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Authors: Pamela Des Barres
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BOOK: Rock Bottom: Dark Moments In Music Babylon
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In between recording sessions, Big Brother toured. Janis was getting so much solo attention that the guys felt like her backing group. When Grossman changed the billing to “Big Brother and the Holding Company, featuring Janis Joplin,” there was a whole lot of grumbling in the band. And Janis didn’t think they were cutting it in the studio, once storming out of a session shouting, “I ain’t gonna sing with them motherfuckers!”
At the time of the
Cheap Thrills
(originally
Sex
,
Dope
,
and Cheap Thrills)
sessions, Janis had an infamous encounter with Jim Morrison, a bang-up battle that she asked her publicist, Myra Friedman, to play up in the press. Janis told Myra that Jim had been slobbering drunk and had pulled out a “whole bunch” of her hair, and she cracked a bottle of scotch over his head. According to Chet Helms, who says he was there, “He unzipped his pants and put his penis in her face, and she hauled off and whacked him good!”
Cheap Thrills
(originally
Sex
,
Dope
,
and Cheap Thrills)
sessions, Janis had an infamous encounter with Jim Morrison, a bang-up battle that she asked her publicist, Myra Friedman, to play up in the press. Janis told Myra that Jim had been slobbering drunk and had pulled out a “whole bunch” of her hair, and she cracked a bottle of scotch over his head. According to Chet Helms, who says he was there, “He unzipped his pants and put his penis in her face, and she hauled off and whacked him good!”
True to the hippie credo, Janis tried to live smack dab in the moment, telling
The New York Times
, “Maybe I won’t last as long as other singers, but I think you can destroy your now by worrying about tomorrow.” She prided herself on being totally uninhibited and unconventional, yet was always surprised by the consequences of her actions.
The New York Times
, “Maybe I won’t last as long as other singers, but I think you can destroy your now by worrying about tomorrow.” She prided herself on being totally uninhibited and unconventional, yet was always surprised by the consequences of her actions.
Cheap Thrills
went gold in three days, with
Cash Box
calling Janis “a mixture of Leadbelly, a steam-engine, Calamity Jane, Bessie Smith, an oil derrick, and rot-gut bourbon funneled into the twentieth century somewhere between El Paso and San Francisco.” Fans started trying to get at Janis onstage. They wanted to
touch
her. When fame engulfed her, she needed even more testimonials to her greatness. She gave so much onstage, she got so much back, that Janis needed to feel that profound audience adoration twenty-four hours a day. When asked
how
she could sing like
that
, Janis always answered, “I close my eyes and feel things.”
went gold in three days, with
Cash Box
calling Janis “a mixture of Leadbelly, a steam-engine, Calamity Jane, Bessie Smith, an oil derrick, and rot-gut bourbon funneled into the twentieth century somewhere between El Paso and San Francisco.” Fans started trying to get at Janis onstage. They wanted to
touch
her. When fame engulfed her, she needed even more testimonials to her greatness. She gave so much onstage, she got so much back, that Janis needed to feel that profound audience adoration twenty-four hours a day. When asked
how
she could sing like
that
, Janis always answered, “I close my eyes and feel things.”
Big Brother must have felt it coming, but getting the boot from the chubby Port Arthur girl who auditioned in tacky short-shorts must have stung. Only Sam Andrew was asked to be a part of her new group. Janis played her last gig with Big Brother on December 1, 1968, at a benefit for the Family Dog. She premiered her new band three weeks later.
The
Detroit Free Press
called her 100-PROOF JANIS JOPLIN, and Southern
Comfort became Janis’s trademark. She carried the bottle onstage with her and held on to it during interviews, claiming that it tasted like “orange petals in tea.” In appreciation, the liquor company bought Janis a lynx coat, which she flaunted in grand style. But the Southern Comfort bottle was conveniently hiding her escalating heroin problem. Not that she thought it was a problem. In her most notorious quote, Janis told
The New York Times Magazine,
“Man, I’d rather have ten years of superhypermost than live to be seventy by sitting in some goddamn chair watching TV Right now is where you are, how can you wait?”
Detroit Free Press
called her 100-PROOF JANIS JOPLIN, and Southern
Comfort became Janis’s trademark. She carried the bottle onstage with her and held on to it during interviews, claiming that it tasted like “orange petals in tea.” In appreciation, the liquor company bought Janis a lynx coat, which she flaunted in grand style. But the Southern Comfort bottle was conveniently hiding her escalating heroin problem. Not that she thought it was a problem. In her most notorious quote, Janis told
The New York Times Magazine,
“Man, I’d rather have ten years of superhypermost than live to be seventy by sitting in some goddamn chair watching TV Right now is where you are, how can you wait?”
