Send In the Dancing Girls
"Musical innovation is a danger to the state..." but so are powerful girls!
If it hadn’t been for Jim Morrison I would never have met David Anderle and were it not for David, I would never have spent the winter of 1968 at the infamous, Paxton Lodge.
Plato (427 – 347 BC) said “Musical innovation is full of danger to the state, for when modes of music change, the laws of the state change with them” -- causation and correlation mingling not only to change our world but our selves.
Jim Morrison unintendedly introduced me to David Anderle, one of the greatest older men I ever knew in the record industry, when I was eighteen. By older, I mean probably in his early 30s. David was beloved by everyone in that scene in Hollywood when I first met him. He’d already been crowned the Mayor of Hip.
In my personal experience, in that world of male dominance, ownership, power, objectification of women, and downright male attitudes of entitlement in everything, David was the gold standard of men; chivalrous, respectful, sensitive, empathetic, and truly interested in me and not just getting me into bed! (google: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Anderle)
One late morning (?), or early afternoon (?) which felt like morning — who knew since we were all getting stoned the night before — I exited whatever house in the Hollywood Hills I’d crashed at the night before and was walking to my car with my little sister, Kellie — not my real sister, but as good as one. At that time I drove around in my mother’s little yellow MGB-GT that she let me borrow feeling like I was a super-star adult! Kellie was the daughter of a friend of my mother’s, who wasn’t in a place in her life to be concerned about what I was doing with or where I was taking her twelve year old and who I dragged around on my adventures, exposing her to all kinds of strange, fabulous, weird, life-altering, educational and awesome people.
So, we were walking to my car when Jim Morrison, who I knew was in The Doors, came sauntering up to us all sleepy-eyed and disheveled, offering me $50 to drive him to Elektra Records. He was late and it seemed urgent. $50 bucks was a lot of money at that time but no question I’d certainly drive Jim Morrison to his recording session. I don’t remember much about the drive -- not sure what we chit chatted about or if he talked much, but by the time we got there we had bridged the gap between strangers and friends and he invited Kellie and I in to sit in the control booth while the Doors were laying down some tracks. Kellie remembers us sitting on this tiny leather couch in front of the console with Jim in the middle between us. She remembers him talking a lot then — and he taking an interest in her. She was too young for him to hit on, obviously, and he didn’t. Nor did he hit on me. He seemed genuinely fascinated by the two of us and liking sharing the experience with us.
At some point, though, I got antsy and decided to explore the offices of Elektra and walked down the hall, stopping at an open door to a light filled office with a beautiful man sitting behind a very full desk. He stopped what he was doing, put down his work, leaned back in his chair and introduced himself. He said he was David Anderle and he was one of the heads of Elektra Records and would I like to come in and sit down and talk. He asked me who I was with and I explained and we got talked about music and lots of things.
David’s office was beautiful. It was full of art, many of his own paintings were on the walls, and full of warmth. The vibes he created in it and the kindness he exuded was comforting and welcoming. I felt like I was at home. The room was lit from available light as there was a courtyard outside sliding glass doors, and a sweet little patio with a European style, full of plants and trees. David, as I recall with limited memory, was conversational and interested in me and my life; something that I didn’t find all that much in the male dominated music industry, especially among the owners, managers, producers, and record company executives. I was excited to be with David, completely forgetting about the recording session going on. It was exhilarating to have him interested in me as a person, and so for years after this meeting I would go visit David wherever he was working and we would just sit and talk. If I showed up at A&M Records, after he moved over to A&M as a record producer, his secretary knew me and I could seriously just walk into his office and he’d welcome me in to sit and talk. Even after my ex-husband and I moved to the Pacific Northwest when I was forty years old, I’d write David and email to say I was coming down to LA and we would set a date to meet. In fact, flash to recently, I received a photo from his son, Jonathan Anderle, of his father’s phone book, with my name and my parent’s phone number. Check out the stellar characters I am with on this page. What an honor!
But back then I definitely had a crush on David. He was beautiful. He looked like a cross between Frank Zappa (who he produced) and a swashbuckler hippie cowboy poet. One night at Elektra, we tried being lovers. I would have loved that. But he couldn’t. His cocaine habit was too strong. He was at the point where he was pretty depressed, he’d confided in me, about how the drug was affecting him and I remember cradling his head in my lap and soothing him. Honestly, at that point I felt so much love for David. I knew he was married, and I felt sorry that he was stuck in this place where he couldn’t be there for the people he loved. After that, I’m sure I remember us just continuing to be friends, until my life took off as a photographer.
It was David, who authorized the money for me to go to Paxton Lodge. Sandy Konikoff and I were going steady together and Sandy was leaving to record with Jackson for Elektra at what they were calling an experimental recording retreat in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Ned Doheny, Rolf Kempf, Spider John Koerner and Willy Murphy and a bunch of others were going up there as well. Elektra had rented the entire lodge.
That’s Frazier with the rifle. The ones I recognize are Lotte, Sandy K, Jack Wilce, Rolf Kempf, Jackson, Ned Dohenny, and Marty Richmond. I’ll fill in the others later.
But, Paxton Lodge is a big story in itself and that’s better done in another installment. Basically, it was the brainchild of Barry Friedman, aka Frazier Mohawk. You can read all about it and about Frazier on this website below and on other blogs. The way it came about was that Frazier told Jack Holzman, founder and chief executive director of Elektra, that he wanted to “take talented kids out of the struggles of trying to make it in the city, give them fresh air, good food, [and dope, sic] and the freedom to create whatever music came to them.” Girlfriends were absolutely welcomed. About that, Jackson Brown said something to the effect that it was like sending the dancing girls to the miners. But more about all this later.
Love those stories Linda! On the road rv’ing, you make the start of my day memorable🌹🌅❣️