Before she died in December 2016, Bon Scott's great love Silver Smith sent me two pieces of writing which give tremendous insight into both Bon Scott's private world and the dynamic he had with other members of AC/DC. She never wrote anything else. This is the second part. The first part can be read here. Published with kind permission of her son, Sebastian.
I’d spent a decade around musicians and bands in all stages of development, in Australia, the United States and London, from raw beginnings and failures to the ultra successful. There was a common thread with all these people: their taste was usually wide and often very different from their own style; and there was always interest and excitement in new changes, new albums by their contemporaries, plus historic blues, bluegrass, country, R&B, etc. We’d sit around for hours on the floor drinking tea, smoking dope, occasionally snorting [heroin] and enjoying hearing something for the first time, discussing and dissecting. No wonder Bon came to [my flat at] Gloucester Road in London as often as he could. He must have been starving for music.
He and I both had very similar tastes and musical backgrounds. We loved distinctive singers of any style, beautiful harmonies, and of course songs from the radio in our youth and childhood. We had a lot of fun trying to outdo each other with remembering lyrics to Johnny Horton, Everly Brothers, Gene Pitney and Hank Williams.
According to Bon, in the band no one was allowed to play or listen to anything but AC/DC although Angus Young had some Chuck Berry tapes. I had never come across this before. There was an atmosphere of AC/DC versus the rest of the world, and they were suspicious of everyone including press, other bands, music business people, and seemingly anyone who wasn’t from the western suburbs of Sydney. Apart from Angus’s stage uniform, they had no interest in style or fashion, sticking to denim and snot, pretty much, and I was amazed to find out later the band had its origins in glam rock, as per David Bowie and Marc Bolan.
I had been away from Australia for three years at this point and had no idea how successful AC/DC were as well as no idea of who the new bands were in Australia. Because of this, I made a terrible faux pas the very first time I met them. Bon and I were picked up in a small van going somewhere on AC/DC business. They were obviously not expecting me to be with Bon, and the atmosphere was chilly. No one spoke. No introductions were made, and there was an odour of eau de B.O. in the back of the dark grotty van. Capital Radio (the only station in London that played rock at that time) was coming through the speakers and was broadcasting a new, never-played-before single.
I had a good ear for picking commercial hits even if they weren’t my style, recognising a good hook and singalong chorus, and this one had it all, as well as a strong link to the English obsession with cricket and really clean production. So attempting to break through the ice I said, “Wow! That’s clever. Straight to number one!” or something similar, and the temperature plunged another 20 degrees. It was AC/DC’s arch enemy Sherbet, who I had never heard of. I had no idea what crime I had committed. Bon just gave me a look to indicate, “I’ll tell you later.” I was bewildered as to why on earth Bon would think riding in the van was a good way for me to meet them. They didn’t seem to enjoy it any more than I did.
In their company I always felt really uncomfortable, as though I’d landed on another planet. They were all very young except for Bon, and had a very juvenile ‘use them and abuse them’ attitude to female fans. The only literature they read were comics and ‘stick books’. They were never overtly rude or unkind to me, and in fact on a few occasions when things got a bit out of hand (overly excited drunken fans and lack of security) Malcolm Young and Angus Young were both fiercely gallant and protective of me. I came to realise to my surprise that, despite their misgivings about me, I was considered part of their ‘gang’ – at least at that particular moment.
I never intruded on the band, made a point of staying out of the way, and after my Sherbet faux pas never ever voiced an opinion on anything. I’m guessing here, but the number of AC/DC gigs over the years I went to was less than a dozen. I was always inspired seeing them. The energy they generated and expended was ridiculous; the audience totally captivated. In their heyday AC/DC were at the top of the game when it came to live performance.
Offstage, the atmosphere around Malcolm and Angus was always tense, no one wanting to get on their wrong side. I never heard them laugh properly, although they had sneering down to a fine art. Mark Evans was clean and fresh, a nice boy, and Phil Rudd was okay when not directly in Malcolm’s or Angus’s presence. Their manager, Michael Browning, was an older version of the Youngs in manner. He seemed to take an instant dislike to me, which persisted even after it became obvious that his sister Coral and I were becoming good friends and got on like the proverbial house on fire.
On tour Malcolm and Angus usually stayed in their rooms, playing guitar, and had no interest in what was outside, no matter what city in the world they were in. Bon went to bookshops, markets and art galleries, buying the dozens of postcards he sent to people. He was the most prolific letter writer I’ve ever come across, even surpassing my mother, the family chronicler.
On one Australian tour the last gig was Perth, and we were leaving the following night to return to England. I went to the gig with Isa to take care of her and protect her from the young girl fans and from her own naivete. She loved every second of it. Bon didn’t come back to the hotel; not a surprise as he had a lot of catching up to do, and at breakfast the next morning there was only Phil around. He said he was going sailing on the Perth River and asked if I wanted to come. We hired a little idiot-proof catamaran. It was a real fun day and a contrast to the normal routine. Phil was always more laidback and easygoing than the Youngs.
Both being completely amateur sailors, we made mistakes, got drenched a few times, laughed a lot, got sunburnt, and went back to the hotel thinking we still had three hours before the flight to a cold, cold London. The band and Browning were in the lobby scowling when we arrived – there’d been a cock-up about the time. Bon had packed for me and kept out a change of clothes, but it was a horrible long-haul flight back. I didn’t have anything with me I would normally take on a 28-hour flight into winter and my skin and hair were caked in salt. Phil had to wear his sailing clothes. Bon was fine, but the Youngs were really angry with me and also with Phil.
Apparently, to their way of thinking, we had committed some terrible breach of their etiquette by spending the day together. This was all so weird. To rub more salt into the wound, when we got to the airport we had to sit around for three hours before the flight. No one spoke to Bon, Phil or me for the entire flight or on arrival in London. This was the power of the Youngs.
A year or so down the track when they were touring America relentlessly (one day off a fortnight if they were lucky) Bon still did all the press on his own, and Phil was still doing all the driving. Malcolm and Angus were too insular to do any of the publicity and Bon was a natural. Phil had reached exhaustion point. Bon, who normally kept his head down in the band and did what he was told, was upset and worried about Phil, and really angry that no one else seemed to care about it. But he didn’t speak up. They were definitely the most success-driven band that I’ve ever come across.
In the early days of their conquest of Britain and Europe, Michael Browning and his wife Julie rented a cottage in Mayfair, entertained [Australian TV personality] Molly Meldrum, and flew back and forth on Concorde to the States. The boys were on 50 pounds a week (which didn’t even cover Bon’s Scotch bill) and the rest of the band lived in dreary houses in Barnes and then Fulham. Michael’s sister Coral had been a music publicist and artist manager in London for quite a few years, and her opinion was well respected by the journos from Melody Maker, NME and Sounds, the weekly rock rags. She only represented artists and bands she liked and believed in, and had a lot of integrity. In the opinion of people who were around back then she was a huge influence on AC/DC’s early success, because of her hard work and reputation with the press. She was on a shitty wage, too, and had dropped her other artists to help her brother Michael. He had no contacts and a brusque, rude manner, and she had the respect of everyone in the business.
