Roadie Report 48 - UK and Italy - by Camilla McGuinn

The rain was pouring when the train pulled out of the Milan train station. Our visit to Italy will always be remembered when I look out a window at raindrops falling on the landscape.

Sound check in Asti was sweltering. Roger was sitting in the hot sun, in an open air square as I quickly rushed the sound check. Back home, in the States, we had decided not to do outside concerts anymore because it always rains. We bent those rules for Italy. A decision we were beginning to regret.



The concert in Udine ended in a rain shower. Roger changed his song order to make sure everyone heard the songs they'd come to hear before they were drenched. He is very aware that people want to hear the songs that are part of the sound track of their lives. The rain didn’t matter. The folks stayed in their seats and begged for a second encore, which he happily sang.

After the sound check in Asti, we returned to our hotel. When Nico, the promoter’s representative, picked us up for the concert, there was a slight drizzle. By the time we got to the venue, the drizzled turned into a full blown gale with lightening flashing in the sky. We knew there was no way Roger could safely play on a metal constructed stage, but there were people who were waiting in the storm to hear “Mr. Tambourine Man.”


I suggested they move the people who had stayed in spite of the storm, inside to a large room I had seen earlier. Once they were all inside, we placed a chair at one end of the room. Roger sat down with his acoustic 7-string guitar. He sang for an hour without any amplification. The audience sang with him. They were friends in his living room. The rain orchestrated a moment that will be forever remembered.

The first few days in Italy were sunny and beautiful. Nico picked us up at the train station in Faenza and suggested he take us to the hotel for a shower. After the overnight, epic trip from Paris, the shower was a welcome luxury. Nick reminded me that we could have flown to Italy in less than 2 hours. This dream didn’t have runways. We worked our way across the Atlantic on a luxury Ocean Liner and we were going to work our way through Europe on rails.

The regional train from Bologna to Faenza was hot and dusty. The antiquated train stations seemed to have a hundred steps to climb with the guitars, equipment and a small bag of clothes. In the course of pursuing a dream it is important to realize that there will be some moments you wished you didn’t have to experience. Roger sought after a dream when he was 14 years old. He had a dream to become a folk singer like Bob Gibson and Pete Seeger. Years of practice, years of peaks and years of valleys were on the road to the dream. His banjo playing landed him a job when he was 17. By the age of 22 he was a rock and roll star, but that wasn’t his dream. “Rock and Roll” was just a turn in the road. He didn’t mind that turn in the road and in fact enjoyed all the moments, but the turn had some very deep valleys.

The overnight train ride was smooth and we slept well. After a quick shower, we were ready to accept Nico’s invitation to go to his hometown of Rimini to eat at his father’s restaurant.

Rimini is a graceful town situated on the Adriatic Sea. As in all of Italy’s cities, history abounds. We were treated to a delicious meal of seafood and pasta before a walk on the beautiful beach. This seaside town is the vacation spot for the Italians.
The beach was filled with families camped under a sea of umbrellas. The cool breezes flowing off the sea made this beach experience delightful. We have lived on the beach but this was different. It wasn’t hot.

After the final Italian concert, Nico drove us from Asti to Milan and dropped us at a hotel that was not too far from the train station. I chose it because I wanted a location that was close to the station, but far enough away that a taxi driver would not be upset at the short ride. Carrying two guitars, an equipment bag and 2 rolling suitcases is not an easy feat after the first flight of stairs. I’m up to 40 push-ups a day, just to handle the lifting.

We checked into the hotel, and then explored the neighborhoods and their grocery stores - my favorite way to become familiar with a culture.

The telephone rang at 5am to wake us up in time to catch the early train to Germany. We have to change trains in Munich to get to Nuremberg. I never understand why we change the spellings of cities to fit our language. Munich is Muenchen in German.

Two elderly ladies are sitting across the table from me in the 4-seat configuration. Roger and I had the two facing window seats, but when I saw their disappointment that they weren’t sitting together, I managed to convey to them by sign language that we could switch seats. Roger moved across the aisle and the two ladies happily sat together, with me facing them. The seat change was very fortuitous. Once the ladies were settled in their seats, the younger one, I guess she is about 75, opened her bag, pulled out antiseptic wipes and began cleaning the table between us, our arm rests and the window sill. After she finished cleaning our abode, she went over to Roger’s seat and cleaned his area.

Roger and I pulled out our computers. I began writing this story and the ladies made sure I looked up whenever something beautiful was passing by – which was most of the time. Usually when I travel, I tend to compare the terrain with areas of my homeland but Italy isn’t like the rest of the world … it is unique. The mountains, the beaches, the cities, the vineyards, olive groves, the architecture and the small towns have a look and feel that I have only found in this boot shaped country. Of course when you add the delicious food into the mixture I have to say, “I don’t think we come here enough.”

We have been saying the same thing about the United Kingdom. The tour on the English rails was packed. Nick Peel, Roger’s agent and Chas Cole of CMP, the UK promoter, were very diligent to fill most of the days with concerts. It was on the trains that we were able to relax and reflect.


We chose to base out of a few towns and have David, the tour representative, drive us to some of the venues in nearby cities. That gave us a chance to explore Liverpool, Edinburgh, Cambridge, Reading, and Bristol.

Summer peaked out from the winter doldrums and the streets of Liverpool were brimming with people soaking in the sun. We needed a good restaurant for Roger’s day of show meal. The concierge at the hotel sent us to Piccolino’s. It is an understatement to say it is the best Italian restaurant in town.

Walking the streets of Liverpool is walking not only through bricks ladened with centuries of history but also with the more recent history of the 1960s. It was the home of the Cavern, the Beatles stomping place before their mania hit the world.

