Let's Spend the Night Together: Backstage Secrets of Rock Muses and Supergroupies (33 page)

Connie bought her house in Little Rock when she sold her diaries about her unrepentant life. I applaud this brash, unabashed woman, and I'm glad she'll always have a place to hang her laminated passes. As I gather up the photos and articles she's given me, I ask the same cliche question that everybody asks me: does she regret anything she's done? "Not really-nothing that's related to the music business anyway. Actually," she grins, taking another drag, "I'm very happy, very content." I tell her I love how she proudly admits that she's a bit off her rocker. "Notoriety will drive anybody nuts," she says simply.

Connie Hamzy may have reached the ripe middle age of fifty, but she has no intention of behaving like an adult anytime soon. "As long as I can do this, yeah, I'll do it, but hell! Now I gotta pace myself a little differently. But I'm gonna make up for lost time this weekend. Like, OK: I know the lay of the land on Dylan and Willie comin'-they're doin' Memphis the night before they

Sweet Connie can't wait to get on the road again, and that's a natural fact.

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Crazy, Crazy Nights

is a soggy, gray afternoon in Seattle, and I'm sitting in one of a zillion rustic coffee houses, waiting for a compelling woman I met on the Internet to arrive and divulge her wanton tales. From her e-mails, Gayle O'Connor seems to be a seasoned, unrepentant, music-crazed biker chick, and I can't wait to take a trip back to her 1970s groupie years. I've just ordered my second chaff tea when I hear the unmistakable thunderous vroomvroom of a gargantuan motorcycle. I peer out the window to watch Gayle climb from the snazzy Harley-Davidson, pull off her helmet to reveal short, spiky platinum hair, and stride purposefully into the caffeine establishment. I had told her about my ludicrously red hair, and she recognizes me as soon as I reach the bottom of the stairs to greet her. Gayle is clothed top to bottom in black leather. Her eyes sparkle, crinkling at the corners, and her teeth are impossibly white. She gives me a hearty, firm handshake, and her smile pulls me right in.

She orders a large black coffee and we take our drinks to a quiet table upstairs. Gayle speaks in quick, clipped sentences and laughs raucously and easily. From my first question, she is off and sprinting.

"My first rock and roll memory? I was nine years old, sitting in the bedroom with my sister, listening to the Rolling Stones-early stuff, like `Paint It Black.' In '68, '69, we lived in Laos. My dad was in the Vietnam War. He was with the CIA, Air America stuff, going into the jungle, training the troops. He was a raging alcoholic, and there was a lot of drinking overseas. They only had one radio station in Laos, one hour on Sundays. The bathroom was the only place we could get reception, so we'd sit in there and listen to American music. The first album I had to have was the soundtrack to Easy Rider. And the Beatles' White Album had just come out. My very first concert was the Monkees. Peter Tork was my first rock and roll crush. Micky Dolenz came to my high school for our homecoming game, but that was years later, and no big deal at that point. I was probably out smoking pot.

"I was the rebel in my family, but my mom thought I was really good. I'm in the middle. My two sisters and brother always grouped together, and I was way over on the other side. They would always tell my mom, `Gayle is the worst. You don't know what she's up to.' Starting in my teens, they separated themselves from me. My younger sister thought my older sister walked on water. And my brother was full of teen angst because my mom and dad split up. My dad left and didn't contact us: no Christmas cards, no presents, no nothing. After that, we were basically raised by two women with no man around. You can read between the lines if you want to.

"I remember I had a poem on my bedroom mirror, even before I started the groupie scene, that said, `Music is my first love/ it will be my last/ Music of the future/ music of the past/ To live without my music/ would be impossible to do/ In this world of troubles/ my music pulls me through.' I would shut the bedroom door and blast Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. I started taking drugs in seventh grade, starting with LSD. I was altered at thirteen! I did a lot of LSD and a lot of pot all through school. I was drinking then too, and the very first time I drank, I blacked out. I used my allowance to buy it. And I stole money from my mom. I stole a lot. I was a big thief.

"My first concert was here in Seattle-Alice Cooper. It was '73, and I was a junior in high school. I went with my friend Michelle, and I had this blue halter dress, but my mom wouldn't let me wear it, so I changed on the way. I had a big star painted over one of my eyes, with glitter. Some guy from Alice's entourage gave us passes, and we ended up backstage. They were going to Vancouver and said, `You girls should come to Canada.' So Michelle and I packed a bag and got a ride to the border. But we weren't allowed to cross because we didn't have concert tickets. We said, `Oh, no, no. We're with the band.' But the border patrol said, `Sure, right,' and sent us away. So we went through the woods in our huge wedgie platform shoes-mine were green snake skin-and kept heading north, heading north. We hid anytime a car went by, and stayed in the woods. Swear to God! And I was only seventeen. Eventually, we hitchhiked and got a ride to the Bay Shore Inn where the band was staying. It was the middle of the night and we ran into a couple of roadies in the lobby. Bottom line: my friend ended up in one bed, and I ended up in the other. I wasn't a virgin, but I'd only slept with maybe two guys. I guess I was ready to embrace the rock and roll experience because I didn't say no. We got passes for Alice Cooper, partied like crazy, and came home.

