Face the Music: A Life Exposed
By Paul Stanley
Copyright 2014
I want to say this to Paul Stanley before I start the review: As badly as you want it to be so, the current lineup of KISS is not nearly as good as the original lineup. That is why the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame didn’t want them. That is why your greatest success was in your early days. It may be easier to work with Tommy Thayer and Eric Singer because they are not equals in the band like Peter Criss and Ace Frehley were. But it being easy for you does not mean you’re making good music.
Paul Stanley is the fourth and final member of the original lineup of KISS to write his autobiography. If there is any other band with four founding members who have all written their autobiographies, I don’t know if it. But the members of KISS have a lot to say about each other and feel compelled to air their dirty laundry and their gripes about each other.
Paul Stanley – born Stanley Eisen – was born in New York and grew up in a Jewish neighborhood in Queens. Young Stanley’s upbringing was not particularly pleasant. His parents were cold and uncaring. He had an older sister who was mentally ill and terrorized the family. He was not a good student and turned to music as his life’s pursuit.
Stanley tells the story of the rise of KISS much as the others did with a few notable exceptions. He claims it was he who came up with the name KISS. The other three members all agree that it was Peter who came up with the name. Paul also claims to have designed the KISS logo. The other three agree that it was Ace who did it. It would seem that Paul Stanley is out to strip Peter Criss and Ace Frehley of any credit for any positive contribution to the band.
He spends a great deal of his time slagging Criss and Frehley. Gene Simmons, who is often regarded as the biggest horse’s ass in the band, wrote that Ace and Peter were a positive force in the band early on. Stanley says they were incompetent and destructive from the beginning.
He has a few positive things to say about Ace, but none of them were related to his musical ability. He liked Ace’s jokes. Most fans of the band generally agree that Ace was, by far, the best musician in the group. Stanley won’t give him any credit for that. Funny that nobody has ever mentioned Paul Stanley as being a great guitarist, a great songwriter, or a great anything. Paul needs to know that Ace wrote KISS’s best songs. Even Simmons acknowledged Ace’s musical ability and his desire to see Ace write more material.
He has nothing nice to say about Peter. He remarks that Peter was dumb and illiterate. That would jive with Peter Criss’s claims that, to torment him, Paul and Gene would give him spelling tests to show how dumb he was. He also claims that Peter was never a good drummer. Yet Paul was one of two who selected him to join the band. Paul Stanley doesn’t mind taking a piss on those who got him where he is.
Gene Simmons, his “brother” is not spared in Stanley’s autobiography. He often remarks about how self-centered Gene was and how Gene was prone to taking credit for the work of others. Gene often ignored the group and its needs in favor of his own. Stanley felt that he was the only one who actually cared about the group.
Gene Simmons was genuinely fond of Eric Carr who replaced Peter Criss on drums. Stanley doesn’t bitch about Carr the way he did about Criss and Frehley. But he notes that Eric Carr was tremendously insecure in his place in KISS and was subject to bouts of depression. At the end of his life, he wouldn’t talk to Paul and Paul doesn’t understand why. I would encourage Paul Stanley to examine how he treated others who came before Carr in KISS, then think back to something he might have done or said that put off Eric Carr.
Stanley is as open about his own personal hangups as Criss was in his autobiography and reveals himself as quite introspective. He shunned personal relationships and close friendships because of his upbringing. He engaged in many short term relationships and hundreds of one night stands with women but got frightened when they got too close. When he finally did marry, it was to an unsupportive, cold woman who could not give him what he needed. It would seem he’s found love the second time around.
It would seem that Paul Stanley is a proud, doting father. He writes quite a bit about his children and how much they mean to him. He was late to fatherhood, but seems to make up for it with love and devotion.
Stanley discusses in detail the highly touted KISS reunion, but his story differs from how the other three remember it. According to Simmons and Criss, Peter Criss reached out to him about attending a Criss convention. Stanley says it was KISS that reached out to Criss. Paul seems to have initially enjoyed the reunion until it was time to start making music again. Then, he discovered it wasn’t very much fun.
He says that Tommy Thayer had to teach Ace all of the music Ace wrote because he couldn’t remember the tunes. Thayer had to do the same for Criss, but Criss still couldn’t play the parts and wasn’t capable of drumming anymore.
The reunion tour was successful and everybody made lots of money. A new album was recorded, but Simmons and Stanley paid Peter to sit it out. Simmons and Stanley agree that Peter Criss could not play anymore. Criss comes close to acknowledging this in his own book, but attributes it to damage suffered in a car crash. Simmons blames it mostly on drugs. Stanley says Peter Criss always sucked.
Paul Stanley seems to be a happy man today as he enters the twilight of his career and music and one can’t help but feel happy for him. He has a wife he loves and who loves him. He has beautiful, well-adjusted children. He’s starred in a Broadway production, finally having his skills as a vocalist acknowledged. And, he is working with bandmates who he enjoys working with. Good for him.
I am a lifelong KISS fan, but abandoned the group after Criss left. Many KISS fans left after the Dynasty album, feeling the band had developed a disco feel. I abandoned it after hearing Shandi for the first time which was the single from the Unmasked album. Without Criss, it wasn’t KISS for me.