Bon, Coral and I got on really well. She was sophisticated, smart, and more importantly, our age. Like others along the band’s road to success, she was dumped unceremoniously by AC/DC with no respect or recognition for the enormous part she had played in breaking the band in Britain and Europe.
BON: THE LAST HIGHWAY: THE UNTOLD STORY OF BON SCOTT AND AC/DC'S BACK IN BLACK is available now through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Booktopia, FNAC and hundreds of other retailers around the world.
One weekend in May 2015 I decided to go to the Sunday service of the Bethel Gospel Assembly, a Pentecostal church on East 120th Street in East Harlem, to hear some music. Bon Scott himself did the same thing while touring in America.
Said his Miami girlfriend Pattee Bishop: ‘We went to church once, and he cried; Bon wanted to go in, and we got caught up in the service [laughs]. I haven’t been to church since, but he liked the music of the singers.’
Inside the church, Bishop Carlton T. Brown was talking about alcohol, specifically wine, and how the Bible teaches Christians to be thankful for everything. Yet, he explained, it’s hard to be thankful sometimes because life can be so cruel because of poverty or the emotional hardship that comes with separation, divorce or bereavement.
So we drink wine to forget our pain. What we should instead be doing, he told the enraptured congregation, is fill our souls with ‘the Holy Spirit’.
Now Bon Scott was hardly a religious man and would never wean himself off the bottle but I like to think he left behind not just a great body of work but a holy spirit of his own – and I'm not talking about the unexplained spectral force that visited Brian Johnson during the writing of ‘You Shook Me all Night Long.'
This spirit of Bon remains a very potent thing, enough that truckers paint their cabs with his likeness and tattoo parlours around the world stay in business inking his face on to arms, legs, bums, chests, backs – just about any available patch of skin.
February 19, 2018 marks the 38th anniversary of Bon's death and there has been the usual flurry of Bon–related happenings to mark the occasion. Each year the legend – and myth – of Bon only seems to get bigger to the point where the real man now bears little relation to the idea of Bon many fans have created in their heads, mostly from sanitised accounts of his life from people who knew him in Australia.
There have been a cast of people who knew Bon who have written books – Mark Evans (Dirty Deeds), Mary Renshaw (Live Wire), Irene Thornton (My Bon Scott), Michael Browning (Dog Eat Dog) – and told their Bon stories, or those individuals who have been interviewed for books by biographers from Clinton Walker to Murray Engleheart to Mick Wall.
In early 2016, more interestingly, a young West Australian writer called J.P. Quinton released a ‘historical fiction’ about Bon’s life called Bad Boy Boogie. It was based, in large part, on the reminiscences of Bon’s muse, the late Silver Smith (a woman I got to interview in Bon: The Last Highway before she died, thanks to Quinton) and Bon’s own letters that had been reproduced in Walker’s 1994 biography.
Silver was working on her own book about Bon but tragically it would go unfinished. She sent me two stories she had written before she died. I learned more about him from reading those than I did from some books recently published about him. If anyone really knew Bon best, it was Silver Smith. Anyone who questions this doesn't know anything about the life of Ronald Belford Scott.
The late Vince Lovegrove, Bon’s bandmate from The Valentines and a close friend, also left behind a wealth of anecdotal material about Bon and tried to get a film made about him. (Other feature projects about Bon have been mooted over the years, but nothing has ever come of them apart from articles on Blabbermouth.)
Mount Lofty Rangers keyboardist Peter Head, who I met at his flat in Marrickville, Sydney, before commencing work on Bon: The Last Highway, was co-producing his own documentary about Bon and has already released some re-recordings with Bon’s vocals taped in 1973 (‘Round And Round And Round’, ‘Carey Gully’).
‘I don't think Bon ever knew the real Bon. That was his trouble.'
– John Freeman, Fraternity drummer
Head still had the original Sony PR-150 quarter-inch reel-to-reel tape and Bon’s handwritten lyrics to two songs, ‘Clarissa’ and ‘Been Up In The Hills Too Long’. It was a powerful thing to hold a piece of paper in my hand on which Bon had written original lyrics.
In my book I wanted to reevaluate Bon as a musician, a rock star and a human being. I also wanted to try to understand why he made some of the decisions he made, including the fateful one that would take his life, without going to the usual gang of suspects who have made great hay publicly out of having called Bon a friend, blood relation or acquaintance. They offer little of value to a biographer. Those who knew him best of all have chosen to keep their privacy.
Said Fraternity’s drummer John Freeman perspicaciously in Walker’s Highway To Hell: ‘I don’t think anybody ever saw the real Bon. I don’t think Bon ever knew the real Bon. That was his trouble.’
There is some truth to that statement. Hopefully Bon: The Last Highway goes some way to clearing up who he really was and dispelling some of the nonsense about his life that is out there and shows no sign of abating.
What does find almost universal agreement is how important Bon was to AC/DC artistically yet he was never acknowledged at the time for the quality of his work. I certainly believe there was some underlying impatience, insecurity or dissatisfaction in Bon. Lovegrove hinted at this in a piece for Melbourne’s Sunday Age: ‘At his core was a burning ambition to be loved, to be famous, and to be a rock star.’ Angus Young confirmed this was true: ‘He told Malcolm once, “If ever I make it big and I’m going to be famous and they want me to do a solo album I’ll call it Bonfire.” His actual words were: “When I’m a fucking big shot.”’
But he was a complete contradiction.
Said Lovegrove: ‘I loved the paradox of his wild, wild spirit and his beautiful calm soul. On the one hand he was a time bomb waiting to blow up, on the other, a serene, gentle man whose greatest asset was the ability to give friendship and loyalty and, eventually, write words that rank among the best in rock.'
Yet, even though he has gone on to claim rock immortality, not everyone remembers Bon so warmly. Ted Nugent is one such individual: ‘Jimi Hendrix didn’t have discipline… Keith Moon and Bon Scott didn’t have any discipline. And I don’t know how that party’s going, but it doesn’t look very good from here.’
Nugent repeats pretty much the same thing in his book, God, Guns And Rock’N’Roll, name-checking Hendrix, Moon and Bon as casualties on ‘a stupefyingly long list of the hippest idiots that ever lived. And died.’
Bon was no idiot but he did make some very poor choices of his own free will. So to a degree Nugent is correct: had Bon exercised more discipline he might still be here. But he chose to live his life the way he did, with no apology. For that reason no one else but Bon can be blamed for his death. It's time people stopped looking for scapegoats and accepted the man's faults.
Every AC/DC fan remembers Bon in their own way and so they should. Our relationship to his music is ultimately individual and personal. But my sincere hope this February 19 is that those who make a very public ceremony of memorialising him take some time to finally, after 38 years, think about how other people's lives were adversely impacted by Bon's personal recklessness.
