Off: Jim Carroll

[Chris Warburton]

Given that there was a little discussion opn this guy recently, I thought
I'd share this passage from Rock Scully's (somewhat scurrilous) "Living
With The Dead" that I've just been reading. It's September 1974, and a guy
(crazed dope-fiend?) called Tom Salter has convinced the Dead to do 3
nights at Alexandra Palace in London:-
============================================================
September 5.
Band members start Coming in early.  Where's the party, man?  Jerry, Billy,
Bobby — they've heard about the madness going on at Tom's house and can't
wait to get through customs and check out the scene.  I take them right out
there from the airport and they don't ever want to leave.  I book the band
into Blakje's Hotel, but Garcia is over at Tom Salter's from early morning
to Late at night.
The house has the astonishing name of St. John of Jerusalem and it becomes
the Dead's nerve center of operations untile we get offices set up out at
the Ally Pally.  Night and day, day and night, the party that wouldn't end
goes on and on.  Jim Carroll of "Basketball Diaries" fame is passed out on
the floor of the library; Christine Keeler is sprawled on the couch; Top of
the Pops deejay John Peel is curled up on a Jacobean sidetable; the guys
from "Private Eye" have taken up residence in the pool room.  It is like an
immense pub in which all life is represented: deviants, bookies, flacks,
starlets, rock dogs, minor aristocracy, assorted wildlife, and babes.  The
Grateful Dead coming to Londontown begins to seem an event of unparalleled
anticipation — like the arrival of Halley's Comet.  This Ally Pally thing
is starting to heat up big time.  And in the general atmosphere of reckless
camaraderie and stimulants, it all starts to swirl.
============================================================

Spot the deliberate mistake (just kidding): I'm pretty sure that Peel
didn't have anything to do with TOTP until sometime in the post-punk
period.  Scully also talks about a side trip that he, Garcia & Weir made to
the "One Word, One World Poetry Convention" in Amsterdam in '81. Big edits
here, 'coz the whole thing is about 3 pages.

Starting from having received the invitation:
=================================
'Hey, Jerry, want to go to Amsterdam, go meet William Burroughs, Jim Carroll?'
'Jim Carroll, the "Basketball Diaries" guy?'
>--snip--<
At this point it's just Jerry and me.  I don't even ask weir.  I don't
think he'll want to go, and I want to make this jauntas simple as possible.
 Since I'm trying to be the road manager of this weird tour, I don't feel
like carting a bunch of irate musicians along on my day off.  But Garcia
slips up and tells Weir that we're going to Amsterdam (hash, beatniks,
etc.) and Weir wants to go.  Weir is always up for escapades of whatever
stripe.
There's adventure to be had!  I think.  Anyway, I'm going no matter what,
because I want to see Jim Carroll, whom I met last year in New York.
 >--snip--<
Simon Vinkenoop meets us at the airport and takes us into town, to this
Gothic little hotel, two old buildings put together.  Carroll and Burroughs
are staying here, too.  Burroughs, in porkpie hat and raincoat, looking
like a ghost, is checking out as we arrive.  He says the hotel is not seedy
enough for him.  It makes him nervous.
>--snip to later--<
The convention is moving over to the Melk Weg (Milky Way) for the musical
part of the evening.  Jim Carroll's a poet with a rock'n'roll band and he's
going to play over there.  After the reading he talks Weir and Garcia into
playing too.  Garcia and Weir have brought tgheir guitars with them (what
troupers!) and are totally game
=====================================================

Th-th-th-that's all f-f-f-f-folks.
The book is overall a good read if you're into the Dead or just general
tales of rock mayhem.

Cheers,
ChrisW