Love, Janis

by Laura Joplin

  Conforming to the style to the extent of my budget, I have a new pair of very wide-wale corduroy hip-hugger pants which I wear w/borrowed boots. Look very in. On stage, I still wear my black & gold spangley blouse w/either a black skirt & high boots or w/black Levis & sandals. But, as soon as I get money. . . . she said, shaking her fist at the sky. Rock & roll has gone so casual—everyone dresses nice but street-wear & all different. And the girls all wear bell-bottoms & boots, so I want to get something out of gold lamé. Very simple but real show biz looking. I want audiences to look at me as a real performer, whereas now the look is “just-one-of-us-who-stepped-on-stage.” Well, we’ll see—A girl friend of mine owns a clothing store—she makes the clothes to your design. So either she or I will make me something. If I ever get around to it.

  Oh this weekend Bell Telephone Hour is filming the “San Francisco Scene” (because there really is something going on here that’s not going on anywhere else) at the Fillmore Aud. Unfortunately, we’re playing at the Avalon. Damnation!! But some good friends, the Grateful Dead are playing there—they’re also neighbors, one of the 2 other groups that live out here. Just down the road a piece.

  Oh, Laura, may I suggest some reading? J.R.R. Tolkien wrote The Hobbit, followed by the Lord of the Rings trilogy—really very charming reading. I’m reading it now.

  Had a bunch of visitors from Texas up last week—Jim, Tary Owens & his wife & some other friends from college. Jim was purportedly looking for a job but fled within a week back to the sanctity & comfort of Texas & his wife.

  No more news—guess I’ll amble down to the post office & mail my letter. All of my love, will send photographs of our haven as soon as I can.

  XXX

  Janis

  The group had moved to Lagunitas in the hopes that by pooling rent they could save some money and find a good place to rehearse. A blastingly loud rock band can’t practice just anywhere. Finding good rehearsal space was always a problem.

  All five of the band members with their respective spouses, lovers, children, dogs, and cats lived under one roof. James was back with Nancy and, with their son, Hongo, lived upstairs. Across the hall from them were Peter and Cindy Albin and their daughter, Lisa. Janis lived in the sun room just down the hall. Dave Getz lived in a room off the kitchen on the first floor. Sam Andrew and his girlfriend Rita lived in a small cottage out back. Together they confronted the reality of “extended family.”

  Fun was the real watchword of the times. “Winter, fall, spring or summer, there’s nothing worse than a mealy bummer,” is the nonsense Janis penned with Dave Getz after biting into a bad apple. He explained, “That phrase became synonymous with a lot of things, so it got hauled out a lot.” Inside jokes, references, and joy. That’s what it takes to turn a group into a synchronized band.

  Janis’s identity with the group was growing. On her car she painted the “God’s Eye” symbol for the band that poster-artist Mouse had designed. The posters that were made to advertise the dances around town were gaining artistic respect on their own terms. Museums from around the world were buying the original drawings of the posters for their collections. The art-world professionals Janis had learned to respect as a child were now coming to her scene and saying it was the most exciting thing happening. That added to her convictions about the correctness of it all.

  “Janis was easy to live with,” Peter Albin said. Living in the sun room, all of her windows open to the forest and the sun cascading in through the abundant leaves of her carefully tended houseplants, Janis was happy there. Relaxed in her solarium, she wrote songs for the band. Her voice wafted through the house as she strummed new melodies and tried new lyrics.

  She found a special friend in James Gurley’s wife, Nancy, despite the obvious tension between them about Janis’s past yen for James. Nancy, with a master’s degree in English literature, was a companion who thrived on meaningful discussions of the books that were as much a part of Janis as her music was. Nancy was an Earth Mother figure, married with a child. Like the women in Janis’s Texas group, Nancy represented the other female role, but she, more than the Texas wives, blended the nurturing role with the strength Janis wanted to see in her vision of the modern woman.

