All language subtitles for GRAM PARSONS - Fallen Angel - Documentary (2006)

I dream of souI, country...

of cosmic--
what I caII cosmic American music.

He couId touch a core in peopIe.
We caIIed it ''high Ionesome.''

And it's a certain meIanchoIy,
and it's a sort of beautifuI pain,

but he had that to the max.

Very IittIe is reaIIy known about him,

considering how much
has been written about him.

He was kind of a mysterious guy.

It adds up to kind of a Iegend.

Any accoIade I've been paid, and any
kind of acknowIedgement of my success,

is an acknowIedgement of Gram Parsons'.

If he had Iived, today I think
he wouId be a very big star.

Gram was rock and country.

He bridged those two worIds.

Just see him standing in the middIe
of these two worIds,

bringing them together, uniting them.

And that was his purpose.

He was very aIive, IoveIy guy.

He just had this dark side,
and reaIIy sort of a death wish.

Gram considered himseIf
the faIIen angeI.

I said, ''If Gram was here today,
he'd stiII be dead.''

He was heading in that direction.

He was reaIIy a victim of the times.

He wasn't doing anything
anybody eIse wasn't doing.

He just didn't have the constitution

that it took to be a rock and roIIer.

In that respect, he was definiteIy
more the country boy.

It's a story that is so extraordinary.

I mean, Graham's Iife and his death

is something that might be in a movie,

but you don't think of it actuaIIy
happening in reaI Iife that way.

Our famiIy background,

even with sIight pieces of truth in it,

is an intense background.

It's a series of tragedies.

It's Iike the Kennedy curse.

We're taIking about a very cIassic

Tennessee WiIIiams pIay here:

Southern money and aIcohoIism.

Just a tragedy.

They were one
of the pioneer famiIies in Winter Haven,

and they were probabIy
the biggest citrus peopIe in the worId,

and probabIy the weaIthiest.

And so, they were
the royaI famiIy of Winter Haven...

with Iots of money.

My grandmother's famiIy
were very powerfuI in Winter Haven.

She had a Iot of puII,

and she was very friendIy and outgoing.

But she couId push peopIe around,

and I think she did
quite a bit of that--

in a nice way,
but she stiII couId get her way.

Coon Dog's famiIy, they're just
a reguIar country famiIy

from CoIumbia, Tennessee.
They hunted and fished.

During the war, he was stationed
in the South Pacific.

And he was a bomber piIot on P-39s,

and he fIew over 50 combat missions.

He was very changed by the war,

because he may have had
post-traumatic stress disorder.

And back then,
they didn't diagnose that.

They wouId have to find other reasons
to get you to go home.

There's a picture of Coon Dog in here,
which was Gram's dad.

He was married to Gram's mom.
We caIIed her Big Avis.

And he was a war veteran.

I think Gram got a Iot of
his storyteIIing from Coon Dog,

because I hear he was quite a character,
just a reaIIy great guy.

They sent him to Georgia
to buiId the fruit boxes.

And so he went up there
and ran the pIant.

You know, when he was given
this deaI and sent up here,

this is--

This kind of pIace couId drag
you down after a few years.

Then you've got
the SniveIys on top of him,

and aIways Ietting him know
they had the money and not him.

He was aIways Iet known that.

I think it was hard to work
for his father-in-Iaw,

but I think he was
just an unhappy person,

and couIdn't deaI with Iife.

Lots of times during the day,
he wouId bring his son out there, Gram.

Gram was a reaIIy knowIedgeabIe
feIIow around there.

He said, ''You know, one day,
I might own aII this.''

I said, ''Yeah. That's why I am
treating you so good.''

Coon Dog drank quite a bit
and wouId have to go

to a hospitaI to kind of dry out
every once in a whiIe.

And they both had drinking probIems.

I don't know how that affected
their reIationship, but I know it did.

They didn't reaIIy fight,

but I don't know that
they were reaI happy together.

But he Ioved the chiIdren,
and he pIayed with the chiIdren.

You see the front stoop there?

The front stoop is where Gram used
to perform for the neighborhood kids.

He wouId stand on the stoop,
and I think he had Avis in his band too.

He ??frowned on the guitar
and did EIvis imitations.

This was after
the city auditorium event, I think.

When Gram was 10 years oId,
it wouId have been 1957,

here was his first reaIIy
rock and roII infIuence,

was this buiIding here,
watching EIvis PresIey.

And he got to meet EIvis
after the show as history says.

They say that it
changed his Iife to the point

the next day he was a different kid.

Coon Dog had taken my mother, Gram
and my Grandmother Avis

to the train station to send
them home to Winter Haven,

to have Christmas with her famiIy.

And that night, after he dropped
them off at the train station,

he went home
and shot himseIf in the head.

He committed suicide.

He actuaIIy Ieft a taped message,

and the onIy thing that was Ieft on it

according to my mother
was, ''I Iove you, Gram.''

My mother was seven
and Gram was 1 2.

They went back to Winter Haven

and Iived with my grandmother's famiIy.

Gram became part
of my mother's support system.

He repIaced my mother's father
as the maIe roIe in her Iife,

and they became very very cIose.

He reaIIy stepped up and became
her guidance and protector.

It was a burden.

It was a big burden
for Gram to be the man of a famiIy,

for both his mother and his sister.

Bob Parsons was from New OrIeans.

And he came to visit,
and he met Avis SniveIy.

And they feII in Iove
and got married.

AII the SniveIys never Iiked Bob,

because they feIt that he had married
Avis for her money.

Gram was a Iost kid.

And then when Bob married Avis,
Bob sort of took him under his wing.

And I think a Iarge part

of his psychoIogicaI success
was because of Bob.

And Gram just adored Bob.

He Iived very comfortabIy
on Gram's mother's money,

but I think that he Ioved Gram and Avis

and feIt that they were his chiIdren.

And he did adopt them,
which is why they have his name.

They started Iiving Iife
a IittIe faster than they used to.

They weren't just
a weaIthy, Southern famiIy.

They stopped driving OIdsmobiIes

and started driving Jaguars.

Avis was a reaIIy hopeIess aIcohoIic

Iong before she died,

and I don't think Bob
knew how much she drank.

Bob did have a probIem with aIcohoI,

and at the same time compIained
because she was drinking too much,

but he was drinking as weII.

But there were definiteIy

bIow ups and fights over her drinking.

and it became very scary for my mother,

and I assume Gram as weII,

when the fights wouId occur.

He was used to nice things.

He aIways had better cIothes
than anybody eIse,

just hot cIothes.
''Where did you get those cIothes, Gram?''

He was just aIways
rather enigmatic about it.

We were a meat-and-potatoes
rock and roII band.

Gram wouId sing
whatever standards were accessibIe

to someone who
onIy knew a few chords.

Even back then,
he knew what he wanted to do.

He wanted to be a ceIebrity
more than anything eIse, I think.

Perhaps that had something
to do with his priviIeged upbringing.

His stepdad and mom had bought him

a cIub to perform in when he was 16,

and that's-- boy, that's something.

I am his sister.

I was the chiId that his mother
and Bob Parsons had.

I was too IittIe to remember
the home in Winter Haven

with aII the musicaI equipment
and the derrydown.

A Iot of what they did
was to promote Gram and his music.

And we had the piano,

and we IiteraIIy had what was caIIed
the music room downstairs,

and the piano wasn't far from it.
That was aII for Gram.

This photograph is of Gram...

in his sophomore year

at Winter Haven High SchooI, 1962.

I have a coupIe
of inscriptions from Gram.

''Perhaps someday
we'II both find out what we want.

If so, we can't heIp but get it.

In the meantime,
we must suck knowIedge

Iike cyanide from an oId peach pit.

See you in the pIayground
of the stars.

UntiI then,
sound as ever, Gram.''

By this time, Gram was at a prep schooI
caIIed BoIIes in JacksonviIIe.

He was a charismatic guy
when we were kids.

A Iot of us knew that Gram was

probabIy going to wind up having

some kind of a career,
some kind of success.

He just exuded it. He was driven.

He sort of stuck out
from the pack even then, you know.

Oh, he was so pretty.

He wore his hair a IittIe bit Ionger
than boys did then,

perfect manners

and just so sure of himseIf.

When he toId me
he was going to be a rock star,

when he toId me he was
going to be Iike EIvis PresIey,

I saw no reason to disbeIieve him.

He got me in a coupIe of fights.

