Read Could It Be Forever? My Story Online
Authors: David Cassidy
Shaun Cassidy:
As with David, Ruth managed me, too. I learned by David’s example. Very, very few people go through the experience he went through, and certainly having two people in the same family go through it is incredibly rare. Having been able to watch him and see what was thrown at him and see how he managed some things and couldn’t manage other things, was probably the best education I could have had. I think the consequence of that was I never expected it to last very long and didn’t take it seriously at all. It was like a novelty. The greatest challenge I had was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, when at 21 I was married and kind of retired. I didn’t have bitterness about it and didn’t feel that I’d been used up, all of the things that I know David experienced. Unfortunately, when I was going through it, he was in that bitter place. I couldn’t really talk to him about much.
Everyone I knew respected Ruth Aarons for her wit and her knowledge. She’d come from an important theatrical family. I just naturally assumed that she and the business manager she had hired to look after me knew what they were doing.
I was really impressed that she got me a salary of $4,000 a week for the TV show. You have to remember, I didn’t have anything when I started out. In 1969, my total earnings for the
year
had been no more than $3,000.
So I was delighted, in 1971, to be getting more than that each week. Salaries in show business, generally, weren’t anywhere near as high then as they are today. The biggest star in television at that point – James Arness, who’d been starring as Marshall Dillon in
Gunsmoke
since the mid 50s – was only making around $18,000 a week. And at that point, I believe that was the longest running show on television. The most Shirley was ever paid for a motion picture was $250,000. Ruth assured me that between my TV show, records and concerts, I could certainly count on making more than that figure each and every year.
I was making so much money overall, particularly from my concerts – I could gross $50,000 or more in one night – that I didn’t worry that I might be getting short-changed here or there. How much could I spend, anyway? And when? All I did was work. Besides, I was not a materialistic guy.
Sam Hyman:
David is not an extravagant person. And in those days, he was not extravagant at all. I had to talk him into finally buying a new car. He bought a Mercedes, which cost $12,000 in those days. He drove it for like a day or two and immediately gave it to his mother. He was not into ‘stuff’.
Screen Gems had initially established a budget of about $120,000 per episode of
The Partridge Family.
If my salary
had to be upped to $4,000, that was no problem for them.
TV Guide
reported in 1972 that, due to the success of our TV show, records and the assorted merchandising spin-offs, one Screen Gems bigwig was now referring to the brand as ‘
The Partridge Family
money machine’.
The Partridge Family,
declared
TV Guide,
was ‘practically a branch of the U.S. Mint’.
I guess I never heard those reports. I was too busy touring, filming, recording and answering – for the umpteenth time – the same dumb questions from interviewers. Almost everyone wanted to know what I ate, what I drank, what I looked for in girls (‘honesty’ was my less-than-completely-honest reply) and how I liked working with my stepmother. One interviewer, who’d been around the block more times than most of the others, had a more pertinent question to ask, even though I didn’t grasp its significance at the time. Veteran
New York Post
columnist Earl Wilson didn’t ask me any of the usual nonsensical questions when we met in March 1972. The thing he wanted to know was, ‘Who’s taking care of your money, David?’ I told him, ‘A business manager and accountant. I’m investing in oil . . .’
O
n
The Partridge Family
we had an assistant director named Chris Morgan, who is the son of the wonderful character actor Harry Morgan. Chris had worked on a couple of Elvis’s films and he knew Elvis personally. Chris was one of the great practical jokers of all time. He would go to great lengths to suck you in. And he and I had this ongoing daily sparring match to see how we could mess with each other. That was one of the few things that I had as a release – humour.
One day, the phone rang on the set while we were doing a blocking session in rehearsal and Chris walked over to the phone, answered it and said, ‘Oh, hi, Elvis.’ Then he said, ‘Hang on,’ and he turned towards me. ‘Uh, Elvis is on the
phone for you,’ and the whole set goes, ‘Ooooo, David is gonna talk to Elvis.’
