CRYSTAL ZEVON: Since we’d left Paris, Ariel had wanted her Senegalese friend, Nabou, to visit the States. Of course, Nabou’s family couldn’t afford that, so Ariel worked all year babysitting and cleaning to earn money for Nabou’s ticket. When it was clear she wouldn’t have enough, she organized a cabaret theater evening with a friend of mine, Mark Shubb. They put together skits, songs, and flute pieces. Ariel asked Warren to perform “Ten-derness on the Block,” which he reluctantly agreed to, and I lip-synced to Maurice Chevalier singing “Thank Heaven for Little Girls.”
Warren and Annette Aguilar Ramos.
May 20, 1988
…Ariel, Crystal and I were all very nervous—with good reason, perhaps. It was a mostly adult crowd, dressed hip, sipping wine…Mark’s patio was nice, the show went off smoothly—the crowd was too polite—seemed unresponsive. I thought, an AA crowd would laugh & clap uproariously—perceive the need to give support & encouragement. Jackson, Buddha, Russ Kunkel were there; Beth; John Rigney…Crystal’s friends were very nice…
CRYSTAL ZEVON: It was a huge success, and I remember watching Warren and being amazed at his graceful willingness to participate. I wanted what he had. Meanwhile, I was drinking my way through the night and literally drove home in a blackout. Later I learned that for months I’d been calling Warren on whims—sometimes in the middle of the night. He never told me or complained—but now I’ve read about it in his journals. He was always gracious with me—never made any overt suggestion that
I had a problem, but he would drop little bits about what happened at an AA meeting in our conversations.
May 25, 1988
…This afternoon, Crystal called and said she feels she’s an alcoholic—she’s ready for help. I was very happy, of course—she had a moment of clarity. I called Stefan—he was going to ask a woman friend to call her (Crystal said “yes” I could have somebody call).
CRYSTAL ZEVON: Ariel had an appointment to have her braces put on in Santa Monica. We’d moved into an apartment building that was adjacent to Le Lycée Français, where Ariel went to school. I moved there because no matter how much I’d had to drink, she could always walk to school in the morning.
I was working as the West Coast coordinator for Fairness & Accuracy in Reporting, and the office was in New York, so I worked out of my home—the ideal situation for an alcoholic. Anyway, we were in the parking garage, on our way to the orthodontist, and Ariel said something that made me mad. I raised my hand to hit her. My eleven-year-old daughter raised her hand to protect herself, and with tears in her eyes, she said, “Mommy, are you going to keep on hitting me?”
I was stunned. I didn’t know I had ever hit her. I measured how well I was doing by how well Ariel was doing, and I was certainly not the kind of parent who used corporal punishment, but she told me I had hit her every day for the past five days. I had no memory of doing it, but I also knew she wasn’t lying.
I dropped her off for her three-hour appointment and went to the Santa Monica mall. Like any self-respecting alcoholic, I followed the scent of a drink. I wound up in a sushi bar drinking a lot of sake and eating a little sushi. I went into another blackout and I don’t remember anything until I came back into consciousness in front of the telephones, across from a Mrs. Field’s cookie stand in the mall. I was sobbing, loudly, and people were staring. In that instant, I knew I couldn’t keep doing what I’d been doing.
I started to call Alcoholics Anonymous. Then I realized that I would talk to a stranger who couldn’t hold me to anything. So, I called Warren. When I stopped wailing long enough to tell him Ariel was okay, I said, “Warren, I think I’m an alcoholic.” He said, “Crystal, that’s wonderful.” I didn’t think there was anything wonderful about it at the time, but he was right. He offered to come get me, but I asked him to pick up Ariel instead. Then I called AA and found out where there was a meeting that night.
May 25, 1988 (continued)
…I picked Ariel up at the orthodontist. She had her braces on…she was in a very good mood—talkative—it was really nice. I took her home. Crystal still seemed surrendered. I went home. Annette came over and we made love. It was wonderful.
