Cars and money don't do the trick, though. In short order, people started getting into Jeni's ear. I was at Best Buy, picking up things for the townhouse, and when I got to the line, my bank card wouldn't work. I called the bank, and they told me that all the accounts had been frozen.
Panic began to creep up on me. The band was leaving overseas soon to continue the next leg of the tour. I had financial obligations, and without money...
"What do you mean, the accounts are frozen?”
"Well, your wife had the accounts frozen.”
I'm calling her and going, "What are you doing? I'm leaving for Japan in a few days, and I've got to take care of my bills and expenses. You can't do this with the bank accounts.”
She goes, "You're not taking the money!” Like I said, this woman was never going to trust me.
We had to split the accounts 50/50. Right there. On the spot. When I got back from the tour of Japan, we immediately started divorce proceedings, and it was a very morose time. I took a picture of this fax I got from her. I had one of those really old fax machines that didn't cut the pages, and the piece of paper stretched the entire length of my house. Un-fucking-believable. The thing must have been forty pages long.
As bad as things were with Jeni, it was the opposite with Traci. Traci moved to LA with her twin sister. I wanted her to move in with me, but she didn't want to leave her sister to live by herself. I wound up setting them up in an apartment right around the corner in Redondo.
Traci would stay with me every night, but she and her sister both worked together. They drove together. They ate lunch together. They drove home together. They hung out together. It's like they were joined at the hip.
I had heard of twins who had separation anxieties, but I'd never seen it before. Traci and her sister had it really bad. It was really bizarre, looking back on it. Looking back on it, I'm surprised I didn't find the two of them walking the halls, hand in hand, and writing REDRUM all over the place.
There was no way I would have picked up on those vibes, though. Not at that time. I was crazy, out of my head, stupid in love with Traci. Believe me, when you're looking at the world with your "love glasses" on, you tend to miss the details. Jack Nicholson could have shown up at the door, all wide eyed with his axe in hand, and I would have thought he was there for firewood.
You gotta learn some lessons the hard way, folks. That's just the way life is.
I was only getting a couple of hours of Traci's time a day, and it was starting to eat at me. Traci was my sense of stability at a time in my life where stability simply didn't exist.
I was telling her, "I want you to move in. Let's get married as soon as the divorce is final.” But, my voice fell on deaf ears. There was no way she would leave her sister.
I was starting to feel like I was in some UFC Championship Fight, and some big son-of-a-bitch was just beating me senseless. I was being hit from every direction.
The divorce was brutal. I'm paying my lawyer and hers. We're trying to hash this out, but it's not working out anything like we had planned. In fact, it was turning into something the total opposite. We were going to make a couple of lawyers a lot richer than we were making ourselves.
The reality of Traci came around full force shortly before the divorce was final. It was at this point that I realized my third mistake; the mistake that almost cost me one of my sons.
Per our agreement, I had the boys for two weeks and Jeni had them for two weeks. Traci had to get up at five in the morning to go to work, so she always went to bed early. About 9:30 pm, there's a knock at the door.
It's Michael.
"Uh…what's up, son? What are you doing here?”
He goes, "I left something for school in the bedroom upstairs.”
Okay. Tense, but it was okay. I let him go upstairs to get his stuff. Traci was sound asleep in our bed, so it shouldn't be an issue, since his stuff was in his and Marcus' room.
When he comes back down, I can tell immediately that he's really bothered by something. I go, "What's wrong?”
"Who's up in your bed. Dad?”
"I thought you were getting something out of your room. What were you doing in mine?”
For whatever reason, he had to go into my room. So, I just said, "It's nobody. We don't need to discuss it right now. I'll talk to you about it tomorrow.”
I had told Michael that his mom and I were splitting up back when I was leaving for tour. But, I think he completely blocked that out, because he denies ever having the conversation. It was becoming clear that whatever I had thought about my boys, Michael wasn't going to handle this split very well. Not very well at all.
But, I would talk to him about it at a better time. Maybe I could give him a better understanding of the what’s and whys of the divorce.
I say good night to him and go back to the couch to finish watching television, thankful that I had dodged a potentially bad moment with my son.
A minute later, I hear this SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! from my front patio area!
I had all these potted plants out there. There were a bunch of palms and ferns that blocked people from being able to see inside the house from the patio. Jeni had come around the front of the house and started knocking those off and breaking them, screaming, "You fucker! Where's that whore? Where is she?”
I go out there, stunned by what I'm seeing, and say, "You've got to split. Right now. If you don't, I'm going to call the cops.” It was an ugly scene.
Hell hath no fury, right?
I go out to make sure she had left, and she had written all over my truck in lipstick. Alright. I can deal with that. Mentally, she wasn't in a good state of mind. I feel bad that it happened that way. But, for years, we hadn't been happy. We were just raising our kids.
Unfortunately, the boys were there to see all of this anger and resentment going on between their parents. It was really damaging to them both, and again, I seemed to have no power in stopping it. The portraits had been painted, and I was the bad guy.