I knew it wasn’t Elvis. I was positive it was just another one of Chris’s practical jokes. I picked up the phone and said, ‘Hey, Elvis, baby. How are ya, man?’ And a voice that sounded like his said, ‘Hey, baby, how are ya?’ And, still thinking it was a prank, I was like, ‘Oh, I’m fantastic, man. We’re just blockin’ a scene here.’ And he laughed and said, ‘My daughter’s a big fan of yours and would love to come and meet you,’ and I said, ‘Sure, bring her on Thursday. Great to talk to ya, Elvis.’
I walked away from the phone and announced, ‘Yep, that was Elvis and I told him to bring his daughter and his wife to the set.’ Two days later, we were on the set and, very dramatically, the doors to the sound stage, which were at least 40 feet high, opened. In pulled a black limousine and out stepped arguably the most beautiful child and the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen – Lisa Marie and Priscilla.
Lisa Marie was about four years old, a platinum-blonde child with big blue eyes. Priscilla, then in her early 30s, was drop-dead gorgeous. I was sitting there thinking, as most men would,
This is maybe the most beautiful woman I’ve ever looked at. Look at that magnificent face
. I understood how he would want the most beautiful woman and how no one else would have been worthy of her. And there I was with my mouth open. Chris Morgan was standing there with a big smile on his face and all I could think was, O
h no, I made such an idiot of myself.
So I called Elvis and said, ‘Listen, I know you know Chris.’
And he said, ‘Of course I know Chris and I know he was messin’ with you. He called me and told me.’
Lisa Marie Presley:
I was a huge fan of
The Partridge Family
and I did go to the set. They were in the middle of taping. I was probably three or four years old at the time. I was told that I was comfortable enough with them and felt connected enough with them that I got up from sitting on my mom’s lap and ran on to the stage while they were taping and jumped into Shirley Jones’s lap. They had to stop the taping. I loved
I Think I Love You
. In fact, on my
Now What
CD, the intro on
Raven
is my three-year-old voice singing
I Think I Love You
. You hear my mom saying, ‘Sing it right’ and I just thought that was funny. And the ‘ba-ba-ba-ba’ in the beginning is the intro for
I Think I Love You
. My mom would always tape me singing and send it off to my dad when he was on tour.
Elvis was very complimentary when I finally got to meet him. I went up to his house in L.A. I came away from our meeting liking him a lot and feeling so sorry for him and also frightened to death. He had so much talent but he allowed somebody else to take over his life. There was a sadness about Elvis that I recognised in myself. He too surrounded himself with friends. I knew all about the hysteria and madness he had gone through. So we had a unique sort of connection. When the Beatles first came to America, they wanted to meet him; they probably felt the same kind of connection with him.
Meeting Elvis that time was like seeing myself ten or
fifteen years from then, sad and lonely. I couldn’t get it out of my head. This was a guy who was smart. He was funny. He was very cool. Yet he had sold his soul to do the teenybopper movie
Clambake
. I loved him as a guy and as an artist and I respected him more than just about anyone, but I wouldn’t have sold my soul to the devil and he did. And the devil was the Colonel. That’s the saddest part. I know that Elvis regretted it every day of his life, but he was loyal.
During that time, I also got to know one of my musical heroes, John Lennon. When he split with Yoko and was with May Pang, I spent some time in L.A. with him. I first met him at Elliot Mintz’s house and spent a little time chatting with him. We subsequently had dinner together a couple of times. We’d go to the Imperial Gardens so we could be in a private room where no one would bother us.
Later, I flew back to New York twice and spent a little time with Yoko. She is very bright and I liked her a lot. I think she was treated unfairly by the media and the public. She provided a real grounding for John and a place to feel safe. She loved him for who he was, not because he was a Beatle. I later found the same thing with my wife, Sue.
May Pang:
Elliot Mintz said to John and me, ‘I want you to meet David Cassidy.’ I said, ‘David Cassidy? Cool, I love
The Partridge Family
!’ Besides, I thought he was cute and thought it would be fun. John knew who David Cassidy was and knew his background. John was a big movie buff and admired David’s father, Jack Cassidy, and his stepmother, Shirley Jones.
