One Hand Jerking

by Paul Krassner

  “I wrote this song mainly because I have a son exactly the same age as John Walker Lindh—I got a kid, he’s 21—and it’s scary when your kid gets to be old enough that they don’t stay where you put ’em, and the first thing that I related to was, ‘My God, he’s got parents and they must be sick,’ and so I was reasonably sure nobody else was gonna write this song. I never got any negative feedback, and I was in a position where I break-out would’ve, and I always sort of very hopefully took that as positive feedback. If I did hear anything from him, I probably wouldn’t tell you, but I haven’t. If I did, I’d probably lie. Because I think it was the right thing to do.

  “The very first person killed in this country by an abysmal situation in the wake of 9/11 wasn’t even Muslim, he was a Sikh who was killed because red-necks thought he was a Muslim, and that was what made me aware of an awful lot of what ‘Jerusalem’ was about. I always hope I learn something when I make any kind of art, and that’s the whole point of it to me, and what I learned was how ignorant I am of Islam, how ignorant we are of Islam, and I can’t think of anything more dangerous right now than being ignorant of Islam.”

  Earle points out the contrast between “the age of Hillary Duff and Clay Aiken and the age of Bob Dylan and MC5 and performers associated with politics. There was a lot of pop music that was just pop music, and rock ’n’ roll that was just rock ’n’ roll, that’s totally okay, there’s not anything wrong about that. The whole body of my work—I didn’t marry everybody I wrote a song about—I just didn’t learn to write songs any other way. It’s just never occurred to me to exclude issues and what’s going on around me politically.

  “My main area of activism is the death penalty, but I’m turning down death penalty stuff right now, because to me the priority right now is stop the war, but I don’t think you can stop the war as long as Bush is president, so the priority with the election coming up is to get Bush out of office, then stop the war, and then everybody gets back on to their own field of activism.

  “We’ve gotta elect somebody that can beat Bush. We are stuck with this two-party system. I do think a third-party run right now is unrealistic. The war unfortunately became the way that Bush could be beaten, and he wasn’t vulnerable until recently. I knew we were getting somewhere when I walked into a truckstop and saw all those farting Bush dolls. That wasn’t possible six months ago, but it’s a dilemma. It’s really important that you find out everything you can, you’re gonna have to make those decisions.”

  During the questions-from-the-audience portion of Earle’s presentation, I approach the microphone in the aisle: “First I just wanna mention that not only is there a George W. Bush action figure, there’s also an Ann Coulter doll—you pull the string and it spews venom.” Earle laughs and I continue. “Since you and I are both on the same label—Artemis Records, run by Danny Goldberg—and this is a Do It Yourself Convention, yet you’re on a label that released Who Let the Dogs Out—”

  “Which allows him to put out records by me and you, which is okay, I’m okay with that, definitely—”

  “I’m happy to be subsidized—”

  “Absolutely,” he says, “that’s what it’s all about—”

  “But I think it wouldn’t be the same if it wasn’t Danny Goldberg. As [radio personality] Don Imus said, ‘He’s not like the other thugs in the industry.’ So I’m just wondering about that, because he is essentially one of us and is sort of like a missing link—working with him has been for me the same feeling I would have if I was really doing it myself, and I was just wondering if it’s been the same for you.”

  “Without the pain in the ass. The way I came to Danny was, I had a label—an imprint, E-Squared at Warner—I made a bluegrass record and that pissed people off even worse than ‘John Walker’s Blues’ did, so I ended up leaving and I went to Artemis. I was still operating an imprint, and what I discovered was that in this climate, having a record label was sort of like going in a pickup truck, everybody kept calling me to help them move because everybody I knew was out of a record deal, and it got to be kind of anti-art. I did it for five years, and so I know—I mean we ran one side of E-Squared as a free-standing independent record label and it was distributed through Warner—we basically misappropriated what was supposed to be our operating budget for Warner and used it to make records. At the end of it nobody arrested us, and so it turned out really good.