The original Cavern had been demolished, but a new one was built with the same bricks. There is a “Wall of Fame” with the name of performers who graced the stage. Looking at Mick Ronson’s name was like playing homage to a friend. He was one of those talented people whom we will always miss. He was Roger’s friend from the “Rolling Thunder Review” and later a record producer for Roger. I met him only once, but his kind, direct look and sweet words left an indelible mark on my memory. Thank goodness, “Cardiff Rose” is Roger’s living memorial to Mick’s work.

In Edinburgh, Roger was occupied with telephone interviews while I explored the streets. Right across from our hotel was a small pub with a sign in the window, “Folk Music.” I stepped in and asked when and where. The bartender pointed to the corner and said at 9 o’clock. That evening, we stood at the bar sipping a traditional pint and listened to six musicians play violins, guitars and flute. My feet wanted to join the music with the clogging I learned in my youth, but I reluctantly restrained myself.

An American couple approached the bar and ordered two pints. The lady was closest to the bar, so she paid. Her companion told her to leave the change. He made a point of saying that only in the U.K do bartenders like change. I smiled at him and said, “That’s because you just left him a $5.00 tip.”

For years I had thought of Reading just as a train station where we changed trains. On our last visit, we stayed at the beautiful Forbury Hotel, but this time the Ascot Races were on, so the Forbury was booked. I could tell it was Ascot season because ladies were wearing hats all around the town and some of them were quite silly. Fortunately, the Malmaison Hotel had availability and its location is wonderful for walking. We got Roger’s boots fixed, bought some guitar bags and ate at a wonderful Italian restaurant. On our night off, Roger read to me the H.G. Wells story, “War of Worlds” from his iPhone. Roger remarked that the newest version of the movie follows the book more closely than the older one but he wished someone would produce the story reflecting the original 1898 time frame.


June is graduation time in Cambridge. Black robes being followed by proud parents. The pubs were filled with conversations in every language. We thought Cambridge would be the perfect place to get the feel of the English pubs. We went to three. Two were steeped in history. The Miter and The Eagle. A twitter to Roger suggested The Eagle, the college hangout of the twitter pal and a famous watering hole of airline pilots during the war. It was there where we ordered the fish and chips that I had been longing for. Some foods are a must when you visit a country. A plate of fish and chips is an English necessity.

The third pub we visited was on the way home to the hotel after a long walk. The long walk was the result of me getting us lost. We entered the pub with a strong sense of relief, ordered a pint and sat down. On a shelf behind our table was a guitar. Roger asked if he could play it because he hadn’t had his daily practice. The bartender was thrilled. He wanted to learn how to play the guitar. He already knew 2 chords. Roger showed him another one and then sang Bells of Rhymney for a retired gentleman sitting at the bar.

Before the show in Bristol, Roger was invited to play at Glastonbury, the “Woodstock” of England. This wasn’t a CMP date, so Nick offered to be the tour driver. Arriving at the site, with the help of Roger’s GPS, was an awesome experience. It was a city built with canvas. An ocean of tents covered the farmland. I decided to watch Roger’s performance from the side of the stage. The smiles on the audience’s faces emanated throughout Roger’s whole show. They sang all the songs with total abandonment. My smile lasted until the next day.

The train is now stopped in the Verona train station. Just writing the name makes me very thankful for this life of adventure.
Shh…the ladies are sleeping even though the children are chattering.



Edwina Hayes was the wonderful singer who opened Roger's UK shows.

Roadie Report 47 - A Dream Comes True by Camilla McGuinn

Photo shot from our balcony on the Crystal Serenity

When God drops a dream in your heart and it comes to fruition, mere words sometimes can’t describe the experience. But it is this attempt at writing these words that will enable us to someday look back and smile at the sweet memories.

Our walk was rapid to catch the train to Edinburgh. The lounge had free Wi-Fi and I found myself totally involved in business emails without keeping an eye on the clock. There weren’t many people in the First Class Coach because the cost of the train ticket is expensive unless you have a BritRail Pass. The pass is used to promote tourism in the United Kingdom, so the price is very reasonable when bought in the United States before landing in England. It is wise to pay the extra for First Class because the Coach compartments are usually filled with commuters going to work who probably would appreciate not being inconvenienced by tourist and their luggage. Check the BritRail website for the prices.

I listened to Roger’s voice while he did a telephone interview before we left the hotel in Birmingham. He told the interviewer that we have been touring the UK for years with a BritRail pass. Those years of experience have fine tuned our choices of trains and hotels. This tour was quickly becoming one of our favorites. The dream didn’t begin on this train; it began last year when we entertained a dream of touring across the ocean without using wings.

The rental car from Orlando to Miami was comfortable, but not as comfortable as our van. Our understanding was enlightened as to why people are often amazed when we tell them enjoy driving. Riding in a regular car for hours is a confined way to travel.

The streets of South Beach were filled with people attending a “Rap” convention. The traffic inched its way to our hotel. One night there, then Crystal Cruise Line sent a car to drive us to the Crystal Serenity.

Embarkation for us was around 3pm. A previous experience on a different cruise line made us dread the “move the cattle attitude.” Boarding the Crystal Serenity was like boarding a private yacht. There were no lines and the staff made us feel like royalty.
The butler for our stateroom, Engin from Turkey, finished the royal treatment for the next ten days.

The Serenity inched away from the dock in the late evening. On the top deck, a few couples gathered to watch the Miami lights fade in the moonlight. The voice of Louis Armstrong filled the air singing, “Its A Wonderful World,” a Crystal Cruise line custom when one of their ocean liners departs a shore. Roger smiled, put his arm around me, took my hand and we slow danced our way into our dream adventure.

The crossing from Miami to Lisbon was going to take ten days. I wondered how we were going to spend the time. It didn’t take long to realize that the activities arranged by the Crystal staff could fill every moment of every day.