As Silver says in the book, ‘He wouldn’t care about the consequences and how it would affect other people.’
Alistair Kinnear, she says, was ‘really traumatised’ by Bon’s death, while she and her friend Joe Fury were virtually forced into hiding.
‘Joe and I never did an unkind thing to anyone, so how do you deal with the whole world being told you are some kind of evil creatures by people who don’t even know you, or worse, people who do? We have families, too.’
Silver, Alistair and Joe didn’t deserve to spend the next few decades effectively living on the run, hiding away from the press and vengeful AC/DC fans.
It's easy to forget Bon was only 33 when he died; he was a young man with one failed marriage under his belt. He’d yet to gain some of the wisdom that comes in our 40s.
But at the end of the day he was still an adult. Let's start thinking of him – and judging his actions – as one.
BON: THE LAST HIGHWAY: THE UNTOLD STORY OF BON SCOTT AND AC/DC'S BACK IN BLACK is available now through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Booktopia, FNAC and hundreds of other retailers around the world.
Over the past few months I’ve been subjected to a small amount of abuse online from a few unhinged types, spurred on by a group of furious mother hens on Facebook with insignificant links to Bon Scott who think they have some pre-ordained right to speak on the man’s behalf, almost 38 years after his death. The anniversary of Bon’s tragic passing in 1980 is coming on February 19.
What had I done?
One, I’d not written the story in Bon: The Last Highway they wanted to hear. Two, I’d dared suggest in my book that Bon, a bloke nicknamed ‘Ronnie Roadtest’ for his willingness to have a crack at whatever illicit substances were at hand, had died of something other than alcohol poisoning.
But this is not a new idea. As I made very clear in the book, it has been around for decades. I’m not even the first writer to mention heroin: Mark Putterford, Malcolm Dome and Mick Wall have all spoken of heroin in connection to Bon. Mark Evans, former bass player of AC/DC, confirmed to me in my first book on the band, The Youngs, that Bon was nearly sacked for a heroin OD in 1975, while Michael Browning, former manager of AC/DC, has claimed Bon had a second OD in 1976.
Additionally, all the characters who are introduced in Bon: The Last Highway and were around Bon in London on the last night of his life were in some way connected to heroin or the heroin scene.
Further information has even come to light since the publication of the book that I might eventually publish in due course, which only adds weight to the argument made in Bon: The Last Highway that the great AC/DC frontman of the 1970s accidentally died of a heroin overdose.
Significantly, I found two witnesses, both former heroin users, who were at The Music Machine in Camden who saw Bon with their own eyes and thought he’d taken smack.
One of them, astonishingly, admitted being with Bon and heroin user/pusher Alistair Kinnear back at Alistair’s apartment building in East Dulwich on the morning of 19 February 1980. So there was a third person with Bon and Alistair when Bon died.
In the book I also go through each of the accounts available from known individuals who were involved in Bon’s last night/morning on earth and come up with two workable theories for how he died, both of them centred around the one substance some people just can’t bring themselves to admit Bon ever used: heroin.
Does it matter how he died? Well, does it matter how Marilyn Monroe died? Or Jim Morrison? Or John Belushi? I'd say yes. Especially when so many drug deaths to this day are needless and preventable. There are still important lessons that can be drawn from Bon Scott's experience and the fatal mistake he made. I don't see why Bon Scott, as an enduring global icon, should be treated differently to anyone else.
For this there have been charges made against me of “cashing in” and “walking over a dead man’s body”; bans on mentioning the book on some Bon Scott Facebook groups; even threats of physical violence. Yes, seriously.
So do I regret writing the book? Not in a million years. I’ve loved every minute of the three years it took to write, and the four to bring it to press. Bon Scott is a Scottish-Australian hero we should all know about, celebrate and go on celebrating. But for me, his legend is only enhanced by revealing his faults and weaknesses. They don’t tarnish his reputation. They make him more human and relatable, less of a caricature.
I’d rather know the real man, not a statue.
Margaret ‘Silver’ Smith was one of the great loves of Bon Scott, the inspiration for many of his best songs, including ‘Gimme A Bullet’ and ‘Gone Shootin’’ off AC/DC’s 1978 masterpiece, Powerage.
They lived together in Australia and England. They travelled together on the road in the United States. She died in a hospice in Jamestown, South Australia, on 12 December 2016.
Bon, separated from his wife Irene Thornton in 1974, had fallen hard for Silver, reputedly spraying her name in silver paint at the headquarters of AC/DC’s Australian record company, Albert Productions, and mentioning her in one letter from the road in 1977: ‘I haven’t seen my lady for four months… love will prevail.’
But it didn’t. A mutually agreed 12-month break in their relationship in early 1978 became permanent, on Silver’s wishes.
She saw Bon alone only once or twice in the last year of his life, though importantly he phoned her to invite her out on the evening prior to his mysterious death in London on 19 February 1980. She claims Bon had finished writing the lyrics to Back In Black and wanted to celebrate.
According to her, she declined his invitation. By then she’d made it very clear there was no future for them as a couple.
Before Silver’s death, she spoke to me for Bon: The Last Highway: The Untold Story of Bon Scott and AC/DC’s Back In Black. These were her last recorded audio interviews, among only a few she ever gave during her life, giving AC/DC fans a rare insight into her passionate but tumultuous relationship with Australia’s greatest rock legend. If anyone was Bon's true muse it was Silver Smith. An abridged version of this interview was published in the December 2017 edition of Classic Rock.
On her beginnings:
I don’t know who my biological father was and knew nothing about my biological mother until about 15 years ago. I have had four names, all of them legal, one I didn’t know about until relatively recently. I have been legally ‘Silver Smith’ for four and a half decades. I think of my family as the people who raised me.
I’ve been alone for 30 years. The Bon adventure was one too far for me. I got scared. I buried myself in work.
On Bon’s appetite for drugs:
Before [he joined] AC/DC in Adelaide in 1974, Bon was known to take anything. He was a drug pig. He and ‘Uncle’ [Fraternity harmonica player John Ayers] were notorious back in the day when there was a [drug] drought on for wheedling and badgering everyone; I can vouch for that. They both experimented with crazy things like datura while broke in London. Of course I didn’t see that, but my sources for that are ones I would rely on. I loved Uncle; he was a madman but an irresistible character.
On claims made in book publicity that Live Wire author Mary Renshaw was Bon’s ‘soulmate’:
As far as I know I never met Mary Renshaw. I met [Bon’s ex-wife] Irene Thornton once briefly as she was my friend Shane Marshall’s beautiful cousin and Irene had just arrived back from England. She wore gorgeous clothes. The ‘soulmate’ label was a surprise. Mary was an old friend [of Bon’s] and he had quite a few friends like that. I thought of her in the same category. Bon wrote to lots of people regularly, so I’m familiar with his friendship with Darce and Gabby [Renshaw’s co-writers John and Gabby D’Arcy] of whom he was very fond, but not Mary. Just Maria Short from Perth. He also wrote to Judy King.
