Arti Interview: He Calls 'Em As He Sees 'Em!
Jan 5, 2017 14:06:05 GMT -5
rosscollinsgirl, MDfan aka The MD Well Man, and 1 more like this
Post by BlueMonday on Jan 5, 2017 14:06:05 GMT -5
Remember Billy's angry letter to Arti? Well, I found the interview he was reacting to. Arti is angry in this interview, very angry, and he lets it all out.
The interview is a long one, but you'll be glad you took the time to read it. I am splitting it into two posts to make reading a little easier. The third post is a reaction written by Arti's wife. Once you have read everything, you can go and (re)read Billy's letter, linked to above, and decide for yourself who is right and who is wrong.
#3771 – April 5, 2000– Posted by Alydar
Artimus Pyle Gritz Interview
His Tonka Toys Were Real
An Exclusive Interview with Artimus Pyle
By Michael B. Smith
He was the second drummer for Lynyrd Skynyrd, but most fans know him as "the" drummer for the South's most popular band. Artimus Pyle played on the band's best-loved albums, including the legendary "One More from The Road" which included the classic rock radio staple, the live version of "Freebird."
He has formed and rocked with several bands, including Studebaker Hawke, Those Guys, a few variations of The Artimus Pyle Band and All Points Bulletin.
Today, Artimus lives in Florida with his wife Kerri and their brand new son River. He is very happy and enjoying performing with his current band, All Points Bulletin, but during the years since the Lynyrd Skynyrd plane crash of 1977, and the death of several friends and band mates, including Ronnie Van Zant, his life has been anything but a bed of roses.
Multiple vehicle wrecks, the loss of another friend and bandmate, Allen Collins, and the feeling that many of his closest friends turned on him following allegations of sexual misconduct in the early '90's have deeply saddened Pyle. He has a lot to be upset over, and in an exclusive interview with GRITZ, he opens up to share some of his innermost feelings.
This interview is only a preview of things to come. Artimus is currently at work on a book that will unfold the entire story of his life, including the Lynyrd Skynyrd years, his life in Israel, and the trumped up sexual misconduct charges that almost sent him to prison for life. This is the first of two interviews with Artimus. We will follow up in a few months to update on the status of his book, his new CD and other happenings within the life of this Southern rock and roll legend.
DISCLAIMER: The following comments are the thoughts and word of Artimus Pyle, and do not necessarily reflect the views of the interviewer, Michael B. Smith, GRITZ.NET, or our advertisers. We would just like to say that, in all our years as a friend of Artimus, he has never been any less that 100 percent honest and straight forward with us.
Where were you born?
Louisville, Kentucky, in 1948. I was born in St. Joseph Hospital. I was raised in Tennessee, on horseback, basically. I don't even use a saddle. I ride a horse with a blanket and a bridle. That's all I need. I like to feel the horse under me. As much as I love horses, I was lucky to be born in Kentucky and raised in Tennessee. When I was a little kid, I would go with my grandfather, Guy Williams, to cattle sales. One of his best friends was Al Gore, Sr. He brought his son, Al Jr., and he and I used to jump around in cow crap all the time. It was really hilarious. We're about the same age. I remember this little kid that used to be with this other man, and I'd be with my grandpa. I guess I never dreamed that he'd grow up to be Vice President.
I was raised in an area of Tennessee that Sgt. Alvin C. York, the World War I hero that captured all the German soldiers and saved American lives was from. In fact, I am related to him. Remember the old black and white movie with Gary Cooper and Walter Brennan, called "Sgt. York?" Walter played Pastor Pyle down by the store. That's my family. We were related to Sgt. Alvin York, and that's where I was raised in Tennessee. I ran bulldozers for my grandfather's road building company when I was 9-years old, every summer until I was about 18. So my Tonka toys were real. And I helped build roads in Tennessee.
My father was an architect. He followed the architectural building boom north in the fifties. We got as far north as Columbus, Ohio. That's why I have no accent. I finished high school in Columbus. I went to Tennessee Technical University, and then joined the Marine Corps expressly to go to Vietnam. Four years later I was in the aviation program ready to go to Vietnam and the war ended. My dad was killed in a mid-air collision in Albuquerque, New Mexico in the early '70's. I was a Sgt. in the Marine Corps, training as an E-5 Sgt. to go to Vietnam at the time. My Dad was hit from above and behind by a B-57 bomber. Dad was in a Cessna 150, brand new, flying over some land that he was going to build on. He was flying with a man named Robert Stuttlefield, who had about 36,000 hours of flying time. He was an aviation pioneer. Both of them were killed instantly.