I always thought of Paul as the least interesting member of KISS. Nothing in this book changed that. While I am not a fan of Gene Simmons and his seemingly shallow personality, I think that Stanley is a bigger asshole. Simmons criticized Ace and Peter in his book and in public. But he also acknowledged their importance to the band and Ace’s musical ability. Stanley couldn’t do that. Gene never remarked on Criss’s seeming lack of intelligence or education. Paul felt the need to belittle Peter Criss at every turn.
Most great bands have internal strife. A lot of the time, it is musical differences. Sometimes, its clashing personalities. Yet, the great bands never discuss this in public. They never ridicule current or former members in public. The Who battled endlessly. Led Zeppelin had power struggles. The members of Queen used to stay mad at each other for days over small matters. But these bands stayed together because they knew that they were much better together than they were as individuals. The four original members of KISS never seemed to learn that lesson.
Of the four KISS autobiographies, Paul’s is the most introspective regarding his personal life. Ace thought that everything was one big joke. Peter blamed everything that happened to him on someone else. Gene was shallow and braggadocio. Paul is none of those things. He is aware of his personal flaws and his mistakes.
However, I could not look past the ridicule he heaped upon Peter Criss and Ace Frehley without acknowledging their contributions or musical abilities. Ace was and is a great guitarist. Paul won’t acknowledge that. Peter was a good, if not great drummer whose voice, personality, and drumming helped make KISS famous. Until Paul comes to realize this, he’ll never understand why KISS tanked after they left and will never be great again unless they come back.
Showing posts with label biographies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label biographies. Show all posts
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Thursday, April 18, 2013
The Last Boy: Mickey Mantle and the End of America’s Childhood By Jane Leavy
The Last Boy: Mickey Mantle and the End of America’s Childhood
By Jane Leavy
Copyright 2011
Mickey Mantle was baseball’s last iconic player. Perhaps that’s why Leavy subtitles her book, “The End of America’s Childhood.” There were many great ballplayers that followed Mantle after his retirement in 1969. There were better players. More complete players. But nobody ever personified any American institution the way The Mick personified baseball through the 1950s.

Leavy opens her account with a slice of a personal narrative. She encountered Mickey Mantle in 1983 at a golf tournament. He gave her a sweater when she was cold. Covering the event for the Washington Post, she’d later interview Mantle and relate a highly personal anecdote about the legend.
From there, Leavey examines 20 days from The Mick’s career and uses those anecdotes to build a narrative of Mantle’s heroic and ultimately misbegotten life.
Leavy’s biography of Mickey Mantle opens as most biographies do, with a description of his roots in Commerce, Oklahoma and his upbringing. She conveys the bleakness of the flat, dusty, lifeless lead mining town that was home to the most popular player of his age. Leavy doesn’t dwell too much on Mantle’s roots before moving on to the emergence of his legendary career.
She almost immediately delves into the big “what if. . .” of Mantle’s career. Mantle’s power at the plate from both sides is the stuff of legend. He could also hit for average, drag bunt, and was more than adequate in the field. He was a complete player. But what if he’d not have injured his knee in a practice mishap when his cleats got caught in a drainage tile in the Yankee Stadium outfield? The injury required the complete reconstruction of his knee and hampered his base running throughout his career. What if Mantle had also been a speedster on the base paths?
Mantle was popular in the clubhouse from his earliest days in New York, but was never liked by the reigning Yankee – Joe DiMaggio. The Yankee Clipper seemed to hold his heir apparent in low regard and was quite standoffish with the young phenom. DiMaggio comes across as a very petty, very small man in Leavy’s book.
Early in her book, Leavy delves into a forensic examination of the legendary 565 foot home run Mantle hit in 1956. She managed to find the young boy who found the ball where it reportedly landed more than two blocks outside Yankee Stadium. She talked to experts in physics and experts in baseball stats who examine tape measure home runs. Her conclusion is that the ball did travel approximately 565 feet from home plate.
Every facet of Mantle’s life during his playing days is examined. His on field performance with his prodigious home runs. His off field shenanigans with women and booze. His encounter with the legendary Doctor Feelgood who made a career of injecting athletes, celebrities, and politicians with his speed concoction. What emerges is an incredible athlete with no concept of self control or even self awareness. He lived day to day. Leavy examines the psychology of this later in her book.
During the bulk of Mantle’s playing days, there were three teams playing in New York. The Yankees who dominated baseball in the 1950s into the early 1960s. The Brooklyn Dodgers played cross town and had a star of their own in center fielder Duke Snider. The also rans of New York baseball were the Giants who had a great star in Willie Mays. The debate raged through the era of who was best – Mantle, Snider, or Mays? As time passed, Snider deservedly fell away from that debate, but baseball historians continue to debate if Mays was better than Mantle. Leavey offers no opinion, but provides the cybermetric statistics for both players so the reader can reach his own conclusions.
Mantle was smarter than Mays when it came to understanding the infirmities of old age. Mantle had just begun the downhill slide of age when he hung up his cleats in 1969. Mays would go on to play until 1973, sometimes embarrassing himself by being a shadow of the great player he once was. Unfortunately for Mantle, he did not adjust well to post baseball life.
