Bebe: I can see how somebody would be into Marilyn Manson. He's one of my favorite rock stars, by far.
Pamela: She says, "Manson taught me that art is not just a song or a painting. Art is you, the essence of your being."
Bebe: That's pretty awesome. We're living in a society where half the culture thinks it's a cool term-associated with a time in rock culture that was glamorous and innocent. Then there are people who associate it with sluts, blow jobs, and roadies.
Pamela: That's why I'm writing this book. I'm bound to get some heavy shit for it.
Bebe: I say, polish up that skin right now, girl! My book came out five years ago, and I'm finding it's split down the middle. People either love it, or they don't like it at all. And I think that's great. I'm going to quote Marilyn Manson because I think he's a genius! He said that all the best art is either loved or hated-there is no in between. I have found that to be true. So, I'm pleased.
Pamela: Another thing Lexa said is, "I believe music comes from God, or whatever is up there, the higher power source. Musicians channel that source, and when they look at you with those eyes, it's like being with God."
Bebe: That's very well said. It almost has the ring of George Sand. It's like she's talking about Liszt or Chopin. I agree with her completely. If you can't see that, you're not a groupie.
Pamela: It's such a drag how tarnished the word has become.
Bebe: I've been looking at industry forums, the Velvet Rope, and somebody started this thread "Groupies, Groupies, Groupies." I purposely have not posted, but I've watched it. This is another way the word is viewed, and why I hate it now. And God bless her, she might love animals and keep a beautiful garden, but Miss Connie doesn't help things either.
Pamela: But she's the real thing, and she loves the music.
Bebe: Well, she has had a song written about her, and certainly never hurt anybody, that's for sure. I have to read this last post to you. Somebody writes, "I suppose, being some rock star's receptacle for semen is not a great career choice. Groupies, take note." See? That's how some people view it.
Pamela: Unfortunately, yes, and those people are usually jealous in some way.
Bebe: That's possible. But notice that girls considered the creme de la creme of the groupie crop-every single one of them, you included-has had a career. I have a career, so have Pattie Boyd and Jane Asher. They have substance. There's a reason these guys wanted to be with Linda McCartney or Patti D'Arbanville. They are strong, beautiful, independent women, who are very connected and make their men look fantastic!
Pamela: Yes, it seems even goofy-looking musicians get the glorious chicks.
Bebe: Power is an aphrodisiac. There's something incredibly sexy about a normal, geeky guy, strapping on a guitar and becoming Roy Orbison. I've always adored men like Arthur Miller, so it doesn't surprise me that I was attracted to brainy guys-Rick Nielsen, Elvis Costello, Todd Rundgren. In his own way, Stiv Bators was a brilliant creature. Physically, he was unique. And it was also kind of interesting to date an alien, you know? He was one of the best boyfriends I ever had. And I miss him.
Pamela: You have no regrets, correct?
Bebe: I can't say that completely, because of course I do. I did a lot of stupid things when I was young that I'd do entirely differently. I would have liked more children, so that does encompass some regrets. It's not like I didn't have my chances. But now I have a grandson, so I get to feel that connection. It's a real trip, holding my daughter in my arms while she holds her baby. I can't even tell you how overwhelming that is.
Pamela: I'm happy for you. So I assume it's all been worth it?
Bebe: Yes. I remember turning up backstage at a Cheap Trick show and watching Rick Nielsen's face light up. It's a beautiful thing. They look at you and go, "Oh my God, you're here! We're gonna play so fucking great tonight!" They want to know that their girls are there. And we're going to tell them the truth when they get off stage: "You suck" or "You were brilliant" or "The bass player's overplaying" or "It was mixed horribly." We know our shit! There was only a handful of It Girls who got treated like rock stars and maintained that status.
Pamela: And it's still going on in dressing rooms and tour buses all over the world.
Bebe: Yeah, but you have to try to educate people. Feminism isn't a bad thing once it's properly explained. But Gloria Steinem had to keep fighting, she kept saying, "Listen, this is what I mean. This is what I'm trying to tell you. Women can do anything." Either we've got to take back the word groupie, we've got to come up with another one, or we've got to educate people as to what it actually means.
Pamela: That's what I'm hoping to do.
