Alice Cooper: Golf Monster by Alice Cooper

Alice Cooper: Golf Monster by Alice Cooper

Author:Alice Cooper
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781845138042
Publisher: Aurum Press
Published: 2011-08-16T23:00:00+00:00


There was a time when drinking was recreational fun. We were never one of those bands who trashed hotel rooms, but our friends would. Like if the Faces or the Who came into town, we would visit them and they would destroy their rooms. I might have thrown a lamp around or something, but we just weren’t into destroying rooms; it wasn’t our thing. We were so tired after doing the shows, we didn’t have the energy to destroy rooms. But the Who, Led Zeppelin, and the Faces were experts at it.

The Who were close friends from our early days playing and hanging out together in Los Angeles and Detroit. When we went to London for the first time, they took us to their club to stage a drinking contest. They heard we were celebrated drinkers. I can remember it clearly. We all sat at a long rectangular table. I sat across from Pete Townshend, Neal Smith sat across from Keith Moon, Dennis was across from John Entwistle. Pete drank Rémy cognac, and I drank my Seagram’s VO. The deal was, we’d drink half a bottle, then switch, so I had to drink the remaining Rémy and Pete had to finish the VO. Then Bob Ezrin came in. He had just eaten a full meal, a pepper steak or something. After drinking nearly a full bottle of scotch with Entwistle, Ezrin literally projectile-vomited about three feet across the table, splattering bile and blowing chunks all over the Who, who just sat there with vomit all over them. It was like something out of a Monty Python movie or the The Exorcist. What I admired was that the guys never flinched. They simply ordered another drink.

I thought, Man, these guys are good.

There wasn’t a time when anybody had to pick Alice up off the floor. I was never that kind of falling-down drunk. Not that I remember, anyway. Instead, I was the Dean Martin Golden Buzz–type guy, drinking late at night with Harry Nilsson or John Lennon (those guys could really drink).

When I lived in Hollywood around 1975–1976, we made the Rainbow Bar and Grill on Sunset Boulevard our nightly drinking sanctuary. Go to the Rainbow today and there’s still a plaque there that reads “Lair of the Vampires.”

The Lair was the room upstairs, a bona fide drinking club. In the old days of Hollywood, John Barrymore, W. C. Fields, and Errol Flynn had their own drinking club. According to Errol Flynn’s memoirs, when Barry-more died, film director Raoul Walsh stole his body, sat him at the Barry-more table, and toasted him, even though he was dead as a doornail.

Our club was a modern-day version. President, Alice Cooper. Vice President, Keith Moon. Secretary, Harry Nilsson. If anyone had to do a show or movie, he would announce it to the Vampires—I would say that I had two weeks of shows coming up, so someone else would have to take over as President. Nilsson would gladly step in. Since we were all going to drink anyway, we figured we might as well all drink together.



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