Arthur Lee of LOVE at Newport 69. the Gibson Barney Kessel Custom likely belonged to Bryan MacLean.
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Cool rock n roll photos
- Thread starter Chad-Chicago
- Start date
new Producer, Bob Ezrin performing with Alice Cooper at the Eastown Theater in Detroit Dec. 25 & 26, 1971
Freddie Mercury's first band....1958,age thirteen, named The Hectics.
The 50th anniiversary of Stiff Records came up last week! Big influence on the emerging scene back then, and on me personally.
"To me, he's one of the greatest blues singers there ever was. I'm very sad because I wish he were here. But his music will never die. He's one of the greatest blues musicians that ever picked up a guitar. The first time we met was in Austin, at Antone's, and it was him and his brother, Jimmie. That was fifteen or twenty years ago, and at that time he could play tremendously. And I said, "Someday this kid's going to shake the whole world up". And he was one of the nicest people. You couldn't help but like him, you couldn't help but love him. I never cry, but yesterday, when I heard the news [August 28 1990], I sat down on my bed and cried like a little baby". - Hooker
Don Ho and Barbara Eden, Jeannie is 95 today and looks great. that's rock n roll. Don was a guest star on I Dream of Jeannie in 1967
I have read Michael Braunstein’s comments about the demolition of my father’s longtime home in Mahwah, and I feel that I need to say something. I’m not an attorney. I’m a son. And right now, I’m a heartbroken son.
A few days ago, I saw my father’s home—our family home—gutted. It made me sick. I loved my father very much, and seeing that house disappear brought back a lifetime of memories and left me with a lot of questions that no one ever thought to ask me.
That house wasn't just where Les Paul lived. It was his workshop. It was his laboratory. It was his journey of dreams. So much happened there.
This was where my father experimented endlessly with his guitars and electronics. It was where the first 8-track multitrack recorder that fundamentally changed modern recording was put to work, along with the first console used with it. It was a place where ideas were tried, rejected, rebuilt and tried again.
It was also our home.
Television was filmed there. Musicians and friends came through those doors. My father worked there, dreamed there, laughed there and lived there for decades. That is the home I wish people had been given a chance to see and remember—not simply what it looked like at the end, after so much of its history had already disappeared. If everyone knew that the house eventually had to come down, why wasn't there some effort to honor it before it did?
Why wasn't our family told?
Why wasn't I asked?
Why weren't we given an opportunity to walk through our family home one last time, to identify things that mattered to us, or simply to say goodbye?
Why wasn't the house photographed and filmed from top to bottom so there would always be a historical record of the place where so much happened?
Why did people close to my father have to rescue handwritten notes, experiments and other things from his echo chamber/reverb room as the bulldozers were arriving?
Why did someone close to Dad have to recover the Coors jacket he wore in his famous television commercial after the property changed hands, only to find it covered with mold and mildew, and damaged by water?
Why did that same person, at his own expense, have to dismantle and save four of Dad's workbenches from his basement workshop and laboratory, eventually giving one of them to Gibson in Nashville?
These things mattered to my father. And they matter to me.
I also have a very simple question about the sale of the house. The property reportedly sold for $990,000. What happens to that money? My father had children and a family. Is any of that money intended for his family? Was that ever considered? I honestly don't know, because nobody talked to us about it.
And now that the house is gone, where is the historical marker at the entrance to Deerhaven Road telling future generations that Les Paul lived here?
Where is something that says: This is where Les Paul dreamed. This is where he experimented. This is where history happened.
I'm not asking these questions because I want a fight. I'm not interested in sounding like a lawyer, because I'm not one. I'm asking because Les Paul was my father. I loved him. I lived in that house. I remember what happened there and what that place meant to him. And I'm heartbroken that it is simply gone.
If the house truly had to come down, then I wish its final days had been used to celebrate my father's life - to bring people together, invite the press, tell the stories, document the history and give everyone who loved Les an opportunity to remember what happened inside those walls.
Most of all, I wish somebody had thought to ask his family.
Nobody asked me.
I think my father's family, his friends, his fans and everyone whose life has been touched by his work deserve some answers.
~Gene Paul
A few days ago, I saw my father’s home—our family home—gutted. It made me sick. I loved my father very much, and seeing that house disappear brought back a lifetime of memories and left me with a lot of questions that no one ever thought to ask me.
That house wasn't just where Les Paul lived. It was his workshop. It was his laboratory. It was his journey of dreams. So much happened there.
This was where my father experimented endlessly with his guitars and electronics. It was where the first 8-track multitrack recorder that fundamentally changed modern recording was put to work, along with the first console used with it. It was a place where ideas were tried, rejected, rebuilt and tried again.
It was also our home.
Television was filmed there. Musicians and friends came through those doors. My father worked there, dreamed there, laughed there and lived there for decades. That is the home I wish people had been given a chance to see and remember—not simply what it looked like at the end, after so much of its history had already disappeared. If everyone knew that the house eventually had to come down, why wasn't there some effort to honor it before it did?
Why wasn't our family told?
Why wasn't I asked?
Why weren't we given an opportunity to walk through our family home one last time, to identify things that mattered to us, or simply to say goodbye?
Why wasn't the house photographed and filmed from top to bottom so there would always be a historical record of the place where so much happened?
Why did people close to my father have to rescue handwritten notes, experiments and other things from his echo chamber/reverb room as the bulldozers were arriving?
Why did someone close to Dad have to recover the Coors jacket he wore in his famous television commercial after the property changed hands, only to find it covered with mold and mildew, and damaged by water?
Why did that same person, at his own expense, have to dismantle and save four of Dad's workbenches from his basement workshop and laboratory, eventually giving one of them to Gibson in Nashville?
These things mattered to my father. And they matter to me.
I also have a very simple question about the sale of the house. The property reportedly sold for $990,000. What happens to that money? My father had children and a family. Is any of that money intended for his family? Was that ever considered? I honestly don't know, because nobody talked to us about it.
And now that the house is gone, where is the historical marker at the entrance to Deerhaven Road telling future generations that Les Paul lived here?
Where is something that says: This is where Les Paul dreamed. This is where he experimented. This is where history happened.
I'm not asking these questions because I want a fight. I'm not interested in sounding like a lawyer, because I'm not one. I'm asking because Les Paul was my father. I loved him. I lived in that house. I remember what happened there and what that place meant to him. And I'm heartbroken that it is simply gone.
If the house truly had to come down, then I wish its final days had been used to celebrate my father's life - to bring people together, invite the press, tell the stories, document the history and give everyone who loved Les an opportunity to remember what happened inside those walls.
Most of all, I wish somebody had thought to ask his family.
Nobody asked me.
I think my father's family, his friends, his fans and everyone whose life has been touched by his work deserve some answers.
~Gene Paul
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This would have been a cool collaboration…
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Steve Marriott and Greg Ridley - Humble Pie
August 25, 1965 The MC5 at the Ambassador Roller Rink