Dangerous but Worth the Risk
hen I put the word out on my Web site that I'm scouting hot-blooded music muses, one of the most intriguing responses I receive is a twenty-page chronicle entitled, "Story of an Eighties Groupie." Here are a few samples:
We go to his hotel, where we talk the night away. When it's finally time to go to bed, he asks, "Has anyone ever made love to you before?" I laugh, thinking, "Does he think I'm a virgin after Robbin?" Then I realize by the look on his face, he means LOVE, not sex ... and he did make love to me. He had a guitar player's skillful fingers and played me all night long ...
Though my feelings for Taime were deep, I didn't have much time to mourn the loss. Because shortly after our breakup, Lee Rocker of the Stray Cats came into the Rainbow and took a shine to me. He had blue eyes, black eyeliner, and dark hair combed into a duck tail. He wasn't tall, but he was strong, especially his arms, from playing stand-up bass ...
As I'm lying on his chest, I glance over at the Medusa tattoo on his arm. The same tattoo I'd seen on MTV, him running his hand over it seductively in "Dancin' with myself "As I run my hand seductively over it, I suddenly realize, this is BILLY IDOL. Billy Idol's in my bed! I ask him, "So, what's it like to be Billy Idol?" And he says, "They want the lip, I give 'em the lip." Then he gives me his sexy, trademark sneer ...
Patti Johnsen, the eloquent author of these lusty memories, has just arrived in Los Angeles from Denver, where she lives happily with her hubby and two young daughters. She's in town for a few days visiting Lisa Nichols, her former groupie soul sister. Patti worked at the notorious Rainbow Bar & Grill on the Strip from 1985 to 1993, where she had her pick of rock's big-haired boy beauties. Lisa left her dinky hometown of New London, North Carolina, and moved to Hollywood in 1989, after years of dallying with rockers down South. She is now a special education teacher and lives in Santa Monica with her twenty-year-old daughter. Patti is a pleased-as-punch, bubbly blonde. Lisa's once platinum-frosted locks are long gone, and her demure demeanor almost disguises her mile-wide wild streak. Between the two of them, Patti and Lisa have covered a whole lot of tempestuous rock and roll terrain. These feisty women are proud of their many rock conquests and have come to my pad to relay their sexy tales. They have much to say, so I'm just going to let them say it.
Pamela: How did you two become addicted to rock and roll? And what made you want to step into that world?
Lisa: The Bay City Rollers were my first crush. And the Monkees reruns, my God! I had it bad for Davy Jones. I remember Elvis dying and being sad about it because I didn't know him. Even at nine I knew I was supposed to. My first up close taste was a Rick Springfield show at an amusement park. I threw a stuffed animal onstage, and was ecstatic for days thinking he might actually have that teddy bear.
Patti: My parents loved rock and roll. When I was little, I knew all the words to "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida." In 1981, when I was seventeen, I got my heart broken by the first boy I truly loved. Like a bad after-school special, I caught this evil girl with her arms around my boyfriend, and she said, "What's the matter, Patti, did you lose somethin'?" My heart broke into a million pieces. Then I saw Van Halen in concert and was mesmerized. The next day at school, a freckled-faced girl told me she followed them to their hotel and met David Lee Roth. I decided my life had new purpose, and I took my million pieces and
went in search of Van Halen. I followed them to Chicago and met PK, the head of Van Halen merchandising. He said, "Find the company that made the bootleg VH necklace you're wearing, and I'll give you a backstage pass." I went straight to the shop where I bought it and got the company's info. I also announced to everyone that I would be working for Van Halen someday. I didn't believe in miracles. I just knew I wouldn't stop trying until I did.
Pamela: That's an interesting angle. Why did you want to work for them?
Patti: I wanted to be a rock and roll gypsy on the road with them, and part of their world. I knew Van Halen wouldn't magically pluck me out of obscurity and ask me to work for them. I just thought, "I don't care how long it takes."
Pamela: So it worked! Excellent!
Patti: I went to Cleveland, found PK, and delivered the bootleg info. He was shocked to see me, but impressed, and I pushed for a job doing anything. The merch crew travels with the band, staying with them at the Hyatts and Hiltons in every city, and PK took me with him to Cincinatti. But, before I was hired, he called me to his room and said, "Take off all your clothes." Shocked, I asked, "Do I have to?" He said, "No, but you don't have to work for Van Halen either." It was an easy decision. I thought, "All I have to do to work for Van Halen is have sex with you?" My clothes hit the floor. It was awkward at first, but I really grew to love PK. He was rich, powerful, and he was good to me. He was also twice my age. When we finished, I thought, "What'd I get myself into?" Then he shook my hand and smiled: "Welcome to the organization." I smiled back, realizing I was right where I belonged. And this seventeen-year-old girl from Battle Creek, Michigan, had just been hired by Van Halen.
