Appetite For Dysfunction: A Cautionary Tale

By Vicky L Hamilton, Miller Maxine and Anderson Denny

Appetite For Dysfunction: A Cautionary Tale

Appetite For Dysfunction is a self-exploratory journey through Vicky’s life. A small town girl who risks everything by dropping out of art school, leaving behind the safety of loved ones and small town values, and making her way to Hollywood. When Vicky arrived, she landed a job

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vicky Hamilton
• Release date: May 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9780996966238

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APPETITE FOR DYSFUNCTION.

Copyright 2014 by Vicky Hamilton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For information www.appetitefordysfunction.com or VickyHamilton.com

Cover art design by Maxine Miller

Book layout and design by Denny Anderson

Back cover photography by Robert John

Final edits by Katherine Turman and Denny Anderson

Library Of Congress Cataloging –in-Publication data #TXu 1-945-446

This is a work of creative nonfiction. The events are portrayed to the best of Vicky Hamilton’s memory. While all the stories in this book are true, the conversations in the book all come from the author’s recollections, though they are not written to represent word-for-word transcripts. Rather, the author has retold them in a way that evokes the feeling and meaning of what was said and in all instances, the essence of the dialogue is accurate.

For Guns N’ Roses, super-stardom bloomed under the guidance of Vicky Hamilton, who touted, supported and managed the band before they broke into the bigtime. Hamilton helped Slash, Axl and the guys at a pivotal point in their career, when the tempestuous antics that played out on stage threatened to destroy them off stage. Ultimately GNR did implode of course, but not before making an indeliable impact on metal and music itself. The group might have been one big misfire without Hamilton’s help in the early years. Her new book promises a compelling look at how one smart and very strong woman made a difference in the debauched world of 80s rock, and how the band teetered on self-destruction before ultimately achieving world domination.

— Lina Lecaro LA Weekly

Table Of Contents

The Foreword

Me, Myself & Iris

1 Welcome Back To The Jungle

2 Hillbilly Roots And Bumping Uglies

3 Trimming Tits Off Tires

4 Music, The Muse And Lots Of Quaaludes

5 Running Down The Dream

6 Hollywood Is Where The Heart Is

7 On The Road

8 Hollywood Knights

9 Shout With The Devil

10 Making A Deal With Satan

11 From Hell To Heaven

12 Talk Dirty About Me?

13 Wings Of The Soul

14 A Rose By Any Other Name

15 Meet My Room Mates, Guns N’ Roses

16 The Bidding War

17 Whats New Pussycat

18 Welcome To The Boys Club

19 Everythings Over But The Shouting

20 Every Dog Has Its Day

21 Shake Like A Leaf

22 Smells Like Team Spirit

23 Solo Act

24 Lookout

25 Press on

26 G Stands For Grammy

27 Glitter Bitch

28 Coming Out Of The Fog

29 Metamorphisis

30 No Rain, No Rainbows

31 Love Bomb Revolution

32 The Mold Year

33 Encore/What A Long Strange Trip Its Been

VERY SPECIAL THANK YOU

To

Peter M. Margolis

When blue skies went gray you brought the light back to me. I can’t begin to name all the things you have done to get this book to the finish line but just know that I have a deep heartfelt appreciation and gratitude for every deed. You are my knight in shining armor.

My new friends for life,

ANTONIO AND SOLE REYES

Your faith, belief and investment made it possible to reach the hands that read this now.

My long time and forever friends,

BRYAN LOWRY AND KATY VAN HART

Your undying loyalty and pep talks kept me going when life got rough.