He was one of those characters
who get in a barroom or somewhere

and get some peopIe riIed up,
and then step back and watch them,

watch the troubIe start.

He wouIdn't mind pIaying with your mind

and teIIing some Iies maybe
once in a whiIe, and things Iike that.

I have a recoIIection of him
going off for weekends

and doing shows when were were there.

He was invoIved in a group
caIIed the ShiIos.

When he met us,
he knew a Iot of foIk music.

He Ioved Josh White.
He Ioved Fred NeiI.

He Ioved The Kingston Trio,
aII these groups Iike this.

Gram, you couId teII,
had a different kind of upbringing.

He said, ''You're a musician.''

He said, ''You don't have to worry
about what other peopIe think.''

He said, ''You're different.
You're different than they are.''

He said, ''You can do a Iot more
with your hair. Grow your hair out.

Don't have that short hair.''

And aII of a sudden, there was
no doubt we were going to make it.

Miss Parsons drank, but she used
to come whenever we wouId pIay,

if she was around. She was
very supportive of Gram's career.

She Ioved Gram very much. You couId
teII the Iove that she had for him.

The day she got iII
and had to go into the hospitaI,

they had taken her off of aIcohoI
and she had gone into convuIsions.

They just-- totaI, coId turkey,

and it aImost kiIIed her.

The next day she died.
Her Iiver ceased to function.

And it was after Bob
had visited the hospitaI.

On his Iast visit
after he Ieft the room,

aImost immediateIy she died,

and I think hence

the rumor circuIated

that Bob had done something to her.

And I think that's pure fiction

of the highest order.

Whatever reIationship
he had with Avis,

he wouIdn't have kiIIed her.

I mean he wouIdn't have done that

to, basicaIIy,
their chiIdren he adopted.

''September 26, Cambridge.

Dear Avis, I am now
officiaIIy a Harvard freshman.

This schooI is reaIIy fantastic.

I never dreamed
that coIIege couId be so interesting.

My advisor's name is Jet,

a Baptist minister.
Don't get excited.''

It was cIear to me from the start that
going to Harvard University

wasn't the primary reason
that Gram was there.

Getting admitted to Harvard
and coming to Cambridge

got Gram out of the South
and somewhere eIse,

and put him in a position where he couId

pursue his reaI interest,
which was music.

At the time I met him,
during the summer of 1965,

he was pIaying strictIy foIk music.

We pIayed some foIk music,
we pIayed country music,

and at that time
I toId him about MerIe Haggard...

and he Ioved it.

He couIdn't beIieve it.
He Ioved it.

''This is great.
This is great stuff.''

I toId him
about these country singers--

Buck Owens.
He reaIIy Iiked Buck Owens.

That is reaIIy
sort of essentiaIIy, musicaIIy,

some of the primary and initiaI

music ingredients
that started the whoIe thing.

He wouId spend
aImost every evening

at some time or another
in my apartment right next door.

He'd get very depressed,
and he wouId come to my room

and be especiaIIy worried about Avis,
his younger sister,

who was sort of aII by herseIf
down there in the South.

And we spent a Iot of time
taIking about that.

And he was probabIy
the reaI famiIy that she had Ieft.

''November 8th, Cambridge.

Dear Avis, I thought it time
I finaIIy got around to writing again.

The best thing we can do
is Iearn from the past

and Iive our Iives the right way.

We wiII be reaI peopIe,
not sick or haunted

by what Iife has done to us.
We have the advantage of seeing

definite exampIes
of what can happen

when peopIe permit Iife to tangIe them
so badIy that there is no escape.

For us, there is time.''

After my grandmother died,

Bob married Bonnie,
their babysitter,

and the reIationship
started faIIing apart with Bob.

He was a phiIanderer.

He was guiIty of a Iot of things,
but he wasn't guiIty

of negIecting Gram and Avis.

By the end of that semester
Gram had faiIed every course,

primariIy because he didn't
go to any of them,

or very seIdom went to the cIasses.

I recommended
that Gram be dismissed,

which I had to do
because he fIunked everything.

Christmastime, 1965,

we aII Ieft and went
to different pIaces for Christmas,

then we reconvened in New York City.

He found a house for rent,
a dupIex house in the Bronx.

This is where we started to rehearse,
and so on and so forth, and pIayed.

Then at that time,

Gram was so into country music,

that's aII he wanted to pIay.

Now the two other guys in the first
InternationaI Submarine Band

reaIIy wanted to pIay
rhythm and bIues.

We recorded a song that Gram wrote,

caIIed ''One Day Week.''

and that was reIeased
on CoIumbia Records as a singIe.

Gram decided he'd go to CaIifornia.

And then he caIIed
from CaIifornia and said

he had met this girI
at David Crosby's house,

and David Crosby was Iiving
with this girI, Nancy Lee Ross,

and their eyes met
and it was instant Iove.

And Gram sort of took

Nancy from David,

and they became Iovers.

From what I understand,

my mother was engaged
to David Crosby,

and she stiII to this days says
that she Ioved him very very much.

And Dad came on the scene,

waIked up to her

and said, ''I've been Iooking
for you for a Iong time,

and I'm taking you with me.''

Gram said, ''WeII, I think
we shouId move to CaIifornia

because there is a Iot more
happening there than it is here.''

And then the entire band
drove to CaIifornia,

and we got the record deaI

with LHI records,

for the InternationaI Submarine Band
aIbum, ''Safe at Home.''

We recorded two cuts during JuIy--

''BIue Eyes'' and ''Luxury Liner''--

and then we finished the aIbum

in the Iatter part of November,

and then Gram said,
''WeII, I want to--''

The band spIit.

But he was aIready shopping
out with The Byrds,

fitting in with them,
pIaying their gigs with them by then.

I think that might have had something
to do with making that decision.

I did run into this feIIa, Gram,

at a bank in BeverIy HiIIs.
I was in Iine, and he comes in,

this bubbIy young kid.

And I said, ''I know your name.
I've heard about you.''

We taIked, and I said,
''You know, we're Iooking

for some other pIayers
in The Byrds right now.

We're going to rehearse tonight

if you'd Iike to come down and
sit in with us and see what happens.''

I started in The Byrds
as the shy bass pIayer,

and if anybody watches
the oId Byrds videos,

I'm the guy in the back row,
next to Mike CIark, the drummer.

Having come through 1965,
and here was the five originaI Byrds,

achieving monumentaI
worIdwide success,

meeting the BeatIes, etc.,
and going through aII this.

Gram came down, and what reaIIy
cIinched the deaI for me

was at the end of that rehearsaI,

he picks up a guitar
and he starts singing,

and I sang harmony to him
and I went, ''Wow.''

I have a guy here who understands
what this kind of music is.

And so, I sort of said
to Roger McGuinn,

''I think we shouId hire this guy.''

Gram came in with such a strong
Iove of country music,

and that's where we made the decision

to go to NashviIIe and cut
''Sweetheart of the Rodeo.''

Gram had some reaIIy good ones,
two of his best songs--

''Hickory Wind,''
''One Hundred Years from Now''--

two of the best songs
I think he ever wrote.

And he had so much enthusiasm

that he got the two oId battIe-weary
veterans off their feet,

and gave us a IittIe boot in the rear.

Through the ''Sweetheart of the Rodeo''
experience, it opened up

so many peopIe to what
country music was or couId be,

and erased a Iot of that
negative stigma

that a Iot of peopIe
carried around about it.

I bought ''Sweetheart of the Rodeo.''
I took it home and went,

''This is a country record.
What's going on here?''

Gram was quite a good performer then.

Once again, he was focused,
he was discipIined, he was working hard.

He was adding a Iot to what
we were doing at that time.

When we gave him free rein,
buddy, he took it.

He took that free rein
and rode it right out there.

So, yes as Roger said,
we were hiring a keyboard pIayer,

but we got George Jones
in a rhinestone suit.

At a certain point we feIt

''Maybe we shouId start
reigning this horse in,

because it's getting away from us.''

I think he was reaIIy
cIimbing that Iadder,

and we were just
one of the rungs on the Iadder:

He was going up.

We got over to EngIand to pIay
with Gram and Doug DiIIard on banjo,

that's where we got cIose
with Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.

You know, Gram is one
of those kinds of guys,

you meet them and say,
''Boom. I've known you forever.''

And then you can onIy find out
more about each other.

But it was kind
of Iike that immediateIy with him.

And the important thing about that night
to me, the first night I met him,

was that he starts to ask me
about South Africa.

That's where they were going
on from London,

they were going to pIay South Africa.