We finally get into arbitration. Her lawyer seemed like an emotionally handicapped, really odd person. She talked with a speech impediment, and she dressed really weird. I had talked to her lawyer on the phone a couple of times, which I shouldn't have done, but I couldn't talk to Jeni directly. Anytime I did, it turned into a whirlwind of hatred and aggression. But, this lawyer of hers struck me as really odd, even then.
When we finally sat down to start the process, Jeni's lawyer was completely intimidated by mine. They were on totally different playing fields. My guy was well known around southern California, and Jeni's lawyer looked like she was an outpatient from "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.”
We struck a deal, and Jeni went pretty easy on me. They did this thing called Dizzo Master, which let's you put in what you make and what she makes, and then it goes back a couple of years. Based on what I had made, this fucking thing spits out that I was going to have to pay her seven grand a month.
I'm like, "Jeni, you're on crack. What am I going to do, sleep in the car? You know what I make in RATT right now. While it's decent, it's nowhere near enough to support that.”
I ended up paying child support for each of the boys until they both turned eighteen. I don't know if she was just trying to be nice and go easy, or if she was just being naïve, but Jeni could have made my life much more difficult, and she chose not to.
Thank you, Jen. C.W.B.Q.
When you're married as long as we were, she could have gotten alimony for life. As it is, she gets half of everything I made in RATT, plus half of my publishing up to the time of the divorce, which does pretty well for her. I had to pay her attorney's fees, and mine, which was pretty costly.
Jeni and I keep in touch, via email, and she still makes it known that she loves me. I'm sure she would get back together, should that situation ever present itself. I love her too, for the boys and the years she gave. But, that love is a toxic thing. I don't feel I could get involved in that again.
She's gone
through several different relationships to this point, and the one she's with now has lasted about three years. He seems like a nice enough guy, and I hope she's happy. She deserves to be.
Unfortunately, during a divorce, somebody's going to end up with the friends. Surprisingly, that was me, considering the light I had been painted in.
It wasn't that our friends didn't care for Jeni, it's just that when we broke up, she went on this quest to go to the gym and get super-fit, buffed up and got her hair done. She was showing "what I had lost", which she had every right to do. But, anytime she would be around someone, she would be talking about nothing but me.
It reached a point where our friends were like, "Give it a rest.”
Then, on one visit to the house where I was getting some of my gear out of the garage, the phone rang and I answered it. I'm glad I did, because things came into razor sharp focus where one of our "friends" was concerned.
"Hi, is Jen there?”
"Who's this?”
"It's Don.” You've got to be kidding me, right? The balls on this guy!
"Dokken? Dude, what are you doing calling Jeni? Don, stay the fuck away from my house and my ex! Understand? Go find another pool to swim in. This is my family.”
That's when things really went south with Don and me. First, he ratted me on the whole thing with Traci, but now he's prowling around the remains of my marriage?
That's too much. That's way too much.
Traci and I were doing really well. We were completely into each other, and I desperately wanted her to move in with me. I wanted our relationship to progress further. I wanted this woman for my wife.
She still wouldn't do it, though. In fact, she wouldn't discuss it with me.
I had jealousies about her, you know? There were just certain things about her that I was starting to question. I was starting to not trust everything she told me.
When it was all said and done, most of what I was told ended up being true. Her sister, became involved with a friend of mine named Glen Granat. I met Glen through Robbie Crane.
Glen lived out in the San Fernando Valley, and her sister wanted to move there to be closer to him. Keep in mind that Traci and her sister are inseparable. They are married to each other; joined at the hip. Traci decided that she and her sister were going to move from Redondo and get an apartment in the valley.
Again, the warning bells should have sounded for me, but I was still in love. Everything had that rosy look to it, so I was still missing the details.
I guess I'd better move out to the Valley, too. At least if I wanted to see Traci on a regular basis. I mean, it's a hour from Redondo to the Valley with traffic. I didn't want to have that to deal with on a daily basis.
I bought a house out there. I was doing everything for this relationship that I could. She was worth it! Even if I had to jump through hoops!
Traci was going to be worth it...right? Why did people keep saying she was just a groupie? This was my love!
When it rains, it pours.
Me and the fans in Tokyo, 1985.
First RATT shoot with Neil Zlozower, 1982. Photo courtesy Neil Zlozower.
28
A Bad Moon Rising
Dark cloud gathering, breaking the day, no point running cause it's coming your way. - Deep Purple, Stormbringer
Throughout 1998, the band was writing the RATT record for John Kolodner. John had signed us to Sony, which made us all very grateful. The guy was a legend in the business, and had made his name working with our rock heroes, Aerosmith.
We were touring intermittently throughout 1998, just making a living and keeping the wheels greased. Our drive seemed a little aimless, and while the new record was something that should excite us, I was starting to get a bad feeling from the other guys.
Something wasn't right.
My personal life was mirroring my music career. In 1999 we were setting up a tour with Poison, and Traci was still staying with me every night at the town home in Redondo. Not living with me, mind you, but staying every night. I didn't dig that AT ALL.