After that, my mom moved back to Knoxville. I had met a girl from Spartanburg; S.C. named Patricia Diane Williamson and married her. She is a wonderful person, and we are still best friends. After all these years. She lives in Bat Cave, N.C. She went to school with George McCorkle and Doug Gray and all those from The Marshall Tucker Band.
I was in the Marine Corps with Toy Caldwell. I had heard about this big guy they called Toy. And they were messing with me because I was a Pyle. So they were calling us Gomer Pyle and Toy. Boy, did they mess with us in boot camp. But we all hooked up, and they turned me on to Charlie Daniels, who in turn turned me on to Lynyrd Skynyrd, and the rest, as they say is history.
That's something I wanted to ask you about. Charlie Daniels told me he was involved in all that somehow.
Absolutely true. It was exactly like this. I drove to New Orleans during the early '70's fuel crunch. I was at Mardi Gras. I went down there to audition for Charlie. He had two drummers at the time and he was pushing his new album. He had that song out called "Uneasy Rider." So I went to New Orleans with a friend named Sonny Matheny, who eventually ended up working for Charlie for years, running sound. Then he went back to Tennessee Tech and got his degree, and now he's the principal of a high school in Roanoke, Virginia. But Charlie loves Sonny. So, Sonny and I were at Mardi Gras. Charlie came up to me and said, Artimus, the drummer that was going to quit decided not to quit, and if I took two weeks off right now to go back to Nashville and work you in, it would hurt my album sales something awful. And I need to keep these dates. So Paul Riddle from The Marshall Tucker Band, another great person, called Charlie and said, "Boy do I have a drummer for you." So Paul was pushing me to Charlie. But this drummer Hoss Allen that was gonna quit didn't, and Charlie was just honest with me instead of giving me some big ring around the rosy, some big story, he told me the truth. He told me he knew of a band that needed a drummer and he was going to hook me up. This was when Charlie couldn't even afford it, but later, after I left, I found a fifty-dollar bill in my pocket, and I didn't have a dime. Sonny and I probably had just enough money to get us back home to Spartanburg in my Volkswagen bus.
So Charlie played his gig at The Warehouse, there in New Orleans, off the beaten track, away from the French Quarter. There were thousands of people, and I watched Charlie and his band play. Charlie's bus pulled out of town, and Sonny and I were gonna leave town too after Mardi Gras. Sonny got a gig, driving a bus and working on the road crew for Charlie. I didn't get a gig. But Charlie had invited me to come to Atlanta to a club called Richard's and jam with him that night. Dickey Betts also jammed with him. There were two sets of drums, and Charlie let me set up a third set of drums. So when I left out of New Orleans, I found this fifty-dollar bill in my pocket. There's no way anybody else could have done it. It was Charlie. Then he turned me on to Skynyrd. There was this gig in Atlanta at the stadium, and it was Marshall Tucker, The Allman Brothers, Charlie Daniels, Wet Willie, Lynyrd Skynyrd, everybody. Paul Riddle invited me to go to that show after Mardi Gras. And I had jammed with Charlie at Richard's and everything was great. Then I left town and went home to Spartanburg and was working construction. Then I was working at an airport installing aviation electronics at the Spartanburg Airport. Then Paul called and said, 'We're playing a big gig in Atlanta; and do you want to come?' And I said 'sure.' And I went and that's where I met everybody that day. I met Ronnie Van Zant and everybody. Ronnie's face was all beaten up. They had just been in San Francisco and got into a big fight. Ronnie looked like the devil, all black eyes and cut up and everything. He had taken on a whole gang by himself because everybody else hid under the bus I guess. And between Charlie Daniels and Paul Riddle pushing me and talking me up, saying this is the boy for you, which was unbeknownst to me. I went home and I got this call from Ronnie, and he said 'I want you to play drums for my band. I was gonna fly five drummers down to Jacksonville, but what I want to do is have you come down to Atlanta and play with Ed and Leon.' I said 'Sure.' So he hired me over the phone. He said 'I need a fire set under this band, man. Can you do that? We are right on the fence. We're getting there, man.' So I went