Tom DeLisle has been a close friend of John and Buffy Stewart for over 25 years. He has more funny stories about the Stewart's than anyone I know. I'm going to put some of those stories here for others to enjoy.

- Ron Beffa

Tom's internet nickname is Lordfrench. I asked Tom to tell me a little about himself and how he happend upon that name :

"The Lord French name evolves from pure perversity; I heard an Irish folk song once at the Gaelic League in Detroit (and can't track the tune down now) about some poor and starving Irish peasants who got caught poaching game on the baronial estate of an English dude named Lord French. (The English aristocracy owned all the great estates in Ireland.) When his minions asked what they should do with the obviously needy and suffering poachers, who were trying to feed their families---the good Lord decided to have them executed.

The story coincides with my general understanding of human empathy and justice. And since I am part Irish and also part French (a de l'Isle wrote the French national anthem) I went with Lordfrench for my computer because "Norb" was already taken.

The choice is similar to the t-shirt I used to wear on the beach at Malibu in the mid '70s, "Kill More Whales," which drove humorless people insane, and which the lady at the We Print Anything t-shirt shop refused to print so I had to go elsewhere. Asked to explain such an outrage, I claimed I was the PR man for the Harpoonists Union. (Perhaps, in retrospect, I DID see Andy Kaufman too often in those days.)

Beyond that, I am just a tragically flawed freelance writer and TV producer. Originally a newspaper reporter (and a good one; the only thing I've ever excelled at), I went into politics as an aide and speechwriter for the Mayor of Detroit in the early '70s, and then fell into television because unemployment seemed a worse disgrace. (Of course I was wrong.) I worked on a talk show in New York, then a variety of awful comedy shows in LA for a while; wrote "Tonight Show" guest-host monologues for my friend Richard Dawson; and left LA a confused and hungover--but well tanned-- man. I've done even worse TV in Detroit ever since, and wrote a sports book about hockey legend Gordie Howe (nicknamed 'God' if you're from Canada) that was--coincidentally--tragically flawed itself.

My good points are that I am very nice to my mother, who deserves it, and I feed my cat way beyond what the vet recommended. The top highlight of my life was the time I sat up all night with John Stewart and Nick Reynolds and three guitars at Stewart's house in Malibu in 1976, and--fueled by a bottle of brandy--we sang about every Kingston Trio we could think of, and I was the only guy who remembered the words."

Here's a shot of the cover of the book Tom wrote with Gordie Howe.

And now to the stories. I'll add many more as time goes by.

John's Hat - Tom DeLisle, February 2002

I have one of John's famous cowboy hats sitting here in Clinton Township, in an honored and special spot. (The hat rack.) It's one of those cool white straw cowboy hats, one that you can bend this way and that so it looks cool, just right. John's a master at that, cowboy hat-bending, so this hat has never been re-bent. John Wayne was good at hat-bending too. He had very cool cowboy hats, like JS.

The hat I mention is the JS hat from the ill-fated taping of "The John Stewart Show" (the REAL John Stewart, not that Johnny come lately) in Boulder Colorado back in 1993. Or 1994, I can't remember which. It was a one-hour music--and--interview pilot, intended for national cable viewing, shot onstage at the lovely Boulder Theater, with JS, of course, as host. It was a real high-quality Hollywood type deal, with five cameras and cables everywhere and a big equipment truck and a big crew and a big house band and a big show theme song and even an English director. You can't ask for more than an English director.

The producer was a huge JS fan, and owner of the Boulder Theater, and I am forever fond of him because he acted as the announcer of the pilot show and introduced John thusly: "And now ladies and gentlemen...the three best songwriters in America....John Stewart!" I liked that; still do.

The reason I'm not COMPLETELY fond of him is that, well, the two checks he paid me for flying to Boulder, Colorado from Detroit, Michigan, and writing the show, didn't do so hot at my bank. In fact, they bounced. I never did get paid, and also was out the airfare bill, a tidy sum of about $400 or $500 bucks. And the second rubber check for writing The John Stewart Show was substantially larger than that.

