Conversations With Rock Stars

Well, I still don't seem to care

January 1975

I remained in England through the rest of December and early January. I joined Led Zeppelin at Heathrow on the 16th, to follow their 10th tour of America.

It was a rare day if I asked the band to pose for a group photo. The typical reporter would do this, but I didn't usually, knowing that the band complained about it later. However, the rare occasion did come around and I asked if the guys would pose for a group shot. I claimed they owed me and assured them I had a 'coupon' for it. "Would you guys be willing to get together for a group shot?" I asked. Robert was sitting on the couch working on lyrics. Bonzo glanced up, slightly flushed, from where he and Jonesy were arm wrestling. Jimmy, who was preferring to observe the match, turned to me and said,

"Sure, Bev darling. We'd do anything for you," Jimmy batted his eyelashes and pushed his lower lip out in a pout. I twisted my mouth to prevent myself from smiling and quickly got my camera ready. Jonesy shoved Bonzo's hand down on the table and threw his arms up in victory. Robert closed his notebook and stood up. Jimmy still had a pout on his face, so I blew him a kiss, which caused him to raise his eyebrows.

"I would've won," Bonzo mumbled. Robert leaned into Jonesy on his left and wrapped an arm around Jimmy, who stood in front of him. A lady with long white blonde hair walked by, pulling her suitcase along behind her. "If his left hand wasn't so souped up --" He didn't finish his sentence and from the corner of my eye I saw her pause by the vending machine. She had caught Roberts' eye as well. Jonesy smiled in great amusement at having bested the one and only Bonzo and Jimmy pressed his lips together in a smile that I knew had more potential. I gave him a wink before snapping the photo.

I stepped out of the plane and the freezing wind whipped my hair at my face, stinging my cheeks. I spread one hand across the left side of my hair, to prevent it from happening again, and took my place beside the stairs. I was able to catch the bands' grimaces at the frigid weather as they disembarked.

The band started rehearsing at the Met Center in Minneapolis. There were a few other journalists there because most weren't going to survive the weather up north. A bottle of whiskey was being passed around and the guys had already consumed some before starting the sound check, leading to those goofy antics I enjoyed so much. Jonesy took a swig, passed it to Robert who also drank from it, then passed it to me. Typically, I didn't drink, knowing that unfortunate things followed, but it was so frickin' cold. So I took the bottle and downed a couple sips. The whiskey burned my throat going down and my eyes watered a bit. As the rehearsal proceeded Jimmy shed the layers of jacket and sweater he had on. Bonzo did likewise, but kept his fur cap on.

Jimmy sat on the edge of the stage where the drum kit was fixed. I came over, sat beside him, and flicked the ribbon hanging off of his jacket. "Is this from last year?" I asked. He craned his head down to see the ribbon.

"Yeah, we met Elvis," he answered.

"Elvis?" Robert asked. "Can we do one now?" He launched into one of his favorite Elvis songs:

"Treat me like a fool
Treat me mean and cruel."

Towards the end of the sound check Robert walked over to me. "I think you should sing something," he whispered, crouching down in front of me. I shook my head.

"No way, not here," I whispered back.

"C'mon, you have such a pretty voice." I pulled my eyebrows together in question, but he shook my knee declaring, "I've heard it."

"When?"

"When you were staying with us at Headley Grange. I think I was reading and I heard you singing." I gave a small smile. "So you should sing now." He nodded his head with wide eyes. I shook my head again.

"Not here, but perhaps later I'll sing you a lullaby to go to sleep." I meant it as a joke, but he said,

"I'd like that."

•••

January 25th, 1975 - Market Square Arena, Indianapolis

I could feel the excitement and nerves in the air, which was causing me to drop things and be clumsy where I normally wasn't.

"Is that my bottle of Jack?" Jonesy asked, pointing to the bottle Jimmy was holding.

"Maybe," Jimmy replied, holding it a bit closer to his chest. Jonesy rolled his eyes, but turned to see what Robert and a roadie were talking about. I tried unsuccessfully to get my lense on the camera, but it wasn't working, so I set it aside. I pulled out my packet of cigarettes and lit one.

"Can I take a drag?" Jimmy asked. I leaned over the table and passed him my cigarette.

•••

February 1st-2nd, 1975 - Civic Arena, Pittsburgh

Peter Grant asked if I would take promotional shots of the band. I leaned against the piano and watched Jonesy's fingers move across the keys. Peter Grant came over, with a drink in his hand, and told me to take the promotional shots of the band when we landed. I nodded, knowing the only answer to Peter was 'yes.' When we landed I corralled the guys and took a few photos.

February 3rd, 1975 - Madison Square Garden

I stood off to the side of the stage and watched, entranced, as they performed 'Kashmir.' They finished and Robert announced into the mic, "Jimmy Page, guitar." Jimmy took a small bow and then turned around, sweat drenching his face and chest. I caught his eye and imitated him at the end of the song, basing my performance on what I'd just seen. He let out an exhausted laugh and crossed his arms over his heart.

•••

Mid February 1975

I found Jimmy and Robert sitting in aisle seats browsing Creem magazines. I gently pulled the front pages up to see what issue Jimmy was holding and could barely make out a picture of him on the cover. Robert was leaning in next to Jimmy to read the article. I sat down in the seat in front of Jimmy and noticed a few more magazines on the seat next to Robert.

Peter Grant lumbered up the aisle and paused by Jimmy, leaning down to whisper something in his ear. Jimmy set the magazine aside and followed Peter towards the bar near the back. I reached over and picked up the magazine he was reading, skimming the page. My eyes came to rest on this paragraph: "As for his love life, Page smiles: 'Let's just say I'm like a ship passing through storm, resting in ports now and then until it's time to continue the journey. I once told a friend, 'I'm just looking for an angel with a broken wing -- one that couldn't fly away.' " I searched for the name at the bottom. Jim Jerome. I'd never heard of him or the magazine for that matter, but this was a well-written article.