to Atlanta where I was supposed to meet up with Leon and Ed King at Alex Cooley's Electric Ballroom. I drove up there in my bus with my drums in it. Well, two or three blocks from the place, my engine overheated and vapor locked. I just pulled up my emergency brake, unloaded my drums, rolled them up the street to the Electric Ballroom, left my Volkswagen bus sitting on Peachtree Street with the emergency blinkers on, and went in, set up and played with Ed King and Leon. Ed took me next door and made me a Caesar salad, and I ate. I figured enough time had gone by, so I went back to my bus. It had cooled down, so I started it up and drove up to the Ballroom and got the gig. So it was Charlie Daniels and Paul Riddle believing in me and being good guys. And Ronnie said after he had met me, he realized that he was talking to somebody that talked to him on the same level. I wasn't talking up to him; I wasn't talking down to him. We became friends. I watched Ronnie whip everybody in the band's ass – Leon, Billy, Allen, and Gary. I used to go to their defense all the time, because Ronnie couldn't whip my ass. He was tough for a musician, but I had just gotten out of the Marine Corps. I was young and wiry. You'd have to kill me at that point. Ronnie was the same way. He respected me, and I respected him. I could have argued with him 24-hours-a-day about some things, Michael. About some of the policies. It was his band. But when he would start getting drunk and abusive, I was the only one who could talk to him.
Billy Powell, in that VH1 Behind the Music thing is a liar. He lied about the death of Cassie Gaines, dying in my arms. Billy said that everybody was afraid of Ronnie and nobody stood up to Ronnie. That's a lie. Anybody can tell you, you can ask Charlie or anybody. I stood up to Ronnie when somebody had to stand up to him for the band. I did that many times. We had a few physical fights, but he knew I wasn't going to lie down and let him smack me in the lips. So Billy just plain lied. That's because of years of cocaine and alcohol abuse. Billy doesn't remember what the f**k happened. He thinks he does. But for him to get on national television, after twenty years of Cassie's family thinking that she died on impact in that plane crash – which she did, she sat right in front of me – Billy's saying that she died in my arms, bleeding to death, with her throat cut from ear to ear...the night that show aired the first time, all of the Gaines family called me in tears. I said, 'Teresa, did you see Cassie's body?' She goes 'yes.' I said, was her throat cut from ear to ear? She says, 'No.' I said 'Well there.' Billy's out of his freaking mind. I don't know what's up with that boy. I could tell he was drunk when they were doing the interview. He always tries to over act when he's drunk, by pursing his lips, or his eyes get real big when he's drunk. And he sat there saying that they are all healthy and taking care of themselves, he is so full of do-do.
What's the truth about you after the crash? There are so many rumors and urban legends about you running for help and getting shot by a farmer.
Those are all true. Billy says on the show that I ran for help, and I also stayed there and Cassie died in my arms. How could that happen? He contradicted himself. For Billy to say that on TV, even if he thought it was true...why didn't he call up Teresa and say, 'I don't want you guys to be upset, but I'm going to be saying this'...but he sat there and embellished his own thing, 'Oh, Cassie was cut from ear to ear, she was gurgling blood, it was horrible. She was begging to live. Oh it was terrible. She died in my arms, and in Artimus Pyle's arms. Man, he sounds like John Lovitz from "Saturday Night Live." Yeah, that's the ticket! He took it too far, Michael. He did not tell the truth. I have not spoken to the guys in the band for some years now. I left the band because I wanted Blue Cross insurance. I wanted dental plans for our families, of us survivors. I wanted us to lead the band with integrity. Gary Rossington, Billy Powell and Leon Wilkeson wanted cocaine, alcohol, treachery, blood sucking weasel managers, blood sucking weasel attorneys, and I lost. You dig? I lost. I lost. They're afraid of their wives. Every one of them married these treacherous, manipulative, gold digging women that have no more right to dictate what Lynyrd Skynyrd as a band – you see what I'm saying? These unbelievably awful women that Gary and Leon and Billy are afraid of are out there dictating Skynyrd policy.
