthline.com/health/diazepam-oral-tablet

https://www.earcandymag.com/rrcase-brianjones.htm

https://books.google.com/books?id=Gjb4f0r-w-wC&pg=PA97&lpg=PA97&dq=brian+jones+pleurisy&source=bl&ots=NdTTzPABYY&sig=ACfU3U2YxBHFesJEFGLYfLiky7QV4Ju7BA&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjanv3csLPlAhWIr54KHYhgClgQ6AEwF3oECAkQAQ#v=onepage&q=brian%20jones%20pleurisy&f=false

https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Black%20Bombers

http://www.drugworld.co.uk/drugs-amphetamine.html

https://nostalgiacentral.com/pop-culture/fads/drugs-in-the-1960s/

https://www.drugs.com/valium.html

https://nostalgiacentral.com/pop-culture/fads/drugs-in-the-1960s/

https://www.netdoctor.co.uk/medicines/allergy-asthma/a7354/piriton-chlorphenamine/#side%20effects

https://tonydagostino.co.uk/history-of-amphetamine-methamphetamine/

http://www.keno.org/rolling_stones/brian_jones_keith_richards.htm

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Stones_in_the_Park

http://977rocks.com/bill-wyman-slams-jagger-richards-for-not-giving-brian-jones-his-due-06232015/

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/keith-richards-on-brian-jones-mick-jagger-and-the-new-memoir-life-52581/

https://www.drugaware.co.za/mandrax.html

27: A History of the 27 Club through the Lives of Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, and Amy Winehouse by Howard Sounes

Life by Keith Richards

Stone Alone by Bill Wyman

Brian Jones, The Untold Life and Mysterious Death of a Legend by Laura Jackson

Brian Jones: The Making of the Rolling Stones by Paul Trynka

Crossfire Hurricane (2012) dir. Brett Morgen

https://findadeath.com/brian-jones/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brian_Jones

27: Robert Johnson by Chris Salewicz

27: Brian Jones by Chris Salewicz

https://www.thevintagenews.com/2018/01/20/crossroads-robert-johnson/

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1353783/Being-Brian-Joness-son-greatest-thing-happened-me.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rolling_Stones

#27 club #robert johnson #brian jones #blues #rock and roll #rolling stones #mick jagger #keith richards #charlie watts #bill wyman #anita pallenberg #Marianne Faithful #cw: drug abuse #cw: death

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