CRYSTAL ZEVON: When I got home, Ariel and Warren were there. He put his arms around me and held me for a long time. Then he left so I could talk to Ariel. When I told her I was an alcoholic and I was going to an AA meeting that night, she started to cry. She begged me not to go. I asked her why. She said, “I don’t want two parents who are alcoholics.”
ANNETTE AGUILAR RAMOS: He was a very generous person. One of my favorite memories of him was we were coming out of a movie theater at ten or eleven at night. We had to get gas in the Corvette, and a homeless person, clearly an alcoholic, came up and begged for money. I rolled up my window in fear, oh, shun the alcoholic. Warren got out of his car as the man turned to walk away and reached into his pocket and gave him a handful of bills. He got back in the car and I asked, “Why did you do that? He’s just going to go buy alcohol.” He said, “Because everybody needs a little help.” And, that was his way of helping.
CRYSTAL ZEVON: Warren called me once or twice a day for months, just to check in. Probably the most important thing he shared was the part of the AA third-step prayer he told me he repeated over and over like a mantra: “Relieve me of the bondage of self.”
May 27, 1988
…Heard that Crystal is going to Tar Pits meeting tonight…Picked up Annette and we went home and made love. I said, “I love you” to Annette.
ANNETTE AGUILAR RAMOS: The first year of our relationship was the most magical time of my life. Living clean and sober. Our obsessions were raspberries and whipped cream, horror movies by the bucket load, fine food, AA meetings…I came from a very traditional life. I was a receptionist and executive secretary. I worked a straight corporate job, so my weekends were crazy because Warren slept during the day and was up all night. I’d come in Friday after work and we’d stay up until four or five, and we’d go to sleep and then do the same thing again, and watch horror movies.
ANDY SLATER: Around 1989, we’d just finished working on Transverse City, but my management career had gotten increasingly busy. I was working with Lenny Kravitz, the Beastie Boys, and Don Henley. At the time of Transverse City’s release, the Beastie Boys had a big record coming out, and I’d sent Warren to New York to play on a show called Night Music with David Sanborn. Warren calls me from New York. He says, “You’ve got to get out here right away.” I said, “Warren, I can’t. I have the Beastie Boys in the middle of this record. What’s the problem?” He says, “These guys can’t play.” I said, “Warren, what are you talking about? This is David Sanborn, Omar Hakim, Willie Weeks, Hiram Bullock. These are the greatest players in New York.” He says, “They can’t play rock. They’re jazz buffs. You got to get out here right away.”
I said, “Warren, what do you want me to do? I’m not going to tell these guys what to do.” He says, “Andy, I need you.” I said, “I can’t, Warren.” He says, “Andy, if you come to New York, you can play.” I said, “Really?” “Yeah. You can play guitar.” I said, “Alright. I’ll be there tomorrow.” I’m thinking, holy shit. Okay. I clear my schedule, I get my guitar, I go to Morgan’s. I’ve got my boots on, my jeans on, my guitar, my vest, my jacket, and I go, “What’re we playing?” And he says, “‘Lawyers, Guns and Money’ and ‘Splendid Isolation.’” Two songs I know.
We go over to the rehearsal. We run through the song. Everything’s great. We leave the television studio to go back to the hotel and chill out for a while. I go up to my room and I start thinking, What am I doing? I can’t go on national TV and play with these people. I’m not a guitar player. I’m barely a record producer. I’m a manager.
So, I take my cowboy boots off, my jeans off. And I put on my suit and I go downstairs to Warren’s room. He looks at me and he says, “What?” I say, “I can’t do this.” He says, “What do you mean you can’t do this?” I say, “It’s Hiram Bullock and Omar Hakim and David Sanborn.
I can’t go on national TV and play with them.” He said, “Andy, it’s five minutes of your life, and you’ll have it on tape forever.” And I just went, “I’ll have it on tape forever.” He goes, “One thing.” I go, “What?” He says, “Take that ridiculous suit off and put your cowboy boots on and let’s go.” I went, and I did the show. It was that thing of his. He loved to empower you to do something that you had no business doing.