  Nancy was also into speed, Janis’s nemesis from earlier days. Janis cringed in fear when she first arrived in San Francisco and saw someone shooting anything. Dave felt that Janis’s attraction to it was so strong that its mere presence was too great a temptation. For a while, Janis held the line on drugs, with only occasional drinks of alcohol, but living in Lagunitas changed that. Intrinsic to the times and that place were crazy-drug and free-spirit exploration. There were big parties, and lots of intoxicating and mind-expanding chemicals. So, she did some drugs. It wasn’t the main focus of her life; she was just being part of the scene. Sometimes Nancy, Rita, and Janis stayed up all night doing speed and stringing beads manically into necklaces and elaborate wall-hangings.

  The free-spirit, Earth Mother speed experience of Nancy Gurley clashed with the early-to-bed, straight, dope-free life of the Albins. Peter and Cindy wanted a quiet house at ten P.M. so that their daughter could get to sleep. Many of the others wanted to practice rock and roll deep into the night, mimicking the hours they lived onstage, starting at nine P.M. and ending at one A.M.

  Nancy had been one of the first teachers at the Summerhill School in Los Angeles. She raised Hongo in a very relaxed manner compared to what Cindy wanted for Lisa. Everyone kept dogs, but James and Nancy’s bitch had puppies that got distemper. For a while it seemed there were always half-dressed, dirty children running around, dead puppies, and the clutter of too much stuff, too few people cleaning, and constant rock-and-roll parties. The overall intensity of eight adults, two toddlers, and an untold number of animals created mind-boggling chaos for anyone who cared to look closely.

  In spite of the gelling of the band and her role within it, there was still the independent Janis who wasn’t sure that being merely a part of Big Brother was enough. Janis’s early Coffee Gallery days had netted her the attention of others in the music world. While back in California she had been approached to try another career route. Paul Rothchild, then the recording director at Electra Records, had funds to develop a blues roots band. He gathered Taj Mahal, Stefan Grossman, and Al Wilson (Wilson later formed Canned Heat). Janis rehearsed with them in San Francisco without the knowledge of the guys in Big Brother. Paul told them, “The music is great!”

  August 22, 1966

  Mother . . .

  Haven’t heard from you yet, but I’m brimming w/news so here I am.

  First of all, we begin a 4 week engagement in Chicago next Tuesday—at $1000 a week!! So don’t write till you hear from me. Really looking forward to going. . . . Chicago is Blues Heaven & I can hear & be heard by some important people. They (the club we’re playing in—Mother Blues) pay our transportation, so we’re flying out Tue. morning. I really dig flying—& being a R&R band & flying to a gig is even more exciting. SIGH!! And a friend of mine gave me a dress & cape to wear for the occasion—a wine-colored velvet, old, from a Goodwill store, but beautiful! Queen Anne kind of sleeves & a very low & broad neckline. Really fantastic.

  Now, I have a problem. I’m hoping the Chicago job will resolve it for me, but right now it’s plaguing me. Last weekend we played in the city & a man from Elektra, a good label, spoke to me afterwards. Liked me/us a lot. During the week, someone called me. . . . seems Rothchild (the guy from Elektra, who discovered Paul Butterfield who is very big now—he does old-fashioned blues) is interested in forming a blues band and wants me. The two guitar players & the other vocalist & Rothchild & the Owner (!) of Elektra & I had a meeting today. Very involved, but, to summarize—Rothchild feels that popular music can’t continue getting farther & farther out & louder & more chaotic, which it is now. He feels there is going to be a reaction & old-fashioned music blues, shuffles, melodic stuff is going to come back in. Well, Elektra wants to form the group to BE this—and they want me. Th
ey want to rent us a house—in L.A.—& support us until we get enough stuff worked out, then, first, they want us to do a single & an album. Now they’re a good company—& since we’d be their group, they’d push the hell out of us. . . . And, he says, we couldn’t help but make it. Now I don’t know what to do! I have to figure out whether R&R is going to go out, how deep my loyalties to Big Brother go (the band is very uptight at me for even going to the meeting & I can understand it) & just, in general, what to do. Blues is my own special love for one thing & for another, I’d be under contract to a record co. from the beginning—I’d be starting on the top almost and I’m not sure yet whether the rest of the band (Big Brother) will, indeed want to, work hard enough to be good enough to make it. We’re not now I don’t think. Oh God, I’m just fraught w/indecision! And let’s face it, I’m flattered. Rothchild said I was one of the 2 maybe 3 best female singers in the country & they want me. Well, what I’m hoping is the Chicago job will show me exactly how good Big Brother is. . . . .& then I can make up my mind. Wow, this is really too much. Hope you don’t mind my rapping on you like this, but I just needed to talk to someone. Wish I could ask someone for advice that knew & wasn’t biased for any reason. Ah, Dream on, Janis.