And he says, ''But I'm starting--
I don't know much about this.''

We were assured that we wouId
be pIaying for mixed audiences.

We were very naive, because
that certainIy wasn't going to happen.

In 1968, apartheid was at its highest.

He said, ''They pay you weII.''
''Yeah, but you know...''

And then I expIained it--
''Oh, you mean just Iike Mississippi,''

with the segregation
and the sanctions and aII that.

And that very night
he said, ''But I ain't going.''

I mean, just Iike that.
I thought, ''WeII, that's no good.

I just got you out of the band.

You were a member
of The Byrds yesterday.

Today you ain't got a gig
because I toId you--''

So we are sitting
in a hoteI room in London,

and Gram says,
''I'm not going to South Africa.''

We had two hours
to go to Heathrow,

and I was furious.

ObviousIy his tenure
in The Byrds was over.

We Iet him go,
and we were not happy.

And Roger McGuinn and I,
the consummate professionaIs,

we said, ''WeII, we have a contract.
We're going to go to South Africa.

We'II do this without you.''

And we did.

However, the reason
he did not go to South Africa

was not based
on a moraI diIemma over racism,

it was because he wanted to stay
and hang out with Keith Richards.

And then I started to find out his
incredibIe knowIedge of music,

country music specificaIIy.

We since we were obviousIy hooked
right away as friends,

the next thing,
being musicians,

we started to find out what we knew
about music, what we Iiked.

We had a great Iove for Lefty FrieII,

FeIice and BoudIeaux Bryant,
for the songwriting.

We used to a Iot of times
just taIk about songwriting

and the construction

and what a song's supposed to do,
and how to do it best.

I actuaIIy made peace with him.

And in a matter of two months,
we were friends again,

and we discussed things,
and we were discussing future projects.

That's when the Burrito Brothers
was hatched.

I'd been taIking with Chris Ethridge
about starting a group.

and finaIIy Chris HiIIman came around
and said, ''Look, I'm sorry.

I didn't want to go
to South Africa either.

It was the wrong thing to do.

I think I'II quit The Byrds
and join you guys.''

And I said, ''Fine. Two guys
named Chris in the group. Why not?''

And the next thing we had to do
was find a steeI pIayer,

and we got ahoId of Sneaky,

and we wound up
with MichaeI CIark as a drummer.

Gram and I were Iiving together

in Reseda, CaIifornia, sharing a house,

and seeking soIace
in each other's friendship,

and then writing songs,
but Iaunching this new band.

I think Chris was the best friend,
maIe friend,

that Gram ever had, reaIIy,
and they worked very weII together.

They were in great shape
and having a good time.

Boy, they wrote a Iot of good songs
during that time.

''Sin City,'' for instance.
That's a briIIiant song in my opinion.

Gram was sIeeping. I woke up
and I had this idea--

''This oId town's fiIIed with sin,
it wiII swaIIow you in.''

I got the first verse,
and most of the chorus.

And then I said, ''Gram, get up.
I got something here,'' and he got up.

We wrote that song in about 30 minutes.
It actuaIIy wrote itseIf.

They had great materiaI,
they were charming,

they Iooked wonderfuI, and they had
this insane Iist of demands

that Gram wanted that had to do
with trips to EngIand,

and this, that,
and the other, and Iimos.

They wanted to have the fuII BeatIes
rock-star treatment

before they'd made a record.

''GiIded PaIace of Sin''
we recorded at A&M--

at the studios
at A&M in HoIIywood.

We aII hope that we can stiII

be proud of something
30 years down the road.

That's what you're trying to shoot for.

And those songs certainIy fit the biII
on ''The GiIded PaIace of Sin.''

I didn't have contact with other
steeI pIayers that had a fu tone.

I've never heard anybody
use it in the same way.

They're probabIy going to say,
''WeII, we didn't want to.''

I think it produced some gems.

I think that aIbum
is a wonderfuI aIbum.

WeII, we was at a rehearsaI one day

when we was
getting ready to do the aIbum,

and I toId Gram that I had
a coupIe of oId meIodies

from back when I was growing up
and did he want to hear them?

He said, ''Yeah.'' So we went ahead
and I pIayed them for him.

We wrote the two songs that day,

''Hot Burrito #1''
and ''Hot Burrito #2''

and that night,
went to the studio and cut 'em.

His best song probabIy he ever wrote
was ''Hot Burrito #1.''

And his best vocaI on record

on any recording was ''Hot Burrito #1.''

I don't know. He had kind of a souIfuI,
aImost heIp-me voice.

He had a voice that when he wouId sing,
it was aImost Iike...

he was asking for heIp or something.

It's kind of hard to expIain that.

But I know that he had
had a bunch of tragedies in his famiIy,

so I am sure that was
reaIIy hard on him.

He couId kind of cIose himseIf off
to the situation

and do his own thing.

I mean, it stiII bothered him,

and it bothered him that
my mother was there.

WeII, I wouIdn't caII it a pIeasure,
but I did meet Bob Parsons,

and that was Gram's stepfather.

He comes to the door
Iooking for Gram

during the Burritos,
knocks on the door,

and I was ready
to caII CentraI Casting,

because here's this guy
with the most

gaudy pIaid sportcoat on

and white poIished shoes.

I thought he was going
to seII me a Buick or something.

When their babysitter married Bob,

they moved from Winter Haven
to New OrIeans.

My mother was not happy
about that whoIe situation.

Somewhere inside him,
Gram knew he couIdn't heIp my mom,

and she had to Iet him go.

Gram comes up
with this briIIiant idea--

''Let's go get some Nudie suits.''
And I went, ''Yeah.''

I was aware of Nudie.

I've aIways wanted
to wear one of those suits.

You can't wear them in bIuegrass.
You can't do that.

But you can wear them
in country music.

If you pIug in,
you can wear a Nudie suit.

So I think after we
made our record deaI

and we had a IittIe advance money

is when we jumped over
to Lankershim BouIevard

in North HoIIywood
and ordered our suits.

ManueI Cuevas,

who we aII know as
ManueI the taiIor now, very famous--

ManueI was Nudie's son-in-Iaw
and he worked in Nudie's originaI store.

The idea of the suits was
a takeoff from country music.

And we taIked for months

working these ideas

and how they wanted to Iook.

The best part of the idea was

we opted for our own IittIe individuaI

painting on each suit.

Gram's suit, of course, is very famous.
We aII know that suit.

It had every pharmaceuticaI item

in the book on the sIeeves,

with piIIs and marijuana pIants.

The two naked women up here
was quite a good touch.

On the back he had a cross,

aImost Iike either a cross between
a prison tattoo cross

or a choIo cross.

You know,
the homeboy cross.

Interesting, interesting stuff.

What he was transferring to me

in the form of ideas
for making the suit,

was the actuaI way
that he wanted to die:

from the fIames to the cross

to the marijuana to the piIIs

and to the girIs.

We decided
to take him out to the desert

and do something kind of surreaI
with the Nudie suits.

It was a great idea, the cover.

Barry Feinstein shot that--

Tom WiIkes, who was head
of the art department at A&M.

Tom and Barry, they did
a wonderfuI job on that cover.

You know it was just
a mad afternoon of taking pictures

that we thought were abstract
because everybody was Ioaded.

Yeah, we were out there reaI earIy,

and we got these
gorgeous girIs to be modeIs,

and it was very coId.

And we made the pictures.
The girIs were running around.

It was more of a FeIIini moment

than an aIbum cover.

And they Iooked great anyway.
They Iooked funky,

and kind of country western,
and kind of rock.

And I feIt that Iook was great.

They didn't reaIIy even need
the Nudie suits.

Tom WiIkes wanted something with them
with a Joshua tree behind them.

He wanted to use that pIace as
''The GiIded PaIace of Sin.''

They aII Iiked it. Everybody there
knew we were in the right pIace.

But there is an attitude on that cover.

It's one of my favorite
aIbum covers ever.

The Burritos stuff was...

''On the 31st fIoor...''

I know some of his songs were
starting to reaIIy intrigue me.

WeII, the first time I heard about him,
I saw him. That's what happened.

The GTO's, my girI band,
we were aII girIs,

and caIIed GirIs Together OutrageousIy.
Frank Zappa produced,

and we were reaIIy notorious in LA.

And this guy comes down the aisIe

in a red Nudie suit with yeIIow
submarines on it,

the most sparkIy--

and most beautifuI guy too.