Mantle lived his entire life believing it would be a short life. People in his family did not live long and he wanted to cram as much high life into the short period of living he expected. He continued to drink heavily after baseball. He tried baseball announcing, but was not good at it, finally giving it up after a part time announcing gig with the lowly Montreal Expos. He tried business, but his restaurants failed miserably. The only thing Mantle was good at for a long time was drinking and adultery.
Leavy discusses Mantle the family man in great detail. Mantle was a lousy husband and a lousy father. Teammates and their wives discuss great detail Mantle’s prodigious sexual conquests outside of his marriage. His children hardly knew him and would eventually develop substance abuse problems similar to their father’s. Mantle and his wife, Merlyn, eventually separated, but never divorced.
In the 1980s, Mantle did find something he was good at: being Mickey Mantle. He signed on as a greeter at an Atlantic City casino where he was paid to wine and dine high rollers. He also sponsored a golf tournament in Atlantic City (where Leavy would have her encounter with Mantle). As baseball memorabilia emerged as a burgeoning industry in the 1980s, Mantle made a fortune signing his name over and over again at sports memorabilia shows across the country.
As the time passed, Mantle’s drinking problem became worse and worse. Leavey, who parcels out between chapters bits of her personal encounter with Mantle finally delivers the climax near the end of the book. She was to interview him for the Washington Post. She got a great deal of reflection and introspection from Mantle – including the disclosure that he’d been sexually abused as a child. She also got a hand on the thigh and a drunken pass from the aging star. Before Mantle could follow up on his sexual overture, he passed out.
Mantle’s last years are sad. The boy with the gapped-tooth smile that personified America’s pastime in perhaps its happiest decade, was slowly dying of alcoholism. Finally, he entered the Betty Ford Clinic and emerged sober. He remained dedicated to his sobriety and in a late in life effort to be a parent, tried to help his children find sobriety.
However, Mantle did not get sober soon enough. Years of constant inundation with alcohol had destroyed his liver and he needed a transplant. Less than a year sober, Mantle was in the hospital getting a new liver. He made a valiant effort at recovery and tried hard to put his personal life back into order. He reconciled with his wife and children. He spoke with remorse and regret about his drinking. However, it was a battle he was destined to lose. Mantle died in 1996, less than a year after receiving that new liver.
I’m fond of sports biographies and Leavy’s examination of Mantle’s life is exceptional. It’s one weakness is the interruptions of its otherwise flawlessly flowing narrative. The forensic examination of the long home run was tedious. The Mantle/Snider/Mays debate analysis overdone. There was perhaps too much about Mantle’s sex life in the narrative.
However, Leavy captures the complete Mantle. Mantle was a hero to a generation. He was a sports icon that transcended baseball into popular culture. He was a great athlete. He was also an alcoholic, a chronic adulterer, and sometimes a completely gauche asshole. In other words, he was a human being. And Leavy reveals Mickey Mantle as a human being who accomplished great things on and off the field and often behaved in the basest manner possible.
It was hard for me to relate to the book because Mantle’s career predates my awareness of baseball. I don’t remember Mickey Mantle the baseball player. My memories of Mantle are the guy who hawked autographs at $65 apiece. However, I came away from Leavy’s book with a larger understanding of just how important Mickey Mantle was to baseball and sports in general. Nobody has replaced him as an icon. In a day and age where the media is as apt to report off field transgressions as much as on field accomplishments, we’re not likely to ever see the likes of Mantle again in any sport.
By Jane Leavy
Copyright 2011
Mickey Mantle was baseball’s last iconic player. Perhaps that’s why Leavy subtitles her book, “The End of America’s Childhood.” There were many great ballplayers that followed Mantle after his retirement in 1969. There were better players. More complete players. But nobody ever personified any American institution the way The Mick personified baseball through the 1950s.

Leavy opens her account with a slice of a personal narrative. She encountered Mickey Mantle in 1983 at a golf tournament. He gave her a sweater when she was cold. Covering the event for the Washington Post, she’d later interview Mantle and relate a highly personal anecdote about the legend.
From there, Leavey examines 20 days from The Mick’s career and uses those anecdotes to build a narrative of Mantle’s heroic and ultimately misbegotten life.
Leavy’s biography of Mickey Mantle opens as most biographies do, with a description of his roots in Commerce, Oklahoma and his upbringing. She conveys the bleakness of the flat, dusty, lifeless lead mining town that was home to the most popular player of his age. Leavy doesn’t dwell too much on Mantle’s roots before moving on to the emergence of his legendary career.
She almost immediately delves into the big “what if. . .” of Mantle’s career. Mantle’s power at the plate from both sides is the stuff of legend. He could also hit for average, drag bunt, and was more than adequate in the field. He was a complete player. But what if he’d not have injured his knee in a practice mishap when his cleats got caught in a drainage tile in the Yankee Stadium outfield? The injury required the complete reconstruction of his knee and hampered his base running throughout his career. What if Mantle had also been a speedster on the base paths?
Mantle was popular in the clubhouse from his earliest days in New York, but was never liked by the reigning Yankee – Joe DiMaggio. The Yankee Clipper seemed to hold his heir apparent in low regard and was quite standoffish with the young phenom. DiMaggio comes across as a very petty, very small man in Leavy’s book.