(John's check originally bounced too; but they guy later made good on that one. What the hell, JS was the host. I could see that. Sort of. But the guy eventually went to jail or something, because he bounced a lot of other checks in producing The John Stewart Show, and I think he eventually lost the Boulder Theater too. But what the hey, Boulder was lovely in the spring, we laughed, and I got a hat out of the deal.)

Which is the point of this --- John's hat. One of the cool things we did for the show was shoot little comedy sketches with John and "Dave" in and around Boulder. Example: We had John and "Dave" walking down the sidewalk in Boulder, coming towards the camera, to "cold open" the show. John says to "Dave":

"I don't know if this is a good idea. Me hosting a show. Do enough people know me to justify ME having a national one-hour talk and music show?"

"Dave" assures John that it's a great idea, and it'll be a great show, and that he's known all OVER America. "I dunno..." says the worried JS. They walk past the camera and we turn to see them proceed to the Boulder Theater, and enter. The camera pulls back and reveals the big marquee letters:

"Tonight! Live! The Jim Stewart Show!"

Stuff like that. One of the bits we did, of many, centered around John's hat. (Now you see the connection. Actually, another bit centered around "Dave" wearing fuzzy slippers onstage, big pinks ones as I recall, as he played behind JS. John really liked that bit, but the owner of the Boulder Theater, who with a great flourish wrote me not one but two big phony checks, never got it.)

Anyway, we went up onto a mountain overlooking Boulder. A GORGEOUS panoramic viewing site, the whole city below. We shot John from behind as he stands at a railing and views the city down below him. He has his back to the camera, and is bare-headed. JS says "God, what a great view. But I'm so bummed out...that I come all the way to Boulder to do this show...and somebody STEALS my hat! Why would anybody steal a HAT?" The camera slowly pans to the right, and reveals "Dave" standing about 15 feet away, also looking down on the city. He is wearing a straw cowboy hat that comes down to his ears. It's John's hat. "I haven't seen it," he says.

(John has a big head, and wears like a size 11 hat. "Dave," love him as I do, is kind of a pinhead---in the nice sense---and wears about a size 4.)

But that's not the hat story. The hat story is: The Friday night before the taping of The John Stewart Show there was a show at the Boulder Theater, with John sharing the bill with the Pleasure Barons, a wild all-star group featuring old JS sideman Joey Harris and Dave Alvin and John Doe and Country Dick Montana and Rosie Flores and Mojo Nixon or somebody, and more people too. They turned out to be the best rock band I ever saw, but that's not the story.

I was so impressed with Dave Alvin, his songs and guitar work, that the next day I went to the Boulder Music Store and bought a best-of CD of The Blasters, Alvin's old group. Reading the liner notes, I could see that Alvin was a big fan of pioneering rock and roll, and I was intrigued to see that the Blasters had used The Jordanaires, Elvis' fabled backup singing group, to back the Blasters on a cut or two.

When we left Boulder on the following Monday, after two days of intensive taping of The John Stewart Show, proud of our accomplishment, clutching checks that would someday mock us ... wait, let me stop here. I should point out before I wrap this up with the hat story that The John Stewart Show WAS very good. John was terrific as host and interviewer. We did goofy stuff and we did serious stuff; kind of like Letterman. He sang three songs, I think, "Ghost Inside of Me" (you should hear that with a full band and chick backup singers and a piano solo!); "Daydream Believer," and "Lost Her in the Sun" I think. The show woulda, coulda, been a hit. But it 'vanished in the sky,' like the babe and the airplane in "Lost Her."

Anyway, the day we left Boulder to head to the Denver airport "Dave" literally packed 720 pounds of baggage and music equipment into the 500-pound-capacity rear end of a rent-a-station wagon. Amazing. So we're heading down the Boulder Freeway or something, with me in the backseat and "Dave" driving and JS shotgun. So I bring up Dave Alvin, and rave about him. "Yeah, isn't he great?" says John. And I mention that Alvin had used The Jordanaires on some Blasters recordings. "God, what a buzz it must have been for a kid who grew up in the '50s to work with the Jordanaires!" I gush.