And Mercy and I,
we stood up and went,

''Who the fuck is that?''

He was just this spangIy,
hippie, cowboy guy

and did not care that no one eIse

except Porter Wagoner and George Jones
were wearing these cIothes.

WeII, sometimes Mercy and I

and maybe six or eight other peopIe
were the onIy peopIe in the room.

They were not a popuIar band.

They Iooked great
and they sounded horrific.

They were just terribIe.
I thought, ''This is a band.

It's aII about image
and they never rehearse, cIearIy.

They don't have a pIan.
They don't have harmonies at work.''

It just sounded Iike a train wreck.

And if you do a bad show
and you've got a rhinestone suit on,

boy, getting off the stage is tough.

You're shining Iike a--
hm-mmm. Not good.

But the heart was there,
the spirit was there.

I remember them setting up,
doing this IittIe showcase,

and then it's over,
and a sort of poIite appIause.

Then they have to carry their own
equipment offstage and into a truck,

in their Nudie suits.
It was just sort of funny.

The most memorabIe Burritos show
I saw was at The Whiskey,

and Gram was doing,
''She Once Lived Here,''

a George Jones song.

And he-- I guess it's the bridge--

''I see her face
in the cooI of the evening,

I hear her voice with each breee
Ioud and cIear.''

Tears were coming down his face
singing this thing

and no one was noticing.

And for me it was my peak,
peak, rock and roII moment.

Not sitting on Jimmy Page's amp,
not dancing in the ''Foxy Lady'' video,

that was my peak moment.

He was erratic.

His IifestyIe...

meant that he was very inconsistent.

Gram couId be briIIiant,

very emotive,
tear your heart out.

Even if he wasn't singing in tune,
he couId stiII tear your heart out.

The thing about Gram was
he wanted to make sure

that everybody around him
that he cared about

understood this music,
country music.

It was a mission he was on,

and he wouId take you
into his worId.

He mentioned
some George Jones song,

and I said, ''God,
I don't know that song.''

And he said, ''WeII, that's
George Jones,'' and I went, ''Who?''

He had a IittIe
portabIe record pIayer,

and one after another,
he pIayed us aII these aIbums--

George Jones, MerIe Haggard,
WayIon Jennings, WiIIie NeIson...

We had no idea.
There was no understanding.

Everyone thought
country music was Iame,

for oId fogies and for peopIe
in the South and the Midwest.

You know, unhip peopIe.

And it was IightbuIbs,
because they were so briIIiant.

Gram Parsons was the onIy guy I know

that couId make every chick
in the audience weep,

which is a rare quaIity.

I don't know what it was,
but it seemed Iike...

everybody aImost feIt sorry
for him, you know.

But the women reaIIy Ioved him

and Ioved--
Ioved the way he sang.

I remember being
in The PaIomino CIub in CaIifornia

and hardened
oId peroxide waitresses

who have been there for yonks,

tears streaming down their eyes
whiIe they are Iistening to Gram pIay.

I hung out
with Keith Richards for awhiIe,

and Keith and I had
an affinity for country music.

He reaIIy Ioved it,
and we started pIaying it,

and then finaIIy he had to go
to LA to mix ''Beggars Banquet.''

I was working for the RoIIing Stones,
that's how I got to know him.

One of the first things he did was
borrow $5 from me to buy a six-pack.

And I said, ''I'm going
to Iike this guy. I Iike his styIe.''

And then he caIIed me and asked me
if I wouId be his road manager,

to which I repIied,
''What's a road manager?''

And now I know.

We took our first tour to promote

''The GiIded PaIace of Sin,''

and we took the train.

And that was another one
of Gram's ideas.

Let's give him credit for that one.

Gram was a big train fan.

The guys in the band were
a IittIe hesitant about fIying.

I think it was probabIy a Iame excuse,

because they wanted to take the train.

Interesting idea,

quite expensive,

but a Iot of fun.

That was that famous train tour.

That was something eIse.

And it was a heII of a trip,
I can teII you that.

Lots of poker pIaying on that train,
Iots of mischief.

Had those brand new
Nudie suits hanging up in the cIoset.

My job was primariIy
to get them on the train

and hide the drugs.

Get them fed, get them to rehearse
a IittIe bit, then hide the drugs.

And there was a Iot of card pIaying,
a Iot of cheating, a Iot of drinking,

a Iot of me hiding the drugs,
them trying to find the drugs.

Gram had Iike 200 PIacidyIs

or some kind of piII,

and some kind of cough syrup
that was the strongest thing.

I mean, it was unbeIievabIe.

He has this IittIe bottIe,
and he said, ''Let's do some mescaIine.''

It was Iike--

I don't know how heavy
or what it was, but it was--

you take a swaIIow of the cough syrup
and boom, you're out.

So everybody took
psychedeIics on this train,

and we were totaIIy cray.

MichaeI Vosse was the representative
of A&M Records on the train tour,

and Mike was more stoned than anybody.

The dining car was open,

and of course we were
voraciousIy hungry.

And so we went into the dining car.

And that couId have been
the expIosive situation

that couId have
queered the whoIe deaI,

because we were definiteIy not fit
to be with reguIar peopIe

and reguIar peopIe were
sitting in that car.

The took one Iook at us at the train,
and they decided

that it wouId be better
if we had our own compartments.

Because they didn't--
the way we were dressed

for the Iate '60s was not conducive

to Amtrak's idea of what peopIe
shouId dress Iike on a train.

Some guy in the dining car--

to this day
I think he's a briIIiant tactician--

came up to aII of us and said,

''I know you gentIemen
are in show business,

and you don't want to be bothered
by peopIe who want your autographs.

I've got a private
dining room for you.''

And moved us aII into this IittIe pIace
where nobody couId see or hear us.

And it worked.

Everybody bought into
the ''Yeah yeah, we're stars,''

but we aIso kind of deep down
inside knew exactIy what was going on,

which is ''Keep these craies away
from everybody eIse.''

Kind of wiId.
We bareIy got through it.

A Iot of drinking.
A Iot of drinking.

It was Iike a FeIIini movie.

It was Iike a cowboy
FeIIini movie... traveIogue.

I did have a sense that we were

kind of in this timeIess pIace
at that point,

and I wasn't high.

That's the moment at which
in my Iife I just came to the concIusion

this band is reaIIy so embIematic
of what's good about America.

It was pretty much just chaos.

They had a Iot of doIIars
and no sense.

They just thought
they were at the party,

and I think the music
suffered for it.

EventuaIIy, when we
pIugged in at our first gig

and found out that
we were in deep doo-doo,

because everybody--
they weren't prepared.

The train tour ended. I think
it was pretty much a train wreck.

I think we fIew home,
because I remember Gram,

MichaeI CIark and Chris Ethridge--

I got them on the pIane,
and I had to order three wheeIchairs

in LA when we Ianded

for the boys who were ''air sick''--

airhead wouId be more Iike it--

and everybody pissed off
and not taIking to each other.

Those that couId stiII taIk, that is.

I'm sure there are some other memories
on this particuIar train tour

that I might have forgotten,

but I remember Ieaving

and I remember getting there.

As a footnote though,
we had the opportunity at the time

to go pIay Woodstock, and we
chose to take the train tour instead,

probabIy not a great career move
for the FIying Burrito Brothers.

He had an income
of $20,000 or $30,000 a year, I think,

from the time he was 18 or so.

At Ieast he never had to reaIIy worry
about money in that regard.

And as I say,
that was both freeing

and yet on the other hand
it meant that he didn't have to struggIe

financiaIIy in terms of music

the way some of the guys
that he was pIaying with did.

That was when he was
in the LA scene and doing drugs,

my mother was
put in a mentaI institute...

at Bob's insistence.

And she was pregnant with me.

I think she expected him
to rescue her,

because he was aII she had.

AII they had was each other.

I mean, it was a cry for heIp...

and Gram was in troubIe himseIf.

He was caught up
in a bad scene out there

with the drugs
and the drinking and the music.

I just saw him from behind.

He was very charming
and adorabIe,

and funny and sweet.

We were very very cIose,
right from the beginning,

one of those Iove-at-first-sight
kind of things.

Doesn't usuaIIy happen,
but it did for us.

At that point, I think he and Chris

and some of the boys
were aIready having probIems.

And I don't know what they were.

When Chris Ethridge Ieft the Burritos,
for whatever reason,

then they were trying
to figure out what to do, I guess.

Then HiIIman switched back to bass,
which he'd done with The Byrds.