  “But recording for Artemis—the reason I support it as much as I do is, it is commerce but it’s set up completely differently than every other record label that I know of that has anywhere close to its resources, and the vision was from the beginning that there would never, ever be a public stock offer, because as soon as you start doing that, then you’re beholden to your stockholders, and I think we may have learned by now it’s a really, really bad way—it just doesn’t give you enough time to develop any kind of art when you have to answer to a stockholder every three months. So that’s the main thing, and that was what Danny wanted to do, and it’s been tough. We all, every one of us artists, owe a lot to Danny hanging in there and to Warren Zevon, God bless him, ’cause it’s still going, and we’ll see how it turns out.”

  (The legendery Zevon had died of inoperable lung cancer the previous month, after Artemis Records released his final, heartbreaking, farewell album, The Wind.)

  I ask Earle about his upcoming appearance on the Fox News Network (which has beer sponsors), with the conservative and cantankerous Bill O’Reilly. “I’m just gonna go,” he replies, “until I get him to say ‘Shut up!’”

  “That means three minutes.”

  Earle had to catch a train to New Jersey. Although this was the first time we met, we knew of each other’s work, and as he was leaving, we shook hands. “It’s an honor,” he said.

  “That’s mutual. Listen, I’m writing a piece about you. How can I contact you if I have any questions?”

  He hurriedly gave me his e-mail address and departed. But, after learning about his adverse attitude toward High Times, I sent an e-mail asking him to reconsider, and never heard back. I was disappointed, though I understood his silence. In fact, ironically enough, Earle’s adamantly sticking to his principles became the inextricable core element of this story. Besides, he had already publicly discussed the areas which interested me, so I’ve published those quotes here without violating any journalistic ethic.

  And, what the hell, Eric Alterman wrote a whole biography of Bruce Springsteen without ever communicating with him. On the other hand, Dave Marsh, editor of Rock & Rap Confidential, wrote a book about Springsteen, and their friendship was enhanced in the process. Marsh told me that on one occasion, he was in Los Angeles interviewing Springsteen, and at the end of the session, each said he’d brought a record for the other. It turned out that both of them had brought Steve Earle’s Guitar Town. The cycle was now complete.

  In the course of my research, I learned that Earle had once credited Dave Marsh with saving his life. I asked Marsh about this, and he replied:

  “Here’s the only thing I can think of that it pertains to. Do you know the story about Steve punching out an off-duty Dallas cop? This was backstage, I think it was New Year’s Eve, and I know that the cop, working as security at Steve’s show, had somehow manhandled Steve’s dad. This became an ‘assaulting a police officer’ felony. Steve refused to plea bargain, which meant he was taking a big chance on going down for serious prison time, especially since nobody outside Dallas was paying any attention to it at all.

  “I think it was Teresa Ensenat, wife number 4-B or something like that, but then a girlfriend (and the A&R person who discovered Guns ’n Roses, if that’s relevant), who told me about what had happened, what was about to happen. I wound up writing about the case at some length in the Village Voice, and got the prosecutor to make some admissions that were harmful to the state’s case (if I remember right). Anyway, the big problem in the case was that Steve really wasn’t going to plead guilty to anything whatsoever, because he just f
elt so strongly that he hadn’t done anything wrong. It took a lot of persuading by a lot of people that this was a very bad idea, but one way or another, the case was settled. I expect the cop was after a civil judgment, but don’t think he ever got one.

  “Other than that, it’d have to be something way third-hand that I wrote or said somewhere that he saw. I worried about Steve, just as an artist I respect and a person I’d met a bunch of times and really liked, but we weren’t in contact very often, never have been, and it seems like he dropped off a lot of radar once he got seriously into the crack. If I’m right about what he means, the oddest part of it is that I always was afraid that maybe it was wrong to keep him out of prison. The stubbornness and self-righteousness he displayed is part and parcel of addiction. Maybe, it’s occurred to me a few times since, he’d have been better off doing a bit, would have gotten cleaned up sooner.