Without turning around, John sarcastically says "Tom....big deal....I did it before he ever did. I used the Jordanaires way back on Bloodlines." "Dave" and I both jumped in. "Whatta ya mean?...the Jordanaires weren't on California Bloodlines....on what song?"

More sarcastically, like he's talking to children, JS impatiently says "That was the Jordanaires singing the backing on 'Pirates.' For cripe sake, I mentioned all the musicans at the end of 'Never Goin' Back'....I gave them a live credit on the damn album!"

In unison, "Dave" and I say: "No you didn't..."

There is a pause. John suddenly grabs his hat with both hands, his cool white straw cowboy hat with the great grooves and brim ... and yells "Oh my God!! I forgot to thank The Jordanaires!"

That's the hat story. It's one of my favorites.

I have another JS hat story, a kind of Laurel and Hardy hat story, this one from an ill-conceived driving trip from Malibu California to Aspen Colorado for a gig in 1976, probably another one I've already told, about me being a pinhead too, and I was gonna tell it in conjuction with this one, but all this has already tired me out. Maybe some other time. And, oh yeah, John gave me the Boulder cowboy hat at the airport. Did I mention it's a cool white straw one that's bent and grooved in all the right places?

This is really one of the funniest Stewart related tales I have ever read, about Andy Fregus, now proproetor of the Turf Inn, Dalry Scotland. -Ron

"Too Good for the Pooblic" - Tom DeLisle, April 1999

My feeling is that Andy Fergus holds the all-time How Far??? record, set in 1978.

That summer he flew alone from Glasgow, Scotland to New York to Los Angeles. He then took a BUS from LA to Salinas, California--a considerable hop--then WALKED from the bus depot to the Ramada Inn out near the Salinas County Fairgrounds, his suitcase in tow. This last leg of his journey left his ruddy Scot complexion mightily sunburnt by the end of the day, not a pretty sight.

When John and Buffy and their entourage (me) arrived at the Ramada Inn the next day, the woman at the desk told JS "Oh, there's a man who's been waiting here since yesterday to meet you." There was Fergie, who'd been sitting in the lobby of the motel night and day, awaiting John's arrival. With the sunburn and wearing shorts, he looked like a red light on sticks. He walked up and introduced himself, pointing out that he'd come all the way from Scotland just for the Salinas gig, which made us laugh.

So he hung out with us, and he proved to be a lot of fun, mostly because we couldn't understand a word he was saying and we gave him the benefit of the doubt that he was making sense. (Years later, when we finally got used to his accent, we discovered he wasn't.)

At the rodeo at the Salinas Fair, later that first day, John was introduced to the crowd and I think he dropped the flag for a horse race or something. Anyway, I remember the guy on the PA introducing him as "Famous singer John Stewart, known far and wide for his Number One hit, Mother Country!" I remember looking at Buffy in the stands and shrugging, and then looking over at the nonstop grinning Fergus, and thinking "gosh, he has pasty legs."

The JS show that night was at some kind of hall near the Fairgrounds, and it was a good one. Fergus recorded it on a small handheld tape recorder, and kept walking up towards the stage and snapping flashbulb pictures, looking and acting like the worst tourist that ever lived. He was a fanatic JS advocate, who could only repeat one line over and over whenever he was asked about John's music ... "Too good for the pooblic." That got to be kind of a catch-phrase after while. Too good for the pooblic.

I've related this story before, and it looks like I'm gonna do it again. When we checked out of the hotel the next day and bid Andy farewell, he said he was going to bus back down to LA in a day or two, and look around southern California. Well, we said, if you ever get out to Malibu, stop by and see us, kind of a Tony Orlando goodbye--thanks a million, you've been a wonderful audience, good night everybody. On the way back south ourselves, we kept marveling about that little Scottish guy coming all that way by himself, and could you understand a word he said?

Well, two days later I'm sitting on my porch in Malibu, probably--as Arnie always says--shooting flies with a squirtgun when the phone rings, and it's JS. Who says, kind of in shock, "Remember that guy from Scotland that we said should stop by if he's ever in the neighborhood? He's HERE!" Andy had taken a bus out to Malibu, and walked along Pacific Coast Highway to John's and Buffy's home. John, being the genial host he is, did the decent thing--he sent Fergy down to MY house. Where he deposited his suitcase on my couch, and we stared at each other for about four hours. After a while, it was obvious he wasn't going to go away. And I didn't have a translator. So I stepped up to the plate and sent him back to John's house.