Pamela: Lisa, how did your groupiedom begin?
Lisa: It stemmed from my desire to get away from the small, suffocating town I grew up in. I lost my mom when I was thirteen. That town held nothing but death, loss, and sadness for me. And I was about to find my way out. I went to a Lov- erboy concert and saw girls from my school with passes. I thought, "Please! Those girls aren't so great." The next band I saw was Autograph, and I asked the singer, Steve Plunkett, to sign my bra. That was my first experience. I realized, "This is my ticket out of this town." I ended up sleeping with him. My first rock star. And I even spent the night.
Patti: Yeah, I never got the boot, either.
Pamela: Certainly never happened to me, dolls. So how long did you hang with Van Halen, Patti?
Patti: From 1981 to '84 I saw Van Halen play thirty-eight times. Once, on that first tour, David Lee Roth saw me waiting in a crowd for the hotel elevator. He said, "Going up, beautiful?" I literally looked behind me to see who he was talking to. My heart was racing, because I knew the "road rules": sleep with Dave, and you're off the tour, period. Besides, I was with PK. But how could I refuse Diamond Dave? So I went to his room, and he strutted around, tanned and shirtless, showing off his achingly beautiful body. I was nervously talking a million miles a minute. "I work with PK, and I love working for you." He was teasing me, bending over to pack, giving me the perfect view of his perfect ass. I said, "I wish I had some coke to offer you." He said, "Why, you want a toot?" and pulled out a sandwich bag half full of coke. He used his long pinky fingernail as a coke spoon, and gave me a blast for each nostril. I'd never done cocaine that good before. In a low, sexy voice, Dave said, "Penny for yer thoughts, beautiful." By now I had no inhibitions, and I said, "You are fucking gorgeous." He laughed, "You have a beautiful little body yourself, honey." Then he kissed me. It was so surreal, my fantasy coming true. He said, "I'm going to take a shower, would you like to join me?" Suddenly, it was the saddest moment of my life. I said, "I want to take a shower with you more than anything in this world. But I don't want to get fired." So I left. Within the hour, everyone knew I'd been in David's room. Their manager grilled me about what went on. I told him the truth, and PK defended me, but it didn't matter. I said no to David Lee Roth and got fired anyway. I went home, finished high school, and never told anyone what I'd accomplished. I learned discretion on the road, and the accomplishment meant more to me than bragging about it. I'd become a part of something bigger and more wonderful than I ever dreamed, and no high school heartbreaker could ever take it away from me. My relationship with PK continued for three tours. Then in 1984 I saw him again after my devastating breakup with guitar god Yngwie Malmsteen. I'd moved to L.A. to live with Yngwie and thought I'd found my true love. But five months later he dumped me. I halfheartedly considered suicide, then remembered Van Halen was on tour. It took me three days to get from Burbank to Providence, Rhode Island, on a Greyhound bus. When I arrived, I told PK my sad story. He said, "Tell that guy to get a real fucking name. You don't need him, you've got Van Halen." And rock and roll saved me again. [Big sigh] To this day, the smell of a tour bus or diesel fuel is an aphrodisiac.
Lisa: Once I learned how to do it, my first major tour was Motley Crue and Guns N' Roses. I met a security guard named Skunk, obviously due to his breath. He liked me and let me in. Pure luck. I sat on the bus and partied with Guns N' Roses. No sex, just hanging out. The guitarist, Izzy Stradlin, said, "Call me. My alias is Mr. Jewel. I'll put you on the list for the next show." I told him I was moving to L.A. someday, and he said, "Well, if you ever do, here's my number." That was the real beginning. I took it from there. And I rarely spent just one night with anyone, except for Def Leppard's drummer, Rick Allen.
Pamela: Wow! That must have been a unique experience!