THANK YOU

Early Days: Woodrow and Clara Hamilton, Jonathan Michael Roth, Randy Roberts, Brian Kile, Sharon Hamilton Mullens, Brenda Burnside, Tim Applegate, Paula Amstutz Laurent, Michelle Petrehn, Bob McCutheon, Theresa Witte Steffa, Don Poot Baney, Paul Rush, J.R. Shimer, Joann Burnside, Dawn Renee Zachrich, Debbie Bohde, Sande Waldrop, Katy Van Hart, Doctor West

Later Days: Barry Krost, Robbie Quine, Iris Berry, Holly Browde, Katherine Turman Matt Gregory, Gregory Markel, Bryan Lowry, Steven Adler, Slash Hudson, Gail Perry, Matthew Roberts, Salvatore Sebergandio, Al Taylor, David Geffen, Gary Gersh, Leon Luis, Bobby Dall, Taime Down, Roggie Baer Elm, Laurel Elm, Butch Steffa, Michele Orr, Lisa Marks, Therese Bacchus, Catherine James, Pamela Des Barres, Mary Ellen Hilton, Paul Gulino, Brandy Rosenberg, Jeff Cullen, Andy Stack, Freddie Piro, Michelle Moore, Janiss Garza, Carol Kaye, Marianne Williamson, Deborah Hanan, Sherry Orson, Jennifer Perry, Kimberly Benton, Michael Kraemer Grossman, Nazy Ehsani, Tommy Dries, Michael Holdaway, Lesa Renfey Hardy-Bergeaud, Brian Perrera, Denny Anderson, Susie Cakl, Anthony Mattero, Doreen Vachon, John Harrell, Deborah Hanan, Robert John, Baz Here, Lauri Day, Cynthia Huffman, Victoria Happekotte Borjessen, Antonio and Sole Reyes Miras, Don Aikens, Dawn Laureen , Marc Canter, Jack Lue, Jimmy Steinfeldt, Mike Symonds, Jeff Gordan, Barry James Johnston, Gary Byrd, Bradley Bello, Howie Hubberman, Bonnie Burkert...and everyone at Pubslush!

All of the above have supported me, taught me and made my life shine. Thank you!

A big thank you to all the bands, industry people, friends and family who lived this story with me, I thank you for the ride. Thank you to music and art fans everywhere! You make my world go round!

I listened to these acts countless times while writing this book — David Bowie, Arctic Monkeys, Imogen Heap, Muse, Lana Del Rey, Psychedelic Furs, Sex With Lurch/The Barbarellatones, Diana Meyer, 222, Talk Like June, The Art, Slash, Adler, Neil Young, The Rolling Stones, The Struts, Butch Walker, Kate Bush and Stevie Nicks….you became the soundtrack of this book. Thanks for gracing my ears….

Thank you to Pubslush.com, the literary community that connects writer with readers and hosted my crowd funding campaign. Thank you to each and all the following people, some that I know, many I’ve never met. Your generosity made it possible for me to complete this book.