  “This of course is near-terminally stupid, since drugs are way available in every prison in the country; it’s part of how the prisons are managed, just like rape is another part. In the somewhat gentler jail in which Steve began getting sober, he was incarcerated for a much shorter time and probably with slightly less dangerous company. Really, the reward for his survival is everybody’s—all those songs that we get to share. The first time I heard ‘Fort Worth Blues,’ I wrote Steve a letter and apologized for not being there for him more and better, and I meant it. He made a very generous reply. I think we’re friends. I know I’m a fan and thank the universe frequently that he’s still around.”

  In November 2003, Earle was a guest on The O’Reilly Factor. During their encounter, Bill O’Reilly didn’t tell him to shut up. He began by asking Earle to define himself politically.

  Earle: “I am an unapologetic lefty. . . .”

  O’Reilly: “Tell Us the Truth—your three-week concert tour of U.S. clubs—so what are you going to tell us? What’s the truth here, Mr. Earle?”

  Earle: “Tell Us the Truth is about media consolidation and other factors around media in this country and how they affect the quality of our—you know, in terms of the music business, what I do for a living and the quality of information that we receive.”

  O’Reilly: “Can you be more specific? I mean what are you objecting to?”

  Earle: “I object to television news and radio news, and even print media to some extent, that makes decisions on what we hear and in what order we hear it in, based on commerce rather than what might be the most important information that we need to make the decisions as citizens. I think the media directly affects the outcome of our elections. When it gets to the point where we have a media climate that participates in accusing people that speak out against these policies of being unpatriotic and unAmerican, I think that’s dangerous.”

  O’Reilly: “Well, I agree with you. I think anybody who’s sincere should be able to speak out and should be heard—which is why we are happy you came on The Factor tonight, Mr. Earle. Good luck with your concert tour.”

  O’Reilly said that John Walker Lindh “was tried and convicted of treason.” Earle said that wasn’t true; Lindh pleaded guilty to supplying services to the Taliban government and carrying explosives in commission of a felony. O’Reilly’s misstatement was edited out.

  In December 2003 at the Berkeley Community Theater, Wavy Gravy—countercultural clown, social activist and ex-Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream flavor—emceed a concert which he had organized as a benefit to celebrate the 25th anniversary of Seva (the Sanskrit word meaning “divine work” or “service to God”), featuring performers Bonnie Raitt, Jackson Browne, Buffy Sainte-Marie, the Dead, Hamza el Din—and Steve Earle.

  The concert raised $250,000 for Seva, an organization which has been supporting projects and hospitals that have given back sight to more than two million blind persons through low cost or free surgery in developing countries around the world, plus community self-development programs that have helped thousands of indigenous peoples to drink clean water, read, write and deliver healthier babies, as well as promoting diabetes prevention for Native Americans.

  Inspired by the event, Earle said, “None of us are without hope—otherwise you wouldn’t be here tonight.” He was obviously speaking to himself as well as to the audience.

  When introducing his song “Christmas in Washington (Come Back, Woody Guthrie),” he has always paid passionate tribute to his heroes—like Joan Baez, Abbie Hoffman, former Illinois Governor George Ryan (for his courageous stance against capital punishment, not for his alleged tax fraud), Vermont Senator Patrick Leahy (for defying Attorney General John Ashcroft over the fascistic Patriot Act)—but this time Earle included Wavy Gravy and Seva’s executive director, Dr. Larry Brilliant. Later, in private, he told them that he wanted to visit Seva sites such as Chiapas, Nepal and Tibet.

  “I’m in recovery,” he explained, “and part of recovery is that you gotta do service. This will be my service.”

  And that’s a part of recovery I absolutely fucking understand.

  THE IRONIC ORDEAL OF DR. L.

  There’s a byproduct of the war on drugs—a side effect, if you will—a war against doctors who prescribe painkillers, putting a chill on legitimate pain treatment by physicians who fear prosecution.