John was looking forward to meeting David. He understood
what David was dealing with as a teen idol. My girlfriend, Arlene Reckson, was our houseguest in L.A. and wanted to meet him too. So John, Arlene and I went to meet David for lunch at Carlos & Charley’s. Arlene and I were talking to David a lot. I guess we were paying too much attention to the new kid on the block. It didn’t help matters when a little girl came over and asked for David’s autograph and not John’s. She was too young to recognise John. That was quite funny; it must’ve bruised John’s ego slightly.
We had a great lunch. David and John were talking about the different projects they were working on. Here you had John Lennon, who went through everything imaginable with Beatlemania, and David Cassidy, who’s riding the crest as the current teen idol. They compared notes about the toll of stardom and they shared a common bond. John really liked David and David seemed in awe of John and was very respectful and reverent.
When it came to ordering food, David said, ‘I’m gonna have the eggplant parmesan,’ and I said, ‘Oh, that sounds good, I think I’m gonna have that too.’ And then Arlene said, ‘Oh yeah, I think I’ll have that too.’ So there were three of us who ordered it. Unbeknownst to me, John was getting upset and made a point of ordering the ravioli. I didn’t realise that John was starting to get jealous; he kept it under wraps pretty well.
We spent some time together at Elliot Mintz’s house, and after David left, John and I headed off to A&M recording studio, where John was working on his
Rock ’n’ Roll
album. He had had a couple of drinks at lunchtime. No sooner were we in the studio than John announced, ‘The session’s cancelled!’ I asked, ‘Why?’ He said, ‘I can’t fuckin’ do this!’
We went home and he’s screaming that I was flirting with David Cassidy. I said, ‘What are you talking about?’ And he said, ‘You ordered the same meal!’ I said, ‘What?! And so did Arlene. What does that mean?’ And then John ranted, ‘What about that song he sang to you?’
I had just recorded a song called
Mae
for my
Dreams Are Nuthin’ More Than Wishes
album. I whipped out my guitar and sang this sweet little song for John and May. Interestingly, John wrote a song called
Jealous Guy
, which was John talking honestly about how he could get jealous.
May Pang:
Then, like clockwork, Yoko called and he told her about it. John told me Yoko said, ‘Of course she was flirting with David Cassidy, she doesn’t wanna be with you.’ I’m thinking to myself,
Thanks for fuelling this fire, Yoko
.
After a good night’s sleep, John realised that I wasn’t flirting with David. He calmed down and apologised to me. John spoke with David on the phone later that day and everything was cool.
During the last year of
The Partridge Family
, 1974, John continued making the
Rock ’n’ Roll
album. I saw Elliot all the time and John and I would pass messages back and forth to each other through him. John came over to my house in Encino on New Year’s Eve in 1974 or 1975, when I had just finished my world tour. Susan Dey was there and I had fallen asleep at around midnight on her lap. Elliot and John showed up and they had been out drinking and celebrating. Susan
woke me up and said, ‘David, I think there’s a Beatle in the house.’
After slurring a few words to each other, John and I decided to play some music. So we went into my music room, where I had all my guitars, and we sat on the floor and I began playing the Beatles’ song
Any Time at All
. It was one of my favourites. That and
Mr Moonlight
. And John was like, ‘Oh, I can’t remember that.’ He had written hundreds of songs since then. So I sort of re-taught him the chord structure. We sang it together and I did Paul’s part. It was like being a Beatle for a moment. I was fulfilling a dream I’d had since I was 13, learning Beatles’ songs on my first guitar after seeing them on the
Ed Sullivan Show
. You don’t forget some of the first songs you learn.
We started playing rock ’n’ roll songs, stuff by Chuck Berry like
Nadine
. John loved all that Chuck Berry stuff and he knew it much better than I did. It didn’t sound very good, we were drinking, laughing and just stumbling through a lot of it. I played him a song I had just written and he started playing me stuff that he was working on. He was into this rock ’n’ roll thing from the 50s, the sound he had grown up with. He played the Dave Edmunds song
I Hear You Knocking
. I’d been working on
Be-Bop-a-Lula
at the time and he loved that I was into that kind of stuff. John recorded it on his
Rock ’n’ Roll
album. We had a musical connection.