Matt Adey, Don Adkins, Ana Alvarez, Shahzada Asad, Lorena Aviles, Ava Berman, Scott Blatnica, Jodie Block, Krystin Boydstun, Joshua Bradford, Tim Branom, Brain Brinkerhoff, Ron Bronsgees, Mark Brown, Michael Brandvoid, Bonnie Burkert, Azaria Byrne, John Carter Cash, Blake Cateris, Molly Congdon, Garry Costa, Michael Davenport, Ellen Dawson, Lauri Day, Ghost Orc Deby, Bobby Del Bosque, Nancy De Long, Paige Deponte, Trevor Diamond, Terry Drake, Dennis Duncan, Tones Earley, Pat Egan, Susannah Farrow, Jason Feinberg, Brian Ferry, Marc Geiger, Diana Geresch, Kristie Gillespie, Jason Garrod, Erik Gloege, Claudia Glover, Ian Golcher, Gary Gorman, Lauren Graham, Matthew Green, Paul Gulino, Juli Gun, Deborah Hanan, Michael Hannon, Bruce Haring, Smirth Hesselschwardt, Dale Herman, Andy Hughes, Billy McCarthy, William Hogarth, Michelle Holt, David Hopper, Aimee Howe, Brigette Hurst, Susan Hyatt, Sarah Jean, Tosha Jones, Dawn Kirin, Juri Koll, Cindy Kona, Denise Kozlowski, Kathy Kemp, Adam Lacy, Jonas Lagerstraim, Lori Laney, Paula Laurent, Rynda Laurel, Mark Lawrence, Tracy Lee, Matt Lemieux, CJ Lockaby, Tami Loftis, Deb Louis, Frank Loza, John Manison, Gregory Markel, Paul McCafferty, Billy McCarthy, Stacey McDonald, Laura Medjuck, Michelle Moore, Michael Morris, Michelle MyBelle, Susan Naramore, Cheri Nieman, Caroline Ost, Andrew Plant, Jason Pieper, Adriano Primerano, Kyle Puccia, Antonio R, Holly Rasmussen, Larry Reedy, Stefan Rehling, Jessica Reid, Jonathan Robinson, Jonathon Roth, Brandy Rosenberg, Shera Sawyer, Vince Scattolino, Frank Scimeca, Michael Scott, Marie Sherwood, Gerardo Shiva, Andrei Sin, Doug Smith, Deb Snyder, Johan Stromqvist, Monica Strut, Stuart Stuart, Kyle Sweet, Gweenan Thomas, Ingo Thony, Sergio Daniel Trevino Quija, Admir Trokic, Jim Torgeson, Teresa Turnage-Simon, Tomas , Dan Vargas, Katy Van Hart, Linda Vallejo, Melissa VieBrooks, Michael Verplank, Revital Versano, Jayne Vossen, Breezy & Dallon Weekes, Sharon Sarah Murley-Zulauf

INTRODUCTION

By Bobby Dall

Hollywood in the ‘80s was a city notorious for broken dreams and infamous for fame.* When it came to working with record companies and their respective A&R departments, Vicky Hamilton was way ahead of the curve in finding and working with many of the up and coming bands on the Sunset Strip. No one had their finger more on the pulse of the L.A. music scene than she did.

With the odds of success in the music industry about the same as winning the lottery, Vicky had the eyes, ears and foresight to believe in and work with at least three of the bands from their genre that went on to iconic status, including Mötley Crüe, Poison and Guns N’ Roses.

Vicky was and still is a true friend to me, and to most of those who appreciated her help, work ethic and drive. She fought to secure fame and fortune for many in those early days, and I for one can honestly say my life was and continues to be truly blessed by her involvement in it.

— Bobby Dall, Poison

*Taken from Harold And Other Poems

DEDICATION

To Robbie Quine

...who has seen me at my worst and inspired my best. Our relationship has given me love, faith, trust and sobriety. Thank you for helping me become the woman you always knew I could be. You are a forever friend.

and

To Iris Berry

...who made me believe this book was possible and guided me through the process with loving care. Iris, you made me believe I could do this, Thank you!

FOREWORD

By Vicky Hamilton

Me, Myself & Iris

From the time I was a little girl — and probably for the rest of my life — I have worked, and continue to work relentlessly toward a career in the entertainment industry. Most of the work has been in music, but I have dabbled in nearly all things entertainment and aesthetic. I have always wanted to touch the heart and soul of art creators, and somehow be their muse, lifting their art form to the highest level. I have had a lot of success inspiring others. As I grow older and perhaps wiser, I am now working tirelessly to inspire myself. Stepping out of the shadows, and developing art and entertainment that I want to see and hear, and stop worrying about whether or not it will reach a mainstream audience.

Hence…this book. Most books written about the music business by women are love affair tell-alls. Iris Berry, my long-time friend, fellow writer and publisher encouraged me to write a tell-all, but a tell-all about myself, and my experiences in the music business. In the following pages I have written my truth as an industry insider. Trust me when I say I made all my own choices, and I don’t have any regrets for any decisions and / or sacrifices that I made along the way. I’ve always searched for the truth, and I think I owe it to all of you, the music fans and future industry executives to connect the dots and be real about it in the process. For the past thirty five years I have discovered, developed, and mentored Hollywood’s most popular bad-boy bands, worked in a mostly male-dominated field, and took the heat all along the way. I want to thank Iris for standing by me and encouraging me to keep moving forward in my truth, sobriety and faith. Without her, this book might have been just another pipe dream.