Anyway, Fergie ended up staying with the Stewarts. I recall sitting in John's front room a day or two later, with the three of us listening to the demos for "Bombs Away," and the stripped-down first versions of "Gold" and "Lost Her in the Sun" and "Runaway Fool." I remember that when we listened to "Lost Her in the Sun," Fergie teared-up and got weepy. I thought, oh great, not only is he short and sunburned, this guy is nuts.

Well, he turned out to be a great guy, even when we could understand him, and he's been a friend ever since, and been a great host when we've visited him in Skelmorlie on the Sea over in Scotland--his hillside house overlooks the Atlantic at the Firth of the Clyde (and Clyde's Firth is something to see), and I won't go again into the story of how I went to great trouble to get him an authentic Kingston Trio shirt--Nick Reynolds' XXXS, the size of a cocktail napkin--to take back to Scotland only to find out years later that he didn't even want it.

But I'm confident that Andy's first half-world trek MUST be the alltime champ in the How Far??? Sweepstakes.

LF

PS--I have Cinemax on the tube as I sit at the computer, and I just turned to the screen and there is a movie called "Masseuse 3"--how did I miss the first two?--and a guy is standing on a bridge that looks exactly like the bridge over the stream on the original cover of "Children of the Morning." It HAS to be the same bridge. Is that bridge in northern or southern California, anybody know? Wait a minute. Now he's sitting bareass in the stream with some naked babe and they're going to town. No kidding. Synchronicity! And it reminds me of Andy Fergus' other famous saying, besides "too good for the pooblic"

... "what a country!"

Here's part of the story behind the song "Gold" with it's lines of "Driving over Kanaan, singing to my soul" and "My buddy Jim Bass, he's a working pumping gas" as well as a workingman's guide to Stewart's Malibu. -Ron

Drivin' Over Kanaan and my buddy Jim Bass - Tom DeLisle March 1998 - January 2000 

Yes, indeed, drive over Kanan from PCH to the Hollywood Freeway, and back on Malibu Canyon Road into the 'Bu, where you will round a curve and see the silver blue Pacific on the horizon. Beautiful winding canyon roads from the beach to the valley via the Santa Monica mountains. Look for coyotes and tumbleweed, even an occasional bobcat. Hopefully the two roads haven't been too built up since I was last out there. Kanan-Dume road was the northern/western pass to the Valley out of Malibu, and when John and Buffy moved from Malibu Road up to Point Dume (cool nude beach up there; and Dylan's house with the eastern/oriental dome high above the fences) Kanan was used more to go to the real world than Malibu Canyon, which is (was, ain't seen it in a while) a beautiful, curving, tunnels-through-mountains drive. When you're coming back from the real world, on Malibu Canyon OR Kanan, you're rewarded with an always-stunning view of the silver blue Pacific as you wind around a sloping corner.

Also on the JS tour itinerary...cruise the length of Malibu Road, knowing that--about 100 yards short of the west end--the hillside collapsed during the Great Storm of 1978 and ate a 1972 Buick that was later dug out and salvaged by Michael and Jeremy Stewart.

Look for the Mobil Station on the land side of Pacific Coast Highway at the light opposite the Malibu Colony, in front of the supermarket and the fashionable shops and about a half mile this side of Pepperdine U.  It is the original home of "My Buddy" the gas pumper and mechanic (named "Jack" actually.) "My buddy Jim Bass" was a real guy, the owner of the Mobil gas station . His real name wasn't Jim "Bass," but he was from Petoskey, Michigan ... and when I first moved out there, and my car had Michigan plates, he adopted me as his "buddy." I got gas there about twice a week, and he would always bound out when he saw me, and say "How ya doin, Buddy? Fill her up, Buddy?" I'd see his name on his gas station shirt, and say "How ya doin'....JIM. Yeah, fill her up please." We'd compare notes about back home, the winter and snow, the Tigers, the Red Wings. Very nice guy, tall and lanky.

