Tales Of A RATT

by Bobby Blotzer

  That's my home. That's where I can live. Steam cleaning was about survival. Nothing more.

  Once RATT got back together at the end of 1996, I was like, "Thank God!” In 1997, I made about $250,000 in RATT, and it was like money from Heaven, let me tell you. But, who's to say? Am I a rock star who did some steam cleaning, or am I a steam cleaner who used to be a rock star?

  It's a fine fucking line, my friend. Trust me.

  To be honest with you, my friend Harold Hawthorne, who I learned guitar from, has been a steam cleaner for 25 years. Yeah, it's not glamorous, but he pulls down around $100,000 a year. Honestly, if you know what you're doing, you never make less than about $100 per hour. A one-bedroom apartment was $55, and it took you a half hour. And, that was back then. I don't know what it would run today, but there's money made in that business.

  It's just humbling to do it after you've sold 12 million records, you know?

  I worked with a property management company that kept me swamped with jobs, cleaning their vacant apartments. It was always a quick in and out, with no one there. Easy money.

  They had complexes all over the place in Lawndale and Hawthorne. I could go in there and bang those things out all day and make $300 or $400 a day. It was really lucrative.

  One day, they give me a call to go take care of some apartments they just acquired over in Inglewood. I really didn't want to go to Inglewood, or Ingle-Watts as we called it. It was a favor for them. I get over there, and damn it if it isn't a three-story building with no elevator.

  Fuck me.

  I had a method of carrying the hoses and buckets and everything, so I start lugging all this stuff up the stairs. I get to the apartment they needed me to take care of, and pull the key out. I open the door, and holy shit!

  That place was just nasty, trashed out carpet. It stunk. The whole apartment stunk. I was like, "Shit.”

  I didn't want to do it, but Mr. Jenkins really needed me to take care of it. Jenkins Property Company was a big client, and I didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that. Nothing!

  So, I get to work on it.

  I'm cleaning this disgusting, nasty assed carpet in Ingle-Watts with the door open. My steam cleaner is outside the door, and I glance out toward it.

  In the distance, over the top of the cleaner, I can see the LA Forum, and it hit like a sledgehammer between the fucking eyes! We sold the Forum out, with Bon Jovi opening up for us, in 1985. Here it is, 1993, just eight years later, and I'm steam-cleaning carpets.

  That was a low point. That was my "where the fuck is my Jack Daniels" moment. I was as depressed as I've ever been.

  But, I had to do what I had to do to take care of my family and my responsibilities. A lot of people would make fun of that situation, maybe even talk about how pathetic a fall from grace it would be to them, and they might be right...

  ... but, you do what you have to do.

  I had been able to shave about five grand off my monthly nut. My expenses went from around twelve grand to just over seven grand per month. And, with the three businesses, I was able to hit on that...most of the time.

  The pisser of this time was my house. I could have paid that place off several times. But, my accountant kept telling me, "No, don't do it. You need the tax write-off.” I've regretted that ever since, because I wound up having to refinance my house, getting on a variable interest.

  My house payment jumped to $4300 a month. But, things were tight, and I had to refinance the place and pull some money from it.

  To complicate matters worse, the band was in a real situation with the label and our merchandise company.

  In 1990, we had taken a million dollar advance against our merchandise sales for the 1991 tour; a tour we wound up coming home early on. Business wasn't good. We weren't getting along. And, when I say business wasn't good, we went from selling thirteen thousand tickets a night, to selling six thousand.

  It was a fucking nightmare to look out there every night and see that. Almost half of the arena was empty.

  Now, mind you. This day and age, selling six thousand tickets would be unbelievable, for most any band. It's just harder, now.

  When Stephen quit, we still owed $750,000 on our merchandise deal. We had signed that deal in 1990. We all took our part of the advance and went off with it.

  Winterland Productions was our merch company, and they were saying, "Alright, guys. You guys owe us this money.” Now, it was time to pay.