So what’s inside this book? MY STORY. I moved to Los Angeles from Fort Wayne, Indiana when I was 21. By the time I was 35, I had managed some of the worlds greatest rocks bands: Guns N’ Roses, Poison, Faster Pussycat to name a few... and I still manage bands to this day.

Early in my management career, I was a consultant for Mötley Crüe and Stryper, both in the beginning of their careers. Mötley Crüe was the first band I worked with that went from being a local bar band to worldwide fame. Once I experienced their transformation firsthand, it became like a drug that I never wanted to stop taking. We all know how that goes, always chasing that first hit. How I picked these bands that would eventually reach triple-platinum success, if not more, I really can’t say: it was something I just knew.

I started a record company called Small Hairy Dog, and in a joint venture distribution deal, had a Grammy win in 2000 for Best Traditional Folk record with June Carter-Cash. The record was Press On. I worked in the A&R Department at Geffen Records under David Geffen himself, and learned the art of the music business from the best. I also worked at Lookout Management/Vapor Records under Elliot Roberts, who has been Neil Young’s long time manager, and then followed one of my A&R mentors, Gary Gersh, to Capitol Records.

It is now 2016. The music business landscape has certainly changed. It has never been easy being a woman in a male-dominated business, but in the late 1990s and early 2000s when the public began to illegally download music for free from Internet sites bands had to depend on their live shows and merchandise to survive. Paying for a disc from your local record store is nearly a thing of the past. So when the music business started changing, I went back to school, learned how to write screenplays and musicals. To date, I have co-written two screenplays and one musical, and am halfway through producing a doc-reality series on the music business. I thought that these skills would lead to an easier, softer way to make a living. Let’s just say, what doesn’t kill us does stretch us and make us stronger...again, I have made all my own choices.

In 2001, I hit my bottom both financially and personally. I never married, gave my all to the business, and what I couldn’t deal with I smoked in a pipe or drank down in a glass. June Carter-Cash and Johnny Cash taught me a lot about putting family life first and I also started to catch a glimpse of what a spiritual life looked like. When Capitol fired the president who hired me and didn’t pick up my contract I knew my life had to change. I met Robbie Quine, a musician that I managed in a band called Sex With Lurch, and with his help, started on a path to sobriety. I knew the party was over. I cried every day for six months when I gave up pot and cigarettes and that is when I got close to Iris Berry, who had already battled her own demons. I took baby steps in reinventing myself. I started walking dogs to support myself and continued to work in the arts, including repping surrealist painters such as Ron English for special projects, and fine artist Eric Montoya.

I had a long, sad, dark period of deep clarity and finding myself, and now that I can define these feelings, I want to share them with you. I’ve had a lot of fun too...this has been Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, and for the girl who left Indiana with a dream and $2,000 to her name, sometimes none of this seems real...but it is. I hope you enjoy it!

March 26, 1986...

Where you going?

We have to be at Geffen Records in an hour to sign the contract I said.

Axl whizzes by me on his way out the door. His dark green eyes turn to lime green kaleidoscopes.

Go without me! He says, slamming the screen door and stomping off past the swimming pool and straight out of the wrought iron security gate, heading east toward the Sunset Strip.

What’s that about? I say to Slash, who’s fresh out of the shower. His long curly locks are even longer from the weight of the water. He sits on the worn sofa in the living room, strumming his unplugged Sunburst Les Paul, while staring at the MTV Video Countdown on television.

He can’t find his contact lenses, he thinks someone stole them.

Slash rolls his eyes and sighs as he lights another Marlboro Red. His last one is still smoldering in a pyramid of cigarette butts, on a heap of empty beer bottles and a near-empty gallon of Jack Daniels.

Help me find them! Fuck, we’re going to be late. We can’t be late to sign the contract after they put a rush on getting that advance check. I think out loud, as I sift through the debris of last night’s party looking for Axl’s missing contact lens case.

