Conversations With Rock Stars

At The Wick

October 3rd, 1974

I dropped by the Wick one day, just out of curiosity, to see what Woody had talked me up about. Woody greeted me at the door and lead me to his basement-turned-recording-studio. George Harrison was there, jamming on the guitar with Willie Weeks.

"Gentleman, this is Beverly Madden, famed photographer and renowned journalist." I blushed a bit at Woody's introduction and shook hands with Willie and George. "She's quiet and won't bother us," Woody added.

"It's cool, she can stay," George said, going back to his guitar. As the day wore on, all kinds of people dropped by. At one point I went up to the kitchen to get a snack and found Mick Jagger chatting with Ian McLagan. Rod Stewart came, lounging on the couch with me, with a glass of brandy in one hand and the other wrapped around me. Woody and Mick bounced song ideas off one another downstairs.

Keith Richards was laying near me, playing the guitar and humming. Mick had left about two hours ago with Bianca, leaving Keith, Woody, Jimmy Miller (American record producer), and me. Upstairs I heard the front door open and close, then a swift pattering of feet down the stairs to the basement studio. Jimmy appeared and there was a general greeting from the guys. Keith moved to a sitting position, connecting his guitar to an amp, and started strumming. Jimmy was talking to Woody and Jimmy Miller, but inclined his head when the strings whispered to him. He borrowed a guitar from the back wall, plugged it into an amp, and started tuning. Krissy could be heard shouting from upstairs and Woody disappeared. Soon enough, Jimmy and Keith started jamming. Jimmy Miller put on a pair of headphones and disappeared behind the sound booth. Keith had closed his eyes and was playing rhythm, but Jimmy was intently focused on his strings. I sat in quiet astonishment, looking at the musicians before me. I crept over to the sound booth to watch Jimmy Miller in action. Before too long, Woody reappeared and the three of them fell to talking, strumming, and taking cocaine. I lit a cigarette and puffed away on one side of the room on a cushion, writing. Keith had crashed on the opposite side of the room, cradling his guitar in one arm and Woody had disappeared again. Jimmy crawled over to recline next to me.

"Since when do you smoke?" He asked, plucking the cigarette from my mouth and taking a drag. "You're not a bad girl." I turned to him, squinting my eyes, and said,

"You know, I thought it looked really cool. So I started smoking like all those rockstars do," I reached out two fingers and took my cigarette back. He rolled his eyes and nestled his head on my shoulder. Woody came back downstairs with a bottle of brandy and sat with us.

"Jimmy, you've gone and stolen my favorite fan," Woody accused him. Jimmy lifted his head up slightly and replied,

"No, she was always mine." I paused my writing, debating about whether to join in or not, but they fell to talking about guitars and techniques.