CRYSTAL ZEVON: I was a few days sober when I met Annette, and I wasn’t expecting it. I was at a meeting, and Warren and Annette walked in, arm-inarm. I somehow managed to keep from falling apart, but I was shocked. I remembered the way he’d said he loved Merle, that breaking up with her was so painful, and suddenly, he was introducing me to this new woman and whispering to me that he was in love with her.
I suppose I still harbored some notion that we would one day get back together, and seeing them shattered that. But what really bothered me was how quickly he was able to change from one woman to the next. I wondered, not for the first time, if he’d met Kim Lankford before we split up. I was having to face the fact that maybe there is no “special” one—at least not with Warren. It was a big realization. My relationship with Warren became a genuine friendship. He was much better at being a friend than he ever was at being a husband.
Since he’d sobered up, Warren had been working to amend his uneasy relationship with his gangster father. Now, when the two visited, it was Warren’s turn to slide a couple hundred-dollar bills under Stumpy’s dinner plate when they went out to eat. Warren’s father was in his eighties. He was no longer sharp enough to be “in the game” at the poker tables, but he was still living in a low-rent bachelor apartment in Gardena, California, so he could be near the action. He acted as a pawnbroker for the players, and would show up with gifts of watches and jewelry that had belonged to losers who didn’t return to pay their tab.
Warren’s dad and I had always gotten along. When he started feeling really sick, he called me. Warren wasn’t available, so Ariel and I went down to Gardena and picked him up. I had a friend, Daniel Berez, who was a doctor, so I took Dad to see him. The doctors sent him to the hospital for tests right away. He was passing blood out of every orifice, couldn’t keep food down, and he weighed something like eighty-nine pounds.
Warren and I spent a lot of hours at the hospital over the next month or so. One of the first days, we were having lunch in the hospital cafeteria, and he made amends for the time he’d given me a black eye before he left for Japan. I was grateful for the amends, but I was confused that he only referred to that one incident. It happened more than once.
Later, I understood that Warren had been in a blackout every time he’d gotten violent with me. He never knew half the things he’d done. He knew about that time because I’d come back and made him look at my black eye. Every other time, I’d covered up the evidence. I’d carried around resentments over that stuff for years—and Warren never even knew what he’d done.
September 16, 1988
…Sat with Dad in the hospital for quite awhile after Crystal left. I told him I loved him, that he’d been a good father and that I was grateful for the way he’d always been there for me. I thought about something Dad said to me once and wondered if he felt like I should have taken Jordan in the way he took me in. When I asked Stefan later, he said, “How did it work out for you?” I felt fantastic after talking to Dad. A weight lifted.
September 18, 1988
…Crystal called to tell me Dad would get the anesthesia at 11:00, so I rushed to the hospital. We stayed with him until they took him into the operating room…The surgeon came in and told us that they’d found a benign tumor, and furthermore, his organs were in pretty good shape. It was wonderful. We spent time with Dad later—he told lots of stories: “Capone was a nice guy…”
CRYSTAL ZEVON: I was working on an adolescent psychiatric unit, and I often worked double shifts. For the first time, Warren filled in for me. He took Ariel to Alateen meetings and flute lessons; he dropped in to just hang out with her. He was doing the same thing with Jordan, but for some reason, he always saw them separately, which is a shame, but he was learning how to relate to his children, and that’s what mattered.
September 30, 1988
…More “Gridlock” going to visit Dad. Each time I find another line or two for the song…Dad eventually told me how glad he was that I came to see him and said, “…at least you know what it’s like to be in the rough.”
October 9, 1988
…Dad was all dressed and ready to go. I signed some papers and they gave me his medications—handed me a blister pack of halcyon, no less. Funny. His apartment seemed less unpleasant after the convalescent place…When I left he took my hand and kissed it. He told me I was “wonderful.” This experience has healed something in me.
CRYSTAL ZEVON: Warren talked to me about Annette. She wanted to meet Ariel, just once, hoping it would break the ice. I refused to get involved for a long time, but Warren begged me, so I talked to Ariel, and she agreed to go out with them one time.