Make ‘em wait, Izzy adds, as he checks his reflection and fluffs his blue-black hair in the bathroom medicine cabinet mirror. Satisfied, he carefully places his Gatsby cap on his head, with a tilt toward the left.

The phone rings. Welcome To The Jungle, plays on a continuous loop. The part where Axl sings, You’re in the jungle baby, you’re going to die, at the sound of the beep. To this day that line in the song still sends shivers up my spine. Duff is saying, Pick up man, pick up. I pick up the phone as the answering machine feeds back, screeching in Duff’s ears and mine.

Ouch! I’ll be there in a half hour, Duff says.

Great, see you then, I say.

Hanging up and continuing to search for the contact lenses, as the clock is ticking louder and louder. Suddenly the realization hits me that we’re definitely going to be late. Why would I think anything would go different today than any other day? This is par for the course with this band. Steven bounces in, smiling from ear to ear.

Today’s the day, he says, as he pulls drum sticks from his back pocket and taps out a rhythm on the living room wall.

Not if we don’t find Axl’s contact lenses, I say.

Slash emerges from the one and only bedroom that I share with Jennifer Perry, who is my best friend and booker of the World Famous Troubadour, holding the coveted contact lens case and a pair of Axl’s leather pants.

Looky here, Slash smirks, In a pair of pants he had on a couple of days ago. I smile.

Thank you!

Grabbing the case, I run out the door to find Axl. Checking the liquor store, shops and restaurants on the Strip, he’s nowhere to be found. A couple hours pass, we’re all still calling and looking for Axl. I call Tom Zutaut at Geffen Records and tell him that we’re running a little late.

Why? Tom whispers.

Oh, you know, just trying to get all five of them in one place. I assure him, We’ll be there soon. Did you get the check for the advance?

It wasn’t easy but I have it here in my hot little hands.

A calming thought washes over me. Soon they will not be living in my apartment anymore. We’ll be there soon, I’m sorry for the inconvenience.

I’ll hold down the fort, but hurry ok? Tom says.

Slash comes in the door as I’m putting the receiver down, I don’t believe it, come look! Horrified at what I might see, I follow Slash out to the curb of my apartment on Clark Street, and follow his pointed finger to the roof of the Whisky A Go Go on the corner of the block.

Oh my God! I scream.

Axl is sitting in an easy pose overlooking a city in which he is becoming the new ruling king. The sun is setting and I think to myself, Jim Morrison would be proud. It is in this moment, I realize things are about to change, and Guns N’ Roses will never be the same. Los Angeles glistens at twilight, azure blue, pink and silver, as the lights from the buildings give the city sky a golden overtone. The city traffic slows as the workday for 9 to 5ers is winding down. You can hear the sound of kick drums and Marshall amps blaring from the open doors of the clubs along the Sunset Strip. But this is not just any day in the city of angels, not for Guns N’ Roses, and certainly not for me. Because tonight, as all of the other young wanna be rockstars in West Hollywood primp, pose and dream of becoming famous, Axl Rose, Slash, Duff, Izzy and Steven are about to become household names.

We found your contact lenses, Slash yells up to Axl.

Where were they?

In your leather pants pocket, in the corner of the closet.

Someone probably hid them, they didn’t want me to read the contract, Axl says, still facing the city with his back towards us.

Who would do that? I snap.

You, for one!

That’s crazy, I’m the one who got you a lawyer to protect your rights! Do you want me to call them and tell them we’re not coming? That you’ve changed your mind? My patience is waning.

No, I’m coming, Axl yells back. He takes a deep breath and sighs, then rolls down the fire escape ladder and joins us on the street.

Slash hands Axl the treasure hunt prize and concludes, We have passed the evening test, let’s go sign the contract.