Since Portugal was our destination, I signed up for a Portuguese class. It was in that class that I met people who were to become our first friends on board.

Roger spent the first couple of days on the balcony of our cabin fishing the satellites for the Leo Leporte show, “The Tech Guy,” on XM Radio CH 158. He was thrilled that he managed to receive the show a little beyond Bermuda. After we were out of the connection line with the magic stars, Roger recorded two songs for the Folk Den on the Pro Tools equipment that he insisted on bringing. The cabin was as quiet as a recording studio.

Bermuda was the only stop before Lisbon. On my 40th birthday we had used our frequent flyer points to explore the island, so we decided to stay on board while everyone else went ashore. While sitting aft of the deserted ship, with a bottle of champagne, a lone couple walked by. We laughingly asked if they were enjoying our private yacht. Linda and Manuel quickly engaged us in a vivacious conversation. They had been to Lisbon before and when we told them that Roger is a musician, they insisted we join then for an excursion to a Fado club in Lisbon to hear the beauty of Portuguese folk music.


The theme of the cruise was “The Big Band.” One of our favorite movies is “The Glenn Miller Story” starring Jimmy Stewart. The band hired for this cruise was “The Glenn Miller Orchestra.” It was exciting to hear a big band play the songs of the sound track to our much loved movie. Every evening we would go to the Sunset Lounge, watch the sunset and listen to the music.

A few years ago, Roger and I made a deal with each other. I didn’t have to ride a bicycle anymore and he didn’t have to dance. He had already graciously forgotten the deal on our first night at sea. When the distinct sounds of Glenn Miller flowed from our new friends who played in the orchestra, we dressed in our finest attire and waltzed across the Atlantic Ocean.

It was easy for Roger to give two lectures because he has been lecturing in Colleges and High Schools. It was an intimate crossing, as re-positioning cruises often are, so the audience was filled with appreciative new found friends.


The San Francisco of Portugal.

Disembarking from the Crystal Serenity was as easy as embarking. Engin walked us to the waiting car. It was a sad farewell, but Rick, the cruise director, insisted we would be back. I’m pouring over the Crystal website and dreaming of the next time.

Our hotel room wasn’t ready when we arrived because it was before noon. The free Wi-Fi in the lobby became our first contact point with our email in 10 days. Roger looked up after a few minutes and began laughing, “I feel like I have jet-lag. It is a sense-memory of always arriving on foreign soil after a long airplane ride and wanting to go to bed.”

Photo by Camilla

The room was soon ready, but we didn’t go to bed. The blooming Jacaranda lined streets of Lisbon opened up to us our first adventure in Portugal as we walked the cobbled sidewalks. In the evening, Linda and Manuel arrived at our hotel to take us to the Fado Club. After a glass of champagne, we hailed a taxi for the old part of town.

Manuel made reservations at a club that presented the renowned guitar player,Mario Pacheco. Our table was right in front of the performers. The first of the many food courses was finished when the lights went red and all the noise and eating stopped. Out walked 4 performers, 3 male instrumentalists and one female singer. Mario played a 12-string guitar, but it wasn’t like Roger’s. It was a Portuguese 12-string with six sets of two strings resembling a large mandolin. There was no amplification of the instruments, nor of the singer’s voices. The room filled with the soulful sounds of a nation’s heritage. The words were foreign to us but we were moved by the intense emotion.

Our stay in the beautiful city of Lisbon was too short, but Roger had a concert to perform in Madrid. The evening after the amazing Club Fado experience, we boarded an overnight train to the capital of Spain. A late night dinner was served on board then we settled in our compartment for a night of dreaming on the rails.

We had worked with the promoter in Spain in 2004 for the Azkena Rock Festival in Vitoria-Gasteiz, so we knew we were in kind, capable hands.

The Hotel Ac Aitana became our home for two nights. It is located in the business district, away from the tourist area. The tapas bar across the street is the munching place for all the locals and it became ours too. We did experience the historical part of town, because the venue was situated right in the middle of it. The warmth of the Spanish audience stayed with us on our beautiful train ride north to Paris. The Spanish countryside looks like Southern California. No wonder the Spanish settled there.

Photo of the rain on the Spanish plane taken from the train.

It was Sunday morning when our train pulled into the Austerlitz Station in Paris. We joined the taxi line and it soon became apparent that taxis did not make a habit of stopping at this station on Sundays. Thirty minutes later, I decided to walk around the block to see if there was a better vantage point. As soon as I turned the corner, I saw a taxi. My dilemma was how to convey to the driver with my limited French vocabulary that I needed him to take me back to the station, pick up my husband and luggage and then take us to Garde Norde, our next train station for the trip to London.

I peered into the passenger’s side window and with the most pathetic hopeful smile I could muster, pointed back to the train station and said, “Baggage” in my best French. It worked! He smiled and nodded. I jumped in the back of the taxi. The driver made a wild u-turn as I used my walkie-talkie to convey to Roger that I would soon be arriving triumphantly with transportation to our next destination.

The Eurostar is one of our favorite trains. Someday I will write a whole chapter about the adventures we have had on this underground pathway between London and Paris. Sitting in the lounge waiting to board was like being at home.

It is now a day off and we’re sitting on a train bound to London from Newcastle. Cambridge is our goal, but we enjoy the train so much, that we decided to take it to London and change at the King’s Cross Station instead of Peterborough. The romance of the train lends itself to writing. Castles on the hillsides, shorn sheep in the meadows and backyard gardens with babies in the swings add up to combine hundreds of years of history with the ever present daily life of this island nation.

Early this morning, Roger and I read the beautiful love letter in the Song of Solomon. There is a phrase in it of the man describing the beauty of the woman he loves. He compares her teeth to “shorn sheep.” I never really understood the comparison until today when I looked out the window of the train and saw a row of shorn sheep. Yes they did look like a row of teeth, with none missing.
Love, history and adventure…all from the window of a train. The Monet view from the English train.