After about four years of regularly going to his station, my car broke down one time and I had to take it in for repair. I drove it up to my "Buddy's" gas station one Saturday morning for an engine knock or something. When I drove up, he came out ..."How's it goin', Buddy?" "Say, buddy...pretty good...how are you...(looking at his shirt)...JIM?" "Things are good, Buddy, what can I do for you?" I told him I needed some work on the car, and he said to come into the office and he'd fill out a work-order form for his mechanic.

He wrote everything down, age of the car, problem, etc. Then he got to the part where he had to fill in my name .... and his face fell. After a long and awkward pause, (I didn't know what the problem was) ... he stammered "Uh...what was your name again, Buddy?"

Check out Larrabee Sound and The Village Recorder in west LA, sites of JS's "Bombs Away" and "Go Hollywood" production.

Cruise The Troubadour and Roxy in west LA, and the Palomino in North Hollywood, live venues for John and Buffy, John solo, and John and the loudest folk bands in music history.

At the entrance to Malibu Road at PCH, where I once looked over at the light to behold a brown Rolls Royce with Cary Grant behind the wheel, there used to be the Malibu Coffee Shop, a classic piece of old Californiana, but I think I read or heard that it was torn down or moved of something. A shame. A great breakfast place, where you could sit and b.s. and watch then-little-known actor James Woods allegedly reading the LA Times but actually furtively eyeing Malibu babes and Rod Steiger drinking coffee and talking with Burgess Meredith at the counter. The Coffee Shop was also famous for, among other things, the time Buffy let out a piercing scream because she saw somebody eating scrambled eggs in public.

Also, walk the Malibu Pier; check out Alice's Restaurant, where Jan Michael Vincent would drink at the bar and look more menacing with each drink; and stroll the beach that runs along the far end of Malibu Road, there is public access where the road re-meets the highway. At the western edge of Malibu, not too far from Pirates Cove and a nude beach, find Selfridge Road, John and Buffy's address after moving from Malibu Road because their house was threatening to throw itself into the ocean. A few blocks from Selfridge is the walled-in, near-East type structured estate that is, or was, Bob Dylan's.

Watch out for falling boulders

- --Also, regarding Route 66, the Winter '97-'98 edition of Route 66 magazine has a color picture of, and favorable commentary about, "Rough Sketches" in a feature about 66 as celebrated in song.

The Man in the Moon: Andy Kaufman, Tony Clifton, Richard Pryor and JS   Tom DeLisle, December 1999

This will be of limited, or no, interest to those not interested in the late comic Andy Kaufman, maybe only the funniest man who ever lived. But with the new Jim Carrey biopic (a term I picked up from the hard-hitting Entertainment Tonight TV show) "Man on the Moon" movie coming out, and the recent publication of a fabulous new book about Andy titled "Lost In the Funhouse," I figured it was worth recalling the time Andy--or at least his alter ego Tony Clifton--almost opened for JS.

In 1976 and '77, we were big fans of Andy--whose fame was growing after his debut on the original SNL shows--and often watched his off-the-wall appearances on the Dick Van Dyke variety show up at John and Buffy's home overlooking the Pacific above Malibu Road.

When Andy did a now-legendary set of appearances at the Comedy Castle in LA--and opened for himself in the disguise of the insulting and off-key Vegas lounge lizard Tony Clifton--we were in the first row the first night. Neither of us had any idea what was going on when the show started--this fat weird guy in huge sunglasses and a bad tuxedo, singing horribly and insulting the audience to the point that people actually got furious, and some walked out.

At one point, "Clifton" was leaning forward at the front of the stage, flicking his cigarette ashes on diners, and I turned to John and whispered "Jesus...look at his eyes...it's Andy." And sure enough, there were these piercing, and young, blue eyes behind the face of this aging and toupeed jerk. Kaufman, using false cheeks, nose, and chin, had created this bizarre alter ego---forever denying that he himself was actually Tony Clifton---and presented him in an amazing opening act that eventually took on a life of its own.