Life, according to Slash consists of three tests a day...the morning test, the afternoon test, and the evening test. If you’re lucky enough to pass three tests, you get rewarded with three more tests the next day. Great, I think to myself. We walked back across the street, to 1114 Clark Street where Izzy, Steven and new arrival Duff, are waiting. On closer inspection of Duff’s hair, I realize it’s newly dyed, just for the occasion; Manic Panic, Electric Banana.

Good color, I say as I point to his hair.

Axl pops his lenses in. I call Geffen Records and say we’re all on our way, I glance at my watch, it’s 8:00 pm. We’re three hours late.

The three small city blocks from Clark Street right past Doheny Drive where Geffen Records is located should only take a few minutes, but it’s 1985 and those three blocks are the epicenter of the rock music scene, where a lot of shiny distractions lie in wait. The rock posters and flyers for upcoming shows, are several inches thick on the telephone poles. Walking by, I think back to a couple of years prior, when I was managing Poison, and how they had such a great system for posting these flyers. There were nightly poster wars, and all the bands had it in for Poison, because they had an army of followers. Every night Poison would somehow manage to be the last band to get their faces plastered all over the Sunset Strip.

Wannabe rockers stand on the curbs, like carnival barkers, passing out flyers for their upcoming gigs, hoping to get the attention of a record label exec, a club booker, or a hot groupie or two. I tried not to look the rockers in the eye as I walked down the Strip — I didn’t want to be recognized. My plate was already full with more glam rockers and metal heads than I knew what to do with, and I hated turning down bands, especially ones with talent.

Turning west on Sunset, we pass the Whisky A Go Go, the Roxy Theatre, the Rainbow Bar & Grill and Gazzarri’s, before crossing the street to Geffen Records at Sunset and Doheny Drive. These three city blocks have become my home, the only place where I feel comfortable in Los Angeles. I follow behind Guns N’ Roses, making sure I don’t lose any one of them on the way. I’m also daydreaming about my own Sunset Strip existence. Across the street from The Whisky is a store called Aahs!, a huge novelty gift shop. Before that it was Licorice Pizza, the record store where I first cut my teeth in Hollywood, unless you consider being a cocktail waitress at The Palomino, Gazzarri’s and the Starwood cutting your teeth. (Footnote…I was a terrible cocktail waitress. To this day I don’t know why I ever thought that balancing a heavy tray of splashing drinks while weaving my way through a crowd of noisy and drunk patrons was a good idea).

It was at Licorice Pizza where I met Nikki Sixx from Mötley Crüe, and later started working as a management consultant for their first manager, Allan Coffman. Mötley Crüe had also lived on Clark Street. Mötley had been my first in many ways — the first band I worked with who made it from Hollywood hopefuls to international stars, the first band I got involved with when I moved to LA from Indiana, the first band I did cocaine with, and lastly, the first band who introduced me to bondage parlors, strip clubs, black magic and the occult.

As we continue to walk, I think about my first few weeks in town, when I saw Joan Jett performing at the Whisky. The year was 1981, and I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll was soaring to the top of the charts. It became my theme song. Remembering back to Indiana, I had idolized Joan Jett and the Runaways because they were women who were making it in the rock ‘n’ roll business. Then, when I heard Chrissie Hynde sing Tattooed Love Boys on the debut Pretenders album, I thought, This is the kind of band I want to manage. While still in Indiana, I had interviewed Tom Petty for a Three Rivers Review, a free press local newspaper. He told me that I looked like a Hollywood girl, and that I should leave Indiana and make my way out west. From one of my idols, that’s all I needed to hear.

While passing the Roxy, I think of the Guns N’ Roses show that I’m promoting in two days, on March 28th, as an industry showcase for the band. At this point, I wonder why even bother as we were on our way to sign with Geffen Records. I had confirmed at least 20 A&R reps from several other labels for the guest list for that Roxy show. How do I not announce our Geffen signing the night of the show?" Damned if I do, damned if I don’t...winding up labels for something they can’t have. My thinking was that we could drive up the advance and the recording fund. The day after the showcase all the record companies would be kissing my ass to have a shot at controlling the careers of these young rogues. This charismatic and borderline dangerous rock ‘n’ roll group that everyone seems to think, is the next big thing. I knew Geffen was the right label for the band, but I’d worked so hard to get all these A&R people to attend. It almost feels like Axl is enjoying my predicament. Axl was also pissed that I put Lions & Ghosts on as their opener for the second show, because he knew I was crazy about their singer, Rick Parker. Axl didn’t think the two bands were compatible, and voiced his displeasure. I just think he was jealous and wanted to be the center of attention. Axl always had a way of spoiling other people’s fun.