If Ronnie were alive, he'd say 'Wait a minute guys. Shouldn't the band members make decisions about the band?' And now there are so many lawsuits against Gary and them, because they continuously stab people in the back. I just recently played Bike Week, and the band that I took down there was Randall Hall on guitar; Tim Lindsey on bass who replaced Leon when they fired Leon and then realized they weren't legally able to do it without having him in the band. Barry Rapp, who married Teresa Gaines, on keyboards; Michael Estes, who was with the band for three years and played on two albums. I basically had the "other Skynyrd." And Michael Estes sings the songs so much better, and with so much more heart and legitimacy than Johnny Van Zant, it's unbelievable. We played for thousands of kids down there. They asked us back, they liked us so much.
Then we went up to the Freebird Cafe and played there, and Judy Van Zant, with her manipulating ways, and her lounge act husband, sabotaged our sound. And because she is so greedy....she does everything trying to make people think she is this big philanthropist...she's got Ronnie Van Zant's millions...and she starts this club up there, and invites my band to come up and play. And instead of treating us with respect, she sabotages our sound. She doesn't pay us squat. I'm going to tell you something Michael. The other night my heart was broken. I was complaining that the sound was bad.
Everybody else that comes into the Freebird Cafe there at Jax beach gets great sound. I don't care if you're a garage band, or if you're the local lounge act, hired by Judy's husband Jim, you get excellent sound. We go up there playing the songs of Ronnie, Allen and Steve, with more heart than they thought possible, and she sabotages our sound. Doesn't pay us. Doesn't advertise. And we still had a good crowd in spite of her. Then at the end of the night, I'm complaining about it, and Melody Van Zant, who is 20 weeks pregnant – little Melody, who I held in my arms and loved like a daughter – comes out and tells me to pack my stuff and get out of HER club. She's 20 years old.
I love her like a daughter. But my sons know how to work. My sons, Chris and Marshall, know how to work for a dollar. They know the value of a dollar. I've had millions of dollars stolen from me by the state of Florida, and by people I thought loved me. The band turned their backs on me. They tell me that I saved their life in the plane crash, that there'd be no Lynyrd Skynyrd now if it weren't for me. And yet Gary, Billy and Leon turned their backs on me when I was charged with a crime worse than murder. And they knew I was innocent. And they knew it was about fleecing me for money. And they turned their backs on me flat.
And then for me to take my band into the Jimmy and Judy show at the Freebird Cafe, and to have Melody tell me to get out of HER club, where my picture is all over the walls.
Michael, you won't believe this. Right now there is a school of about eight unbelievably beautiful dolphins going by my property. I've got to go out there. I'm walking out there right now. They're going south. There are at least five.
That's the real riches in life. Things like that.
Right. And see, I would like to have the millions of dollars that Judy knows where the money is, for us doing the "Freebird" movie and all the stuff that we've done. We've never been paid a dime for that. MCA is holding the money because Judy and Gary and Larkin Collins, who is Allen's father, can't get along. They're all too greedy. That's the honest to God truth. The greediness of Allen Collins' father, Gary Rossington and Judy Van Zant is so intense, that MCA has put a freeze on any funds that should be coming to the band. So I live on nothing. I basically live on nothing while Judy sits on millions of dollars, and then she treats us that way. We played for two hours the other night. Against all odds, our crowd stayed with us. We were kicking butt. Judy couldn't stand it, so she and Jim left, and didn't tell the last minute sound man they hired where the cords were to the microphones.
Why would she do that to you?
Dude! Why does she do the things she does. I go up there and sign t-shirts from the Freebird Cafe. I don't get a dime from that. She was paying me $100 to come up on Tuesday nights and be a part of a jam night. By now you know that I don't do it for the money. But she's sitting on millions of dollars. She's built a new studio up there with some of my money. A Freebird Cafe with some of my money. And then she throws me, like crumbs, to come in there on Tuesday and play. They treat me like I'm some old beggar coming up behind the depot, and they toss him a few dollars to go out and shovel horse manure. It's unbelievable the greed that has prevailed. Every night I came in there and jammed with 30 kids who thought it was special to play with a band member from Skynyrd. I am proud to say I was in a band with rock stars. I know Ronnie, Steve, Allen and Cassie were rock stars. And hey, why can't everybody be as cool as Theresa Gaines-Rapp and Kerri Hampton-Pyle. Honesty and integrity are what really matters.
