My life has been extraordinary in numberless ways. I remind myself of that every day now, because we all have a hovering blob that nags for attention, trying to ooze in at every opportunity (I won’t name this spirit-crusher; you know what I mean). Alot of amazing things have come my way by sheer luck and happenstance. I was once in the circles of A-list Showbiz; film, TV, and rock n’ roll. I am not wealthy or a big shot, though I’ve had much truck with both sorts. Fortunately, I was young during the most intense stretch of my exposure to world famous types. I was neither sophisticated nor urbane, but I was a capable project manager and cute as a button and smart as a whip. And I was reasonably up to snuff on film (had a production card file and the whole bit), had knowledge of some TV, knew rock n’ roll tunes and the Beatles names but, otherwise, I was a wipe-out in that latter category.
In those days in the late 70’s/early 80’s, I went to a party of one of my ‘bosses’, Graham Chapman (as I often did in those years — Gray was a true friend). My boyfriend had driven out to Graham’s temporary digs on the west end of Sunset in Beverly Hills. We had argued as we rode out directly after work. I felt none too come-hither or collected when we arrived; this last bit bothered me because Gray’s Mum and Dad had come and I was meeting them for the first time. I felt sweaty and disheveled. After an awkward meet and greet with the folks, my S.O. and I moved to the front room with many others and were soon purposely apart in the group. At some point, it was clear that everyone there had gravitated to the perimeter of the room — like a Catholic high school dance or something. Just as I was remarking at how odd it was, two of the The Rolling Stones entered from the only doorjam. Everyone kept their places. There they were, both guitarists; the unmistakable spiky jet black hair, and the bandana’d doyen!!! Even Lauren Hutton and Roger Moore were breathless! Everyone instantly recovered their conversations looking sideways as the guys began asking something of each person as they painstakingly circled the room. Each time they leaned in briefly, then they moved on. What the hell were they asking? What was going on?!? They were going to get to me in a few minutes and I’d better be ready somehow… Even when they leaned in to the two folks before me, I couldn’t hear a damned thing, it was loud again. Suddenly, spiky black hair was coming for my eyeball.
“Do you have any rolling papers?”
Without missing a beat, I said, “Yes, I do, but sorry, I have no pot.” I had been ready, after all! He took my arm and said, “Come with us.” Uh, oh.
I fully consented to being weaved through the crowd which was then approaching unmanageable. At one point I caught sight of my particularly tall (6’4”) beau glaring daggers at me but that was fleeting. Eventually, the three of us had arrived at the back of the kitchen where a pocket door was opened and we slipped in before they closed it again. We were in the laundry room. I could barely see a thing but there was a decent ray of light shining on the white washer top from a teeny window. I produced the papers. A pirate pulled out gold. Several joints were rolled in the wink of an eye and one was fired. Although I was no stranger to cannabis, I wasn’t sure that I could ambulate after puff two and I threw in the towel by three. Jabber occurred in these several minutes.
“You know who we are, dont you,...what’s your name?” I told him my name. He asked again if I knew who they were and called me 714day.
Remember, I mentioned that I wasn’t good with the particulars of rock n’ roll stuff? I was sweating bullets and praying I was not going to screw this pooch. I was glad for the darkness — I wanted to disappear but, I went for it.
“Of course, I do!”, I heard myself say, “you’re Rolling Stones!” They were still smoking and laughing and I was wondering if it’s okay to open the pocket door or turn on the light, but pot was serious jail time illegal then and Gray’s folks were there from the U.K.
“Do you know our names?” laughs that spiky haired guy. I launch it now and am wishing upon stars…
“You’re Ron Wood.” I told him. Of course, it was Ronnie Wood. But I think they may be on to me because I think they are used to this kind of weed and they are laughing so hard, they’re nearly doubling up.
“And who is me mate?” he spluttered.
“Richard Keith”, I said. They both straightened up like rods and slapped each other on the back.
“She knew! 714day knew who we were all along, Dick! Now who wins this one, Dickie? I forget who bet that she didn’t know who the hell we were?” We were all jolly friends now and had a big group hug, yukking it up. We all went on to enjoy the crowd, they with their chums, me with mine. Even so, Ronnie Wood would seek me out from time to time and shout, “Dick, I’ve found her! Here’s 714day, Dickie!” The icon would wave at me from wherever he was across the room. Sometimes he would shout something to me. We had a secret, the three of us did, along with being buzzed and giddy.
My annoyed boyfriend finally approached and asked what the hell was going on with me and them. I told him. His face grew beet red. He was now furious. He said to collect my gear immediately, we were leaving. He unloaded in the car about how I’d humiliated him, blah, blah, blah… Naturally, I felt personally embarrassed, too, and like an idiot - but this vitriol from him was stunning. My kind of fun evening became all about my S.O’s ruination which was a big drag and the night didn’t conclude cheerfully. It was not the love match I wanted it to be, that relationship.
I’ve had my story to tell all of these years, though I’d bet the old flame gets no traction from it, let alone joy. I do. My husband did. My 30 something kids enjoy it. Lots of people have. Hope you got a smile, too.
P.S. I am going to see my old buddies, Ronnie Wood and Keith Richards, as they pound their axes at the Rose Bowl on their No Filter Tour on Thursday, August 22. I have never seen them in concert and, dollars to donuts, this is their last last tour. I am thrilled to smile and laugh with a couple of them again and it doesn’t matter that they won’t have a clue that I am smiling with them one more time. They’ll be seeing the forest, not a tree. All good by me.