In the Wings: My Life With Roger McGuinn and the Byrds by Ianthe McGuinn

Author:Ianthe McGuinn [McGuinn, Ianthe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: stardom, celebrity, byrds, 1960s, folk music
ISBN: 9781910705858
Google: FkkwtAEACAAJ
Publisher: Smashwords Edition
Published: 2017-11-15T23:23:29.317969+00:00

Chapter 7

*1968 Tromping Muddy Pastures with Rolling Stones*

Roger’s family moved to California. They’d been increasingly curious about the life Roger was leading and wanted to get away from the bitter winters of Chicago. They eventually settled in the same neighborhood we had previously lived in, off Barham Boulevard, south of Burbank on Primera Avenue. I was happy that Patrick would get to know his grandparents, and they were very loving and welcoming. Dorothy and Jim Sr. set about furnishing and painting their new house. I will always associate the smell of fresh oil-based paint with them, because Roger’s father was also an amateur portrait artist.

Their younger son, Brian, was living with them too. Dorothy did not recognize Roger in his Cadillac as we drove by one afternoon. Roger said, “Cadillacs make their owners invisible to the outside world.” The McGuinns’ home had a sweeping view of Burbank below. They had converted their garage into a dining room, and the first time that Roger and I came over for dinner, Roger asked, “Well, what do you think of your new dining room, Brian?” Brian replied, “VAAROOM.” The paint couldn’t hide the years of car smell that permeated the room. The family had a unique sense of humor.

1968 was the year Roger and I grew closer to Chris and Anya. We spent time visiting them in their Topanga Canyon home. Roger and Chris depended on each other now, as the sole original members of the group. Anya and I spent many hours together when traveling to shows. Once she told me about several angry outbursts that Chris had had on the ranch, which frightened her, since she was alone in the canyon wilderness. I saw an emerging dark side of Chris, but I tried not to dwell on it. The four of us saw many excellent movies that reflected the zeitgeist of the late 60s, such as Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, Antonioni’s Blow Up, and Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet.

Larry Spector invited Chris, Roger, Anya and me to dinner at his thirty-first floor apartment off the Sunset Strip. We all drove in Roger’s Cadillac. It was a smooth, quiet ride. When we arrived at the apartment, we waited at the door for some time after Roger rang the bell. He rang it again. Finally, a young man unlocked the door. He was the assistant who helped Larry in his office. He was about twenty years old, thin build, an all-American kid, whose hair was mussed up on one side, as if he’d been asleep.

He greeted us cordially, if somewhat nervously. Larry Spector came out, a little flustered, wearing his usual white shirt and khakis.

We sat down to drinks as a black maid announced that dinner would soon be ready. Dinner was uneventful. On the elevator down the thirty-one floors, Chris and Roger burst into laughter, having held it back for some time apparently. Anya and I looked at each other, wondering what the joke was all about.

It wasn’t until we were driving

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