The interview is a long one, but you'll be glad you took the time to read it. I am splitting it into two posts to make reading a little easier. The third post is a reaction written by Arti's wife. Once you have read everything, you can go and (re)read Billy's letter, linked to above, and decide for yourself who is right and who is wrong.
#3771 – April 5, 2000– Posted by Alydar
Artimus Pyle Gritz Interview
His Tonka Toys Were Real
An Exclusive Interview with Artimus Pyle
By Michael B. Smith
He was the second drummer for Lynyrd Skynyrd, but most fans know him as "the" drummer for the South's most popular band. Artimus Pyle played on the band's best-loved albums, including the legendary "One More from The Road" which included the classic rock radio staple, the live version of "Freebird."
He has formed and rocked with several bands, including Studebaker Hawke, Those Guys, a few variations of The Artimus Pyle Band and All Points Bulletin.
Today, Artimus lives in Florida with his wife Kerri and their brand new son River. He is very happy and enjoying performing with his current band, All Points Bulletin, but during the years since the Lynyrd Skynyrd plane crash of 1977, and the death of several friends and band mates, including Ronnie Van Zant, his life has been anything but a bed of roses.
Multiple vehicle wrecks, the loss of another friend and bandmate, Allen Collins, and the feeling that many of his closest friends turned on him following allegations of sexual misconduct in the early '90's have deeply saddened Pyle. He has a lot to be upset over, and in an exclusive interview with GRITZ, he opens up to share some of his innermost feelings.
This interview is only a preview of things to come. Artimus is currently at work on a book that will unfold the entire story of his life, including the Lynyrd Skynyrd years, his life in Israel, and the trumped up sexual misconduct charges that almost sent him to prison for life. This is the first of two interviews with Artimus. We will follow up in a few months to update on the status of his book, his new CD and other happenings within the life of this Southern rock and roll legend.
DISCLAIMER: The following comments are the thoughts and word of Artimus Pyle, and do not necessarily reflect the views of the interviewer, Michael B. Smith, GRITZ.NET, or our advertisers. We would just like to say that, in all our years as a friend of Artimus, he has never been any less that 100 percent honest and straight forward with us.
Where were you born?
Louisville, Kentucky, in 1948. I was born in St. Joseph Hospital. I was raised in Tennessee, on horseback, basically. I don't even use a saddle. I ride a horse with a blanket and a bridle. That's all I need. I like to feel the horse under me. As much as I love horses, I was lucky to be born in Kentucky and raised in Tennessee. When I was a little kid, I would go with my grandfather, Guy Williams, to cattle sales. One of his best friends was Al Gore, Sr. He brought his son, Al Jr., and he and I used to jump around in cow crap all the time. It was really hilarious. We're about the same age. I remember this little kid that used to be with this other man, and I'd be with my grandpa. I guess I never dreamed that he'd grow up to be Vice President.
I was raised in an area of Tennessee that Sgt. Alvin C. York, the World War I hero that captured all the German soldiers and saved American lives was from. In fact, I am related to him. Remember the old black and white movie with Gary Cooper and Walter Brennan, called "Sgt. York?" Walter played Pastor Pyle down by the store. That's my family. We were related to Sgt. Alvin York, and that's where I was raised in Tennessee. I ran bulldozers for my grandfather's road building company when I was 9-years old, every summer until I was about 18. So my Tonka toys were real. And I helped build roads in Tennessee.
My father was an architect. He followed the architectural building boom north in the fifties. We got as far north as Columbus, Ohio. That's why I have no accent. I finished high school in Columbus. I went to Tennessee Technical University, and then joined the Marine Corps expressly to go to Vietnam. Four years later I was in the aviation program ready to go to Vietnam and the war ended. My dad was killed in a mid-air collision in Albuquerque, New Mexico in the early '70's. I was a Sgt. in the Marine Corps, training as an E-5 Sgt. to go to Vietnam at the time. My Dad was hit from above and behind by a B-57 bomber. Dad was in a Cessna 150, brand new, flying over some land that he was going to build on. He was flying with a man named Robert Stuttlefield, who had about 36,000 hours of flying time. He was an aviation pioneer. Both of them were killed instantly.