  The Justice Department is particularly concerned with Vicodin, Dilaudid and—America’s most abused pain pill—OxyContin. Just ask Rush Limbaugh and Courtney Love. There are even doctors’ offices now with signs on the wall, warning, “Don’t ask for OxyContin” and “No OxyContin prescribed here.”

  Dr. Ronald Myers, president of the American Pain Institute, stated, “Such is the climate of fear across the medical community that for every doctor who has his license yanked by the DEA, there are a hundred doctors scared to prescribe proper pain medication for fear of going to prison.”

  A major protest at the National Mall in April 2004 was organized by the National Pain Patients Coalition, to bring attention to what some experts regard as the number one health issue in the nation—the undertreatment of chronic pain—in the hope that state leglislators will pass bills guaranteeing patients’ rights to alleviate their suffering.

  San Francisco attorney Patrick Hallinan said that honest doctors all over the country are being targeted by the DEA under the supposition that their patients were violating the law without the doctor’s knowledge by selling their prescriptions on the street, and that the agents are using the same tactics against them that are used against narcotics dealers.

  “There isn’t any doubt,” he added, “that these prosecutions are increasing under the Bush administration. It is like busting a car dealer because somebody runs off the road and kills somebody.”

  The campaign began under Janet Reno and has increased in intensity under John Ashcroft—storming clinics in SWAT-style gear and ransacking doctors’ offices.

  Here’s a case history of a family physician I know. He practices in a small town and calls himself “a country doctor.” I’ll call him Dr. L. I first met him at the height of the Anthrax scare, right after envelopes containing Anthrax had been sent to ABC and NBC. Tom Brokaw ended the evening news by saying, “Thank God for Cipro,” referring to the antibiotic that would counteract the effects of Anthrax if not the hysteria. Before I could even tell Dr. L. my medical emergency—an attack of diverticulosis causing severe stomach pain—he said, “I suppose you want a prescription for Cipro.” He had already gotten several requests for the drug that week.

  I explained the purpose of my visit, but he acted as though I was faking it in order to obtain a painkiller. When he determined that my condition was real, he prescribed antibiotics and a painkiller. Ultimately we became friends, and I learned the reason for his suspicious approach.

  Dr. L. was once convicted for what he sardonically describes as “the heinous crime of prescribing tylenol codeine for the treatment of migraine syndrome in a couple of ladies.” They turned out to be undercover operatives for the Medical Board of California.

  “This story is not unique,�
� he told me. “It is being repeated across the United States every day. Our country seems to be slipping into a fascist regime with dictatorial, uncontrolled coercive state power.”

  Over a period of several days, the two women, who were wired, visited Dr. L’s office, complaining of symptoms that were consistent with migraine headaches. After listening to their history, he gave each of them 30 tylenol codeine tablets until he could obtain their previous records. He even called one of the physicians who had been listed in the intake form—a doctor in Oshkosh, Wisconsin—but an elderly telephone operator told him she had lived in that town for 70 years and had never heard of such a doctor.

  Some weeks later, there was a melodramatic search warrant served by agents with drawn guns. They were from the DEA, BNA (a state agency comparable to the DEA) and the local police. This is a common practice of ass-covering, so that no single agency can be blamed if anything goes wrong.

  The raid had a terrible effect on the economic health of Dr. L’s family practice, a standard mix of obstetrics, pediatrics and internal medicine. A story was planted in the local media—via press releases from those government agencies—stating that he was a drug-dealing doctor and would lose his license. He was shunned by colleagues.

  “Several weeks later,” he says, “I was arrested at my office while many startled patients watched in utter disbelief as their doctor was handcuffed and led away. The arresting officers would not let me take off my clinic coat or stethoscope—this picture was worth more with them on. I was booked and subsequently released on bail.”

  His trial didn’t come up until six years later. After ten days in court, he was found guilty, sentenced to six months in jail, fined more than $11,000, and required to perform 200 hours of community service. The case went to the Court of Appeals, and later to the California Supreme Court, where, on the last day of the session, a hearing was denied.