"That was the beginning, and once I started, it was on. I needed to do it more because it made me feel like I was somebody. It was very heady. The guys were famous and I was with them, getting in and out of limos. I suppose they were just flings, although I wanted more. I wanted be their girlfriend, but I didn't go about it in quite the right way. My next big groupie experience was with Bad Company. I was with Phil Carlo from Atlantic. He was a beautiful man. I went to San Francisco with them, and then to Arizona for a couple weeks with Phil. He was taking a sabbatical and called and said, `Do you wanna join me?' We rode horses and stayed at the Camelback Inn, where we sat in the swimming pool and drank. What a life. Oh, and Mick Fleetwood was one of my first big ones. I look at pictures of him now and I'm mortified. He was one of my first big ones. He was at least twenty years older than me. That was before I got picky, but he was very nice, so I don't want to say anything assholey.

"My first job out of high school was selling clothes at jeans West, a slick clothing store. I robbed them blind. When I left that job, I was nineteen and started topless dancing. I was making a ton of money stripping, enough to keep myself in drugs and booze. During that time, Kansas came to town and I was with their manager, Jeff Glixman. He was beautiful, with a big nose, and long, curly hair. It was the first time I tried MDA, which is the ecstasy of today. It didn't matter if I was with a roadie or a manager, I just wanted to be a part of that scene and be set apart from normal people. I wanted to be special and I was. It was such a fantasy life. I'd get so sad when they left and promised to call. Sometimes they would and a lot of times they wouldn't. But sometimes my goal was exactly what I got, and then I got outta there. Next! It was power.

"I had a wild night with Stephen Stills in L.A. He was nasty, yeah, we had a nasty time. He was pretty raw. But he was also very rude afterward. He was great when it was to his advantage, but then he became hurtful. He was one of those. I did spend the night, but the next day, he was done. I had a crazy night with Davy Johnstone from Elton John's band. Apparently he was dating Kiki Dee for a while. I remember being in bed with him, sitting on top of him while he was on the phone with Miss Dee. I remember thinking, `I am so it right now!' There were a lot of guys I felt good about. I partied with Peter Frampton's group one night. There was Barry Brandt from Angel, and David Flett, the guitar player from Manfred Mann-I had a great time with him. But before they even came to town, Roger Earl, the drummer for Foghat, was the only one I had to have. I said, `That will be mine, somehow. I don't know how, but that will be mine.' There was something about him. That's when I learned about going down to the local radio station when bands were being interviewed.

"I ended up with Pat Travers when he came to Seattle and he asked me to go to Portland with him on the bus. On the way back, I was really tired, so I crawled into one of the beds to sleep. I woke up and felt hands on me; touching my hair, rubbing up behind me. I reached back to grab his hair. Pat had long blond hair, but this person had short hair. I sat up and said, `What the fuck?' It was one of the roadies. Pat had told him, `Go ahead.' I was devastated and so hurt. That was mean. Pat Travers was an asshole, and you feel free to put that in print.

"I went backstage and met Chicago. Walter Parazaider, one of the sax players in Chicago, was a huge one for me. I have pictures of him in boxers with this little stuffed Pooh bear. He was very married. A lot of them were very married. Ringo Starr came to a party for Chicago. And for me, the Beatles are on another plane. I dated George Harrison's road manager or PR guy, can't remember which. I was in the car with him and he said, `I gotta stop at George's house.' It was up there in the hills. He told me the story about the street signs getting stolen-Blue Jay Way. We walked in and I was standing in George Harrison's house-in front of one of the Beatles! He was very nice and polite. I didn't know if I could say, `Oh my God!' I didn't, because I was being cool. Oh, and one of the best was Alto Reed. He played in the J. Geils Band and with Bob Seger in the Silver Bullet Band. He was awesome. He was so real. No man had ever told me that my body parts were beautiful. I'll never forget it. I was mortified because I was so young. He sat down there between my legs, touching me, looking at me, then looking into my eyes, saying, `Just look at it. It's beautiful.' He's the one who taught me to be vocal, how to talk during sex. I just got goose bumps thinking about that. Then in '76, KISS came to town.