On her late husband Graeme Smith:
A good Scotsman to the end, he died of liver failure. He was okay, one of the good guys, but didn’t put himself out all that much.
On Irene Thornton:
We girls were all in awe of her looks, style, and fabulous Carnaby Street/Kings Road clothes. It was months after my one-time dalliance with Bon [in Adelaide] and before she met him. The sex was great, but the rest of the adventure was a disaster, so it only happened once. Then, later, I heard Bon and Irene married during the flurry of marriages in Fraternity, because Hamish Henry, their manager, was only paying for wives to go to England, not girlfriends. I figured he was a lucky guy.
I don’t remember Bon and Irene visiting Graeme and I at the Mount Lofty cottage as she described in her book [My Bon Scott], but it may have happened. We got drop-in visitors up there all the time, but I don’t remember now who most of them were unless there was a particular reason for remembering. She may well have visited us.
City hippies often dropped in on hills hippies on the weekends in good weather, as evidenced by the scene at Fraternity’s Aldgate house, and Graeme and I had our share. No telephones. [Valentines lead singer] Vince Lovegrove had swapped houses with us, and his friend, the artist Vytas Serelis, who probably knew Bon well, had a cottage on the next driveway. We would have offered Bon and Irene tea and a smoke if we had some and probably played a new album.
On Irene’s claim she met Silver at a rock festival:
Overactive imagination, definitely. It was a regret of mine that I missed all the outdoor hippie rock festivals in Adelaide, as I was usually called into the kitchen at the Travelodge – the best hotel in Adelaide at the time – on those weekends. My savings plan for my great adventure [overseas] was to nearly always have part-time work on top of full-time clerical work. No equal pay back then.
On Bon’s relationship with Irene:
Bon was big on telling people how much he owed Irene for taking him in after his motorcycle accident [in 1974] although they weren’t together any more, and how he couldn’t wait to be able to help her out. She was pregnant and struggling. But he didn’t, did he? Instead of showing off by showing up in a limo with expensive booze to visit people who were doing it hard, he could have given her the money. I would have been pissed off [with him] if I were her.
On Bon’s 1975 heroin overdose in Melbourne:
He told me very early on how close he had gone to fucking up over the [Judy] King incident, and that he had made a promise to the Youngs [not to do drugs]. If anything, I was stricter [with him] than the Youngs, because he was a total embarrassment even when he overdid the ‘smoko’ with alcohol at inappropriate times, and I was the one who would have to get him home and up five flights of stairs. Not to mention that this behaviour was considered really tacky in London. To the best of my knowledge, Bon kept faith with his promise to the Youngs.
‘It was the what-the-fuck impulse things that did the real damage [to our relationship]... the babysitting stuff was becoming intolerable.'
– Silver on Bon
On hooking up with Bon after AC/DC’s first London gig at the Red Cow in Hammersmith, 1976:
I used to go past [the Red Cow] on the bus to my work agency in Hammersmith. It was such a lonely, homely building; just a stone cube. Stuck out like a sore thumb because there were no other buildings on that side of the road.
How different my life would have been if I had not been home, not answered the phone, not gone to the Red Cow that night. At that time, I was truly happy, contented for the first time in my life, had lovely friends, was learning some wonderful things, and it had been that way for a couple of years. I felt like I was finally home. And then it all went to shit.
On the difficulty of having a relationship with Bon:
It was the what-the-fuck impulse things that did the real damage. On the second trip [home] to Australia [from England in 1978], while we were staying in Coogee, Sydney, two things happened like that, and I knew I could no longer be with this man, couldn’t live like this any more, and the babysitting stuff was becoming intolerable and dangerous. I wanted to break up then, but settled for a 12-month separation, where I could go back to London and think seriously about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, and then make a decision.
On drugs being involved in Bon’s death:
Bon knew AC/DC was his last shot at making it, and he was really conscientious after his OD with the King girl in Melbourne. He told me straight away about it; he did smoke hash when he had downtime, and drank horribly, but I don’t know of any pills. I was personally really tough on him with smoko even, as he had really embarrassed me by eating a huge piece of hash at a ridiculously inappropriate time very early on in London.
‘Bon doing smack would be anyone's worst nightmare... but with Bon I guess anything's possible.'
– Silver on Bon
On Bon using heroin:
I would be really surprised if you find anyone credible who will swear they saw Bon take heroin during his London-based years with AC/DC. But with Bon I guess anything’s possible. He had a really bad reputation for taking anything and to extreme excess back in Adelaide with Fraternity. But he did take the heroin embargo from the Youngs after Judy King really seriously, and did not want to get fired.
Given what it was like to have to look after him when he was comatose on Scotch, I was very glad there was an embargo. Bon doing smack would be anyone’s worst nightmare and I personally wouldn’t have had anything to do with him [if he had used it].
On Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards visiting her at her flat:
We had a grizzle together about the parlous state of the legal system at the time, and the nasty attitude of the plainclothes police in Britain and they way they try to humiliate you.
On rock biographer Mick Wall who claimed he’d been to Silver’s apartment in London and seen Bon snort either cocaine or heroin:
Mick Wall has never been to my place. I wasn’t living with Bon in 1979.
On former AC/DC bass player Mark Evans:
He was very young, but was definitely the smartest in the band, a lot more aware of what was going on in the rest of the world.
On former AC/DC drummer Phil Rudd:
Probably the last time he was home [in Australia from touring in America], Bon told me Phil was really freaking; exhausted from all the driving. I’ve read Phil was on coke, but I don’t think so. Bon would have mentioned it. Bon was really pissed off that nothing was being done to help Phil; that [the Youngs] just kept getting the whip out. But Bon didn’t speak up. I was so sad when Phil had that recent [legal] trouble; it seemed so unfair. I had the urge to write him a letter, but what could I have said or done after nearly four decades?
It was a couple of months after that American tour that Phil and I had a day out on a catamaran that we got in trouble for [with the Youngs]. It was a lovely silly happy day and we laughed like drains, and that’s how I choose to remember him. Not looking so lost and hunted on the telly.
On Michael Browning’s book Dog Eat Dog and Browning’s portrayal of Silver:
I think [Browning] is still sucking up to the Youngs, after all this time. Maybe he thinks they might pat him on the head and say, ‘Thanks, Michael, for all those grinding tours you organised.’ He never had a conversation with me, never visited my house. [His sister] Coral was very comfortable there – they are chalk and cheese. He never met a single friend of mine, and I only travelled with [the Brownings] twice: once from Perth to London, and once from San Francisco to Sydney. He and his wife [Julie] travelled first class; the rest of us were back in economy. I would never have looked ‘drug fucked’ in public, and rarely in the privacy of my own place.