Early in her book, Leavy delves into a forensic examination of the legendary 565 foot home run Mantle hit in 1956. She managed to find the young boy who found the ball where it reportedly landed more than two blocks outside Yankee Stadium. She talked to experts in physics and experts in baseball stats who examine tape measure home runs. Her conclusion is that the ball did travel approximately 565 feet from home plate.
Every facet of Mantle’s life during his playing days is examined. His on field performance with his prodigious home runs. His off field shenanigans with women and booze. His encounter with the legendary Doctor Feelgood who made a career of injecting athletes, celebrities, and politicians with his speed concoction. What emerges is an incredible athlete with no concept of self control or even self awareness. He lived day to day. Leavy examines the psychology of this later in her book.
During the bulk of Mantle’s playing days, there were three teams playing in New York. The Yankees who dominated baseball in the 1950s into the early 1960s. The Brooklyn Dodgers played cross town and had a star of their own in center fielder Duke Snider. The also rans of New York baseball were the Giants who had a great star in Willie Mays. The debate raged through the era of who was best – Mantle, Snider, or Mays? As time passed, Snider deservedly fell away from that debate, but baseball historians continue to debate if Mays was better than Mantle. Leavey offers no opinion, but provides the cybermetric statistics for both players so the reader can reach his own conclusions.
Mantle was smarter than Mays when it came to understanding the infirmities of old age. Mantle had just begun the downhill slide of age when he hung up his cleats in 1969. Mays would go on to play until 1973, sometimes embarrassing himself by being a shadow of the great player he once was. Unfortunately for Mantle, he did not adjust well to post baseball life.
Mantle lived his entire life believing it would be a short life. People in his family did not live long and he wanted to cram as much high life into the short period of living he expected. He continued to drink heavily after baseball. He tried baseball announcing, but was not good at it, finally giving it up after a part time announcing gig with the lowly Montreal Expos. He tried business, but his restaurants failed miserably. The only thing Mantle was good at for a long time was drinking and adultery.
Leavy discusses Mantle the family man in great detail. Mantle was a lousy husband and a lousy father. Teammates and their wives discuss great detail Mantle’s prodigious sexual conquests outside of his marriage. His children hardly knew him and would eventually develop substance abuse problems similar to their father’s. Mantle and his wife, Merlyn, eventually separated, but never divorced.
In the 1980s, Mantle did find something he was good at: being Mickey Mantle. He signed on as a greeter at an Atlantic City casino where he was paid to wine and dine high rollers. He also sponsored a golf tournament in Atlantic City (where Leavy would have her encounter with Mantle). As baseball memorabilia emerged as a burgeoning industry in the 1980s, Mantle made a fortune signing his name over and over again at sports memorabilia shows across the country.
As the time passed, Mantle’s drinking problem became worse and worse. Leavey, who parcels out between chapters bits of her personal encounter with Mantle finally delivers the climax near the end of the book. She was to interview him for the Washington Post. She got a great deal of reflection and introspection from Mantle – including the disclosure that he’d been sexually abused as a child. She also got a hand on the thigh and a drunken pass from the aging star. Before Mantle could follow up on his sexual overture, he passed out.
Mantle’s last years are sad. The boy with the gapped-tooth smile that personified America’s pastime in perhaps its happiest decade, was slowly dying of alcoholism. Finally, he entered the Betty Ford Clinic and emerged sober. He remained dedicated to his sobriety and in a late in life effort to be a parent, tried to help his children find sobriety.
However, Mantle did not get sober soon enough. Years of constant inundation with alcohol had destroyed his liver and he needed a transplant. Less than a year sober, Mantle was in the hospital getting a new liver. He made a valiant effort at recovery and tried hard to put his personal life back into order. He reconciled with his wife and children. He spoke with remorse and regret about his drinking. However, it was a battle he was destined to lose. Mantle died in 1996, less than a year after receiving that new liver.
I’m fond of sports biographies and Leavy’s examination of Mantle’s life is exceptional. It’s one weakness is the interruptions of its otherwise flawlessly flowing narrative. The forensic examination of the long home run was tedious. The Mantle/Snider/Mays debate analysis overdone. There was perhaps too much about Mantle’s sex life in the narrative.
However, Leavy captures the complete Mantle. Mantle was a hero to a generation. He was a sports icon that transcended baseball into popular culture. He was a great athlete. He was also an alcoholic, a chronic adulterer, and sometimes a completely gauche asshole. In other words, he was a human being. And Leavy reveals Mickey Mantle as a human being who accomplished great things on and off the field and often behaved in the basest manner possible.
It was hard for me to relate to the book because Mantle’s career predates my awareness of baseball. I don’t remember Mickey Mantle the baseball player. My memories of Mantle are the guy who hawked autographs at $65 apiece. However, I came away from Leavy’s book with a larger understanding of just how important Mickey Mantle was to baseball and sports in general. Nobody has replaced him as an icon. In a day and age where the media is as apt to report off field transgressions as much as on field accomplishments, we’re not likely to ever see the likes of Mantle again in any sport.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Makeup to Breakup: My Life In and Out of Kiss By Peter Criss
Makeup to Breakup: My Life In and Out of Kiss
By Peter Criss
Copyright 2012
No band has aired more of their internal squabbles and dirty laundry in public than KISS. Gene Simmons has had a long running public feud with guitarist Ace Frehley. Simmons has not been kind to Peter Criss either.