Lisa: I went to the show and was invited back to their hotel for a party. It was getting late, so Rick Allen got us a room for the night. I really wanted Ric Savage, but he went to bed early, asking me to join him when we were done partying. Since I didn't have his room number, Rick tried to find it for me. We went to his room in search of the band's room list, but once we got there, we didn't even look for it. It was a wonderful night, and Rick was very attentive to me. With one strong arm, he easily got on top and was just so beautiful. I think his accident and recovery made him even more gorgeous. Another unique experience was with Dave Mustaine of Megadeth. I knew their manager, so my friend and I got a room in the same hotel. She wanted Dave, but the poor girl was overweight. He wasn't even going to look at her.
Pamela: Oh God, the cruel facts of life.
Lisa: Exactly. Dave Mustaine could get any girl he wanted, and he was clearly interested in me. So my friend hatched a plan. She said, "Go to his room, get him all worked up, and say you have to leave. Then I'll come in, and he'll do me!" It was really sad. Inside of ten minutes, he and I were done and went back downstairs. I told my friend he couldn't get it up and never told her what really happened. The sex was good, probably because it was quick! He was powerful, just threw me down and took me. That's always good. I wasn't really into sex back then. I tolerated it because I so desperately wanted to be with them. Sex was the price I had to pay and I gladly paid it, all night long, again and again. Rock stars are so beautiful. But even if they weren't, my motto's always been, "He's a rock star, ain't he?"
Patti: Amen! I really enjoyed the sex, but I couldn't tell you if I came or not.
Lisa: I'm sure I didn't.
Patti: The sex was love, or as close to it as you were going to get with a rock star. I was giving them my love. I just packaged it in fishnets and high heels!
Lisa: I used the smaller bands to perfect my groupie skills. If I could just give them head, I was totally into that. The sex was all right, but what made me enjoy it was who I was with. And ultimately, that they were with me. Rock stars made me realize how special I was. And I made my rounds on that'88 tour. I was with the guitar player of Savatage, who later died in a car crash. Then I was with a roadie from Dio. And according to my journal, Ken Fox, the guitar player from Jason and the Scorchers, was the best sex I'd ever had. I remember him taking the spurs on his cowboy boots and running them up and down my body.
Pamela: That reminds me when Chris Hillman told me he was going to "curry me like a fine mare." Those cowboys, eh? Luckily, you enjoyed sex, Patti. Doe
s anyone stand out, so to speak?
Patti: On the Invasion of Your Privacy tour, I met Ratt's guitar player, Robbin "King" Crosby, in the hotel lobby. Looking up at him, I said, "Wow, you're huge! How tall are you?" In a deep voice, he said, "6'7". What about you?" I said, "5'2". That's like, a foot and a half between us." He looked down at his considerable bulge, smiled wickedly, and said, "Yeah, about a foot and a half." I laughed and said, "So that's why they call you King!" I had other preferences in the band, but thankfully they didn't pan out and at the end of the night Robbin said, "Are you coming, or what?" Well, the answer was yes, and apparently, all night long! He was an excellent lover, ridiculously good. You know how sometimes they go down on you and it gets to be too much? "Yes, yes, yes! OK, that's enough!" Well, when it got to be too intense, I tried to stop him, but he just gripped my thighs harder and sent me into another earth-shattering climax. He was a real throw-youdown-and-take-you lover with a huge dick. He was a beautiful man, with a wild mane of blond hair. He was so big, and I was just a little thing, but together we were a perfect fit. The best part was when he held me in his arms. I'd lie on his broad, hairy chest all night long. But he had terrible insomnia.
Pamela: So many of them do. Keith Moon, God love him, would wake up every hour shouting incoherent babble, and I had to soothe his weary soul.
Patti: Robbin would stay awake and hold me all night while I slept. I think he just didn't want to be alone. Later, I went to Chattanooga to see him again, and we spent another night making love and talking for hours. Again, I offered to leave so he could sleep, but he insisted I stay. I sometimes think of how terribly lonely he seemed. He was big and strong, but AIDS reared its ugly head and took Robbin's life in 2002. The official cause of death was a massive overdose of heroin, but that was just King going out on his own terms. AIDS was taking his life, and drugs had taken his soul. Despite all the makeup and big hair, the glam metal world was quite a hetero, macho scene. The guys would say, "I might be wear ing lipstick, but I can still kick your ass." AIDS wasn't even on the radar for them. And I never once used a condom until 1987. And even then it was hit and miss. But after I was with Billy Idol, I got better about it.
Let's Spend the Night Together: Backstage Secrets of Rock Muses and Supergroupies Page 26