On Browning’s allegation that Bon had an overdose in Silver’s company in London, 1976:
Bon didn’t OD on heroin in 1976 in London in my company. He told me he had ODed with the very young and troubled Judy King in Melbourne and had nearly died, not long before they came to London; that the band was very angry about it and had banned him from taking all drugs except alcohol, which they were fine with. He smoked a lot of hash, but only when he was away from the band. Because the band was so busy he didn’t know anyone in 1976 in London except a couple of friends of mine and Coral, none of whom were heroin users, so I think it extremely unlikely that he ODed with anyone in London.
On Coral Browning:
Bon was really dependent on Coral. He loved Coral. Until I came along, basically there was just a band. He and Coral got on like a house on fire. And she was very fond of him and she went through all the mail; he used to get ridiculous mail and stuff. Her and I hit it off really well. We spent a lot of time together. We did things together when the band was away. Coral was the only one, apart from Bon, that I really had a relationship with… because of the friendship that I had with her at that time, I can’t see how I wouldn’t have known if something like that [alleged heroin OD] had happened… it doesn’t make sense to me that I wouldn’t have known about it.
‘He would be fine for ages, and then do something really destructive at the worst possible time.'
– Silver on Bon
On her London social circles:
Bon asked me how I knew so many wealthy people. Travelling was still very expensive in the 1970s; luxurious giant planes were often only a third full. So on long-haul flights passengers socialised, swapped stories and passed on addresses of friends to look up, and partied in the bar. Australians were an unknown novelty and were welcome in the world of the ‘beautiful people’ of the ‘70s if they were smart, amusing and attractive, dressed well and had good manners. Sophisticated Europeans didn’t sit around divvying up the bill after a meal; you never saw the bill. Americans and South Americans fought for the right to be able to pay it, proving they were the richest person at the table.
On Bon’s self-destructiveness:
He would be fine for ages, and then do something really destructive at the worst possible time, with no explanation, and really make things difficult for other people, without giving them a single thought. Consideration of others was not a strong point.
On why she didn’t keep any of Bon’s letters or photos:
Everything I owned disappeared; I’ve had to start again twice… I’ve never been able to find out where it [all] went. The first big loss was in London: three huge trunks. Two modern aluminium trunks. One old wooden, steel-banded trunk, painted midnight blue, with silver stars. Plus a giant wooden fridge crate. These contained all my documentation, books, records, photos, diaries, collections of letters, bibelots and precious things from my family days, my mother’s world-class embroidery, everything I owned up to the age of 29, except for what I had with me. The past completely wiped out. It is still devastating to me. Over the last few decades some photos have been given to me by friends and family. I had some great professional shots that were lost.
I know [Bon Scott biographer] Clinton Walker showed me two photographs he got from [Bon’s mother] Isa Scott, the one that was printed in his book, and there is one with me, Isa and Bon at Perth airport saying goodbye. It was the afternoon of the great salty long-haul flight, and Bon picked my clothes; not me. I looked like crap but I was smiling, which is at least something. I’m wearing a lime green shirt and white jeans.
On where she was when she found out from King’s College Hospital that Bon had died:
I was at home. [Bon’s and my friend] Joe Fury was either there, or arrived just after the call… they didn’t say [Bon] was dead. They asked me to come to the hospital because it was serious. They never give death messages over the phone. They look after you, put you in a nice room with a cup of tea. Joe had worked in hospitals, so he had figured it out, and told me his fears before the doctor came in. I can’t talk about what I thought and felt.
On Bon having or not having a will:
I never heard of there being any wills at any time. Bon wasn’t big on being organised. He knew he owed Irene a big favour, and he talked about helping her with a deposit for a house all the time because she had taken him in after the bike accident [in 1974], but he didn’t do it, did he? I thought he should have done it, not went around to visit her with expensive booze and just talked about it.
On Bon’s parents Chick and Isa after his death in 1980:
I felt protective of Isa. His parents were really happy in their own new unit. They didn’t want a big house, or money. They were happy and proud of what they’d achieved for their family. I could relate to that. Isa just wished that Bon had seen his own success. They were good but naive people, Bon’s parents.
BON: THE LAST HIGHWAY: THE UNTOLD STORY OF BON SCOTT AND AC/DC'S BACK IN BLACK is available now.
Today Powerage stands tall in the AC/DC catalogue and is a favourite among AC/DC fans and rock musicians the world over, including Eddie Van Halen and Keith Richards. Aside from Bon Scott hitting his peak in his lyric writing, it also features some of the grooviest basslines AC/DC ever recorded, particularly on songs such as ‘Gimme A Bullet’, ‘Down Payment Blues’ and ‘Gone Shootin’’.
To my ears (and the ears of many musicians who have contacted me about it over the years), there is a perceptible difference from later AC/DC albums on which Cliff Williams plays bass, which is probably one reason why Powerage, recorded in early 1978 in Sydney, Australia, still sounds so special.
As one musician who shall remain nameless put it: ‘I don't care what AC/DC says, that's George Young playing bass on Powerage. The bass playing on “Gimme a Bullet” is outstanding. I like Cliff but George is in a different class. I love George's bass playing: very similar style to Andy Fraser from Free, slippery and groovy. Check out the studio version of “High Voltage”: it sits in a different place in the groove; very clever playing. Unless Cliff just learned George’s bass line – but I'd doubt it, as he never played it like that again.’
But to a corps of hardened AC/DC fans there is no argument to be had: it was Cliff on Powerage and that's the end of the matter.
In his autobiography Dog Eat Dog, former AC/DC manager Michael Browning claims the British-born Williams, who was having work-visa issues at the time, ‘reached Alberts [Studios in Sydney, Australia,] in January 1978, just in time for the recording sessions… it was his first record with the band and he loved playing on it’.
Mark Opitz, who engineered the album, wrote in his own autobiography, Sophisto-Punk, that Williams ‘wasn’t there for the first month of Powerage… so George played bass during rehearsals’.
Yet the man who made way for Williams the year before, Mark Evans, told me a markedly different story when I wrote my 2013 book, The Youngs: ‘My understanding of the situation is that George played bass on the whole album.’
In an interview with Bass Player, Williams rubbished the allegation (and talk Evans himself may have played on some of Powerage): ‘Not at all, and Mark was long gone at that point… I finally got my [Australian] visa, it was all good, and we did the album.’
In support of Williams, it’s well established that heavy rehearsals were going on for AC/DC’s fifth Australian studio album, a few weeks’ worth.
‘Mark [Evans] was long gone at that point… I finally got my [Australian] visa, it was all good and we did the album.'
– Cliff Williams
The truth, however, is Evans was hardly ‘long gone’ from Alberts. Evans was actually recording with Finch (aka Contraband) right in the adjacent studio to where AC/DC were rehearsing Powerage.
Evans remembered all his gear being set up and ‘I’d come in the next day with my white bass [which would be] sitting up, [I’d] pick it up, and the tuning would be different on it.’
Owen Orford, lead singer of Contraband, confirms ‘it was January ’78’ and the recording took place ‘opposite George and Harry [Vanda]’s studio’.