After that, my mom moved back to Knoxville. I had met a girl from Spartanburg; S.C. named Patricia Diane Williamson and married her. She is a wonderful person, and we are still best friends. After all these years. She lives in Bat Cave, N.C. She went to school with George McCorkle and Doug Gray and all those from The Marshall Tucker Band.
I was in the Marine Corps with Toy Caldwell. I had heard about this big guy they called Toy. And they were messing with me because I was a Pyle. So they were calling us Gomer Pyle and Toy. Boy, did they mess with us in boot camp. But we all hooked up, and they turned me on to Charlie Daniels, who in turn turned me on to Lynyrd Skynyrd, and the rest, as they say is history.
That's something I wanted to ask you about. Charlie Daniels told me he was involved in all that somehow.
Absolutely true. It was exactly like this. I drove to New Orleans during the early '70's fuel crunch. I was at Mardi Gras. I went down there to audition for Charlie. He had two drummers at the time and he was pushing his new album. He had that song out called "Uneasy Rider." So I went to New Orleans with a friend named Sonny Matheny, who eventually ended up working for Charlie for years, running sound. Then he went back to Tennessee Tech and got his degree, and now he's the principal of a high school in Roanoke, Virginia. But Charlie loves Sonny. So, Sonny and I were at Mardi Gras. Charlie came up to me and said, Artimus, the drummer that was going to quit decided not to quit, and if I took two weeks off right now to go back to Nashville and work you in, it would hurt my album sales something awful. And I need to keep these dates. So Paul Riddle from The Marshall Tucker Band, another great person, called Charlie and said, "Boy do I have a drummer for you." So Paul was pushing me to Charlie. But this drummer Hoss Allen that was gonna quit didn't, and Charlie was just honest with me instead of giving me some big ring around the rosy, some big story, he told me the truth. He told me he knew of a band that needed a drummer and he was going to hook me up. This was when Charlie couldn't even afford it, but later, after I left, I found a fifty-dollar bill in my pocket, and I didn't have a dime. Sonny and I probably had just enough money to get us back home to Spartanburg in my Volkswagen bus.
So Charlie played his gig at The Warehouse, there in New Orleans, off the beaten track, away from the French Quarter. There were thousands of people, and I watched Charlie and his band play. Charlie's bus pulled out of town, and Sonny and I were gonna leave town too after Mardi Gras. Sonny got a gig, driving a bus and working on the road crew for Charlie. I didn't get a gig. But Charlie had invited me to come to Atlanta to a club called Richard's and jam with him that night. Dickey Betts also jammed with him. There were two sets of drums, and Charlie let me set up a third set of drums. So when I left out of New Orleans, I found this fifty-dollar bill in my pocket. There's no way anybody else could have done it. It was Charlie. Then he turned me on to Skynyrd. There was this gig in Atlanta at the stadium, and it was Marshall Tucker, The Allman Brothers, Charlie Daniels, Wet Willie, Lynyrd Skynyrd, everybody. Paul Riddle invited me to go to that show after Mardi Gras. And I had jammed with Charlie at Richard's and everything was great. Then I left town and went home to Spartanburg and was working construction. Then I was working at an airport installing aviation electronics at the Spartanburg Airport. Then Paul called and said, 'We're playing a big gig in Atlanta; and do you want to come?' And I said 'sure.' And I went and that's where I met everybody that day. I met Ronnie Van Zant and everybody. Ronnie's face was all beaten up. They had just been in San Francisco and got into a big fight. Ronnie looked like the devil, all black eyes and cut up and everything. He had taken on a whole gang by himself because everybody else hid under the bus I guess. And between Charlie Daniels and Paul Riddle pushing me and talking me up, saying this is the boy for you, which was unbeknownst to me. I went home and I got this call from Ronnie, and he said 'I want you to play drums for my band. I was gonna fly five drummers down to Jacksonville, but what I want to do is have you come down to Atlanta and play with Ed and Leon.' I said 'Sure.' So he hired me over the phone. He said 'I need a fire set under this band, man. Can you do that? We are right on the fence. We're getting there, man.' So I went