Simmons and Frehley authored a somewhat milquetoast autobiographies airing their grievances, yet the pair were able to meet to discuss them. It’s safe to say that Peter Criss will not be meeting with Simmons to bury the hatchet after the release of his autobiography which is a no holds barred, graphic analysis of the band that was KISS.
Criss was born into an Italian/Irish family living in a poor section of Brooklyn. From the time of his birth, Criss was a momma’s boy – very much attached to his mother. That didn’t stop him from misbehaving and getting trouble as a youth.
Criss ran with some street gangs in Brooklyn and once stabbed a man in a gang fight. As a young musician, he was a regular performer at various mob operated night clubs. He started with drugs and booze at a young age.
Criss was in several bands as a youth, but none of them seemed to be going anywhere. Finally he posted an advertisement in Rolling Stone. Gene Simmons called him during a party and interviewed him. Simmons and bandmate Paul Stanley saw him perform at a Brooklyn night club. After hearing his raspy singing voice and incredible energy on drums, Simmons was confident the new group he and Stanley were putting together had found its drummer.
The rise of KISS has been well documented and Criss’ account does not differ from that of Gene or Ace. Criss says in those early days, all four of them were close friends with a common goal and a shared vision of how to get there. He says in the band’s early days, he was closer to Gene than any other member of the band, brought together by their love of sweet treats that they shared after concerts.
That close relationship would not last forever. In the band’s early days, Simmons and Stanely wrote almost all of Kiss’ material. Frehley contributed a couple songs to their second album, Hotter Than Hell. However, lacking confidence as a singer, he had Gene or Peter sing them. Criss did not contribute a song until the 1976 album, Destroyer.
Criss discusses life on the road with KISS. He initially roomed with Gene Simmons, but soon had to move out, preferring to room with Paul Stanley. He says Gene had absolutely horrible physical hygiene and was a slob. Simmons did not shower after concerts and usually reeked of body odor. He did not dry out his leather garments and the continually stunk.
Like Frehley, Criss concludes that Simmons had some serious issues when it came to sex. He says that Gene absolutely had to have sex after a concert and did not discriminate based on looks. If it had a vagina, Simmons would fuck it, Criss says. Criss does not hedge on his own lust for groupies, often entertaining several women a night despite the fact that he was the only married member of the band in those early days.
Criss says he’s often asked if Paul Stanley is bisexual. Criss does not answer the question definitively, but says that in KISS’ early days, Paul’s nickname was He/She for his rather androgynous behavior. Even Simmons, who was close friends with Paul, seemed to feel this way. Criss recalls a particular orgy after a Kiss show where there were several couples in the room with the band. Most were heterosexual, but there were gay couplings going on as well. Stanley had passed out drunk on a bed. He said that when Simmons saw that Paul was passed out, he interrupted his own coitus to get Paul out of the room. As Peter puts it, if one man had managed to stick his dick in Paul’s mouth, it would destroy the image of the band.
As he discusses the development of KISS as a stage entity, Peter says it was two gay men who made all the difference. Bill Aucoin, their original manager was gay and out to the band and his closest associates. Aucoin kept Kiss solvent in those early years by robbing Peter to pay Paul, so to speak.
Criss gives most of the credit for KISS' extravagant stage shows to a man named Sean Delaney who worked hard with the band to coordinate their onstage antics, moves, and dances as well has having strong musical input. Criss is convinced that, had it not been for Sean Delaney, Kiss would have been just another hard rock band who liked to wear makeup.
Peter said he was immediately drawn to Ace Frehley and the two became very close friends early in the band’s existence. Like Peter, Ace was a party animal. He could consume vast quantities of beer and cocaine and remain conscious. Peter enjoyed partying with drugs more than any other member of the band and found a soul mate in Ace Frehley.
As KISS progressed and met with frustration because their studio albums were not selling, Gene and Paul became more controlling. They wouldn’t let him play the drums the way he wanted to. They would not let him sing the way he wanted to. Whenever he would introduce songs, they would nix them. When he did get a song past them, they would change it. More than anything else, it was these creative differences that led Peter Criss to become less engaged in the band and more engaged in partying.
He also claims that, when he would assert himself, Gene and Paul would remind him of how uneducated he was. They belittled his intelligence and sometimes subjected him to spelling tests just to torment him. Peter characterizes himself as the toughest and most emotional guy in the band. He admits to often threatening to quit if he did not get his way and sometimes threatening Paul and Gene with physical violence.
On one point, Simmons and Criss are in complete agreement: Bob Ezrin changed KISS dramatically and for the better. Simmons and Frehley both wrote of how dictatorial the domineering producer was in the studio when the band went in to make Destroyer. Simmons says the Ezrin rock and roll boot camp was just what Kiss needed and openly embraced it. Criss did not so openly embrace Ezrin at the time, but he says that Ezrin’s constant demand for perfection made him a better drummer and elevated his performance.
Criss affirms Simmons account of the recording of Destroyer where he claims that Ace Frehley performed on just a couple songs and that session guitarist Dick Wagner did most of the solos, including those on Flaming Youth and Sweet Pain.