  We had fired Marshall Berle in late 1989, and Alan Kovac was our new manager. We found out that Marshall went to the label and took an advance on our behalf, then used it for something. We have no idea what he spent it on.

  We fired him, and took, for life, his cut of any RATT royalties on anything. Alan Kovac was managing Richard Marx at the time, and now he manages Motley. He is a heavy hitter manager. But, he's also one of these guys who just wants to get the dollars now, take his commission, and not care whether things are going to be not as good next year, as a result. Get the money now, was his thing.

  Alan gets us a publishing advance of a million bucks; a merchandising advance of a million bucks; we cut it; then Stephen quits and the band breaks up.

  Now, the door starts pounding. I'm calling Del Ferrano on the phone. Del was the President of Winterland, and I'm going, "Del, listen, you guys have made millions. Millions and millions off of merchandising on RATT since 1984. This money will come back to you. You just have to be patient, because I'm not in a position right now to give you.”

  Each guy’s cut was $150,000, that we had to pay them. "Just hold tight, Del. The band will get back together, and we'll make this good.”

  They hung tight, but only for about 9 months. Then they started sending us letters.

  Legal letters.

  Then they started proceedings. They were going to sue us.

  I was backed into a corner. I had Winterland coming after me, putting liens on my house, thank you Stephen Pearcy. Atlantic stopped paying our royalties, because we took an advance on a record that never got started. So, till that was paid off, we didn't get a penny from them.

  That took some time.

  It was horrendous. I was led into a bankruptcy situation. I was advised that since I still had the credit card debt, the Winterland thing, Atlantic, mortgages, all of it, I had to declare bankruptcy. Not to mention my construction debt. I had torn out walls to put another story on the house, and I had to put it all back the way it was.

  The house was a two story, built into the side of a hill, and I was going to put a third story on it. I had already done all of this work to it. Gone to the city counsel to file for a hillside ordinance because some of the neighbors didn't want me to build. I won, and the work had already begun when our whole house of cards came tumbling down.

  Now, here I am, trying to hold all the pieces together, and there's just no possible way to do it.

  I had to file for bankruptcy. It sucked. It was extremely humiliating.

  My friend, Jay Freidman, my attorney managed to get me out of this thing with flying colors. I even kept my toys. My house, cars, our businesses. That pretty much wrote off about $212,000 on my slate.

  All because Stephen quit.

  Now, let me preface that by saying I paid Winterland about $30,000. Ten here, five there, trying to nickel and dime this thing down. Finally, I'm like, "This is ridiculous. I can't do this anymore. I don't have $150K to give them.” Unless we get RATT back together and start making the real money that we were used to, forget it. So, bankruptcy was the way out.

  I didn't want to do a BK, but it was a necessary evil.

  The early and mid-nineties simply sucked balls.

  My mom Lois, Jeni, Me, my sister Carol after a RATT show in Pittsburg 1984.

  23

  The Fountain Of Youth, Lake Havasu

  "Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we're here we should act like it is.”

  The mid-nineties were a crushing blow to any faith that the groups from the 80s
had of continuing careers. Some of the groups, like Bon Jovi, adapted their style and continued on with mixed success. But, even the mightiest of 80s icons became casualties for about a five year span. Mötley Crüe, Def Leppard, Guns N Roses, the list went on and on.

  After filing bankruptcy, life got a little easier for me and mine. After all, I was still a rockstar. I just didn't have a band. I was a vagabond king; a wandering Pi-RATT without a crew. But, make no mistakes. A Pi-RATT without a crew is still a Pi-RATT!

  Family recreation was always our escape. We had to get away, even if it was for only the weekend, and no matter what, Havasu was our haven. It was our secret port in the middle of the desert.

  I bought a couple of Wave-runners. They were hardly an adequate replacement for the Ramboat, but they were fun as hell, nonetheless.

  We had started spending weeks and weeks out of the year hanging out at Lake Havasu, a huge lake on the Colorado River, right on the California / Arizona border. It's an incredible, awe-inspiring oasis in the middle of a desert.