Janis often shot dope with “Sam-O,” Sam Andrew, who OD’d after a triumphant gig at Albert Hall in London. That night she and Linda saved Sam’s life by getting him into a tub of ice-cold water, then walking him around and around the room. Janis herself was revived at least half a dozen times after overdosing on heroin. She was shooting two hundred dollars’ worth of dope a day. When Linda asked why she did so much heroin, Janis said, “I just want a little fucking peace, man.” Her favorite combination of booze and junk would prove to be lethal.
Janis’s career was at its zenith: She did “The Ed Sullivan Show” and traded wits with Dick Cavett, all dolled up in her trademark beads, bangles, and rings on every finger. The girl nominated for “Ugliest Man on Campus” was now setting swinging fashion trends in
Vogue
and
Glamour.
Vogue
and
Glamour.
Janis relished her time onstage, but the road just seemed to remind her that she was alone. Said her lawyer, Sam Gordon, “Sure, Albert was there a phone call away and the band was there for tunes and the wine store was down the block and there were freaks in the lobby for her entertainment. But after that, it was just a situation with four walls, a chick lying in a fucking hotel room with nobody and nothing.”
The week she was supposed to be on the cover of
Newsweek,
General Eisenhower had the audacity to die, and an irate Janis told the British paper
Melody Maker,
“Fourteen heart attacks and he had to die in my week! In
my
week!” Seven days later she did grace the cover of
Newsweek,
but Janis was devastated by the mean-spirited
Rolling Stone
cover story, which called her “The Judy Garland of Rock and Roll.” The
Kozmic Blues
sessions had started and they were full of turmoil. Band members were leaving and being replaced on a regular basis. Sam Andrew finally split for good. And then her beloved pooch, George, disappeared. Janis believed he had been stolen by a fan and pleaded for his return on the radio, but the dog was gone. The only time Janis seemed to feel good was onstage, but her performance at the Woodstock festival suffered due to her escalating use of heroin and alcohol. In
Going Down with Janis,
Peggy Caserta describes a horrid scene in which Janis shoots smack in one of the grotesquely foul mobile toilets before being literally carried to the Woodstock stage to sing. Her usual vitality and enthusiasm had turned into
peevish demands and tortured tantrums. She played the role of diva-dervish, living up to her JANIS JOPLIN persona, which was so huge and overwhelming she didn’t know how to handle it. When the cops in Houston requested her help in controlling the crowd by asking the frenetic groovers to “move back and cool off,” not only did Janis refuse, she told the cops where to go. When the same thing happened in Florida, Janis cursed out the cops for the entire audience to hear, and was instantly yanked offstage and arrested for “vulgar and indecent language.” Janis had had a brief fling with Joe Namath, and onstage at Madison Square Garden she called plaintively for the football star: “Joe, Joe, where are you, Joe?”
Newsweek,
General Eisenhower had the audacity to die, and an irate Janis told the British paper
Melody Maker,
“Fourteen heart attacks and he had to die in my week! In
my
week!” Seven days later she did grace the cover of
Newsweek,
but Janis was devastated by the mean-spirited
Rolling Stone
cover story, which called her “The Judy Garland of Rock and Roll.” The
Kozmic Blues
sessions had started and they were full of turmoil. Band members were leaving and being replaced on a regular basis. Sam Andrew finally split for good. And then her beloved pooch, George, disappeared. Janis believed he had been stolen by a fan and pleaded for his return on the radio, but the dog was gone. The only time Janis seemed to feel good was onstage, but her performance at the Woodstock festival suffered due to her escalating use of heroin and alcohol. In
Going Down with Janis,
Peggy Caserta describes a horrid scene in which Janis shoots smack in one of the grotesquely foul mobile toilets before being literally carried to the Woodstock stage to sing. Her usual vitality and enthusiasm had turned into
peevish demands and tortured tantrums. She played the role of diva-dervish, living up to her JANIS JOPLIN persona, which was so huge and overwhelming she didn’t know how to handle it. When the cops in Houston requested her help in controlling the crowd by asking the frenetic groovers to “move back and cool off,” not only did Janis refuse, she told the cops where to go. When the same thing happened in Florida, Janis cursed out the cops for the entire audience to hear, and was instantly yanked offstage and arrested for “vulgar and indecent language.” Janis had had a brief fling with Joe Namath, and onstage at Madison Square Garden she called plaintively for the football star: “Joe, Joe, where are you, Joe?”