Evans said he had a good idea who was using his bass.
‘“I know.” So I’d go in next door and [I’d say], “Hey George, did you borrow my bass?’” [And he responded:] “Oh yeah, we did some bass tracks and we came and borrowed your bass.” I would have met Cliff between the recording of Powerage and Highway To Hell. From my memory, the sessions for [Powerage], in the back of my mind, I don’t [think] Cliff was in town for that or much of that.’
George certainly wasn’t afraid to throw his weight around in the studio as a bass player, as Rob Bailey, AC/DC’s bass player who was supplanted by George during the recording of AC/DC’s first album, High Voltage, and Evans, who had to stand by as George did some bass parts on albums he worked on, will both attest.
It's now well established that AC/DC album credits don't always tell the full story of who played on the recordings and AC/DC already had a history of using early monitor mixes in final recordings, such as the 1975 single ‘High Voltage’, on which George’s bass is highly distinctive.
Explains Tristin Norwell, a London-based record producer and composer who got his start at Alberts: ‘Monitor mixes are often mono, never more than stereo. In a rehearsal room in the 1970s you may have had a cheap little ¼ inch recorder taking a stereo mix of the monitor board, using all the mics in the room. It’s a rough ’n’ ready capture – usually dreadful – of a live rehearsal session. In proper recording sessions a monitor mix is usually a version of the song “as it stands”. Traditionally you have a recording day, and then a day mixing all the tracks – instruments – together to create a final mix. This stereo mix then gets mastered by another boffin.
‘From my memory, the sessions for [Powerage], in the back of my mind, I don’t [think] Cliff was in town for that or much of that.’
– Mark Evans
‘However, monitor mixes from recording sessions in proper studios are often very successful and hard to beat – they are often an amalgam of the energy and all the ideas firing around the room, at the inception of the recording. The endless debate is how much you lose of this “energy” by spending lots of time on a final mix – the finessed, overly processed, overly considered stage. There are many, many final mixes that have been beaten by a rock-solid vibey monitor mix, usually as they are instinctive and fresh-sounding.’
Is there any reason to think George wouldn’t stand in for Williams, a relatively new and untested (at least in Albert Studios) bass player who couldn’t even get into Australia because of visa problems at a time when AC/DC was under serious pressure from Atlantic Records to come up with a hit record? Nothing less than AC/DC's survival as a recording act was at stake.
Then again, Williams may well be right. But if he says he recorded bass tracks for all of the songs on Powerage, does that also mean they were actually used on the final album? Powerage was a critical album for AC/DC. The future of the Young family business – AC/DC itself – was at risk if the album failed to sell, as well as a substantial portion of George’s future income from producer royalties. Evans’s claim appears at least plausible.
‘I wouldn't compare my bass playing to George [Young]. I'm a sort of cut-down version of George.'
– Mark Evans
Furthermore, as Evans said to me back in 2013, ‘A real advantage of the way [AC/DC] used to record is the fact that we used to record as a band [two guitars, bass and drums]… the only thing that was added on was [Bon’s] vocals and [Angus’s] solos, guitar solos.’
George was in a different league to him as a musician.
‘I wouldn’t compare my bass playing to George. I’m sort of like a cut-down version of George.’
For what it's worth, photographs of the Powerage sessions from that Australian summer of ’78, taken by then-music journalist Jon O’Rourke, clearly show George playing bass with Angus Young, Malcolm Young and Phil Rudd in the studio. Only Bon is missing. To my knowledge, no known photos exist of Cliff recording the album. The only other photos of the sessions, taken by Andrew Paschalidis during the later recording of the single ‘Rock 'N' Roll Damnation’, also fail to show Cliff being there. Paschalidis even states that George was playing bass when he arrived at the studio. George, rhythm guitarist of The Easybeats, writer of classics ‘Friday On My Mind’ and ‘Evie’, was one of the best bass players of his time, who’d already played on early albums by the band, including 1977’s seminal Let There Be Rock.
Yes, Let There Be Rock. Evans admitted in 1998: ‘George is on some of the songs and I’m on others. Sometimes I can’t tell who’s playing what because I ended up playing bass very similar to George, but I played most of the bass on Let There Be Rock.’
Did George really change the working habit of his entire recording career with AC/DC and fail to record a single bass track on the band’s most important album to that point, at a time when Williams, despite his best efforts, was having trouble getting his work visa?
With George on bass in the studio, and AC/DC firing as a band, only a fool wouldn’t have hit the RECORD switch.
Mark Opitz says the whole thing is a nonsense: ‘What a load of bullshit; the photos are from rehearsals. I recorded the album with Vanda & Young producing and Cliff played bass, end of story.'
Former Angels bass player James Morley, who plays rhythm guitar in Bon But Not Forgotten with Mark Evans today, insists George played every song on the album bar ‘Rock 'N' Roll Damnation': ‘It's George. Except “Damnation".'
Meanwhile, O'Rourke, who took the famous photos, says, ‘The photos speak for themselves. I had the pleasure of being invited into the sessions by George while AC/DC were writing and recording the album. Bon would be in the writer's room in Alberts and come in every so often with lyrics to try on the songs. Simply amazing to be there!'
Whatever the truth, we were left with AC/DC's greatest album.
BON: THE LAST HIGHWAY: THE UNTOLD STORY OF BON SCOTT AND AC/DC'S BACK IN BLACK is available to preorder now through Amazon, Barnes & Noble and hundreds of other retailers. Just click the title above (in red) to preorder and save on the retail price.
One of rock ’n’ roll’s most colourful figures in the 1970s was Sidney Drashin, whose company Jet Set Enterprises was a colossus of rock promotion in the southern United States.
Over his career Drashin promoted over 5000 shows, including Rolling Stones, Joe Cocker, Elvis Presley, Barbra Streisand, Frank Sinatra and, most famously of all, Lynyrd Skynyrd. His kingdom was Jacksonville, Orlando, Miami and Tampa but Jet Set put on shows in about 30 cities around the Southeast and Southwest, including cities outside Florida.
Drashin got arrested in 1979 on a cocaine possession rap, stemming out of a 1977 drug bust that resulted in the arrest of Exorcist actress Linda Blair, who was dating Skynyrd guitarist Gary Rossington. At the time of the arrest she was attending the funeral of Skynyrd lead singer Ronnie Van Zant. Says Drashin, who knew Blair: ‘She’d come down and get in trouble.’
Former AC/DC manager Michael Browning calls Drashin a ‘Jacksonville scoundrel’ in his autobiography, Dog Eat Dog, which greatly amuses the man himself. A more accurate description was made by Bob Greene in a piece for Audience magazine in 1972. Drashin was ‘a loud, frantic young man… who did not seem able to talk to another person without clutching that person’s arm’.
Not much has changed nearly 50 years later. Even retired, everything the man does is a million miles a minute. He types his name with a $ symbol for the ‘s’ in Drashin and lives in a condo at Ponte Vedra Beach outside Jacksonville.