While he does not put the blame directly at Ezrin’s feet, Peter claims that Ezrin played a major role in his addiction to cocaine. Ezrin used his abusive nature as the stick, but the carrot for Peter was cocaine. When Peter played well and did as Ezrin told him, Ezrin would supply Criss with large quantities of blow. He became an addict during the recording of Destroyer.
Despite his ongoing battles with Simmons and Stanley, the period during the release of the Alive! album and the recording and tour of the Destroyer album were great times for him. He was in groupie heaven. He was in drug heaven with plenty of money to throw around. He had wealth and fame and was living the life of a rock god. He also met the woman who would become his second wife.
Peter Criss provides many graphic details of his sex life in Makeup to Breakup including his wives. He says of his first wife, Lydia, that he loved her and she loved him. She supported him in those tough, early years. However, sex with Lydia was unsatisfying – especially after coming home after the dalliances with all of those groupies. In his second wife, Debra Jensen, he found someone who could meet and match his prodigious appetites for sex and drugs.
Criss dwells on his relationship and marriage to the Playboy Playmate and Coppertone Girl. He recollects that the attraction was purely sexual, which he concludes was a bad basis for a marriage. The two fought constantly, but enjoyed their mutual drug binges and what Criss characterizes as fantastic sex. When they broke up in the early 1990s, Criss laments that she spent so much of his money and was screwing their attorney. One can’t help but grin at the hypocrisy when he reads of Peter’s large cocaine purchases and liaisons with groupies on a nightly basis.
Peter battled Simmons and Stanley through most of his time in KISS, but the beginning of the end for him in the group came in 1978 when he had a car accident that delayed him getting underway with his solo album. Kiss’s 1977 tour of Europe was cut short because Criss’ rotator cuffs were giving him trouble from having played drums so long and hard over a long period of time. The car wreck not only set back his recovery, it injured him badly, leading to a long recovery.
The band had come up with the gimmick of having the four members release solo albums on the same day. The other three were already underway with writing and recording while Peter was on his back in the hospital. He says Paul Stanley stopped by one day, not to wish him well, but to tell him how badly he’d screwed up and possibly delayed the well choreographed release. Stanley said he had a message from Gene Simmons. Simmons would not deign to visit him and that he thought Peter was a major fuck up.
It was recovering from this accident that Peter Criss brought more woe upon himself. He was issued a prescription of Percocet for his pain. At first, he didn’t take them. One day, his friend, John Belushi was visiting him and told him that Percocet and champagne made for one hell of a buzz. Peter started abusing Percocet as well and was soon addicted to those as well as cocaine.
Criss recovered in time to record and release his 1978 solo album. The albums all bombed with only Ace Frehley achieving a top ten hit. All four albums together only sold as well as one KISS album.
When the bad prepared for their next album, Dynasty, it was their new producer, Vinnie Poncia – who had produced Peter Criss’ solo album – that told the band that Criss could not drum anymore. This is interesting because Peter does not mention this in his book at all and seems to hold Poncia in high regard.
Nonetheless, Peter was not resentful. He didn’t want to spend time in the studio with the other members of the band. His only appearance on the album is playing drums and singing on his own composition, Dirty Livin' which he said Stanley and Simmons changed and screwed up. He was replaced by Anton Fig on the rest of the album although Criss received credit for drums on the album sleeve
The 1979 Dynasty tour was a disaster. Ticket sales were horrible – despite the album having a top ten hit in I Was Made for Loving You. Peter says on this tour, Paul took delight in publicly humiliating him. On stage, Paul would, in front of the audience, instruct him to slow down or speed up tempos. After this public humiliation, Criss says he was done with the group. He even confesses to deliberately screwing up tempos to make his band mates look bad in retaliation.
Thus emerges the great controversy of KISS. Was Peter tossed out of the band or did he quit? Criss says he quit at the end of the Dynasty tour. Simmons, Stanley, and Frehley have all stated that he was tossed out because his skills had deteriorated so badly. Frehley claims to have voted against it, but was outnumbered two to one.
Kiss went on to record Unmasked while not announcing Criss’ departure. They did a video for the song, Shandi where Peter appeared. His likeness was used on the cover and he was given credits for playing drums although he did not play on the album.
Perhaps sensing that KISS was on the decline and the departure of a member would only do more harm, Simmons and Stanley invited him back to jam, just to see if he was still willing and able to play. Criss says he deliberately botched the session, forcing the others to get rid of him. One wonders. . .
His post KISS years were not a happy time for Peter Criss. He continued to struggle with cocaine, painkiller, and alcohol addiction. He tried to put together bands and record solo albums. The albums did not sell. Criss claims he was blackballed by the industry. Again, one wonders. . .
He was forced to take his band on the road to play a series of small dive bars and clubs. This stood in stark contrast to having played Madison Square Garden. The groupies were gone. The jets and expensive hotels were gone. Peter Criss fell into a major depression which he medicated with more drugs and booze.
Furthermore, his personal finances were a wreck. He learned that many of the tax shelters set up by KISS’ management were bogus and that he owed more than $1 million in back taxes. He didn’t have it. Between him and Debra, they had gone through is vast fortune. They downsized homes and sold off possessions. When they relocated to the West Coast, Debra began having an affair with their lawyer. Peter says several people tried to tell him about the affair, but he refused to believe them. He sensed the increasing emotional distance between the two and finally confronted her. She admitted to the affair and the two split.