More to come…..

Roadie Report 46 - Lectures and Pete Seeger's Garden Party -A Glimpse Backstage- by Camilla McGuinn

Usually upon arrival at the “Sheraton On the Hudson” in Weehawken, NJ, we park in the lot and unload our van from there, but this time it was raining. We drove under the awning of the hotel entrance. While the bellman was maneuvering our equipment, a gentleman excitedly approached Roger with that tentative question we often hear, “Roger McGuinn?”
“Yes.”
“We came here from Canada for the show at Madison Square Garden.” Then he spotted me and excitedly commented, “You’re Camilla! We’re here at this hotel because we read about it in your BLOG.”

It was the first time someone seemed more excited to see me than to see Roger. I was flattered and thrilled to meet one of the three people I imagine who read the BLOG. On this tour, I found out there are a few more than three readers, because I have been reminded several different times that I haven’t written lately. Those reminders were encouragements to dust off the keyboard and type. It is a good thing too, because I don’t want to forget the wonderful events we have recently experienced.

Two years ago, Roger decided that he wanted to connect more with schools since it was a visit by Bob Gibson to his high school that set him on the road to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I called Andrea at Skyline and asked her to begin mentioning to colleges that Roger would also be available for give a lecture the day before a concert. Monmouth University was the first college to invite Roger to lecture.

The Folk Alliance invited Roger to give the key note address for their February convention in Memphis. This folk singer was becoming a speaker.
On March 19, 2009 Roger gave his first lecture to a high school class. It was in Rockford, Illinois. We walked out of the classroom with smiles on our faces. The music students appeared interested in the stories Roger shared with them. During the Q & A, a student asked Roger, “What was the most important decision you ever made in the record business?”
“Getting out of it.” Roger quickly replied.
He went on to tell them that with the internet and modern technology, he has been able to develop his own recording business and he’s having a lot of fun doing it. He told them that if you love what you are doing, you don’t have to work a day in your life.

Another lecture was schedule at Monmouth University for May 2. This time I asked the staff to invite people to bring their guitars.


After Roger explained how folk music took him to the Hall of Fame, he asked the students to open their guitar cases because they were all going to play a few songs together. There was a cacophony of strings until Roger led them through the tuning process. After all the guitars were blending, Roger sat down and said, “We’re going to play Mr. Tambourine Man. One, two, three, four. One, two, three…’Hey Mr. Tambourine Man…’”

My mouth dropped open when I heard almost 50 guitars and singers join together in harmony from the first note. They finished and then flowed into “Turn, Turn, Turn.” After another round of questions, Roger finished the afternoon with everyone singing and playing “Mr. Spaceman.”

He was smiling broadly when he declared to the group,”You’re now officially all Byrds!"

The first weekend in May was jammed packed with exciting events, but I was beginning to think that those moments at Monmouth couldn’t be topped.

Sunday was Pete Seeger’s 90th birthday party at Madison Square Garden. What a party it was! The Garden was sold out and the cast of performers covered decades of talented musicians. Everyone donated their time and talents to celebrate the life of a man who always chose the paths of love and justice. All of the proceeds from the concert were for the “Clearwater.” The project Pete began in the 60’s to clean up the Hudson River.

For Roger, this evening was an ultimate class re-union. The names on the door for his shared dressing room were Arlo Guthrie, Tim Robbins, Ramblin' Jack Elliott, Kris Kristofferson and Roger McGuinn.
Throughout the evening, there were joyous smiles and handshakes with friends from Greenwich Village to California, many of whom Roger had not seen in over 20 years.








Ben and Trevor from Band of Horses, along with the Saturday Night Live band, joined Roger on the song, “Turn, Turn, Turn.” There wasn’t enough time to sing his other Pete Seeger favorite, “Bells of Rhymney,” but he didn’t mind. He told the Bob Ezrin, the director, he would be happy just to sweep the stage.

We woke up Monday morning still excited about the incredible weekend we had just experienced. The lecture on Friday, was followed on Saturday night with a co-billed concert of friends, John Sebastian and Roger McGuinn. Then it was time for Pete’s Party on Sunday. Each moment would have marked a weekend as very special on its own, but to have those three events happening in one weekend was one for the memory banks.

By noon we had answered a ton of email. Then it was time to ride the ferry across the Hudson to meet Patrick and Wilson at the Oyster Bar in Grand Central Station. Lunch in that beautiful train station and then a stroll through the market place to buy chocolate has become a tradition for every visit to the City.

After lunch, we went to 47th street to find “Masters of Time.” A watch maker who has gained great acclaim for the tender care he gives to fixing broken watches. His wife Rita tends the small desk in the Exchange. I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave Roger’s birthday gift from my mother with strangers, but when we met Rita, I knew that the watch was in good hands. Her sincerity and love of her husband’s craft bonded us to her almost immediately. She and her husband are a “mom and pop” business. We identified with their business model.

Tuesday morning Rita called and said the watch was fixed. She wanted Roger to have it before we left for Europe at the end of May, so her husband made a special effort to fix it quickly.

I’m sitting on the bed, looking out the window at the gray clouds hiding the top of the Empire State Building. I have spent the last three months buried under a mountain of paper work. July’s logistics still need to be organized for our upcoming two month tour of Europe, but this moment of reflection has been good for my soul. It is true; you never have to work a day in your life, if you love what you do.

Roadie Report 45 - Eight Miles High - by Camilla McGuinn

Photo by Camilla

The BBC invited Roger to perform for their series called “Folk
America” being filmed at the Barbican Theatre in London, on
January 22, 2009. Nick Peel, Roger’s International agent, ironed
out all the details. Martin Guitar arranged for a Roger McGuinn HD-7, 7-string guitar. The promoter arranged for a pretty red 360 model 12-string Rickenbacker guitar and I booked the tickets.