John and I talked about it recently, and we agreed it was the most memorable live performance either of us have ever seen, just terrifically inventive and funny. I went back the next night with Garry Shandling, who was a writer then (and would open for John at Chuck's Cellar about a year later in his first performance as a standup comic himself.) Garry stared in confusion and awe at Clifton like John and I had, until I told him the same thing -- "Look at his eyes, look who it is." "No." "Yeah." "It can't be." "It is."

A writer for the LA Times named Bill Knoedelseder (regular spelling, and a big JS fan) was also with us at the Comedy Castle, and was impressed to the point that he arranged to do a big feature on Kaufman. So he asked me to join him as he spent a day with Andy, which included driving around town with Andy in his Elvis outfit (Bill took pictures of him as Elvis in front of the Beverly Hills Hotel sign), and going up to Andy's canyon home, which was a shrine to his love of Transcendental Meditation.

That night we went to Bill's house for a long taped interview with Andy. During a break, I asked him if he was familar with John and his music. He said he knew of him, and particularly remembered that he had been the lead on "Reverend Mr. Black." I told him that John was a huge fan of HIS, and he was impressed at that. So...we called JS on Bill's phone, giving me the coolest lead line ever--"Yeah, John...I got a guy here who wants to talk to you..." and I handed the phone to Andy.

John began asking Kaufman about Tony Clifton, and Andy said Clifton's arrogance and insults were hurting him by assocation, and that people were begging him to drop Clifton as his opening act. JS then said he was playing the Palomino in North Hollywood in a few weeks, and that he thought Tony Clifton would be the perfect opening act for his own show.

I saw Andy's eyes get very wide at the invitation. Tony Clifton, insulting lounge lizard, singing an off-key "I Believe In Music" and "You Light Up My Life" at the rough and tumble Palomino, the legendary country/rock and roll nightclub. The possibilities were mind-boggling. It could have been the evening of a lifetime, for everybody involved, if nobody got killed. Kaufman obviously wanted to do it--it was the opportunity for a classic put-on--and John repeated several times he was serious about the offer. "The people who come to see me would LOVE Tony Clifton," JS said.

"I can't speak for Mr. Clifton," Andy said, "but I can pass the word along to his agent. Actually, I would recommend that he do it."

Unfortunately....Tony Clifton couldn't open for John. Andy's schedule had him out of town for the Palomino weekend, and it never came off. I can't remember if Andy called John to tell him Tony couldn't make it, or we got the word through Bill Knoedelseder (regular spelling), but it never came off. What a lost opportunity.

There have been some interesting opening acts for John through the years--Tom Waits, Larry Gatlin (sweating near to death in leather pants at the stifling Roxy in LA in the summer), Garry Shandling (narrowly escaping a howling mob at Chuck's). Tony Clifton would have been the most memorable.

Somebody wanted to know if Andy was John's favorite standup, and I don't know if he is or not, but surely the comic who got the most airplay around John and Buffy's house in the '70s was Richard Pryor and his LP cut of "Mudbone I and II," about the wino from Pee-oria who encounters the voodoo woman, Miss Rudolph, "named after that deer." I've always regarded it the funniest single piece of recorded comedy ever. Of course, being Pryor at his best, it's very...ribald. But falling-down funny.

For example, an average day in Malibu in, say, 1977 would consist of:

Rise at the crack of noon. Rush up to John and Buffy's and wait two hours for John to get up. Play "Mudbone." Go to lunch. Return from lunch, play "Mudbone." Go home to nap. Return to Stewarts, play "Mudbone." Go to restaurant, order dinner. Return to Stewarts, play "Mudbone." Rush back to restaurant, eat dinner. Back to J&B's, listen to "Mudbone" until 2 a.m. Go home exhausted.

--If that sounds a touch exaggerated, I do recall a time when Nick Reynolds came to stay at the Stewarts and John played him "Mudbone" before we went out to dinner. Nick liked it so much, and everybody was imitating Pryor so much, that we played it again immediately upon returning.

- LF

P&S---I STILL won't believe that Jim Carrey "becomes" Andy Kaufman in the new movie till I see it with my own eyes. I just can't buy it from what little I've seen. And I'm still only 99 percent convinced Andy is dead. His buddy and cohort, Bob Zmuda, in another new book that he himself wrote about Andy, says that when he's asked what Andy would be doing if were around today, he has to honestly reply "He'd be thinking of ways to fake his own death."