to Atlanta where I was supposed to meet up with Leon and Ed King at Alex Cooley's Electric Ballroom. I drove up there in my bus with my drums in it. Well, two or three blocks from the place, my engine overheated and vapor locked. I just pulled up my emergency brake, unloaded my drums, rolled them up the street to the Electric Ballroom, left my Volkswagen bus sitting on Peachtree Street with the emergency blinkers on, and went in, set up and played with Ed King and Leon. Ed took me next door and made me a Caesar salad, and I ate. I figured enough time had gone by, so I went back to my bus. It had cooled down, so I started it up and drove up to the Ballroom and got the gig. So it was Charlie Daniels and Paul Riddle believing in me and being good guys. And Ronnie said after he had met me, he realized that he was talking to somebody that talked to him on the same level. I wasn't talking up to him; I wasn't talking down to him. We became friends. I watched Ronnie whip everybody in the band's ass – Leon, Billy, Allen, and Gary. I used to go to their defense all the time, because Ronnie couldn't whip my ass. He was tough for a musician, but I had just gotten out of the Marine Corps. I was young and wiry. You'd have to kill me at that point. Ronnie was the same way. He respected me, and I respected him. I could have argued with him 24-hours-a-day about some things, Michael. About some of the policies. It was his band. But when he would start getting drunk and abusive, I was the only one who could talk to him.
Billy Powell, in that VH1 Behind the Music thing is a liar. He lied about the death of Cassie Gaines, dying in my arms. Billy said that everybody was afraid of Ronnie and nobody stood up to Ronnie. That's a lie. Anybody can tell you, you can ask Charlie or anybody. I stood up to Ronnie when somebody had to stand up to him for the band. I did that many times. We had a few physical fights, but he knew I wasn't going to lie down and let him smack me in the lips. So Billy just plain lied. That's because of years of cocaine and alcohol abuse. Billy doesn't remember what the f**k happened. He thinks he does. But for him to get on national television, after twenty years of Cassie's family thinking that she died on impact in that plane crash – which she did, she sat right in front of me – Billy's saying that she died in my arms, bleeding to death, with her throat cut from ear to ear...the night that show aired the first time, all of the Gaines family called me in tears. I said, 'Teresa, did you see Cassie's body?' She goes 'yes.' I said, was her throat cut from ear to ear? She says, 'No.' I said 'Well there.' Billy's out of his freaking mind. I don't know what's up with that boy. I could tell he was drunk when they were doing the interview. He always tries to over act when he's drunk, by pursing his lips, or his eyes get real big when he's drunk. And he sat there saying that they are all healthy and taking care of themselves, he is so full of do-do.
What's the truth about you after the crash? There are so many rumors and urban legends about you running for help and getting shot by a farmer.
Those are all true. Billy says on the show that I ran for help, and I also stayed there and Cassie died in my arms. How could that happen? He contradicted himself. For Billy to say that on TV, even if he thought it was true...why didn't he call up Teresa and say, 'I don't want you guys to be upset, but I'm going to be saying this'...but he sat there and embellished his own thing, 'Oh, Cassie was cut from ear to ear, she was gurgling blood, it was horrible. She was begging to live. Oh it was terrible. She died in my arms, and in Artimus Pyle's arms. Man, he sounds like John Lovitz from "Saturday Night Live." Yeah, that's the ticket! He took it too far, Michael. He did not tell the truth. I have not spoken to the guys in the band for some years now. I left the band because I wanted Blue Cross insurance. I wanted dental plans for our families, of us survivors. I wanted us to lead the band with integrity. Gary Rossington, Billy Powell and Leon Wilkeson wanted cocaine, alcohol, treachery, blood sucking weasel managers, blood sucking weasel attorneys, and I lost. You dig? I lost. I lost. They're afraid of their wives. Every one of them married these treacherous, manipulative, gold digging women that have no more right to dictate what Lynyrd Skynyrd as a band – you see what I'm saying? These unbelievably awful women that Gary and Leon and Billy are afraid of are out there dictating Skynyrd policy.