Criss hit rock bottom in 1994. That’s where the book actually opens, with Peter Criss, alone in his Los Angeles apartment, with the barrel of a .357 magnum pressed to the roof of his mouth. It took a major earthquake at that very moment to dissuade Criss from the suicide solution. He eventually entered rehab to get his major drug problem under control and was forced to file bankruptcy.
Criss had a brief emotional reconciliation with his bandmates in 1995 when he appeared at a Kiss Konvention. He reached out to Paul Stanley, asking if he could bring his daughter to the convention so that she might learn about her father’s legacy. He said Simmons held him in a long embrace and welcomed him back. Stanley was also quite excited about Peter’s return. Criss says the sentimentality was faked. They were just happy to have him back because it would generate publicity and record sales.
Criss I quite cynical about the whole KISS reunion. He notes that KISS tours after he left were disasters, losing money. KISS was losing money and fans as they tried to become a hair band to keep pace in the 1980s. He’s certain the only reason they invited him back was to attract attention and make money. He performed Beth at that convention at the request of the band.
A reunion tour was soon in the offing after the original band performed on MTV’s Unplugged. The tour was an enormous success, but Criss was constantly unhappy. He was no longer an integral part of the band. He was an employee making $40,000 per show while Stanley and Simmons were pocketing millions from ticket sales and merchandising and retained complete creative control.
The insults would continue. When the band announced that the original would record their first studio album with the original lineup since 1979’s Dynasty, Simmons and Stanley asked Criss not to play, but claim that he did. Criss played drums on one song on the Psycho Circus album and sang one number. He said that, as he sang, Paul Stanley hovered over him, constantly stopping him to tell him how the part ought to be sung.
The final insult came when Ace Frehley confessed to Peter that he was making $10,000 more per show than Criss. This led to a rupture of a friendship that had endured for more than 20 years. Frehley and Criss no longer speak. Peter Criss appeared with the band one more time for KISS Symphony: Alive IV, then was gone for good.
After two failed marriages, Peter Criss finally found his soul mate in Gigi Criss. The two were married in 1998. The pair would battle cancer together. Both had breast cancer. Peter Criss kept the disease a secret for a long time before emerging as a spokesman for male breast cancer.
Before wrapping and saying everything is good in his life now, Criss addresses the infamous 1991 tabloid mess that started rumors that he was a homeless drunk living under a bridge. The controversy started with an article in the tabloid, The Star. Roseann and Tom Arnold read it. Being big fans, they set out to find the destitute drummer. A middle-aged groupie did find this “version” of Peter Criss and flew him to her home to stay. It turned out that the whole thing was bogus. The man claiming to be Peter Criss was not Peter Criss, but a mentally ill homeless man that bore a passing resemblance to the KISS drummer.
Criss agreed to appear on Phil Donahue with the imposter and the groupie who claimed to have had an affair with him in the 1980s. Criss was quite angry with the man and let it show. His ex-wives Lydia Criss and Debra Jensen called into the show to offer support.
Today, he and Gigi reside in New Jersey and he is all but retired from the music business.
Peter Criss’ account of the rise and fall of KISS makes Simmons’ and Frehley’s look quite vanilla. While Simmons bragged about his sexual exploits, he was not nearly as graphic as Criss. He is unabashed in describing the sex and drugs that surrounded the band. While Gene and Ace complained about each other in their respective biographies, Criss is much more personal and biting in his comments about his former bandmates. Despite this overt bitterness and anger toward Stanley and Simmons, there is an underlying affection for their early years together when it was them versus the world.
Criss’ autobiography rewrites several chapters of Kiss history and seems to be thoroughly honest, sincere, and emotional. Criss makes no bones about being a very emotional person with a hot temper and easily bruised feelings. That is reflected in the text of the book.
But there’s also an element of self-pity that does not reflect well on Peter Criss. Criss was a good, but not great drummer. His song writing skills were average and the material he recorded with KISS – with just a few exceptions – were usually the weakest material on their albums. Yet, he is quick to blame Stanley, Simmons, KISS management, the recording industry, his ex-wife and everybody around him for his musical failures.
I am a diehard KISS fan dating back to 1976 and quit following the band after the Dynasty album. I agree with Criss that the band went downhill after it lost its original lineup. It wasn’t that Criss was a better drummer than Eric Carr or Eric Singer. When Criss left, the chemistry of the band was destroyed with Stanley and Simmons calling all of the shots.
Aspiring musicians should read Peter Criss’ autobiography as a cautionary tale. KISS is not the only band to endure tensions over creativity and song writing credits. Most bands do. Great bands like The Who and Queen – two bands who battled internally constantly – keep it together by keeping their problems internal. Brian May of Queen and Roger Daltrey of The Who have both stated that that internal struggle, while being frustrating and painful, made their bands and their songs better. Stanley and Simmons, in their need to control KISS music, destroyed that internal tension that improves most bands.
Makeup to Breakup is an easy, entertaining read. The narrative is raw, unpolished, and reflects Peter Criss’ personality as a tough guy from Brooklyn. While Simmons’ book seems to try hard to write a palatable, glossed over history of KISS and Frehley’s book talks mostly about his drug and booze binges, Criss comes across as the most honest and forthright – and probably the truest account of what happened to him and the band he helped make The Hottest Band In the World.