‘Marketing is 90 per cent of anything,' he says. ‘The Rolling Stones are dog shit but they were well promoted.’
After making their state debut at the West Palm Beach Civic Auditorium (now the West Palm Beach Christian Convention Center), AC/DC made their second Florida appearance supporting REO Speedwagon at Jacksonville’s Veterans Memorial Coliseum on 6 August 1977.
REO Speedwagon was called the ‘world’s most boring band’ in Browning’s book, an ungenerous assessment for a band featuring an incredible lead guitarist (the late Gary Richrath) that would go on to record the outstanding single ‘Roll With The Changes’ a year later, one of the mainstays of American classic rock.
In August 1977, they were promoting the hit live album You Get What You Play For.
‘R.E.O. Speedwagon Is Gold And Exploding! CURRENTLY STORMING THE COUNTRY ON TOUR!’ screamed an Epic Records ad in Radio & Records of 5 August. Wrote Circus magazine: ‘For a band with no hype, little promotion and a big share of problems, REO has managed to maintain their pace through constant touring and perseverance doing the thing they love best – rock ’n’ roll.’
From Champaign, Illinois, they’d originally hit the road after buying a used limousine they had bought for $50. They played up to three towns a night. AC/DC had far more in common with REO Speedwagon than they liked to think.
Drashin is not sure, but thinks Lynyrd Skynyrd (with whom he ‘probably did a coupla hundred shows’) turned up to see the support act.
‘‘Skynyrd was our local band. I think Ronnie Van Zant came to the show and wanted to see AC/DC. The band showed up and I made ’em security guards, I think, I can’t remember that totally, I know I did it for the Stones one year, I made [Skynyrd] security. But I also think I did it with AC/DC.
‘They were kids. They liked to go to shows; they were pretty well known so I had to stick ’em behind security guards in the place between the risers.’
Members of Skynyrd have claimed to have jammed with AC/DC the following day, something I explore further in Bon: The Last Highway, as well as looking into Bon’s reputed friendship with late Skynyrd bass player Leon Wilkeson, the man Mark Evans once said Bon had in mind for his rumoured solo album.
Did Bon get his Confederate Battle Flag belt buckle from Van Zant? It's a tale that's been going around for years and I'll be examining that in another blog. Were members of AC/DC offered a ride on the plane that crashed in Mississippi? The short answer to that one is they wouldn't be needing to get from South Carolina to Louisiana if they were in the middle of playing shows in England. A lot of myths abound when it comes to AC/DC and Lynyrd Skynyrd.
‘Skynyrd were maybe the craziest band of all time,’ says Drashin. ‘No one came close. Let me give you a couple of stories on them and you’ll get the drift. Ronnie was the leader, the writer and the singer. He was short, maybe five feet, he wasn’t much higher than that, but he was knockin’ on the door when [the rest of the band] wouldn’t come down to go to the shows and when they’d come to the door, he’d bust them right in the mouth.
‘Skynyrd were maybe the craziest band of all time.'
– Sidney Drashin
‘I said, “Ronnie, you gotta stop it. It’s a terrible habit to have a beat-up band playin’ with blood drippin’ outta their nose.” He said, “The monkeys, if they don’t listen to me, I’m gonna beat the shit out of em.” That’s how crazy he was. Just because they were late to come down and get in like, not a limo even, a SUV or a van, in Memphis one time.
‘They would also knock on my window at two in the morning and beg me to give ’em some champagne and I’d go down to the kitchen, I wouldn’t let ’em in the house, and hand it to ’em out the window and off they went. They were great kids, though. They were a lot of fun; they were brilliant at what they did.
‘AC/DC took over Jacksonville almost as big as Skynyrd. It was really close. The Beatles were one thing, the Stones were something else, but AC/DC was from Australia. They weren’t part of the English invasion. They came from… it was almost like the moon. It was so far away, Australia, it added a cachet to it, an extra round of dynamite.
‘AC/DC came from... it was almost like the moon.'
– Sidney Drashin
‘AC/DC’s stage show was something no one had ever seen at a time that was perfect. [Booking agency American Talent International’s] Jeff Franklin was brilliant at recognising talent and when I called him and started telling him about ’em, he knew he had the right handbill. The [Jacksonville] kids hadn’t seen anything of that stature. I loved the band. The money was fine. I mean, let’s be realistic. Money’ll change the time of day in downtown New York. But it wasn’t the money. It was the thrill of it all.’
As for Wilkeson, who died in a Ponte Vedra Beach hotel room in 2001, Drashin says he was ‘easily’ as crazy as Van Zant but ‘he had a little old lady’s heart’ and was a ‘great guy’.
It could just as easily have been a description of Bon.
BON: THE LAST HIGHWAY: THE UNTOLD STORY OF BON SCOTT AND AC/DC'S BACK IN BLACK is available to preorder now through Amazon, Barnes & Noble and hundreds of other retailers. Just click the title above (in red) to preorder and save on the retail price. Sidney Drashin's book RINGLEADER OF ROCK SHOWS is available through Amazon.
In New York, during the writing of Bon: The Last Highway, I visited BARRY BERGMAN, formerly of Edward B. Marks Music Corporation. Edward B. Marks was AC/DC’s American publisher for High Voltage (1976) through to Highway To Hell (1979). When AC/DC first arrived in America in July 1977, he travelled with the band to Texas and Florida. The camaraderie, he says, was there to see.
‘I think the chemistry between them was incredible. I don’t believe [AC/DC] spend a lot of time with each other when they’re not working; I know that to be a fact, they do their own thing… my relationship with them was, I thought, excellent. I got along with all of them, at the time. I didn’t have a problem with any one of them.
‘We [Edward B. Marks] got involved with [AC/DC] through J. Albert & Son in the mid ’70s. Michael Browning was the manager at the time. I was sort of like a surrogate manager because Michael wasn’t here [in the States] all the time and there were times when they were here and he wasn’t and I would help them out, deal with things for them.
‘We gave Michael an office at Edward B. Marks, and I spent a lot of time running around with them to those early shows with Ian Jeffery, who was the road manager. I went to shows with them in Texas, here and there and everywhere else… I knew the way [the US scene] worked. I knew the way radio worked. This one worked. That thing worked. I was doing it, you know. So I was able to guide them.’
Bergman especially helped with airplay for the band out on the West Coast and in Florida, where they first got played anywhere in the States by Bill Bartlett on WPDQ/WAIV Jacksonville.
Florida, he says, was the takeoff point for the Australians: ‘That’s where it all started.’
Did you feel like you were needed by the band? That Browning didn’t know enough about America to handle it himself?
‘I got along well with Michael. I always liked and respected Michael. It’s like everything else. You come here [to America], you’re overwhelmed. It’s a big country. Of course he didn’t know. There were things I didn’t know about my own country here. If someone had have told me it would have taken four years and a bunch of albums to break this band I would have never believed it, because they were that good.’