Peggy Caserta claims that Janis had a better time with Dick Cavett than she did with Joe Namath. “‘Guess what? I balled Cavett after appearing on the show,’ she said. Can you
imagine?
She started laughing then, and I wondered as she went on if she was making it all up. ‘You’d never guess it,’ she said, ‘but Cavett has a much bigger cock and is a better lay than Namath. Poor old Broadway Joe,’ she said, almost crying she was laughing so hard. ‘He was a dis
aster.
He could hardly even get it to stand.’”
imagine?
She started laughing then, and I wondered as she went on if she was making it all up. ‘You’d never guess it,’ she said, ‘but Cavett has a much bigger cock and is a better lay than Namath. Poor old Broadway Joe,’ she said, almost crying she was laughing so hard. ‘He was a dis
aster.
He could hardly even get it to stand.’”
According to her psychiatrist at the time, Dr. Ed Rothchild, Janis sincerely wanted to stop using heroin, attempting several methadone cures. He described her as “just intellectually bordering on brilliant … . One of her problems was that intellectually she was so advanced, and her emotions were childlike and uncontrollable … . She was unbelievably ‘on’ all the time.” Janis also seemed to have an alarming appetite for sex—always blabbering about who she just “balled”—and she couldn’t get enough junk food and sweets. She ate gooey pies and cakes for breakfast and washed it all down with Coke floats. Her weight fluctuated wildly from 115 to 155 pounds. She was a mess.
The painfully soulful
I Got Dem Ol’ Kozmic Blues Again Mama!
was released in November 1969 to mediocre reviews. Distraught and ready for a life change, Janis made another sincere effort to settle down, buying her own home in Larkspur, a little community north of San Francisco in Marin County. With redwood decks and lots of glass, the back of the house opened onto a lush woodland paradise. Janis bought loads of antique furniture, Oriental rugs, and bric-a-brac. She started piano lessons, and to replace George, Janis rescued several mutts from the pound.
I Got Dem Ol’ Kozmic Blues Again Mama!
was released in November 1969 to mediocre reviews. Distraught and ready for a life change, Janis made another sincere effort to settle down, buying her own home in Larkspur, a little community north of San Francisco in Marin County. With redwood decks and lots of glass, the back of the house opened onto a lush woodland paradise. Janis bought loads of antique furniture, Oriental rugs, and bric-a-brac. She started piano lessons, and to replace George, Janis rescued several mutts from the pound.
Determined to kick junk again, Janis went with Linda Gravenites to the Rio carnival in Brazil, where she met David Niehaus, a down-to-earth fellow who didn’t even know who she was. After spending two romantic days with her, David announced, “You know, you look like that rock star Janis Joplin.” She felt he cared about her for who she really was, and with David’s help, Janis did manage to kick heroin. When Uncle Albert telegraphed Janis to come home and get back to work, she wired back, “No. And don’t lay that guilt trip on me.” She was having one of the only carefree times of her life. On March
20, during a press conference at her hotel, Janis declared, “I’m going into the jungle with a big bear of a man named David Niehaus. I finally remembered I don’t have to be onstage twelve months a year. I’ve decided to go and dig some other jungles for a couple of weeks.”
20, during a press conference at her hotel, Janis declared, “I’m going into the jungle with a big bear of a man named David Niehaus. I finally remembered I don’t have to be onstage twelve months a year. I’ve decided to go and dig some other jungles for a couple of weeks.”
At the end of the idyllic three-month vacation, David planned to return home with Janis but had some trouble with his visa. To make it just a little worse, Janis hollered at the official in charge, “You’re a cunt and this is a cunt country!” And by the time David arrived in Larkspur two days later, Janis was back in persona mode and back on heroin. What had happened to the vivacious, colorful woman he danced with on the beach? David gave the relationship a royal try but couldn’t stand to see what Janis was doing to herself. When he found her in bed with Peggy Caserta, he sadly left to continue his world travels. Her roommate Linda couldn’t handle Janis’s addiction, either, and moved out of the Larkspur house. This shook Janis up enough to take another cure, and according to her next roommate, Lyndall Erb, Janis managed to kick dope entirely But never booze—she was up to a quart of tequila a day.