  Will write, maybe I’ll even call from Chicago.

  My love to everyone

  XXXX

  Help!!

  Janis

  When the fellows found out Janis was talking to Paul Rothchild, they initially thought Paul was interested in them as a band. Finding out that Paul wanted only Janis was devastating to their newly developed sense of family. In heated discussions, they accused her of betrayal. Janis yelled back, “Don’t bandy words with me!” She wished she knew what truly was best for her. Big Brother was just hitting its stride; to leave then would rob the band of the ability to test its newfound merits. They argued and implored. After all, ESP, a small record company, had already approached them. Finally, they persuaded Janis to delay the decision until after the big Chicago gig ahead.

  Mother Blues was an old folk club that had changed to rock and roll because there was too much competition with straight blues. Big Brother arrived, bringing the Haight scene with them, and entered the world of “before there was acid.” Long hair on the guys got the typical catcalls: “Is it a boy or a girl?” Cut velvet, boots, beads, feathers, and fly-away hair just weren’t the norm in the Windy City. Nick Gravenites’s head turned as he saw the five of them strolling the street. Crossing to say hello to his old friends, they cringed as though unsure whether he was a local intent on hippie-bashing or just a gawker. But it was Nick, a vagabond like them, back home in Chicago from his former days in the bohemian North Beach scene.

  Nick brought a record producer friend, George McGowsky, to hear the group perform. Like much of Chicago, he was confused by the sound. “Too bad she won’t ever make it,” George confided to Nick. “They’re just too far out for the business.” Still, the money was good and the trip was fun. Away from Lagunitas, Janis and James renewed their romance.

  Arriving in the mail was a letter with parental questioning for Janis.

  As you have so studiously avoided the topic we are assuming that you feel your present venture promises success and that you will not be back here for college next month. If this assumption is incorrect let us know immediately as we need to know. On the other hand if the assumption is correct all we can do, I guess, is to wish you the very best of luck and all the success you hope for. Love, Father

  September, 1966

  Dear Mother. . . . .

  We’re playing in Chicago now—5 sets a night, 6 nights a week. GASP! Really is hard work. We’re at Mother Blues in old town. Our music isn’t really going over either. There are so many good blues bands in Chicago that we pale beside them and that makes playing all the harder.

  We have been fortunate in one respect—Peter has an Aunt & Uncle who live in Chicago & we’re staying at their house. They’re really nice people—w/3 super-creative & bright kids. Have a big air-cond. house in the suburbs, loaned us a car. Really fantastic. We’re all kind-of sad about having to leave our house in the country, though.

  The record thing I wrote you about caused quite a bit of emotional trauma within the group. All sorts of questions of loyalty came up. I decided to stay w/the group but still like to think about the other thing. Trying to figure out which is musically more marketable because my being good isn’t enough, I’ve got to be in a good vehicle. But I don’t know anything about the music business, so I’m just plodding along.