  We tore that lake up on the back of those Wave-runners, just soaking in that arid climate and partying our asses off.

  The first time I went out to that lake was in 1975. I was fifteen or sixteen years old, and I went out there with Chuck Daw and his family, Iris and Debbie and the others.

  Lake Havasu was founded by Robert McCulloch of McCulloch chainsaw fame. He used to go out on the Colorado River to go fishing. When they dammed up the river at various points, they made all these lakes; Lake Mead; Lake Mojave; Lake Havasu. What he did, when they were getting ready to start damming everything up, was buy all of the land up that was going to become the Havasu shoreline.

  He was a smart cat, I'm thinking.

  There's a population of around 200,000 people out there, now. When I first started going, way back in 1975, there were a couple of hotels, maybe a couple of gas stations, NOTHING like it is today.

  McCulloch dredged out a canal, which created a huge island on the lake. That's where they have the London Bridge. That's right. THE London Bridge. He went to London, to an auction, and bid on the London Bridge from the nursery rhyme, "London Bridge is Falling Down.” It was all brought over, brick by brick, and reassembled to span the gap between the mainland and the island on Havasu.

  On the island, they used to have the airport, but that's been moved. They have a really nice golf course out there; the Nautical Inn, which is my favorite place to stay when I'm in town; a few hotels; a big campsite; and all these homes that people live in or lease.

  It's just unbelievable out there. There's all these coves that are absolutely gorgeous. It looks like the Blue Lagoon everywhere you go, with it's crystal clear, deep blue water.

  You can go upriver from the bridge, you're in the heart of the Colorado River. The river meanders down from Laughlin where Davis Dam is, which holds back Lake Mojave. You go up Lake Mojave, which is another incredible lake, seventy five miles to Hoover Dam, and on the other side of Hoover is Lake Mead.

  There is a sixty-five mile stretch from Lake Havasu to Davis Dam, and it's nothing but incredible river canyon systems. The water is crystal clear blue, and ice cold year round. But, when you're on the lake, the lake runs really deep. So the surface water from June until October is somewhere like 82 degrees.

  Just beautiful.

  Back in 1975, when I went out there with Iris, Chuck and the gang, it was amazing, but there were a lot of bikers out there then. In those days, in Arizona, you could carry a gun. You could wear it on you; which attracted a certain kind of person.

  Bikers had pistols in holsters, and some of these guys had rifles stuck down in their bikes. It was like the Wild West, so a lot of these guys were really intimidating. I didn't really like that end of it.

  I went again in 1976 with some friends to the stretch of river south of Parker Dam. It's called the Parker Strip. Parker Dam, which is the dam that creates Havasu, is a huge, beautiful thing. The water gets sucked into the dam and pumped downstream. Parker Dam is about 200' high, and the stretch from Parker to the next dam is about thirteen miles. That's the Parker Strip, which was a crazy party scene.

  My buddies, "Good Time" George, and Ron Welty, drummer of The Offspring, both have houses out on the Strip.

  I remembered all of those sights, and when we needed to get away, Havasu jumped to mind.

  I took the family out there in 1990 and fell in love with the place all over again. We started going out there all the time.

  I had my Wave Runners for about seven years, just putting thousands of miles on those things. We used to run all the way up to Laughlin on the runners, no problem. It was just a great time.

  My buddy, Mike Anthony, who was the bass player for Van Halen, has a townhouse up there on the lake, right by the London Bridge. He paid $143,000 for the place, and the things worth about $1.3 million now. I've done a lot of partying up there with him and his family over the years.

  I've got my whole Havasu Crew that I run with up there. Mitch and Jenna, I've known Jenna since she was about sixteen years old. She's now been with Mitch Brandon for ten years, that's how I met him, he's one of my best friends. He bought a huge house out there, so we stay with him a lot. There's Mark and Christine Valdez and their kids; Joy Carter; Mike and Lisa Valdez and their kids; "Good Time" George Eastom and his girlfriend Summer; Ron Welty, the drummer for Offspring, who has a place right by the dam, so he can do the lake or the river. He's a great guy.

