My Cross to Bear (47 page)

These days I’m lucky enough that I can count on hospitality from a whole range of folks, including my mother, who actually came to see me just last week. Now she’s ninety-four and just fit as a fiddle. She was a CPA all her life, and her brain is so sharp. She makes the best chicken salad in the free world. I told her, “Mama, you could make this chicken salad and sell it in the grocery stores in jars like Maria What’s-Her-Face that sells all that stuff, or Ken that sells all the salad dressing—you should have Geraldine’s chicken salad.” Like it ought to be, you know? It’s dynamite.

My mother used to be a heavy drinker, and if you ask her about it, she’ll say, “I drank till I didn’t wanna drink no more, then I stopped.” But she has the Serenity Prayer tacked right over her bed. The moment she saw me having trouble with alcohol, she just quit. A quart of Canadian Club a day and a pack of Chesterfields, and she just quit—not a shake, not a shimmy.

Whenever she and I get together, we have the best time. Even after all these years, the two of us, we’ve been through it all and then some. She’s so afraid that I’m gonna die before her. That would just crush her, to lose two sons and a husband. Since October 29, 1971, it’s just been me and her. I’m just gonna keep doing my best to stay strong for her and for the band.

As for the future of the Allman Brothers, one thing I know for sure is that we’ve got the Beacon Theatre for as long as we want it. In 2010, they bounced us out, but they gave us a big public apology about that. I wasn’t expecting that—just let us back in and we’ll be fine—but the best part is that now we got a deal with them where nothing can stop us coming every March, until further notice. It’s so good to have a thing like that, which keeps recurring every year. I never dreamed that I would be so fortunate as to have something like that happen to me in life. And the crowd keeps coming back, and that just amazes me. It’s a blessing, it really is.

I think I’m proudest of the way the Brothers hung in there during the hard times. We always did have staying power, as long as no crap started within the band. As long as we could hang together, we could deal with the slings and arrows from the outside, because we were impenetrable. We’ve always done our very best musically, we’ve never taken any shortcuts. We prove that where it matters the most—on the stage. The Allman Brothers have always given the people their money’s worth, every night. We do our best to send the fans home happy.

It’s an exceptional feeling to see all those young folks at the shows. When I was a kid, I didn’t listen to Tommy Dorsey. There was a generational line drawn when it came to music. Kids today love Jimi Hendrix and the Grateful Dead—all kinds of good music. They love the Allman Brothers. There’s that old saying, “Fun for ages six to sixty,” and by God, that’s what our audience is.

It’s strange, because it used to be, “Hey, man, could you sign this for my kid?” Now it’s, “Could you sign this for my mom? She named me after one of your tunes.” A lot of times, the whole family comes to a show. Sometimes it’s just a mom or dad, because one of them will feel like, “I can’t go to a concert anymore, that’s crazy—we’re not old hippies.” Well, once an old hippie, always an old hippie! And when they show up, they have a ball. It takes them back, and I love to see that.

We’ve had one hell of a run over the last few years, and we’re very blessed to have such excellent musicians, with really good hearts. Warren Haynes, Derek Trucks, Marc Quiñones, and Oteil Burbridge have meant the world to me, Butch, and Jaimoe. They’ve played a huge part in this band, and they’ve added some good comic relief over the years. Those guys have genuine love for the Allman Brothers, and they give it 100 percent. Derek gets better every year, Oteil gets better every year, and Warren, of course, gets better every year.

It means so much to still be standing up onstage with those two warriors on the drums, Butch and Jaimoe. They both have so much pride in the Allman Brothers Band, and so do I. And why not? Over the years, what we’ve accomplished has finally sunk in. When we started out, we were a great cover band, but I didn’t see any longevity in it. So I never expected anything like this, not in my wildest dreams. It is a sensational feeling—like “Man, we did all that?” Sometimes I just revel at the accomplishments of the six of us and what it’s led into. I’m so thankful that we could bring happiness into so many hearts.

Now we even have a museum of the Brothers’ history set up at the Big House in Macon, which I think is wonderful. One of our longtime tour personnel came up with the idea of turning the house into a museum. All the guys in the band got behind it, and we reached out to some of our friends and fans and asked them to help fund it, because it takes a lot of money to keep that thing up—to keep it clean, keep all the photos. We had to put an air system in there so that things wouldn’t wrinkle up. You don’t want the stuff to look shopworn and all yellowed out. Of course, you need a good sound system, all that stuff. And I’ll be damned if it didn’t work. The museum makes me real, real proud, and I try to get down there as much as I can.

I want to make sure to thank the doctors and nurses at the Mayo Clinic for all the great care they gave me, and let everyone know how much I appreciate the gift of life I received from my donor. Because of that unselfish act, I was able to return to my music.

For now, I’m taking it real easy, because they said, “If you go back out on the road like you did after your transplant, you’re gonna have problems.” But a player has got to play. I’m gonna try my damnedest to go as light as I can, but if traveling and making music is what takes me, I can’t think of a better way to go.

Music is my life’s blood. I love music, I love to play good music, and I love to play music for people who appreciate it. And when it’s all said and done, I’ll go to my grave and my brother will greet me, saying, “Nice work, little brother—you did all right.”

I must have said this a million times, but if I died today, I have had me a blast. I really mean that—if I fell over dead right now, I have led some kind of life. I wouldn’t trade it for nobody’s, but I don’t know if I’d do it again. If somebody offered me a second round, I think I’d have to pass on it.

Thanks to my children, Devon, Elijah Blue, Island, Layla, and Michael; my niece, Galadrielle; and everyone else who makes my life so full.

To my dear friends, Chank Middleton and Floyd Miles, who have been with me since the beginning. I love you guys.

Thanks to all of the Allman Brothers Band members for making music with me over the last forty-three years, and to the Allman Brothers management, production, and road crews for helping to keep it together. To the Gregg Allman Band and crew for continuing to play killer music night after night.

To EJ Devokaitis for his invaluable efforts in pulling together all of the photos as well as for taking good care of the Big House Museum.

I need to thank Lisa Sharkey for her enthusiasm about this book, and my editor, Matt Harper, for all his hard work. Also my thanks to Liate Stehlik, Lynn Grady, Sharyn Rosenblum, Tavia Kowalchuk, Shawn Nicholls, Ana Maria Allessi, Marisa Benedetto, and all the HarperCollins/William Morrow team. And to Frank Weimann and Jeff Silberman at the Literary Group.

To the fans around the world who have loved me and my music and have always been there. You guys are the best.

Finally, I must thank my manager, Michael Lehman, for making me feel that there’s a lot more successes coming down the road, and for believing that I had a story worth telling and turning that belief into this book. Thanks, bro.