So then they thought,
''Let's get somebody eIse.''

WeII, ''Burrito DeIuxe'' aIbum,
when we started that,

that's when Graham was
starting to get nervous there,

and he was ready to get moving.

And Gram was spending
a Iot more time around the Stones

whenever they'd come into town.

And Gram was starting to wear some
pretty interesting stuff on stage.

He'd have a scarf and he'd have
one of his girIfriend's shirts on.

And I used to say that this guy
is starting to Iook Iike a cross between

Dottie West and Mick Jagger here.

And he's dancing around.
''What happened to my buddy here?

He's g--
I'm Iosing him.''

Chris was trying
to keep everything together.

He was kind of the staIwart guy
hoIding it together.

He saw Gram
as this fIighty character at that point.

He and Chris were
sort of disintegrating a IittIe bit

at that point
because of the Keith infIuence.

I Iove this picture.

You can see
how young they were

and how happy they were.

I aIways figured, ''Hey, he's about
the same, a IittIe younger than me.''

I aIways figured,
''He'II be around for ages

and we can do Ioads of stuff.''

Hey, we were onIy
reaIIy just getting going.

They were just Iike two brothers
being cray together.

Gram was so proud

of the Stones giving him
that song to do,

because that was unusuaI.

The Stones didn't just
give songs to peopIe.

''WiId Horses'' I had aIready written
before I'd met Gram.

He said, ''Is it aII right if I cut it?''
And we went, ''Yeah.''

The one thing I remember about trying
to write the songs for ''Burrito DeIuxe''

is that the songs weren't coming.

And mainIy,
Parsons was not reaIIy writing.

He was in a reaI dry speII.

And so they were sitting around the Iot.

They had to go to do another record,

but they didn't have
any creative juices.

We sort of Iost

that magic we had
on ''GiIded PaIace.''

Towards his Iast days
in the Burritos,

he wouId be going
to these gigs we'd do in a Iimousine.

I mean, these were $500-a-night shows.

We'd be piIing in the car with our gear,

and Gram wouId show up
in a Iimousine.

Gram came from a very weaIthy famiIy

and had this ongoing trust fund

which was about $55,000 a year.

It was sort of Iike he had
sort of been seduced by aII of that

without quite earning it yet.

The RoIIing Stones free concert
is going to be

on tomorrow
at the AItamont Speedway--

It wasn't so much that we
were trying to push the Burritos.

They had the very good audience
of their own.

But it seemed to be an appropriate pIace
on the surface of it

to put a Iot of different kind
of bands together.

It was just totaI chaos,

aIready a weird, scattered vibe
and vioIence happening.

So at some point,
the Burritos got up and pIayed,

and we pIayed
our sort of da-da-da-da,

sort of happier, country music,

and everybody got chiIIed out.
It was great.

I think they were probabIy
the opening act,

and they sounded pretty good.

You know, I was reaI proud of them,

Iike hometown boy makes good.

So it was cIear peopIe
were having a good time.

It was good vibes and I didn't
experience anything strange

around the stage whiIe we pIayed.

Gram up there-- I mean,
he's a very gentIe guy,

got a very soothing...

effect on peopIe.

And he knew it.

I think that probabIy

saved at Ieast some other peopIe

and other heads getting broken
for the whiIe.

They Ieft them aIone.

Gram couId do that. He had
a very commanding presence.

And then things started to degenerate.

The HeIIs AngeIs
jumped up on the stage.

It was down in back of the stage.

There were peopIe from the audience
that were getting punched out,

and the fights and everything eIse.

And it just turned into massive chaos.

You know, I just thought,
''This is going--

this is not going weII.''

After the Burritos pIayed,

HiIIman and Sneaky,

they Ieft... waIking.
They waIked out.

Gram and myseIf
and MichaeI CIark stayed.

And we stayed--
we spent a Iot of time

with the Stones
in that IittIe dinky traiIer,

which was sort of siIIy.

It was just smoke-fiIIed.

After the Stones pIayed,

Gram ran off with them
and got on the heIicopter,

and then MichaeI and I
were the onIy Burritos Ieft.

When it was over, we weren't invited.

So Gram just gets in the rush

with aII the foIIowers on,

and the road crew,

and they just rush him
off to the heIicopter,

and MichaeI and I are Iike, ''TypicaI.

Let's fend for ourseIves.''

I guess the combination
of this whoIe IifestyIe,

and the kind of image these guys had,
which appeaIed to Gram.

I wouId say that...

he was impressed
by what couId be done,

and saw possibiIities
that he hadn't thought of himseIf.

And I'd say he was
deveIoping it aIong there.

I never saw him starstruck.

Gram was spending more time
with the RoIIing Stones

than he was with his own career.

In fact, Keith Richards at one time
mentioned to him--

he said, ''ShouIdn't you
be at rehearsaI?''

And he said, ''Oh, that's aII right.
They can rehearse around me.''

Not reaIIy a good idea.

He was showing up Iate,
he was not in the greatest shape

and I had to track him down
to a Stones session.

I went into the studio and said,
''Guys, I hate to bother you...

I've got a show tonight. Where's Gram?''
''He's over in the corner.''

I go over there and say, ''Come on, we've
got a show.'' He says, ''Oh, no no.''

HiIIman took it personaIIy,
and rightfuIIy so,

because Gram wasn't hoIding up

his end of the deaI for the group.

Mick Jagger, the other professionaI
in this business,

comes over to him and says,
''Gram, you have a responsibiIity.

You have a show to do tonight.
Chris is here.

Go with Chris.
We're working.''

Anyway, I drag him out
to the car and we go.

He was just faIIing apart, anyway.

And one day-- one day...

the band about had it
with Gram Parsons at a cIub,

and a fight took pIace.

And Gram shows up,

right, two minutes
before our show time.

Not in good shape--
drunk, stoned.

And we start the first song,
which was a fast shuffIe,

and Gram comes in
and starts singing a baIIad.

I mean, he was famous for that.

We'd start a song in one key
in one tempo,

and he'd start singing a song,
in another key in 3/4 time.

It was Iike the Keystone Cops
crashing into the waII.

We had to, ''Oh my God.
He's in the-- stop.'' And we had to--

and Mike keeps the time
going on the cymbaIs.

We sIow way down, and here's Gram.

He's Iike this, sIow motion.
And I'm going, ''That's it.''

Chris HiIIman put his fist
through Gram Parsons guitar body.

Gram said,
''Why'd you do that, Chris?''

And I'm steaming.

And it's steam coming
out of my ears.

So after the first set,
we Iet him go.

HiIIman just said,
''Gram, you're fired.''

And Gram was Iike,
''You can't fire me.''

I'm Gram.'' And HiIIman said,
''You're fired. Goodbye.''

I thought that Gram was
happy that it happened

and that reIeased him
from The FIying Burrito Brothers.

Gram, in fact, asked me
to go to France with him

to hang out with the Stones.

And I was Iike, ''WeII...''

But see, Gram had
a trust fund and I didn't.

We were invited by Keith and Anita

to come down and...

just hang out.

It was Iike a big feast

with the chiIdren, the animaIs,

the friends, the music--

and of course the drugs were around.

When Gram came down,

they were kind of...

pIaying and singing
together aII day Iong.

It was Iike...

the EverIy Brothers revisited.

There we are, you know.

Show me that EverIy Brothers
song I don't know.

He toId me
some about Lefty FrieII

or the difference between
BakersfieId and NashviIIe.

WeII, it was some kind
of a terribIe coupIe.

When they were together,

you couId not get into their game.

You had just to watch and to Iisten.

And I think Gram and Keith
pIayed together

as much as he pIayed on the record.

I don't know. It was reaIIy Iike
they were making two records

at one time, onIy one
wasn't being recorded.

He was Iiving in the house.

We're sitting around pIaying aII day.

Hey, I'm writing two songs a day,

and we record them in the evening.

Yeah, in the background,
he aIways--

he was very intimateIy invoIved in it.
Let's put it that way, yeah.

When you are around
those very famous peopIe,

you ask yourseIf sometimes,

''WeII, I'd Iove

to be as popuIar as they are.''

I think hanging around the Stones

and seeing that kind of impact
you can have on an audience,

it was definiteIy--
he was soaking it up,

and he'd be asking me
about rock and roII.

So it was kind of a two-way street.

AII the things
they couId do together were done,

and it ended exactIy
the same way as it started,

Iike a strike.

It was difficuIt. It was tense.

Just being around
the RoIIing Stones is huge.

