Ann Wilson stories about Artimus Pyle
Jan 29, 2022 13:04:31 GMT -5
heathinvader and SkynyrdFrynd like this
Post by ski on Jan 29, 2022 13:04:31 GMT -5
I searched to see if this had already been posted here but couldn't find anything. Apologies if this is a repeat.
I found the following passage in the book Kicking & Dreaming: A Story of Heart, Soul and Rock & Roll, an autobiography by Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart It's Ann Wilson talking about her experiences with Artimus. The bits about Artimus start with the second paragraph.
I also remember seeing on some video online about the earliest Lynyrd Skynyrd tribute shows (when Allen was there, I think) that they received flowers backstage from Heart. Artimus commented on how classy he thought the flowers were.
I found the following passage in the book Kicking & Dreaming: A Story of Heart, Soul and Rock & Roll, an autobiography by Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart It's Ann Wilson talking about her experiences with Artimus. The bits about Artimus start with the second paragraph.
In the United States we often toured with Southern rock bands, which were odd pairings for us, but concert promoters thought they needed the yin and the yang. The worst of these was the Marshall Tucker Band, who repeatedly made sexist comments toward us. At a show before fifty thousand people at Denver’s Mile High Stadium, a member of the Marshall Tucker Band crew pulled the plug on the sound system mid-song to force us off stage. I was right in the middle of singing “Crazy On You” when the sound just disappeared. We were stunned, and so was the audience. As we walked away, the members of Marshall Tucker made catcalls. I never knew whether they were just jerks, or whether they thought we would upstage them, which we did. Our manager got in a fistfight with their manager in a chaotic backstage melee. The concert promoter, Barry Fey, was so embarrassed by Marshall Tucker’s actions that he later went onstage, grabbed a microphone, and apologized to the audience. “This is the worst show I’ve ever done,” he told the crowd.
We toured several times with Lynyrd Skynyrd, who were sexist, too, but with mellower good-old-boy overtones. One night there was a knock on my hotel room door in the middle of the night. I mistakenly opened it without looking, and Artimus Pyle, Skynyrd’s drummer, did a somersault into my room. He dashed to the balcony—this was in a high-rise hotel on an upper floor—and squatted on the railing. I tried to coax him back, saying things like, “There’s some real sweet music here in the bedroom. Come check it out.” And he’d respond, “I’m fine here.”
This act went on for far too long. I tried to distract Artimus with fabulous things I claimed were inside the hotel room. “Artimus, you wouldn’t believe what’s on television here! Dancing chickens!” Finally, he came back in, and I managed to push him into the hallway and lock the door. He kept knocking on it all night, but I knew not to open it. I looked through the peek hole once, and he was still right up against the door.
Another night, Nancy and I were in a room together, and I again made the mistake of opening the door without looking. Again it was Artimus, but this time he had a young boy he pushed toward us. “I’ve got to go see this guy about something,” Artimus said. “Ya’ll are women. Can you watch my son for a short while, ma’am?” Apparently, since we were the only females on the tour, he figured we were perfectly suited to be babysitters. He ran away before we could speak, so we took the boy in and ordered food for him. Artimus said he’d be back “real soon,” but hours went by, and we eventually put the poor kid to bed. Finally, Artimus returned the next morning with a hangdog look on his face. “Real sorry, missus,” he said. When his son left, we couldn’t tell if the boy was disappointed that Artimus had returned late or that he’d come back at all.
Wilson, Ann; Wilson, Nancy; Cross, Charles R.. Kicking & Dreaming (pp. 106-107). It Books. Kindle Edition.
We toured several times with Lynyrd Skynyrd, who were sexist, too, but with mellower good-old-boy overtones. One night there was a knock on my hotel room door in the middle of the night. I mistakenly opened it without looking, and Artimus Pyle, Skynyrd’s drummer, did a somersault into my room. He dashed to the balcony—this was in a high-rise hotel on an upper floor—and squatted on the railing. I tried to coax him back, saying things like, “There’s some real sweet music here in the bedroom. Come check it out.” And he’d respond, “I’m fine here.”
This act went on for far too long. I tried to distract Artimus with fabulous things I claimed were inside the hotel room. “Artimus, you wouldn’t believe what’s on television here! Dancing chickens!” Finally, he came back in, and I managed to push him into the hallway and lock the door. He kept knocking on it all night, but I knew not to open it. I looked through the peek hole once, and he was still right up against the door.
Another night, Nancy and I were in a room together, and I again made the mistake of opening the door without looking. Again it was Artimus, but this time he had a young boy he pushed toward us. “I’ve got to go see this guy about something,” Artimus said. “Ya’ll are women. Can you watch my son for a short while, ma’am?” Apparently, since we were the only females on the tour, he figured we were perfectly suited to be babysitters. He ran away before we could speak, so we took the boy in and ordered food for him. Artimus said he’d be back “real soon,” but hours went by, and we eventually put the poor kid to bed. Finally, Artimus returned the next morning with a hangdog look on his face. “Real sorry, missus,” he said. When his son left, we couldn’t tell if the boy was disappointed that Artimus had returned late or that he’d come back at all.
Wilson, Ann; Wilson, Nancy; Cross, Charles R.. Kicking & Dreaming (pp. 106-107). It Books. Kindle Edition.