In 1977, Bergman was in the audience for the recording of AC/DC’s Live From The Atlantic Studios promo album along with late Atlantic Records heavy Tunc Erim, who was Atlantic’s national album promotion director. Because of his seniority, Erim’s name appeared before AC/DC record-company loyalists Michael Klenfner’s and Perry Cooper’s on mailouts that went to US radio stations.
Bergman says Erim had many stoushes with the formidable Klenfner, an ex-bouncer, but Klenfner, despite his stature and size, always came off second best.
Says Bergman: ‘Tunc got the job [at Atlantic] as a result of being at a party one night years earlier when he was a kid seeing a little old lady in a corner, going over to the old lady because she didn’t know what she was doing there or she looked alone, and he danced with her all night, hung out with her, and took her home. And it was Ahmet Ertegun’s mother.’
Ertegun, of course, was the big boss at Atlantic Records.
‘It was shortly thereafter that Ahmet called him up, wanted to meet him, hired him and there was no way anyone could ever touch Tunc as long as Ahmet Ertegun was at that company. So Michael, who tried to uproot him at one point, was not going to be successful. As Michael once said to me, “His name isn’t Tunc Erim. His name is Tunc Ertegun!”
So who outside of the band was responsible for AC/DC making it in America?
‘I would say [AC/DC’s booking agent] Doug Thaler, myself, Klenfner, and maybe one or two others were the reasons the band made it, especially Doug and myself. Because Doug was a real believer and a team player and he worked for ATI’s Jeff Franklin at the time. He put together a great tour for them and everything, and I think it was on a handshake.’
He also says Klenfner, who got sacked by Atlantic president Jerry Greenberg in 1979, told him about the idea of dropping Harry Vanda and George Young as AC/DC’s producers and getting Mutt Lange to produce AC/DC. (This clashes with Browning’s version that it was solely his idea to recruit the Zambian producer for Highway To Hell and supports the testimony of others who I have spoken to previously from Atlantic who said the idea originated elsewhere, most likely from Doug Thaler.)
‘If someone had have told me it would have taken four years and a bunch of albums to break this band I would have never believed it, because they were that good.'
– Barry Bergman
But didn’t Klenfner want Eddie Kramer to produce the band?
‘At one point, yes… Klenfner had mentioned to me Mutt Lange… it came to me through Michael Klenfner, that, “You know, Barry, we gotta make change with the production of this band, because we’re selling records – [AC/DC] went from 75,000 to 150,000 to 225,000 [sales] and then the fourth album was the one.”’
Bergman relates his account of Klenfner flying down to Australia to have an audience with the band and Vanda & Young.
‘I remember him saying, “I’m sitting in the room”, the big guy that he is, “on the floor and these little guys there and Vanda & Young.” And he told them, “If you really want to see your brothers make it, you’ve gotta let go of the production. You’ve gotta bring somebody else in here.”’
Bergman’s voice is made for FM radio. In fact, he could turn his home into a radio station. Thousands of records have been lovingly catalogued along one wall that runs the entire length of the apartment. He gets up off his office chair and pulls out an original Live From The Atlantic Studios album, a birthday card signed to him by the band, and photo albums of unseen AC/DC pics. They are very personal. Sightseeing together at the Alamo. Various stage shots. A picture of his cousin, former North Miami mayor Mike Colodny, with Bon and the band, of which Bergman owns and is inordinately proud. Colodny had given them the keys to the city on 7 August 1977.
‘Nobody knew that at the time,’ says Bergman of his role in calling up Colodny and arranging a photo-op with AC/DC. ‘That stayed a secret for 27 years until the Miami Herald published it and found out. For years they called my cousin the “rock ’n’ roll mayor” after we did what we did.’ I called my cousin up one day and I said, “Michael, I got this band and we’ve gotta do something. I gotta do some sort of promotion or something to bring attention to this band.’ And he’s very powerful in Florida. He says, “Barry, I’ll get them the key to the city and we’ll throw them a lunch at City Hall and I’ll have all the press there, because everybody will be wondering, ‘What the hell is all this about?’ and then we’re going to play at the Sportatorium that night in Miami.” This worked very well. That picture went around the world. This was beautiful.’
It’s been an impressive show-and-tell. But he’s most chuffed about his cameo on Live From The Atlantic Studios. Bergman says there was 300 to 400 people in the audience.
‘I’m on this record. I make my singing debut with Bon. It ended up in the Bonfire box set. I will play it for you.’
Bergman walks over to his turntable and carefully removes the vinyl from the mint packaging. It’s an original Atlantic Records promo-only copy. The needle finds ‘The Jack’ and Bergman turns up the volume. The sound fills the room, like we’re actually there.
Bon looked out for him specifically, he says, while Bergman was sitting up in the bleachers, ‘and he’s pushing people out of the way and he’s coming towards me, and he comes to me, and grabs my shoulder and puts the mike in my mouth and says, “Sing it Barry!” And I’m singing with him. No sooner the track was recorded the Young brothers, Angus and especially Malcolm, both said, “That’s the track we want to use.” And Angus said, “Yeah, we’re going to make Barry famous.” That’s a true story.’
He finds another memento. ‘Here, this is a picture you’ll never see in a magazine,’ he says, laughing, and shows me a photo of members of the band holding up the blouse of a woman, a real looker, revealing her breasts. He then shows me on his mobile phone a picture of a very silver-haired Cliff Williams, photographed recently stopping by Bergman’s apartment. In the photo Williams is standing against the same crammed shelves of box sets, LPs, CDs and books, most of the LPs and CDs in their original shrink wrapping. Bonfire, AC/DC’s box-set tribute to Bon, had been taken off the shelf by Williams for the photo.
AC/DC’s recently retired bass player had called Bergman out of the blue, after years of no contact, to say he was the luckiest man in the world, that the band had given him so much, he’d had 30 years with his wife Georganne and borne two great kids. Williams then flew in to New York to spend the day with Bergman.
‘I said to Cliff when I saw him, “What are you doing with yourself?” He says, “You know, Barry, I’ve been to every country in the entire world, now I’m travelling with my wife to see them because I never saw any of these countries. I was in every one but I never saw anything.’
As for Bon, whose heavy and increasingly problematic drinking he saw up close, Bergman remembers him as being ‘kind' to the end.
‘Decent, caring, loving, he was really very nice to me.’
So even when he was drunk he was kind?
‘He was a good guy, yeah. You know, he could function.’
BON: THE LAST HIGHWAY: THE UNTOLD STORY OF BON SCOTT AND AC/DC'S BACK IN BLACK is available to preorder now through Amazon, Barnes & Noble and hundreds of other retailers. Barry Bergman is giving a seminar about the music industry in August in New York City. For details, click here.
Jesse Fink is the author of Bon: The Last Highway: The Untold Story of Bon Scott and AC/DC's Back In Black and The Youngs: The Brothers Who Built AC/DC. For more information about Bon, click HERE or click the book covers below to be directed to editions in your preferred territory and language.