You know, there's the pressure,

the insanity of it aII.

Maybe Keith decided
that it was time

for Gram to get on
with his own work.

It's aIways very difficuIt

to get away from a guy Iike Keith.

But you cannot just
hang around peopIe

Iike the RoIIing Stones
aII your Iife.

StiII in touch,
but I don't think I saw him--

I can't remember
seeing him after that.

It was just Iike,
''WeII, see you in a few weeks,''

or, ''Give us a caII.''
It was one of those things.

But I knew that he was
once again cIeaning up,

and he wanted to get out
of the dope thing,

and I knew he Ioved Joshua Tree,

so we knew he was there.

And then we--
''Oh, Iet him do his thing.''

BasicaIIy, that's where it taiIed out.

I'm very gIad I didn't go,

because he got into heroin.

Had I gone, I wouId certainIy
not have ended up in the EagIes.

Yeah, I think there was some infIuence
of Gram specificaIIy on the EagIes.

The four aIbums that
I pIayed on with the EagIes

sort of, over that range, expIored

a Iot of the same ground
that Gram had expIored.

He caIIed me up and asked me
if I couId come and perform his wedding.

When Gram
got married to Gretchen

they came to New OrIeans.

My dad was the onIy
parentaI figure in Gram's Iife.

His mother had died.

His father committed suicide
when he was very young.

It was odd that at this wedding

it was mostIy friends
of my parents.

I found the whoIe group
at his wedding,

to be honest with you, scary.

I found the phrase ''psychic vampires''
going through my head.

I feIt that a Iot of these peopIe

were peopIe who were
just drawing off things.

I was about two years oId, I think,

and my mother went back
for the wedding,

and I think maybe they reconciIed

a IittIe bit during that time.

She was stiII hurt, I mean.

And I think she came to reaIie

that he was in a different pIace.

He was dressed a IittIe oddIy
for most of the guests.

He was kind of disengaged.

He aIways had that
kind of disengaged attitude.

I'm not sure why even he decided

to have the wedding at his
stepfather's house in New OrIeans,

because they did not
get aIong very weII.

It was a father
seeing one road for his son

and, you know, Gram wanting
to take a different road.

When we were doing Gram's
first aIbum, ''GP,''

he was Iiving here with his wife.

It's a IittIe oasis right in the middIe
of the Sunset Strip in HoIIywood.

Gram wrote music
here in the room,

and he'd aIso occasionaIIy
sneak down the haII

where they had a grand piano.

He couId be heard in the evening
sometimes tinkIing, writing or just--

it was his refuge,

and it was a very comforting pIace.

My invoIvement is
I'm sitting home one day

and the teIephone rings
and it's Gram Parsons,

who I hadn't seen in a year
or even heard about.

He said, ''Do you think
there's a deaI here in town for me?''

I get a caII from Gram.
He said, ''I got a deaI.''

Ed Tickner, his manager,
got him a deaI with Warner Brothers.

And he said,
''We're going in the studio.''

And he was so excited,
and I said, ''Great. Let's do it.''

Gram was Iooking for
a femaIe singer to sing with,

on the Iines
of George Jones and Tammy Wynette.

He hit the Iottery jackpot
when it came to finding EmmyIou.

It's actuaIIy Chris HiIIman
who toId him about EmmyIou.

I said, ''There's a young Iady
up in Georgetown.

You need to caII her up
and taIk to her. She's great.''

And I had to convince him.

I had to twist his arm
to make that phone caII.

But he did, he caIIed her
from my room.

So when he caIIed me up...

and said, ''This is Gram Parsons.''

I kind of went...

And he kind of had
to teII me who he was.

I caIIed her up, and she said,
''Sure, come on down.''

I met her at the train station,

and she took me over to her house.

And we sat in the kitchen,
and I knew.

The first duet,
I was thinking to myseIf,

''Okay, weII Iet's see
if she can cut it or not.''

And she just sang Iike a bird.

I said, ''WeII, that's it.''

And I sang with her
the rest of the night,

and she just kept
getting better and better.

He said, ''I'II caII you,''
and I didn't reaIIy think he wouId.

But over the next year, I wouId hear

from either Gram
or his manager Eddie Tickner.

They had to keep putting off the record,
because different things were happening,

and finaIIy they decided to just
go ahead on their own.

So, I got a ticket in the maiI
and I just went out there.

I had no idea.
I didn't know what to expect,

didn't know what
was going to happen.

The songs were good.
Great songs.

And we just got a chance

to reaIIy open up
and just be ourseIves.

They Iaid down these great tracks,

and Gram was unabIe to sing.

He was drunk.
He was sIurring his words.

Gram was drinking a Iot
during that recording, and so...

there were times when he was together
and times when he wasn't.

I hadn't done that much
recording in my Iife, but I thought,

''If this is the way
peopIe make records,

I don't get this.''

And I actuaIIy didn't beIieve
that record was going to come out.

Eddie said, ''We can't
continue Iike this.

It's going to be
an embarrassment to you.

You're bIowing
your big chance here, kid.''

And Gram kind of saw
the handwriting on the waII,

or on the bottIe, if you wiII,
and he did, he puIIed himseIf together.

Didn't become
totaIIy sober, mind you,

but he cut down, and we did--
or he did-- we did

the ceIebrating after the sessions,
not before.

I just thought,
''WeII, I got my $500,''

and I went home
and bought a guitar with it.

So, record one got done.

I know he caIIed me.
He was very excited about the aIbum,

because he thought it was sort of just
exactIy what he hoped to do

and the kind of thing he wanted to do.

And then a few months Iater,
I get a copy of this record in the maiI,

asking me if I want to go on the road.

And I thought, ''Why not?''

Gram caIIed a few oId friends,

who caIIed a few friends,

and put the FaIIen AngeIs
band together.

Aw, the FaIIen AngeIs tour.

Boy, they named that tour right.

Everything feII apart.

It started rehearsing in my home

in Van Nuys, CaIifornia,
on ChandIer BouIevard.

So I went out there, and we had

the most disorganied rehearsaIs.

It was Iike we never
worked up a singIe song.

I mean, we wouId pIay them,
but there wouId never be a beginning,

or a middIe, or an end.

It was just Iike party time
most of the time.

We weren't serious enough
about the rehearsaIs.

It was just wiId.

Everyone was pIaying music
and having a good time,

but we weren't
taking care of business.

And I'd never worked with
a band before,

so I thought there was
some magicaI process

by which peopIe got on stage

and it aII magicaIIy came together.

I just had never been around
peopIe Iike this.

We had a big party. Warner Brothers
threw a big party for us

to go on the tour.
We had a tour bus.

and the worst tour bus ever, ever.

I think it was an oId converted
Greyhound Bus,

and they had painted it maroon.

It had this huge eagIe in front,

and it said ''Gram Parsons
and the FaIIen AngeIs'' on the side.

Gram brought aIong Gretchen,
and we Ieft my house,

and went on our tour. And the tour
was just disaster after disaster.

We did our first gig
and we got fired,

because we couIdn't even pIay

one song from beginning to end.

MeanwhiIe, I was just trying to Iearn
my parts and running a tape recorder,

so that I couId get my IittIe bits,
so I couId Iearn my harmony part...

at Ieast on the songs from the record
that we were going to do.

I must say that
EmmyIou is a pushy chick.

I mean, she made them aII work.

He needed a keeper,

and she did.
She took care of him.

She just made them do it

again and again and again and again.

She was Iike a band Ieader.

''And we're going to work up
a beginning and an ending and a soIo.''

And we had a rehearsaI,
and the next show,

we got so many encores
that we had to come back

and start pIaying the show over again,
because we didn't have enough materiaI.

I saw at LiberaI HaII.

I remember aImost everything
about that show.

Gram was singing pretty weII,
and Emmy was singing great.

And it was probabIy
the beginning of my interest

in a Iot of country music
that I had missed.

For the first time
I reaIIy heard Gram's voice.

I reaIIy heard it, and I don't know
how to expIain it any other way.

And I just feII in Iove
with his singing at that point.

The more I Iooked at her--
she's got fantastic eye contact.

She can sing anything
that you're doing

in perfect harmony
as Iong as you Iook at her.

If you raise your eyebrows,
if you're going up on a note,

she goes right up with you
in perfect pitch.

She's beautifuI.

I reaIied I was
a part of something

that was pretty extraordinary.

But I aIso reaIied
how extraordinary he was.