Promoters usually balk when I tell them Roger's travel requirements, but then I find a deal they can’t refuse. I found one with Virgin Atlantic. On January 19, a Virgin Atlantic chauffeur arrived at our home to drive us to Miami. There is a direct flight from Orlando to London, but we call that the “kiddies’ flight.” A Virgin flight soaring to the "land of the mouse” is usually packed with excited little mouths, loudly proclaiming their presence.

Roger tells friends, "Camilla likes to be at the airport an hour before the airplane leaves the city it is coming from." I really don’t like running to catch a plane especially this time, since I was still in a "boot" with a broken foot. The car arrived at Miami International four hours before our evening departure to London. We happily passed the time enjoying a late lunch at the airport hotel.

The plane was only delayed half an hour before boarding. By 10pm, satisfied passengers were fed and dreaming in their Virgin Air pods.

When an airplane lands early in the morning, your hotel room is not likely to be ready. A wonderful perk of Virgin Atlantic, is the arrivals lounge. We had a leisurely breakfast before a driver navigated the streets of London to our hotel. On the way, traffic was stopped at Buckingham Palace for a small parade of the guards. We were the first car behind the march, so it felt like we were in the parade.

It was a day for parades. There was a big one happening in Washington D.C. Barack Obama was making history in America. This was one inauguration we didn’t want to miss viewing.
Years ago when we traveled in Europe, we always carried a short-wave radio to hear English news. Now with satellites broadcasting over many channels, television coverage of the inauguration was on every channel. We chose to watch the BBC coverage, because after all, we were in London. Jet lag hit before the inauguration parade, so we missed the Dave Barry moment of him being embedded.

Photo by Camilla

London is a great walking town, but with a “foot boot” on my right foot, we were relegated to the London taxis. Getting into one of those big black spacious cabs always makes me feel like I’m in a movie.

The BBC show featured four artists who walked the streets of Greenwich Village in the early 1960’s. Billy Brag was the master of ceremonies and Judy Collins closed the show. In between, Roger, Carolyn Hester and Eric Andersen echoed the sounds of the Village. Roger did add his acoustic version of “Eight Miles High.” He didn’t write it in the village with Gene and David,but it is a song about a trip to England.

1965
Jim McGuinn, Gene Clark and David Crosby were sitting in a mid-west hotel room strumming guitars while experimenting with an illicit drug of the time. Think of an automotive product.

Gene began playing a tune he had been exploring. He invited Jim and David to join him in writing the lyrics. After bantering a few ideas between them, Jim suggested, "Let’s write it about our trip to England."

The Byrds had just returned from their first concert tour of England. The promoter touted the tour to the press as "America's Answer to the Beatles." That one sentence cocked the guns of the British press. The group was the victim of target practice before the airplane even touched down.

Riding in limousines on the streets of London was exhilarating, overwhelming and wet. Culture shock bombarded the novice travelers immediately. The eccentricity of the press, the hectic pace of the schedule, along with a flu bug for Jim and Michael Clark, made the days and evenings seem like they were spinning out of control.

Derek Taylor, the Byrds newly hired publicist, had also worked with the Beatles. He arranged the first meeting with the Byrds and Beatles. The Rolling Stones came to their shows. Even though the press was slamming everything the Byrds did, the camaraderie of this small world of musicians was not affected by the petty rivalry being instigated by burning typewriter keys.

Back in the mid-west hotel room, Gene liked the idea of writing the song about the trip. His first question was how high the airplane was flying. Jim's love of aviation had the answer tucked in the recesses of his mind. "Let's do the math. around 33,000 ft divided by 5280 is around ... 6 miles high."

Gene pondered a moment. "No. I like the sound of 8 better than 6 because the Beatles wrote ‘8 days a week’."

Eight Miles High took flight.

Roger doesn't usually tell people about how images evolve into song lyrics, but this song was censored by radio because one person decided he 'knew' the theme of the song. The Gavin Report declared it was a song about drugs and encouraged it to be banned from airplay. It was banned by radio stations across the continent. Censorship was alive and flourishing in America. Even the Columbia Records mighty machine couldn’t stop that false accusation. The song was written while drugs were being experienced, but the lyrics were inspired by an historical trip to England. Here is Roger's explanation of the song words located in parenthesis below the lyric:

Eight miles high and when you touch down
You’ll find that it’s stranger than known
(The cultural shock they experienced)
Signs in the street that say where you’re going
Are somewhere just being their own
(The street names in London are posted high on the sides of the corner buildings, not on a post.)

Nowhere is there warmth to be found
Among those afraid of losing their ground
(The British press didn't like the promoters touting the Byrds as America's answer to the Beatles)
Rain gray town known for its sound
(Foggy, rainy London. The town Americans associated with the sound of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones)
In places small faces unbound
(The screaming little girl fans everywhere the group stepped)

Round the squares huddled in storms
(The groups of fans waiting for them in the rain)
Some laughing some just shapeless forms
Sidewalk scenes and black limousines
(Getting out of the limos and being pressed by the crowds on the sidewalks)
Some living some standing alone
(The kids excited by the mayhem of the scene while the policemen stood by watching)

Now back to the future:
2009

We had one day off before our flight home. After an interview with Mandy Moore from BBC radio and a business meeting with Nick to discuss the summer tour in the UK and Europe, we set our course for a late lunch at a London landmark.

The food court at Harrods has high quality kitchens surrounded by seated bars. We have always been drawn to the seafood grill. As we walked toward our favorite corner, two seats opened up at the new Caviar bar. With one quick look at each other, we jumped on those empty stools. Watching the creative cooks, the United Nations of people strolling by and tasting the food in the bustling food court creates a memory easily refreshed by all the senses.