Then there’s the Rainbow Bar & Grill, the spot where I have the most memories, and also, lack of memories. How many times have I gone for dinner at the Rainbow and lost track of time or the number of drinks, talking with some upcoming rock star... or lusting after some cute boy, only to wake up with a raging hangover? I smile when I think of Mario, my guardian angel of the Sunset Strip, one of the three owners of the Rainbow, Roxy and the Whisky. He would give me and the GN’R boys pizzas if we were starving, encourage me to, Get the money, when I was inside the box office of the Roxy. Mario was always interested to hear what I was working on next. I remember he introducing me to Mick Jagger like it was no big deal.

Then there was the Rainbow parking lot, sandwiched between the Rainbow and the Roxy. At two in the morning this was the place to find that missing musician for your band, or at least a date for the after-hours party.

We pass Gazzarri’s, another fine establishment where I had the pleasure of working as a cocktail waitress. Bill Gazzarri once told me that I was dangerous and wanted to run his club, all because I put David Lee Roth and his then-manager, Noel Monk, on the guest list to come see Roxx Regime, (later to become Stryper). Who could forget the infamous Bill Gazzarri’s radio commercial, Only the foxiest guys get up on my stages.

Yes, the Strip held a lot of memories, but as the six of us crossed the street and walked through the doors of Geffen Records, I could not have imagined the great and varied astounding memories that lay ahead of me.

The Geffen Records building was well appointed. Once you opened the heavy wood door under the silver G, you were in the lobby where the receptionist sat at the bottom of a beautiful art deco staircase. I imagined that when David Geffen bought the building he thought of himself making a dramatic entrance down that grand staircase for young talent and executives waiting to meet with him. The interior paint was a lush creamy off white tone fashioned against dark green furniture and dark wood, which for me screamed class and money. Tom Zutaut, the A&R genius who would oversee the Guns N’ Roses project, had his assistant meet us in the lobby and escort us to his office. Tom, Teresa Ensanat, Jeff Fenster and a few other executives were eagerly awaiting the arrival of this band that everyone was calling, Brilliant, yet dangerous. David Geffen did not wait around for three hours to meet the next big thing. David had complete trust in his A&R staff and their instincts. At least that was true where Tom Zutaut, Gary Gersh and John Kalodner were concerned, all the underling A&R folks reported to one of these three geniuses.

Teresa entertained the band and sent the assistant out to get the boys beer, while Tom finished up his phone call. Jeff was praising the boys for their last show and telling them they would be, HUGE! Jeff Fenster, at this point, was working as a lawyer at Warner Brothers and had written the Guns N’ Roses deal memo that the band was there to sign. Cherub-faced Tom Zutaut didn’t look like your typical A&R man. He had shoulder-length blond hair, pensive blue eyes, red cheeks and a round body. Tom had a very enigmatic personality. I could never get a good read on him, which made me not completely trust his motives, yet, there was something oddly angelic about him at the same time. Two nights earlier, Tom had hijacked the band to his house and played Aerosmith and other rock LP’s while he wined and dined them. The next morning they announced to me they were signing with Geffen. They no longer cared about any of the other labels that were interested. Tom had also promised me an A&R scouting job at Geffen if I help him sign the band. Tom was nobody’s fool. He knew how to get what he wanted for himself, and with tonight’s promises of dinner, drinks, an advance check of $37,000….. and an angelic smile, once all five signatures were on the dotted line, the real party could begin.