ARIEL ZEVON: I stopped wanting to know Dad’s girlfriends. They never lasted, and just when I’d think we were friends, they’d be gone. When I was younger, I always thought they’d still be friends with me, but they never even called. They never even said good-bye to me. They were just gone.
Annette made more of an effort to become friends with me and to stay friends with me after they had broken up. But, after Annette, I really never connected with any of his girlfriends. In fact, I rarely even met them.
February 16, 1989
…Haven’t talked to Stephan…Beat on his door, got no response. Went to Ariel’s, dropped her off at her flute lesson…Long talk with Crystal…Jorge session: “Down in the Mall.” Andy came—he didn’t like the riff—he was right. He told Jorge and me to make up an intro since we’ve known each other for 15 years; we did, on the spot…
February 20, 1989
…Went to the Circus Vargas with Ariel…Annette asked Ariel if she thought I’d ride the elephant. Ariel said I’d only ride it because it was gray.
ANNETTE AGUILAR RAMOS: He worried about his mother and his grandmother. Sick, sick, sick. I met him a couple times in Fresno when he went up to take care of his mother. She had gotten quite ill. He was nervous about me meeting his mom—more about me seeing where she lived and who they were. He never thought they were a part of his life, and when he had to be the son, Warren shied away from that. It was easy for him to be taken care of. That’s what he was used to. But, he made a good show. He was a good “show” boyfriend. He bought flowers, gave people things, but when it came down to caring for another human being to the fullest extent, he put all that energy into his art and his music.
March 11, 1989
…Crystal called at the studio at midnight worried about Dad. He’s back in the hospital.
March 19, 1989
…Three Years Sobriety.
March 24, 1989
…Stefan suggested I do an inventory on my relationship with Andy. We’re not getting along again…
March 30, 1989
…Tension with Stefan…Debbie Gold called about my scoring new Michael Mann miniseries, “Desperadoes”…
April 3, 1989
…Fighting with Annette…
April 8, 1989
…Ready to work on “They Moved the Moon”—can’t find my black pen & have been using a refill for a week with shaky results…
April 12, 1989
…Found the black pen…
April 14, 1989
…A year since first date. Annette gave me a high tech Timex which was rather unapproved of…
April 24, 1989
…$50,000 from ICM—a loan against my publishing money.
May 24, 1989
…An exciting day! First, along with a nice letter from Nam, I received the uncorrected galleys of the new Vine/Rendell book I’ve been eagerly anticipating—from Art! Went to pick Ariel up & came to A&M. They’re worki
ng on “Turbulence.” There’d been a message from Neil Young this morning—“I’m available”…Duncan & I had harsh words but we got things worked out. The videos from “Desperadoes” were delivered. Debbie Gold came by and she loved my action movie tape.
DEBBIE GOLD, music supervisor: It was my thing to get people who did one thing to do something else. I got people to score movies who had never done it before. When I called Warren about scoring part of the Michael Mann miniseries, it was a dream for him not to have to write lyrics. Like, Mr. Lyrics had a secret dream to just compose and not have that responsibility of the lyrics that people expected from him. Walking through the process was another story…We went through this arduous and hateful process with Michael Mann. He’s like a genius when it comes to music, but he’s also a little tricky to deal with. He could be very clumsy with this gift that he got from these musicians.
Warren and Joe Walsh as little people.
It had become a signature of Warren’s studio recordings to use famous musicians as backup. While he could tour as a solo act, compose his own string parts, and had a working ability with most instruments, when he got into the studio, he rarely relied on his own strengths to attract an audience or complete his own sound.
As with his earlier albums, Warren punctuated his study of modern society, Transverse City, with a wide variety of guest stars that included Jerry Garcia, Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour, Chick Corea, Neil Young, Mark Isham, J. D. Souther, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers members Mike Campbell, Benmont Tench, and Howie Epstein, Hot Tuna’s Jorma Kaukonen and Jack Casady, Little Feat’s Richie Hayward, and, of course, David Lindley and Waddy Wachtel.
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