Photo by Camilla


Within a week’s time, we flew to London; joined a parade; watched an American historical inauguration on BBC television; filmed a show for BBC television; enjoyed an evening with old friends and watched the clouds float around the Tower of Big Ben.

Old memories and new memories; London is one of our favorite cities. We're looking forward to going back in June!


Photos by Camilla

Roadie Report 44 - From The Desert to The Sea and the Fall in Between- by Camilla McGuinn

THE DESERT Photos by Camilla McGuinn

A few days ago I finally opened my computer with the conviction to give an explanation for the absence of a Blog for the past few months. Writing the little note was enough to get me back to the keyboard.

The Fall of 2008 was a wonderful time of touring for us. We traveled to the northeast during the peak of the Fall season. It was during one of the tours that I broke my foot.

The story begins in May at the gathering of the Astronaut's Hall of Fame. Astronaut Jeffrey Hoffman’s wife, Barbara, described the exciting experience they'd had on the Queen Elizabeth II ocean liner. Jeff had been invited to give a lecture and she joined him for the romantic trip. When I heard the stories, bells went off in my head.

Roger and I had been talking about doing a European tour the old fashion way. The bygone days of traveling to and from Europe only on ocean liners seemed like pages out of a romantic novel. To accomplish the dream, without breaking the bank, we were going to need a little creative planning. When Barbara told me about their trip, I immediately asked for the name of the agent who booked the lecture.

Within the month, I was emailing Tim in New York City with the best pitch line I could muster of why a cruise liner would want to book Roger McGuinn to give a lecture. Roger has been lecturing for several years at various colleges on the day before a concert. Sharing stories about his experience in the music world sounded more relaxing than giving a concert on the cruise ship because cruise lines require two concerts a night. Roger decided years ago that performing two shows on the same night was not fair to the audience. It is not wise to use 100% of his energy for one concert when another is schedule a few hours later.

Tim thought our idea might work. I had already researched the schedules of all the cruise lines which had Atlantic Ocean crossings and gave him the dates that I thought would work for us. A few weeks later, Tim called. The Crystal Serenity was leaving Miami on May 23, sailing for Portugal. Roger was invited to give two unique lectures, on two different afternoons during the 10 day cruise.

A few minutes later, I was on the telephone talking to Nick Peel, Roger's international agent, asking him to book concerts in Europe and the United Kingdom for June and July of 2009. The first part of our romantic novel was becoming a reality. All we have to do now is find a way back from Europe.

The news of the Crystal Cruise sent me soaring. We wanted to meet Tim. He lived in New York City which was perfect because Roger had a concert scheduled at the Abrons Art Center in the City on Sept. 26th.

We arrived at the Weehawken, NJ, Sheraton-On-the-Hudson on Wednesday. A luncheon meeting was arranged with Tim. In order not to be late, we planned to take the Ferry to the city about an hour before our appointment.

We galloped down ten flights of stairs - any excuse for exercise on the road. When we stepped out of the hotel, the Ferry was docking. I began to run for it. Roger called, "Camilla, don't run!" I tripped on the curb and went sprawling on the road. Roger was horrified. I quickly jumped up hoping to get the look of horror off his face. I assured him I wasn’t injured, gathered my scattered belongings and limped to the entrance of the Ferry boat. As I sat down, I felt a sharp twinge coming from my right foot. The Ferry terminal on the New York side of the Hudson River has a concession stand and I was hopeful I could get some ice there to soothe my foot’s pain as soon as the 10 minute ride was over.

The kind man selling coffee and sweets was very sympathetic while he filled a plastic bag full of ice, he wouldn't even take a tip. Since we were early, we stayed 15 minutes in the terminal with my iced foot propped up on the plastic chairs. While I was making faces at my foot, Roger pointed at a Ferry boat docking and quietly commented, "Camilla, see that Ferry. It's the one we would have been on, if we had missed the one you were running to catch." My head was shaking from left to right as I sheepishly promised to slow down and not move so fast.

My foot still ached as we boarded the Ferry Bus to our midtown destination. I prayed for heavy traffic because I needed to keep the ice on my foot a bit longer. My prayer was answered. The United Nations was in session and New York City traffic comes to a halt when the world's leaders converge to disagree.

Tim arrived at the Japanese restaurant minutes after we did. During our telephone conversations, I imagined him looking like the actor Hugh Grant because his accent suggested English origins, but I’m seldom right in visualizing people correctly just by the tone of their voice. I decided Tim was probably short and portly. Roger assured me he wasn't. If we were a betting couple, I would have lost. The refined English accent belonged to a tall good-looking man.

Our reservation was for a table on the second floor. While carrying a bag of ice, limping up the stairs, I began explaining why I was leaving water dripping behind me like Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs. Sitting down, I quickly ordered a beer because I had taken an aspirin for the foot swelling and my stomach doesn't like aspirin. Tim aristocratically replied, "Ah yes, beer and aspirin." I wasn't sure we were making a good impression.

I bit my bottom lip, slowly took a breath and thought about all the gracious charm my dear southern parents had tried to instill in me. I wanted Tim to be confident we were worthy to handle the Crystal ambassadorship. Our conversation followed the normal paths of common ground and then we ordered lunch.