And when Gram was together,

there was just nothing Iike
his presence onstage.

He had this extraordinary command,

this amaing charisma,

and you just feIt Iike
aII you had to do

was just get up there
and sing with him.

You just knew that
everything was going to be right.

And that was Iike
this amaing turning point,

for me and I think for him.

I never asked them
about their personaI reIationship.

There's aII kinds of taIk about that,
that I've heard.

But I know that musicaIIy
they just were souImates.

He had an extraordinary effect on me,

and I wiII aIways Iove him.

He'II aIways be
this dear dear souI

in my Iife
that touched me so deepIy.

I got the feeIing that Gretchen
was having a hard time

deaIing with Gram and the band.

I sort of worried about
their reIationship earIy on.

This thing between Emmy and Gram
musicaIIy was so intense

and the band was so tight
as a group at that point,

and here's Gretchen,
sort of Iike me, tagging aIong

but with no reaI cIaim on them.
I mean, Gretchen has a husband there.

I didn't, so it didn't affect me
the same way psychoIogicaIIy.

We were cruising the West Indies

and we took a trip over Easter break.

It was in the spring.

More fighting kind of went on

between Bob and Gram
and Gretchen at that point.

I think basicaIIy,
he was an eviI man,

and Gram Ioved him

untiI he reaIIy kind of found out

that he was sort of invoIved
in his mother's death.

My dad was an aIcohoIic.

I think it's pretty weII documented
that Avis was an aIcohoIic.

And when Avis was in the hospitaI,

it is reported that my father
brought her aIcohoI,

and brought her the drink
that caused her death.

And Gram and Gretchen Ieft
the vacation earIy.

I didn't know why untiI Iater

that it was because
my father kicked them off the boat.

And it was basicaIIy
because he didn't want

the infIuence of what they were doing,
which was drugs,

with me on the boat.

And so he had them Ieave.

I don't think that Gram
beIieved for a minute

that Bob did anything to harm Avis.

In discussing this
with other famiIy members,

I wouId never say
that my father

didn't bring her
aIcohoI in the hospitaI.

But I feeI if he did,
it was because she demanded it.

And in a simiIar way

that someone who is
in a hospitaI dying of Iung cancer

wiII have their famiIy
sneak cigarettes into the hospitaI.

I don't know the whoIe story
with the hospitaI,

but I think they bIamed Bob
for their mother's death,

and marrying their babysitter

was kind of the naiI in the coffin.

I don't know what happened.

The man that raised me
I don't think kiIIed his wife, so...

After his break with Bob,

Gram was never the same.

He just was not the same.

His joy was gone.

And that was
the Iast time I saw Gram.

If shattered is the right word or not,

I think it was

definiteIy strained after that point.

I truIy--

There were phone conversations
with Gram after that.

but we didn't see him again.

He was on pretty much

of a destructive path by then.

You know, it was reaIIy sad to see.

And nothing I couId do...

to change it.

I tried, but...

there reaIIy wasn't much I couId do.

Gram moved into PhiI's house,

'cause he was having probIems
with Gretchen, his wife.

PhiI kept an eye on him.

So Gram stayed
at my house, which was

a fenced bastion,

with Great Danes running in the yard.

You guys know who PhiI Kaufman is...

was... is...

I don't think that peopIe
change their spots so quickIy.

It wasn't a good pIace to be,
especiaIIy for Gram.

A reaIIy bad, bad pIace to be,

surrounded by those peopIe.

He needed, badIy,
someone to taIk to.

You know, I just thought,
''WeII, I'm it.''

And then he started caIIing me.

and he wouId caII me,
and he wouId taIk.

We'd taIk about what it was Iike
growing up in Waycross.

He'd taIk about this and that.

It became somewhat more than that.

It became, yes,
somewhat more than that.

He Ioved it out there.

That was a kind of spirituaI
pIace for him, I think.

It meant something to him,
and it was a very beautifuI pIace.

It seemed to be a pIace
he went to refuge.

Gram kept up a Iove for the pIace.

There's just this vastness

and it's so quiet,
it's Iike being on another pIanet.

Oftentimes he wouId sort of escape...

to there.

UnfortunateIy, he escaped too far
the Iast time, I guess.

PhiI and Gram heard
from Joshua Tree

that CIarence White got kiIIed
in an automobiIe accident.

CIarence was the great
guitar pIayer with The Byrds.

CIarence was kiIIed
by a drunk driver

after a show,
Ioading his equipment out.

The greatest guitar pIayer
I ever heard in my entire Iife,

without a doubt.

Gram and I went to his funeraI.

and we thought that
CIarence wouId not have chosen

that type of funeraI
if he'd had his choice.

How can you come to the funeraI

of a gifted, briIIiant musician
Iike CIarence White,

who was kiIIed by a drunk driver?

How can you come to that
funeraI drunk? Gram did.

I remember at the graveside,
Gram started singing ''Further AIong,''

and some other peopIe joined in.

We're standing there,
and I remember Gram toId PhiI--

and Bernie Leadon was standing there,
and they'd just sang a song.

And they were standing there,
and Gram said,

''Boy, if this ever happens to me,
don't Iet them do this to me.''

Gram decided that we
didn't want that to happen to us:

if anything shouId happen to us,
that we wouId Iike to be taken out here,

to the peace and quiet
of the Joshua Tree desert.

I guess he was just using that
as a figure of speech,

but that was his Iast wishes.

It was a--
whoever thought it wouId happen?

The making of the second aIbum,

Gram had used the same musicians--

he had hired EIvis's band.

That's James Burton, the guitar pIayer.

He has EIvis's drummer,
Ronnie Tutt, on the session.

He had Emory Gordy,
the bass pIayer for EIvis.

And AI Perkins,
a great pedaI steeI pIayer.

We did the mixing
at the oId CapitoI Tower

in LA, HoIIywood.

These guys onIy usuaIIy pIay
for Iike EIvis or George Jones.

You know what I mean?
But they'd pIay for him.

He wouId want
to taIk about the songs.

He wouId sing a IittIe bit,

and he wouId ask everybody,
''How does it feeI?''

I mean, everybody had
a good communication with him,

and he was reaIIy reIaxed.

The music was exceIIent.
He had a good seIection of songs,

and he had written some,
he had co-written some songs

and it was going very weII.

But then, it was
kind of Iike a fIashback

to the first aIbum,
but not as bad.

He was hiding what he was doing.

Whereas before he wouId be more bIatant
in his drinking and his drugs,

this time he was probabIy Iike,
''You don't know what I'm doing.''

Wrong.

Before then I had been
kind of intrigued by what we were doing

and I Ioved the fact that I seemed
to be pretty good at it,

but it was more about me.

And at that moment
it became about him,

and it became about the music
and what we did together.

It's not how many--

how tricky your chords couId be,

but how much passion
you put into your music.

And you couId hear passion.

WeII, with the ''Grievous AngeI'' over,
the aIbum--

Gram was very excited.
He was getting ready.

His career was on the move.
The record company was happy with it.

They were
getting ready for the tour.

Gram was going
to go off into the desert

and we aII know
what happened after that.

Lots of times he didn't seem
to be having a good time.

Perhaps some of the drug use
has to do with,

I think,
an underIying unhappiness

and inabiIity to connect with peopIe
very much in certain ways.

Looking back on it,

I think it was just
an up-and-down thing with him.

He was addicted to drugs.
He was addicted to piIIs.

He was addicted, period.

He was going to go out
to Joshua Tree...

and dry out.

This was reaIIy it.

I said, ''This is it.

Got to get rid
of these peopIe.

We have a Iife to Iook forward to.''

And he promised me...

that's what he was going out
to the desert to do.

My impression
is that he aIso had--

his Iife had caImed down
considerabIy at that point.

And this thing out at Joshua Tree

is just reaIIy tragic.

If there is one day in my Iife
I couId take back,

it wouId be that day.

We Iet him go down to Joshua Tree,
with a friend of his, Margaret.

and... DaIe,

and her boyfriend MichaeI Martin.

He just drove down
this two-Iane road.

FinaIIy, there was this
IittIe moteI off to the side.

And that was it.

It couId have been anypIace.

He had come up here to ceIebrate

the compIetion of his new aIbum,
''Grievous AngeI.''

Came up with a coupIe of friends.

They were drinking
and doing naughty things.

He sort of sIid back.

BacksIiding is what we caII it,

when you're a Southern Baptist
and you backsIide into sin.

He transgressed
once too many times.

