by Sammy Hagar
You are just as powerful as me or anybody else. You’re born with that. I know it’s different for you in your heart, but I’m telling you, you were born with the same gift I was, the same gifts as the Kennedys or anybody else. You can get a cold, like everybody else. You can get a job, like anyone else. You can have a family. You can fall in love. You can fall off a cliff. You can be like everyone else. Nothing’s different for you. You can be as much a success as anybody. And I know there is no end to success.
I definitely believe in God and, even if I didn’t, I believe that you should. People have to believe in something. Without belief in something, you’re just going in circles. I do believe in spiritual things. I believe in the unknown. I believe in God and I believe in UFOs and aliens and all that mystery. I’m a big sucker for all of that. One of my main issues is kindness and being a good person in life. I don’t believe in killing people, inflicting your will on another person and trying to hurt them in any way. I don’t care how bad they are—it’s not your business and you fuck around with that, you’re fucking around with evil. If people knew how sacred life is and wouldn’t take another person’s life, we’d be a much fucking better-off race. This planet would be in better shape.
I won’t do certain things. I know my fans see something in me that makes them respect me. I feel like I’m not worthy sometimes. I know I’m a good guy, that I mean well and give a lot of myself, but they see something in there, I guess, that’s deeper than what I think of myself. I think of myself as a good guy, but I don’t see myself as special. Unique, maybe, but I don’t see some big star when I look in the mirror in the morning. I see my mom. She was the salt of the earth. She’d dig through Dumpsters. When my mom used to take us out on weekends, her idea of going and doing something as a family was to take us four kids to the city dump and rummage. And we loved it. It was a blast, finding stuff. It was like a treasure hunt to us kids. My mom would find food, like rotting fruit and vegetables that grocery stores were dumping. She would find two or three good oranges and be so happy. “Oh, look at these!” she would say.
I bought her houses and cars. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her, but she wouldn’t have it. I had to practically force her to let me buy her anything. “Mom,” I’d say, “just tell me—what do you want? What’s something you always wanted to do?”
“Well, I don’t know,” she’d say. “I have pretty much everything I could want.”
She was so solid. I’m like that. I really don’t feel like somebody. I don’t feel like some big star and I don’t want to be some billionaire. I have all these crazy ambitions, but there’s something inside of me that is my mom, and I really like that.
NOTE FROM THE COAUTHOR
I feel lucky and privileged to help Sammy tell his remarkable story. Sam and I go way back—I saw the Justice Brothers at the Wharf rat—and he once gave out my home phone number to a sold-out Cow Palace audience, taking exception with one of my reviews. As a lifelong card-carrying member of rock music’s critical elite, with its carefully proscribed doctrinaire orthodoxy, I am fully aware of the regard in which such circles hold Sam. To them, I say, fuck you, the guy had “rock Candy” on his first album. There are entire highly regarded careers that have never reached such a peak, and that was just Sammy’s opening salvo. Those who have known Sammy all these years will further testify that he has unwaveringly been the same guy all along. He is as authentic as the Grateful Dead, maybe more. Sammy Hagar is a genuine working-class hero. I am as proud of this book as anything I have ever done.
—J.S.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book is for my mom.
Thanks to my wife and children—Kari, Aaron, Andrew, Kama, and Samantha; my brother, Bob Jr. (Ponchito); my two sisters, Bobbi and Velma; Betsy and Bucky; all my aunts and uncles, nieces, nephews, cousins, and in-laws who help make my life so colorful; my band the Wabos—Vic, David (Bro), Mona, and Mikey; Renata and Bill Ravina; Carter; Joel Selvin for talking me into doing this book and finally coming over to my side; Ronnie Montrose; Ed and Al; Joe and Chad; my crew—Paul, Rosie, Ace, Jim, Three, Big Kenny, Chris, Rick, Gage, Duggie, Manning, Rich, and Austin; all the employees from the Cabo Wabo Cantinas and Sammy’s Beach Bar & Grills; Marco and Jorge; Dick Richmond for helping write this book; Don Marrandino; Stan Novak; Frank Sickelsmith; Don Pruitt; John Koladner; Gary Arnold; Ed Leffler, my second father; Shep Gordon; Steve Kauffman; the Skyy and Campari team; Wilson Daniels. All my chef buddies, all the musicians that have played the Cabo Wabo, and the musicians I’ve had the pleasure of playing with. Ma, Lu, and Chick; all of my old buddies I grew up with; stepfather Mike for buying me my first car; and a special thanks to the fans, all the Red Heads, for being the best travel companions any artist can have. And my father, who believed in me more than himself.
—SAMMY
I NEED TO thank Lisa Sharkey, Matt Harper, and all the HarperCollins/It Books team; Frank Weimann of the Literary Group (and Elyse Tanzillo); Carol Mastick for the transcriptions; Peter Riegert and the entire staff of the Pierre for the hospitality; Carter for saying no; David Ritz for showing me how; and, always, Carla for being herself. And, of course, my biggest thanks to Sammy.
—J.S.
About the Authors
SAMMY HAGAR was a founding member of the rock band Montrose before becoming a hugely successful solo artist. In 1985, he joined Van Halen, which led to a string of consecutive number one albums and hit singles that stretched over ten years. After the Van Halen brothers unceremoniously fired him, he went on to establish himself as a solo artist all over again, while also founding Cabo Wabo tequila. He splits his time between California, Hawaii, and Mexico.
JOEL SELVIN is an award-winning journalist who has covered pop music for the San Francisco Chronicle since 1970. A longtime firsthand observer of the Sammy Hagar phenomenon, Selvin is also the author of the bestselling Summer of Love and has written nine other books about pop music.
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Credits
Jacket design by Todd Gallopo © Meat and Potatoes, Inc.
Jacket photograph by Randee St. Nicholas
Copyright
RED. Copyright © 2011 by Sammy Hagar. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
EPub Edition © FEBRUARY 2011 ISBN: 978-0-06-204236-1
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