Tim told us he didn't really like hot wasabi. His comment opened the door for me to tell him how much we love spicy food. In fact, our love of spice is so well known to our friends, that Mary Ann had recently given us each a small stainless steel vial filled with dried chipotle peppers. We attached the vials to our key chains and used the peppers at every meal. The packaging was clever enough to deserve a show and tell moment. I unzipped the side pocket of my travel bag with a quick hand and reached for my keys. In the midst of my falling, the vial had opened. All of a sudden, the pepper powder exploded into the atmosphere, right into my nose and eyes. The sneezes wouldn't stop while my eyes watered profusely. The noise in the whole restaurant ceased as every eye turned in my direction. I looked at Tim and imagined he was thinking,“ I have booked this woman to accompany her husband on one of the most exclusive cruise lines in world!" Time seemed to stop while I pictured myself in a scene from the "I Love Lucy" television show, except I didn't have red hair. I was now sure we were not making a good impression. Fortunately, Tim exhibited a good sense of humor.

By the time we arrived back at the hotel, I felt a need to prop my foot up with some more ice. Roger had a video interview for an American Masters’ special about Joan Baez the next morning. A quiet evening in the hotel with a few snacks from room service sounded like a perfect prescription for my aching foot. The view of the Empire State Building twinkling in the moonlight from the pillows on the bed, made me feel like we had the best table in town.
Photo by Camilla McGuinn

Around 3:am, I awoke with a sharp pain emanating from the top of my foot. I painfully realized my foot was broken. I knew it wouldn’t do any good to wake Roger at that early hour. During our recent experience with previous broken bones we learned that waiting a few hours would not make a big difference in the healing time. I crawled to the other room of the suite and quietly waited for sunrise, while vowing in the future to walk, not run.

In the morning, Roger went to the interview while I telephoned doctors. Michael, the concierge of the hotel, sent up a wheel chair and arranged for transportation to the doctor’s office. The doctor was a young man who made the immature mistake of saying, "... a woman your age." I still smack the air when I repeat those words spoken by that young whippersnapper. When did doctors become so young?

The concert at the Abrons Art Center was wonderful. Roger hadn't performed in the Village, since the Bottom Line closed. Friends had heard of my fall and were volunteering to be the roadie, but I managed on crutches. The next concert at The Egg in Albany, I was in a transport chair. The crutches aggravated a hand problem. I spent the rest of the Fall, being pushed around.

On our way to Albany, we stopped in Coxsackie, NY to say hi to the folks at Sundazed Records, to record "The Return of the Chestnut Mare" at the Easter Island studio and to pick up the transport chair I had ordered.(Photo by Camilla) I sat in the control room of the studio listening to Roger add tracks to the sounds we had previously recorded with Marty Stuart in Nashville. When the inevitable "down time" happened, I snapped pictures of instruments placed in a corner with just the natural light of the studio. Those photos still intrigue me.

The Fall touring continued because unless Roger is physically unable, the show must go on. We were enthralled with the beautiful scenery everywhere we went. Arkansas was our biggest surprise. Its rolling hills were covered with the vibrant Fall colors. We had experienced the magnificent colors of New England, the mountains of Virginia, the Carolinas and Tennessee, and now we knew of the quiet beauty of Arkansas in the Fall.

There was enough time before the Golden, Colorado concert, to stop at the Summit Road Studios in Parker and record a few Christmas songs for "The Chestnut Christmas" CD we are working on.

Golden is a charming town and the drive from there to Ogden, Utah was majestic with only a few snow flurries. Roger did most of the driving, since my right foot was in a corrective "boot."

From Ogden, we drove to Fort Worth, Texas for two concerts. The music store, next to our hotel was decorated for Christmas. It was the perfect time to buy presents for Roger’s family. Roger saw a mandolin he wouldn't put down. That instrument became his Christmas present and he hasn't put it down since.

We drove from the desert to the sea for a concert in Malibu, California at Pepperdine University.

Roger’s shows are filled with stories about the songs he sings and the history he has lived. His encore includes stories too. This is the short story he ended his concert with that night. It is about looking for songs for his "Thunderbyrd" album which was released in 1977 and the friendship that began because of that search.

“‘My manager played me a song that caught my attention. I laughingly asked, 'When did I record that?'
He said, 'It's not you.'
'I know. But who is it?'
'It's this new kid called Tom Petty.' "

The moment Roger said Tom's name, Tom sauntered on stage to join Roger for the performance of "American Girl" and "King of The Hill." Silence hung in the air for a second, the audience was spell bound. When they realized it really was Tom Petty, a loud roar of excitement erupted from the audience.

We could barely get to sleep that night, but we had one more show in San Diego before we put the pedal to metal for the 2442 mile drive home.

John Sebastian and Roger we're co-billing at the Poway Center and as usual, John joined Roger playing some beautiful blues harmonica on some classic songs, including "Knocking On Heaven's Door."

The last date of 2008 was in Stuart, Fl at the lovely Lyric Theater. Carl Hiaasen, the author of "Sick Puppy" and the instigator for Roger joining the "Rock Bottom Remainders" celebrated the last show of the year with us. In Carl’s book, there is an actual “sick puppy” who is re-named “McGuinn” after Roger McGuinn, a great 12-string player, according to Carl. Roger’s album, “Back From Rio” is played on a car tape deck during one scene in the story. Ironically, it was also the album on which Tom Petty had joined Roger as a guest artist.

It would be easy to end this BLOG with all those year-end platitudes, but we're not into endings...besides we have to get ready for a trip to London on January 19th for a concert with some friends that is going to be taped for the BBC.

THE SEA Photos by Camilla McGuinn

Roadie Report 43- The Fall of 2008 by Camilla McGuinn

Photo by Camilla McGuinn


"Roger, I've been thinking."

"Oh no, not again. That usually means trouble"

"Well ever since I broke my foot, I haven't been able to write the BLOG and I feel a little guilty. I think I owe the folks an explanation for my silence. Though I could probably just email all three of them."

"Don't feel guilty. Just write a short note to tell people you broke your foot and you can't write."

"I'm not sure a broken foot is going to translate to why I haven't been able to write the BLOG. Sure, I've been told that I write with my foot, but that is when I'm using a pen not a keyboard."