We sat around for two-plus hours listening to the record executives talk about our near and distant future. How they would continue to write more songs, take meetings with producers and continue to play local shows until the time felt right to start recording with said approved producer. All I could think about initially was the 37 thousand dollar check and how that meant I could have my apartment back, a GN’R free zone. When I rented the Clark Street apartment I thought, Wow, my first place, all to myself. I was there a week before Jennifer moved in and then in less than a month GN’R moved in. Not long after that, I could swear the police moved in, so frequent were their visits to issue citations to us for disturbing the peace. My landlord was always threatening eviction. That was all about to change.

Before leaving, the band gave Tom Zutaut their producer wish list. Then it was off to Hamburger Hamlet across the street from Geffen to begin phase one of the celebration. There were about ten of us crammed into a six-person red booth. As the night grew later, the number of guests kept increasing. Tom put the bill on his Geffen expense account. I walked home, and the boys disappeared into the Hollywood night. The next morning, the band explained to me that they got their hands on a limo and partied till dawn.

The following day, priority number one was that each band member must open up his own bank account to deposit his share of the advance. As is the standard practice, the check was made out to the band collectively as Guns N’ Roses. Each member was listed by their real name, followed by their nickname. To deposit the check they all to congregate at the bank, and of course, that meant problems. The check listed Saul Hudson as Stash. Stash instead of Slash! Slash stayed calm, but he knew he was being fucked with by someone in accounting, someone he’d never met before. Slash got his $7,000 in Travelers checks, to avoid problems with back tax issues. Seven thousand dollars was his fifth of the advance less legal fees.

None of them offered to pay me a management commission on the advance. I assumed that they would throw me a bone, but they didn’t. I didn’t really know the technicalities at this point of what was commissionable. Call it a red flag, call it naive. I did realize at this point that I should probably do my homework. I was starting to get in deep and into uncharted waters.

Since Axl hadn’t legally changed his name, the bank wouldn’t let him open up a bank account under W. Axl Rose. The bank manager tells Axl that he could open his account under his legal name, William Bailey. Then when he has the legal name change, he can change the name on his account.

I don’t think so, barks Axl. I will take all my money in cash.

I wouldn’t recommend that Mr. Bailey, said the bank manager.

Axl’s eyes got a wild glazed-over glare, and a very angry and anxious Axl got right in the bank manager’s face.

I don’t care what you think Mr. Bank Manager!

So the bank manager complied. With cash in hand Axl felt exceptionally generous and wanted to take me to the tattoo parlor for a bit of ink to show his appreciation for all I had done for them.

Thank you but I don’t know what I would get as a tattoo I said. I mean, I love art and I love guys with tattoos, but to pick a piece of permanent body ink I’m going to exhibit for life, I might have to decline.

You’ll know it when you see it, come down to Sunset Tattoo and have a look, said Axl.

I thought about it for a minute and say, Maybe another time, I would have to really give this some thought.

Suit yourself, but it’s a one-time offer, he smiled, with his sweet boyish grin.

Axl looks like a different person when he’s happy, light and fun. It made me want to say yes, but my sane self said, I think I’ll have to pass on this one, but I appreciate the offer.

That night Axl walked into the apartment with freshly taped gauze over a new tattoo. He unwrapped it with a smile, showing us a blue rose with W. Axl Rose spelled out underneath it. Guess there will be no more confusion about your name. I said.

Axl winked, You got that right! I also applied for a legal name change. Bill Bailey died today and W. Axl Rose was born. Get ready world, here I fucking come!

My life started on April Fool’s day in 1958 in South Charleston, West Virginia. I was the third female child of Woodrow and Clara Hamilton, and God made sure there was a joke in it for all three of us. I was born a full month early, much to my mother’s surprise. My mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer during her pregnancy with me, so they chose to have me delivered via Caesarean section. The doctor convinced her to deliver early

Reviews for Appetite For Dysfunction

[Gary McDonald · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Great read - entertaining and enjoyable to the very last page!