The personal wounds from the divorce were still very fresh, and the inconsistency with Traci only complicated that issue for me. My general disposition was changing, and I was getting a little confrontational; more than I usually would, or should, I guess.
The Poison / RATT tour became a co-headlining thing, and was shaping up to be a great tour. There were a number of bands slated for that tour, and one of them turned out to be Dokken.
I didn't react well to that.
What I did was harsh, and vindictive, and I'm not a bit ashamed of it, either. I called Bret Michaels and the agents who were handling the tour. I'm like, "Guys, I don't want to get too deep into this, but I can't have Don Dokken on this tour. He's involved with my divorce, and my ex-wife. If he's there, it will get very ugly.”
They cut him. I had Don dumped from the 1999 tour.
About a month later, me and Traci, Mitch and Jenna, Eric Singer, we were all at the Motorhead concert at the Palace. This was April of 1999. We were getting ready to start the tour, which now consisted of RATT, Poison, Great White and LA Guns.
Don is at the Motorhead show, and backstage, right in front of everybody, he walks up to me and goes, "You fucking motherfucker! You cost me that tour! You had me thrown off that tour! Do you know how much money you've cost me because of that? $250,000!”
We were right in each other's faces in an instant. I was ready to start throwing! In fact, part of me really hoped it would come to that.
I go, "No, Don, it's not $250,000. It's probably more like $400,000 when you count merchandise. You damned right I had you thrown off! Fuck you! Stay away from my family!”
He's going off, screaming at the top of his voice. "I never fucked your wife! You hear me? I never fucked her!”
...whatever, dude.
I have known the guy for over twenty years. I know what he's like, and there's no way I can believe anything that comes out of his mouth.
Everybody moved away, and it was very intense; very exciting, and in the end, kind of funny. I didn't talk to him again until 2002. We actually wound up out on tour together. Enough time had past, and enough things had come about, that he was the least of my worries.
I was going to be able to co-exist, provided we avoided each other. The few times we did see one another, it was nothing more than, "Hey, how you doing?” But, it was very tense. Very stiff on my part.
Every once in a while, he would get that look in his eye, and I could see him about to extend the proverbial olive branch. I'm thinking, "Dude, don't even get it in your head. We're not going to dinner. We're not going to have drinks. I don't want to pick out curtains or whisper sweet nothings. Fuck you, we are not friends anymore.”
Thankfully, it never got ugly. It was simple and cordial, and for the most part we successfully avoided one another. That guy will never change.
He's Dokken.
We finished the RATT / Poison tour, came home for a short break, and then headed back out on the second leg.
It was September, and we had the new record out, and new singles out, so we had to keep supporting it. We didn't do a lot of very good business. We were back in a lot of the markets we had just played with Poison, so most of our fans had just paid to see us a few months before, where we were playing in 16,000 seat venues.
Now, we're back, only this time, it's in shitty little clubs.
For whatever reason, the second leg of that tour wasn't doing very well. We fought through the thing, and went back home for a break before we started the final leg of the tour, which was Japan. Japan has always been a great place for us. We've always done really well there, so I was looking forward to it, and as a band, we really needed it.
I took that time off to finalize my move to the valley with Traci and her sister. When my townhouse was being sold, I moved in with them for a month. It wasn't a big deal, or so I thought.
One afternoon, I intercepted a phone message for Traci from some
random dude up in Seattle. I was in Dallas, doing a show, and called home to check the messages.
I had no idea who the guy was.
"Hey, Traci, just wanted to say how great it was to see you up in Seattle this weekend. Thank you for keeping me warm. It was great.” So on and so forth.
It was a complete kick in the teeth for me. I was freaking out. I was completely in love with this chick, and she pulls this? It was killing me.
I had never had a chick break up with me before, so I had never went through that sort of gut wrenching emptiness that hits you, you know? I mean, you're skinny from not eating. You can't sleep. You're a walking train wreck! You're just sick with the thing. It's really disgusting.
When I intercepted that call, I wanted to give Traci the benefit of the doubt. She swore on her grandmother, who she held dearer than anything in this world, that the only thing she did was kiss the guy. Nothing sexual ever happened.
I gave her the benefit. It felt like a payback was due for all of my years of piracy on the high seas. Call it karma. Whatever. I loved her too much to just throw it all to the side.
Then again, maybe I'm just a big pussy. She should have been given her walking papers right then and there, but that didn't happen. Instead, we decided to stay a couple, and in January of 2000, we moved down into the valley.
It was a bad time all the way around. At the end of the 1999 tour, when we got back from the second leg, Warren and Stephen were at it again, and Stephen and I hated each other.
Stephen and Warren were really hard to deal with on that tour. I want to be nicer about it than that, but I can't. There's no other way around it. We get back, take our break, and start gearing up for the third leg of the tour.
Three days before we were set to leave, on January 16, 2000, Pearcy quits the band...again.
Airfare had been bought; promoters had spent money; fans had bought tickets; busses were set; deposits were paid; salaries were expected; and it was to be only a five week tour, gleaning us each a nice chunk of change, plus merchandise! We were excited about it.
Tales Of A RATT Page 25