  Daddy brought up the college issue which is good because I probably would have continued avoiding it, in my own inimitable adult fashion, until it went away. I don’t think I can go back now. I don’t know all the reasons, but I just feel that this all has a truer feeling. True to me. A lot of the conflicts I was having and going to Mr. Giarratano about I’ve resolved. Don’t take my tranquilizers anymore. I don’t feel like I’m lying now. This is all fine & good & very sincere but the trouble is—I’d like to go back to school. I really would, but I somehow feel that I have to see this through first and when I can, put myself through. If I don’t, I’d always think about singing & being good & known & feel like I’d cheated myself—you know? So, although I envy many aspects of being a student and living at home, I guess I have to keep trying to be a singer. Weak as it is, I apologize for being so just plain bad to the family. I realize that my shifting values don’t make me very reliable and that I’m a disappointment and, well, I’m just sorry.

  We have an address here where you can write me—wish you would. I tried calling last Sunday but no one was home—since has occurred that you are probably in Bandera, lying in the sun. Will try to call again—or you can call here if you ever want to. The address is Pleasant Lane, Glenview, Ill. Thought I might be able to see Peter de Blanc while I was here. Sent him a wire in Rochester, but haven’t heard from him. He’s probably moved.

  Oh, forgot another bit of news. Mainstream Records is trying to sign us—we have a contract and are having it looked at. Will see.

  Write Please—Love You

  All X X

  Janis

  How wonderful! Janis didn’t feel like she was lying anymore. She had found her emotional home. No matter how tenuous that life might prove to be, for that moment it looked like it would last forever.

  Janis had a curious way of reporting that she wasn’t taking tranquilizers. It implied that she preferred a clean mind. She failed to mention the other drugs—the social drugs that were now a daily part of the hippie scene. Tranquilizers were not hippie kinds of drugs, as they dulled the senses. Hippies were into mind-expanding. Yet Janis rejected the psychedelics, preferring depressants, most notably alcohol.

  Janis had always faced her devils, even if it caused problems in her life. Now she was taking the first of many steps aimed at avoiding the core issues of her life. Janis already knew the danger of drugs from her speed experience in 1964, but she decided to tolerate the drug scene in 1966 because she craved the music world. She traded legally prescribed tranquilizers for a socially accepted, politically correct drug—alcohol! She couldn’t get past our culture’s assumption that the problem was only which drug to use. Few were then questioning the reliance on drugs in our society. Few were asking why drugs were needed. In those days, drugs were the new discovery. Who dared question the new shaman?

  In Chicago, the club date started out clean. The owner paid the band one thousand dollars a week for the first two weeks. The third week of the four found the club owner out of money because his experiment with Big Brother didn’t draw sufficient customers. The local audiences weren’t stoned and didn’t understand Big Brother’s style of rock. Chicago was a blues town. Audiences, especially at small nondescript clubs, expected to hear typical blues tunes with the traditional musical background. They didn’t know what to do with the reborn San Francisco hipsters.

  Peter pursued the band’s financial rights through the Musicians’ Union, but legal assistan
ce couldn’t give the owner money when he had none. Stuck in Chicago with no way to go home forced the band to work for gate receipts. “We had to start developing a stage show,” Peter Albin explained, “with me doing a lot of witty remarks. But it still didn’t come off. And finally, the last week, we . . . got a go-go girl. We named her Miss Proton, the Psychedelic Girl.” She wore leotards on which Peter sprayed paint and glitter. They gave her weird makeup and attempted a Saran Wrap hat.

  Janis explained to a Mojo Navigator Rock and Roll News interviewer, “You can’t imagine what it’s like trying to sing. You know, little tiny stage, it’s real small and real long like this and you can’t move at all, and I’m standing there singing and the dance floor’s right in front of me like this, and there’s this half-naked chick dancing there right in front of me, and I was really cracking up. It was hard, very hard to sing.”

  Janis took her revenge. “Janis and I had some differences,” recalled Peter, and “her reaction in Chicago was one of them.” It was her old sense of a higher authority. If the club owner didn’t pay her salary, then she would get back at him by helping herself to a cashmere sweater that belonged to a friend of his. Since the friend had let the band stay in his apartment, he must be involved in the ripoff. Janis was taking care of Janis, balancing the tables in the most direct way possible.