If Ronnie were alive, he'd say 'Wait a minute guys. Shouldn't the band members make decisions about the band?' And now there are so many lawsuits against Gary and them, because they continuously stab people in the back. I just recently played Bike Week, and the band that I took down there was Randall Hall on guitar; Tim Lindsey on bass who replaced Leon when they fired Leon and then realized they weren't legally able to do it without having him in the band. Barry Rapp, who married Teresa Gaines, on keyboards; Michael Estes, who was with the band for three years and played on two albums. I basically had the "other Skynyrd." And Michael Estes sings the songs so much better, and with so much more heart and legitimacy than Johnny Van Zant, it's unbelievable. We played for thousands of kids down there. They asked us back, they liked us so much.
Then we went up to the Freebird Cafe and played there, and Judy Van Zant, with her manipulating ways, and her lounge act husband, sabotaged our sound. And because she is so greedy....she does everything trying to make people think she is this big philanthropist...she's got Ronnie Van Zant's millions...and she starts this club up there, and invites my band to come up and play. And instead of treating us with respect, she sabotages our sound. She doesn't pay us squat. I'm going to tell you something Michael. The other night my heart was broken. I was complaining that the sound was bad.
Everybody else that comes into the Freebird Cafe there at Jax beach gets great sound. I don't care if you're a garage band, or if you're the local lounge act, hired by Judy's husband Jim, you get excellent sound. We go up there playing the songs of Ronnie, Allen and Steve, with more heart than they thought possible, and she sabotages our sound. Doesn't pay us. Doesn't advertise. And we still had a good crowd in spite of her. Then at the end of the night, I'm complaining about it, and Melody Van Zant, who is 20 weeks pregnant – little Melody, who I held in my arms and loved like a daughter – comes out and tells me to pack my stuff and get out of HER club. She's 20 years old.
I love her like a daughter. But my sons know how to work. My sons, Chris and Marshall, know how to work for a dollar. They know the value of a dollar. I've had millions of dollars stolen from me by the state of Florida, and by people I thought loved me. The band turned their backs on me. They tell me that I saved their life in the plane crash, that there'd be no Lynyrd Skynyrd now if it weren't for me. And yet Gary, Billy and Leon turned their backs on me when I was charged with a crime worse than murder. And they knew I was innocent. And they knew it was about fleecing me for money. And they turned their backs on me flat.
And then for me to take my band into the Jimmy and Judy show at the Freebird Cafe, and to have Melody tell me to get out of HER club, where my picture is all over the walls.
Michael, you won't believe this. Right now there is a school of about eight unbelievably beautiful dolphins going by my property. I've got to go out there. I'm walking out there right now. They're going south. There are at least five.
That's the real riches in life. Things like that.
Right. And see, I would like to have the millions of dollars that Judy knows where the money is, for us doing the "Freebird" movie and all the stuff that we've done. We've never been paid a dime for that. MCA is holding the money because Judy and Gary and Larkin Collins, who is Allen's father, can't get along. They're all too greedy. That's the honest to God truth. The greediness of Allen Collins' father, Gary Rossington and Judy Van Zant is so intense, that MCA has put a freeze on any funds that should be coming to the band. So I live on nothing. I basically live on nothing while Judy sits on millions of dollars, and then she treats us that way. We played for two hours the other night. Against all odds, our crowd stayed with us. We were kicking butt. Judy couldn't stand it, so she and Jim left, and didn't tell the last minute sound man they hired where the cords were to the microphones.
Why would she do that to you?
Dude! Why does she do the things she does. I go up there and sign t-shirts from the Freebird Cafe. I don't get a dime from that. She was paying me $100 to come up on Tuesday nights and be a part of a jam night. By now you know that I don't do it for the money. But she's sitting on millions of dollars. She's built a new studio up there with some of my money. A Freebird Cafe with some of my money. And then she throws me, like crumbs, to come in there on Tuesday and play. They treat me like I'm some old beggar coming up behind the depot, and they toss him a few dollars to go out and shovel horse manure. It's unbelievable the greed that has prevailed. Every night I came in there and jammed with 30 kids who thought it was special to play with a band member from Skynyrd. I am proud to say I was in a band with rock stars. I know Ronnie, Steve, Allen and Cassie were rock stars. And hey, why can't everybody be as cool as Theresa Gaines-Rapp and Kerri Hampton-Pyle. Honesty and integrity are what really matters.