Springtime Listening - Tom DeLisle. April 1999

Spring is finally here in the midwest. And while the severity and gloom of the winters affect you more as you get on in years, you more greatly value the re-emergence of life in April each year.

Yesterday, driving crosstown to work, gorgeous sunshine pure blue sky 60 degrees, pulled out a compilation 90-minute cassette of JS music that I must have made in a former springtime. What a ride! First hit--"Tall Blondes," with that great beat and whispered lyrics. Great freeway song. Had to be careful though, found myself unconsciously whizzing past cars in front of me. Slowed down for "Tears of the Sun," maybe the best life-crisis/coping song of all time. What lyrics. Then, speeding up again, because "China Sky" pops on, that beautiful guitar work and soaring sound. Always wonder if the "smoking gold" lyric could be "smoke and go," since it could also apply as an aviation reference.

More from the first Secret Tapes follows--"Seven Times the Wind," "Home From the Stars." Wow. Forces to guide you, spirits beside you, rivers to ride you home. Perfect day, perfect music. Then ... the perfect springtime moving song ... "The River." If that doesn't make you feel like hitting the road and starting all over again, then ... well, then maybe you live in a part of the world where you don't get terrific season changes.

It reminded me once more why I am such a diehard fan. What would I do without that vast and rich stockpile of music, those hundreds of great songs, where would I go for something even remotely comparable? What a less involving life I would lead.

The Sun Flies Shining - Tom DeLisle. April 2001

editors note: This "lost song" is being released on the Wrasse CD reissue of "Fire In the Wind", one of 5 cuts previously unreleased and appearing for the first time on the Fire in the Wind CD. -Ron

- --"Sun Flies Shining" is an earlier demo version of "Heart of the Dream" from the Bombs Away Dream Babies album. The song was originally written about a monster rain storm with resulting mudslides in Malibu (one of which ate my car; I lost my 1972 Buick) and some of the lyrics are:

I picked up the phone, I got God on the line

He said "John don't worry, it's the fire next time"

...Take me to, take me to, Take me to the land Where the sun flies shining

There's a reference in the song to

"and the army came through,

'cause the governor's holed up out in Malibu."

Gov. Jerry Brown was dating Linda Ronstadt at the time, and he was at her place in the Malibu Colony when the big storm hit. I believe this happened in January of 1977, and the National Guard was called in to help with the cleanup.

The storm occurred on a Friday night/Saturday morning while John played at the Palomino in North Hollywood. The rain was so intense that we car-caravaned back through the Santa Monica Mountains, coming back on Canan Road, where boulders were bouncing down from the mountainside. We drove south on Highway 1 back into Malibu, over a stretch of beach two-lane that later that night collapsed down into the ocean. Also, a large section of John and Buffy's front yard, and attached hot tub, slid down their hill and onto Malibu Road. It was a pretty hairy time.

As I recall another lyric was:

I got mud on my clothes,

I got mud in my mouth

Put me on a highway

And send me south...

'Cause the rain came down

Washing my land away

Take me to the land

Where the sun flies shining

Malibu was cut off from the valley and LA with road collapses north and a huge mudslide that covered Pacific Coast Highway south near Pacific Palisades. The storm took about six feet of top sand off the beach the first night. People had to jump down from their stairways to reach the beach. This all made people nervous. I recall at the time that we were petitioning federal officials for a Valium Airlift.

I suppose that John later found "Sun Flies Shining" to be too topical, and changed the song and the lyrics to apply to something more generic, such as the general state of life in Southern California, thus "Heart of the Dream."

- --Okay, here's the Buick story. My quad-speaker big-ass '72 Buick that made it from Detroit to California was parked out on Malibu Road the night the storm hit, and a whole hillside came down in a huge mudslide, almost completely enveloping the car in mud. I think only the driver's side door handle was visible, which depressed me to the point that I told John's sons, Mikael and Jeremy, that if they could get the car out of the mud, they could have it. So they did, and they did.