Posted by
Joyanna Adams on Tuesday, April 14, 2009 12:03:58 AM
Nobody’s Perfect: I was only eighteen when I met Phil Spector. I must admit, I haven’t been following the news on his case too closely…just another famous man with too much money, with his life falling apart…gone mad. In fact, to me it seems, that if you look at this picture and think back on O.J. Simpson and Robert Blake…they all that that same look on their faces at their trials. That, “I have NO idea how this could be happening to me--- I’m too important.” look. To me, they all look as if they have had just one too many snorts of cocaine, but then…that’s just an opinion.
As I read the headlines tonight--“Phil Spector: Convicted of Second Degree Murder,” I remember back on that week that I spent with the man. I’m sure he doesn’t remember me at all. In fact, I was in the same room with him for hours at a time…deep into the night…panting… Wait. No… got cha! (just kidding!)
How did I meet Phil Spector? That’s a good question. You see, right out of high school I had more than the usual case of “I VANT TO SEE THE WORLD! LET ME OUT OF HERE!” disease that as far as I know, the last two people that had had this urgent desire to see the world and all that was in it, were Columbus and Magellan.
Too bad I couldn’t have texted them first and got some advice.
But they were men, and I was just a young girl, feeling like I had just got out of prison….and I wanted desperately to go somewhere. So I hitched a ride with a band, up to New York.
The band was Phil Drisco’s band…a trumpet player who later went on to a bit of fame as a religious guy, but that’s all just trivial. I won’t go into my experiences in New York because it would take a few chapters, just my memories of Phil. Phil Drisco was recording his first major album with Phil Spector late at night in a studio right off of Broadway. He had to do it at night because Phil was also working with Paul McCartney who was recording RAM with him during the day.
And lucky me...I got to go and sit in the controlling booth with Phil Specter, late at night and watch the band record.
I’ll tell you one thing…I was scared of the man. I knew he had “founded” the Supremes sound, and now was working with the great Paul McCartney, and even though I was NOT a musician yet, I knew music. I was in total awe of this...GOD…
But still, even though he was a God, he was also just plain spooky. Call it woman’s intuition.
For instance...it was always dark in the control room, and I sat as far away in the corner away from him as I could. But after a half hour…Mr. Phil Spector would inevitably insist that I come over, sit next to him, and watch him do his thing. Why read my boring books?
Well…what could I say?
So, there I sat. Every night for a week. He would make small talk. He was basically very, very sweet, and he treated me almost like a daughter. But still, I thought it very odd that I had to sit next to him while he turned knobs.
He was thoughtful, yes, and kind, but…I don’t know…there was just something I couldn’t put my finger on. You might find this sad…but I thought he looked on me as a “child.” How could he possibly have any sexual interest in me at all because well, he was so much older and famous?
Today I read that the girl that he picked up(Lana Clarkson) and took home, was reportedly dead just a few hours later… And when he said, “I think I shot somebody.” Well, I can see it---like I said…spooky.
Life is funny like that. What if you had met Ted Bundy, had a drink with him for a week, and thought he was nice…but spooky…you know? What makes these people “snap?”
I guess looking back, I was lucky that I was so innocent. If he would have even made a tiny suggestion of indiscretion, I would have…run. I KNOW he knew I was that innocent.
So, there I sat, scared to death, night after night…feeling pretty stupid. Somehow, I think that that man was scared to death of being alone. He just had to have a girl…there. Being alone in that control room was just too much for him to bear.
Being alone...was his nightmare. It might be just that simple.
Years ago, I read that he kept another woman locked up in his “mansion” for years…much like a prisoner. So, he lost it.
Did he murder that woman? Who knows? Probably, because he basically admitted it.
We see famous movie stars freaking out all the time. Some just cut their hair.
Well there you go. I bet there is more than one woman in the world tonight thinking…whoa, that could have been me.
Phil Spector…a musical genius…but…certainly..not perfect.