"Well what are you going to do?"

"Ah...I think I will write a short note to tell the folks that I broke my foot and can't write."

"Say goodnight Gracie."

Roadie Report 42 - A Walk to Battery Park by Camilla McGuinn

I looked up at the blue sky over the closed off construction site. Images of the twin towers flashed from my memory and the words from the Christmas song we had just completed recording rang through my mind:

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play.
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of Peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how as the day had come
The belfries of all Christendom
Had roll'd along th' unbroken song
Of Peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair, I bow'd my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song,
Of Peace on earth, good will to men."

This was the first time we had been to ground zero. Peace on earth has always been elusive. Wars have always been but on that day, September 11, 2001, we felt the meaning of the words, “For hate is strong and mocks the song, of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Our walk toward Battery Park around the site was silent. I have always found it hard to understand why the sun still shines when my heart is heavy. Then I remembered the rest of the words to the song:


It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearthstones of a continent,
And made forlorn, the households born
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep;
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With Peace on earth, good will to men."

Roadie Report 41 - Concerts and Hurricanes by Camilla McGuinn

On Aug 4th we made a fun jaunt to Michigan and Ohio. John Sebastian and Roger were co-billing for two concerts. It's always a delight to hear John playing his wonderful Blues harmonica with Roger for a few songs. We have future shows scheduled with John - click the icon for ‘Tour Dates” on mcguinn.com for updates. An evening with these two storyteller musicians leaves a smile on everyone’s face.

Hurricane Fay began creeping northward from Naples, FL on August 18. The very day we had scheduled to initiate on our new PV solar panels to power most of our house’s electrical needs with the sun’s energy. The rain began ... it didn’t stop for five long days, but the panels worked! Even on rainy cloudy days, our system charged the storage batteries. Our two refrigerators were never in the slightest jeopardy of losing power. Almost everything in the house is now solar powered.

On August 30th, we conducted another experiment with the system. We totally disconnected our house from Progress Energy "grid." The air conditioners, the clothes dryer and the electric range and oven ceased working. We'd planned to see if a portable air conditioner could keep us comfortable throughout the night but guess what ... it rained all day. Hurricane Gustave’s outer bands showered our house. I did manage to wash four loads of laundry on solar power and hung the clothes up to dry on racks, but we didn’t want to take the chance of testing the portable air conditioner. The lights, fans and computers worked all evening. When the sun rose the next day, the batteries totally recharged. A new day dawned and a fresh source of power was available. It was so exciting!

In 1959 I experienced my first hurricane. We were living in Beaufort, South Carolina. My father was a Navy hospital corpsman assigned to the Marine Air Corps Air Station. He had to be on call at the medical dispensary during the storm. His wife kept the home lights burning alone with their two children, a 9 year old son and a 7 year old daughter.

My mother was the type of person who saw the adventure in everything. We never had time to entertain fear; we were having too much fun camping in the hall and playing games. Every so often, mummy would go peek out a small window to view the biggest oak tree in the Whole-Wide-World. Hurricane Gracie’s winds were blowing over 100 miles an hour. She had her eye destined for that big beautiful tree.

7 years old - my birthday in the Living Room before the big hurricane.

My brother and I were almost asleep, when mom gently shook us and whispered, “It's time to go next door.” She calmly handed us our clothes bags and told us to stand with her near the door. All of a sudden the wind stopped, she flung the door open, then firmly said, “Run to Pat’s house!” Wil and I looked at each with a quizzical look because it seemed the storm was over. Mom grabbed my hand and hollered, “It’s just the eye. It’s dangerous! Run fast!”

Pat saw us running and held her door open for us. Her four children were as excited as Wil and I; we now had playmates for the duration of the storm.

Mom and Pat played canasta while they watched that enormous, beautiful tree crash into our living room. The house was inundated with water.

The days following were the kind of days kids dream about. School had just commenced a new year but because the electrical lines were down, we had a two-week holiday. The neighborhood became a block party with community grills fired up every evening. The charcoal-fired pits were overflowing with a lot of good eating before all the food in the freezers defrosted.

That childhood event ignited in me a deep fascination with hurricanes. We experienced our first Florida hurricane during Labor Day weekend 1985. Hurricane Elena parked in the Gulf of Mexico for three days battering our coastline. Living in Florida provides many close encounters with the vast destruction caused by these cyclonic storms. I now balance my childhood excitement with an adult reality of potential disaster.
Photo by Roger - Click to enlarge



Solar panels have changed some of the rules for hurricane preparation. We still fill our gasoline tanks and water bottles, but I no longer have to buy enough ice to last for seven days. I mentioned to a neighbor how I felt a little guilty when I saw her lifting ice out of her trunk. She laughingly assured me we would have lots of company the next time a hurricane robs the community of power. Just like when I was 7 years old, we’ll have lots of playmates!

We are being asked if the solar panels will save us money. At this time the return on our investment will take a while, but we are convinced it is the right thing to do. This planet is a beautiful place to live. It's a good idea to become better stewards of its resources. Little things will add up. Roz Savage recently rowed from San Francisco to Hawaii in a small boat, one oar at a time. She's on her way to Australia. Roz set out to raise awareness of the pollution mankind is causing. I never knew about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch before following her adventure. Now when I go to the grocery store, if I have forgotten my “green bags”, I buy one. Declining the plastic bags offered in the stores is a small step toward caring for the future.

There are other areas in our life where we try to move in a “greener” direction, but there are areas where we haven’t yet. It isn’t a matter of comparing ourselves to what others are doing; it's a matter of trying to do what we think is right when it is in our pathway to do it.

Photos- one by Roger, one by Camilla, one from Roz's site and one taken by mummy.