  We do jam sessions at Mitch's house several times a summer. We just set up on the patio overlooking the lake and then have at it.

  The sunsets are amazing, there. It's like the sky is on fire. Then, when you ride at night, the air is still around the low 90's in temperature. It's warm and soothing as you drive through it. That's a really comforting sensation as you watch the full moon rise at the bottom of the lake.

  I've raised my children on this lake, that's how I feel about it. Cruising around that place, it's hard to imagine anything could ever be wrong in life.

  I love it so much that upon the untimely death of my ass, they are instructed to take my ashes and scatter them in my five favorite coves in Lake Havasu. So, if I die next year, anyone who reads this and goes to Havasu, you'll be swimming in the Blotz's ashes.

  How sexy is that?

  One night, we were all partying over at Mike Anthony's condo. It overlooks the London Bridge and the channel. He's got a balcony, and outside the front door, there is a huge porch area where he has a Jacuzzi. We were all in the Jacuzzi, and were getting shitty, drinking. I was camping over at Crazy Horse, which is a big campsite out there.

  We were talking about running on the water at night, because I had put lights on my Wave Runners to run at night.

  Someone goes, "Blotz, go get them! I dare you to ride your shit through here at night.”

  "I'm sorry. Did you say you're daring me?”

  Never one to turn down a dare, I hopped in the car and drove across the street to where my Runners were beached. I got on one of them, stripped down buck-assed naked, and rode all the way around the island back to the channel and Mike's place.

  There's two ways you can enter the London Bridge area. If you're coming from the bottom of the lake, you enter one area, and if you come from the river you enter from another into Havasu.

  I drove around to the top entrance. It's a "no-wake" zone, obviously, but there are never any cops on the lake at night. So I went by there, full speed, ass out in the breeze. I was flipping those guys off with one hand, and steering with ... well, imagine, if you will.

  I went back and dropped the Runner off at the campground. I got dressed, and came back to the party to the sound of thunderous applause from all of my disciples, traumatized, though they might have been.

  The Wave Runners eventually gave up the ghost, and it was time to trade up. At first, I got a 21' open bow Seaswirl lake boat. It was nice, but had limited partying capacity.

  Now, I have a 27' JC Tritoon deck boat. It's really nice and
seats 16 people. You're never going to set any boating speed records in the thing, but it goes as fast as you need it to, 38 mph, and it does it with a baker's dozen, plus three, of your best friends on board.

  Every Fourth of July it's time to gather for the fireworks. They always shoot them off from the beach at The Nautical, there on the island, so you'll go out on the water, and there's literally hundreds of boats out there, just bobbing lightly. The red and green lights from the boats look like a huge Christmas tree floating across the lake. It's amazing.

  When the fireworks start, you couldn't ask for a better show. They shoot them off right over your head.

  That's the way to celebrate Independence Day!

  There're so many party stories that you can't pick one over the other. But, that's what we do out there. We just stay clear of the cops. On busy weekends, they bring these out of town guys in, and they are just a bunch of neo-nazi assholes. You have to watch your step around them. But, that's the only rub to the place.

  So that's it. I've been happily doing Havasu for the last eighteen years. But, I went to the boat show last week, and I'm getting the itch for an ocean boat again. So, maybe there will be a sequel to Ramboat: First Blotz.

  Be that as it may, Lake Havasu will forever be my favorite vacation spot.

  Commanding the SS-TriToon on Lake Havasu in June 2009.

  Entertaining the troops, Havasu June 2009.

  My dog, Jack the River, doing what he loves best; fetching anything that looks like a ball.

  It really does look like a different planet.

  24

  Rumors Of Reconciliation And The King Who Became A Pauper.

  Wally Verson, who was our tour manager for years, was in management now. In 1996, he met with Stephen, Warren, Juan and I at Warren's house about getting the band back together.