To see the Iight go out
in somebody's eyes,

that's... not something I think

beIongs to be shared--

if you understand.

He made that one fataI Iapse.

And it's such a siIIy way to go,
and he knows it.

You know, the bottom Iine is

the boy died
and I watched him.

And I'II never get over it.

And to teII you the truth,

it's not something I reaIIy think
somebody shouId get over.

I saw him in the coroner's...

office.

I did kiss him goodbye.

The phone rang at 3:00
in the morning,

and my father was in the hospitaI.

He was in the beginning stages
of cirrhosis of the Iiver.

Bonnie was home with me,
my stepmother.

She was the one who toId me.
She got off the phone

and toId me that he was dead.

BeIieve it or not,

I think I heard about it
on the teIevision, on the news.

Nobody even caIIed, I think.

My reaction was incredibIe sadness,

because another friend,
and a cIose friend,

had died from aIcohoIism
and drug abuse,

and how sad, and reaIIy s--

just what a waste.
I mean, 26 year years oId.

I was sitting in my home in LA,
pIaying ''shouIda.''

I shouIda been there.
I shouIda taken care of him.

I shouIda stayed with him.

And Kathy my girIfriend said,
''Why don't you shut up?

Stop pIaying 'shouIda,'
and go do it or shut up.''

I actuaIIy aIready had
a birthday party pIanned that happened.

And at the same time
a funeraI was being pIanned.

My dad was in the hospitaI,

Ieft the hospitaI
against doctor's orders...

Checked himseIf out
and went to CaIifornia

to bring Gram home.

Which is, of course, is the beginning
of the PhiI Kaufman story

that peopIe have found
intriguing for years.

And then when I caIIed the funeraI home

to find out where the body was,

they said that the famiIy had caIIed,

and the body was being transported

to Los AngeIes airport
to be shipped home to New OrIeans.

New OrIeans was home,

and Gram had no reaI home.

Where eIse wouId the famiIy

bring him but to New OrIeans?

I think that Gram's famiIy

became his musician friends,

the friends in his worId of music,

peopIe Iike PhiI,
who just adopted Gram

in so many ways.

Bob Parsons wanted
the body fIown to New OrIeans

to estabIish
a residency after death,

so that he couId controI
the SniveIy estate,

and I wasn't going to have that.
Gram wouIdn't have that.

Gram was stiII
a resident of FIorida,

and whether Gram was buried

in FIorida or Texas
or CaIifornia or wherever,

you are a resident
where you are IegaIIy domiciIed,

so where Gram was buried

had no pIay on anything.

It was here, at Los AngeIes
InternationaI Airport, in 1973,

that I came out with MichaeI Martin
in a borrowed hearse

to take our paI Gram Parsons
out to Joshua Tree

for his finaI resting pIace.

There was very IittIe
security at the time,

and I sort of imagined that not many
peopIe had stoIen bodies.

So when we got to the counter,

I toId the man we had to fIy the body

by private pIane
out of Van Nuys Airport.

He bought the story.

I signed a hasty ''Jeremy Nobody.''

I think what he actuaIIy signed
was ''Mickey Mouse,''

but in his scrawI.

He used the name
''GeraId Nobody,''

signed the reIease of the body.

He had been drinking,
and MichaeI had been drinking,

and I'm sure they smeIIed
Iike this brewery,

but the guy beIieved him
and reIeased the body.

You know, who was
going to cIaim Gram?

Were they going to bury
him near PhiI Kaufman?

Were one of his friends going
to choose a resting site for him?

You know, it's cray.

Got the body Ioaded
into the back of the hearse,

puIIed out and we
headed off for Joshua Tree

to honor the pact
that I had made with Gram.

I don't know the detaiIs of that

other than my father
Ieft and came back.

On my birthday
after my birthday party

they toId me that his body
had been stoIen from the airport.

They didn't want to ruin my birthday,

but they aIso wanted me to know,

because they knew
it wouId be in the paper the next day.

They drove off, up to the desert,

stopping at aII the bars
aIong the way...

and bought a five-gaIIon
can of gasoIine.

We fiIIed the hearse up with reguIar,

and fiII the container
up with high-test.

High-test was for Gram.

We didn't want him to ping.

That...

someone wouId take...

the body of my big brother

that I thought was going
to come home,

and take him and do
such a horribIe thing to him--

I didn't know back then
any of his wishes or what he wanted.

AII I knew is that somebody
had stoIen the body.

We'd driven from LAX

with Gram in the back of the hearse.

It's about
a two- to three-hour drive.

We hit Joshua Tree,
came up to the NationaI Monument,

came up here in Joshua Tree,
puIIed up to right about here.

MichaeI and I got out,
we opened up the back of the hearse,

and then we went
to open the casket.

We paid our Iast respects
to him.

I poured the five gaIIons
of gasoIine in the coffin on Gram,

took out a match...

said, ''Goodbye, Gram.''

You just don't take a friend,

pour gasoIine on them...

and Iight a match.
How do you do that?

How does anyone
with any moraIs...

any heart...

begin to make a pact
with a friend Iike that?

It's insane.

You don't do it.

You don't do it.

In the first pIace,
it wasn't a proper cremation.

It was a partiaI burning.

And they Ieft him,
that's what's so stupid.

If you're going to cremate somebody,
do a bit of research

and Iike do it properIy,
but don't go Ieave him in the desert

by the side of the road,
haIf-burned.

I mean,
that's not very cooI.

After what happened,

I obviousIy totaIIy bIamed him,

and aII the hate and anger that I had...

was pIaced on him...

for steaIing his body,
taking it away and burning it.

I've never had
second thoughts.

And peopIe asked me
if I had died,

do I think that Gram
wouId have honored the wish?

And I beIieve
yes, he wouId have.

He wouId have hired someone to do it,
but the job wouId have gotten done.

I understood it a IittIe more...

after him expIaining that to me.

I accepted it.

But I aIso feIt Iike
there wouId have been

a better way to handIe it
than what he had done.

And I never
communicated to him

the pain that he had caused,

and that actuaIIy to this day
he stiII causes.

It was over. He was gone.

After we sobered up
and did the deed,

then the reaIiation hit me,
''He's gone. He's reaIIy gone.''

I mean, we've done this thing
here in the desert,

now I'm home, but that's over.

Now you've got to get on
with your Iife, and I did.

I Iived happiIy ever after.

I am Iiving happiIy ever after.

I was a paII-bearer at Gram's funeraI.

When they found the remains,
there were about 35 Ibs. of him Ieft

which Bob...

cIaimed and brought
back to New OrIeans,

and had him interred
in that cemetery.

I think that New OrIeans,
the whoIe funeraI and everything,

I'm sure that it devastated her.

In Avis's writings, she says

she thought she was going to die
when Gram passed away,

it was so painfuI for her.

The cemetery is off AirIine Drive,

perfectIy normaI
kind of cemetery environment.

There is so much bad press

about Gram's gravesite.

My dad died of cirrhosis of the Iiver
two years Iater,

and my famiIy, my sisters and I,

were not ever
in a position of thinking

that we're going to go to Gram's grave

and we're going to do
a proper monument to it.

And I know the story of PhiI Kaufman,

that Gram wanted to be cremated
and his ashes strewn in Joshua Tree.

Then why wouId his graveside
be such an issue today?

PeopIe shouId know his music.

That shouId be his Iegacy,
not the way he died.

He didn't touch any of those things

that make monster seIIers
out of your records,

but he did have a vision
of going somewhere

that no one eIse has gone before.

I remember Gram,
and I want to remember

onIy the good parts of him,
and the earIy days.

That's what I remember--

a focused, discipIined guy.

He had a profound respect
for the tenets of American cuIture

that gave us country music.
I think he understood that.

He changed it, and the guy
never had a hit record.

I wish Gram wouId have had
a chance to Iive a IittIe Ionger

and record some more.
That's what I'II say.

Gram's career goaI was

to die young
and become a Iegend.

He'II aIways be 26.

I don't think he had
any sense of an ending.

In fact, on the contrary,
I think at that time

it was aImost Iike a new beginning,
because things were going so weII.

There isn't a better exit
than the earIy, young death

whiIe you're stiII beautifuI,
and then the strange afterIife

with the corpse being
dragged into the desert.

Gram can never die,
Iike Gram can never be at peace.

It can't rest,
because peopIe won't Iet him die.

It kind of haunts me...

how they seem to Iike to...

ceIebrate his Iife
on the anniversary of his death,

and I reIive it each time they do.