In April 1970 Janis put together a new band, the Full Tilt Boogie Band, and began rehearsals in her garage. Looking for the “real” Janis, she gave herself the nickname “Pearl,” which was supposed to embody her stage personality, but she seemed to have trouble telling the two apart. She even had a fake voice for Pearl, a nasally whine with the vowels left out. Was it Pearl who picked up the pretty young boys, calling them “talent”? Was it Janis who threw them out of her bed in the wee morning hours?
In the middle of rehearsals, friend Bobby Neuwirth dropped in with Kris Kristofferson, and an afternoon of knocking back tequila turned into a three-week binge that Janis later called “The Tequila Boogie.” Daily the trio covered the local bars and boozed through the nights, with Janis hanging on to Kris as if he were her saving grace. She was wild for Kristofferson and had a large fantasy about him, but he remained noncommittal during their brief affair. She did get a killer song out of the deal, “Me and Bobby McGee,” but once again Janis was left alone with her dastardly habits. The Full Tilt tour was kicked off at a party for the Hell’s Angels, which turned into a free-for-all that had a very drunk Janis slugging it out with a biker’s girlfriend after she lunged for Janis’s precious bottle. People who were there recall naked dancers and a couple having sex onstage. The only way the Full Tilt tour could go was up.
There were a couple of disastrous concerts and Janis realized she couldn’t get drunk and perform. She cut back on her pre-show booze consumption and her performances reflected the discipline. The tour went fairly well, but Janis was unbearably lonely, often calling home to Port Arthur, complaining of exhaustion. But she needed the love that poured all over her from the audience, she
had
to have it. It was the only thing that could fill the gaping hole in her heart. The mood swings were unbearable. When she was happy, she was
maniacally ecstatic; when she was sad, she was morbid. In her despair she ranted wildly, making up tawdry sexual escapades if she was lacking for horny anecdotes. She freaked out about getting old, insisting she was “ugly,” and why couldn’t she look like a movie star? She attacked and insulted her friends, she was tortured and missed the deadening relief of heroin. Myra Friedman observed Janis in a dressing room one night, reading a book on philosophy. A few moments later she overheard her saying. “Well, I have to go and change into Janis Joplin. She’s upstairs in a box.”
had
to have it. It was the only thing that could fill the gaping hole in her heart. The mood swings were unbearable. When she was happy, she was
maniacally ecstatic; when she was sad, she was morbid. In her despair she ranted wildly, making up tawdry sexual escapades if she was lacking for horny anecdotes. She freaked out about getting old, insisting she was “ugly,” and why couldn’t she look like a movie star? She attacked and insulted her friends, she was tortured and missed the deadening relief of heroin. Myra Friedman observed Janis in a dressing room one night, reading a book on philosophy. A few moments later she overheard her saying. “Well, I have to go and change into Janis Joplin. She’s upstairs in a box.”
After announcing her intentions on “The Dick Cavett Show,” Janis dragged three of her male friends to her ten-year high-school reunion in Port Arthur. What was she expecting? She had been misunderstood in high school, even taunted and abused. The slights must have grown to elaborate proportions and Janis probably wanted to “show them” that the outcast had attained megastar status. Decked to the nines wearing purple satin and gold-embroidered velvet, bracelets, baubles, beads, and the usual pink and blue feathers in her hair, Janis agreed to a press conference. Facing reporters at a long table, she grinned. “Looks like the Last Supper, doesn’t it?” When asked if she entertained in school, she joked, “Only when I walked down the aisles.” Somebody wondered if she went to her high-school prom. “No, I don’t think they wanted to take me,” she said, “and I’ve been suffering ever since. It’s enough to make you want to sing the blues.” I’m sure she was only partly kidding.
Janis had wanted her royal ass kissed, and it hadn’t happened. After the reunion she took her younger sister, Laura, to a Jerry Lee Lewis show and introduced her to the legendary “Killer.” “You wouldn’t be half-bad-looking—if you weren’t trying to look like your sister,” Jerry Lee snapped. Janis slugged the obnoxious superstar in the face, and before hauling off and belting her back, he said, “If you’re gonna act like a man, I’ll treat you like one!” Janis was mortified and proceeded to get blind drunk. Instead of filling the hole in her heart, the trip back home had stirred up painful, shameful memories that wouldn’t be put to rest.
The Doors’ producer, Paul Rothchild, had always wanted to work with Janis but had been concerned about her addiction. When he found that she had been clean for a few months, he went to some Full Tilt gigs and agreed to produce the record. “She was singing and I was enraptured,” he enthused, “because I was listening to one of the most brilliant vocalists I had ever heard in classical, pop, or jazz music. What a voice! I went, ‘Oh my God!’ All of the woman was revealed.”
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