By Peter Criss
Copyright 2012
No band has aired more of their internal squabbles and dirty laundry in public than KISS. Gene Simmons has had a long running public feud with guitarist Ace Frehley. Simmons has not been kind to Peter Criss either.
Simmons and Frehley authored a somewhat milquetoast autobiographies airing their grievances, yet the pair were able to meet to discuss them. It’s safe to say that Peter Criss will not be meeting with Simmons to bury the hatchet after the release of his autobiography which is a no holds barred, graphic analysis of the band that was KISS.
Criss was born into an Italian/Irish family living in a poor section of Brooklyn. From the time of his birth, Criss was a momma’s boy – very much attached to his mother. That didn’t stop him from misbehaving and getting trouble as a youth.
Criss ran with some street gangs in Brooklyn and once stabbed a man in a gang fight. As a young musician, he was a regular performer at various mob operated night clubs. He started with drugs and booze at a young age.
Criss was in several bands as a youth, but none of them seemed to be going anywhere. Finally he posted an advertisement in Rolling Stone. Gene Simmons called him during a party and interviewed him. Simmons and bandmate Paul Stanley saw him perform at a Brooklyn night club. After hearing his raspy singing voice and incredible energy on drums, Simmons was confident the new group he and Stanley were putting together had found its drummer.
The rise of KISS has been well documented and Criss’ account does not differ from that of Gene or Ace. Criss says in those early days, all four of them were close friends with a common goal and a shared vision of how to get there. He says in the band’s early days, he was closer to Gene than any other member of the band, brought together by their love of sweet treats that they shared after concerts.
That close relationship would not last forever. In the band’s early days, Simmons and Stanely wrote almost all of Kiss’ material. Frehley contributed a couple songs to their second album, Hotter Than Hell. However, lacking confidence as a singer, he had Gene or Peter sing them. Criss did not contribute a song until the 1976 album, Destroyer.
Criss discusses life on the road with KISS. He initially roomed with Gene Simmons, but soon had to move out, preferring to room with Paul Stanley. He says Gene had absolutely horrible physical hygiene and was a slob. Simmons did not shower after concerts and usually reeked of body odor. He did not dry out his leather garments and the continually stunk.
Like Frehley, Criss concludes that Simmons had some serious issues when it came to sex. He says that Gene absolutely had to have sex after a concert and did not discriminate based on looks. If it had a vagina, Simmons would fuck it, Criss says. Criss does not hedge on his own lust for groupies, often entertaining several women a night despite the fact that he was the only married member of the band in those early days.
Criss says he’s often asked if Paul Stanley is bisexual. Criss does not answer the question definitively, but says that in KISS’ early days, Paul’s nickname was He/She for his rather androgynous behavior. Even Simmons, who was close friends with Paul, seemed to feel this way. Criss recalls a particular orgy after a Kiss show where there were several couples in the room with the band. Most were heterosexual, but there were gay couplings going on as well. Stanley had passed out drunk on a bed. He said that when Simmons saw that Paul was passed out, he interrupted his own coitus to get Paul out of the room. As Peter puts it, if one man had managed to stick his dick in Paul’s mouth, it would destroy the image of the band.
As he discusses the development of KISS as a stage entity, Peter says it was two gay men who made all the difference. Bill Aucoin, their original manager was gay and out to the band and his closest associates. Aucoin kept Kiss solvent in those early years by robbing Peter to pay Paul, so to speak.
Criss gives most of the credit for KISS' extravagant stage shows to a man named Sean Delaney who worked hard with the band to coordinate their onstage antics, moves, and dances as well has having strong musical input. Criss is convinced that, had it not been for Sean Delaney, Kiss would have been just another hard rock band who liked to wear makeup.
Peter said he was immediately drawn to Ace Frehley and the two became very close friends early in the band’s existence. Like Peter, Ace was a party animal. He could consume vast quantities of beer and cocaine and remain conscious. Peter enjoyed partying with drugs more than any other member of the band and found a soul mate in Ace Frehley.
As KISS progressed and met with frustration because their studio albums were not selling, Gene and Paul became more controlling. They wouldn’t let him play the drums the way he wanted to. They would not let him sing the way he wanted to. Whenever he would introduce songs, they would nix them. When he did get a song past them, they would change it. More than anything else, it was these creative differences that led Peter Criss to become less engaged in the band and more engaged in partying.
He also claims that, when he would assert himself, Gene and Paul would remind him of how uneducated he was. They belittled his intelligence and sometimes subjected him to spelling tests just to torment him. Peter characterizes himself as the toughest and most emotional guy in the band. He admits to often threatening to quit if he did not get his way and sometimes threatening Paul and Gene with physical violence.
On one point, Simmons and Criss are in complete agreement: Bob Ezrin changed KISS dramatically and for the better. Simmons and Frehley both wrote of how dictatorial the domineering producer was in the studio when the band went in to make Destroyer. Simmons says the Ezrin rock and roll boot camp was just what Kiss needed and openly embraced it. Criss did not so openly embrace Ezrin at the time, but he says that Ezrin’s constant demand for perfection made him a better drummer and elevated his performance.
Criss affirms Simmons account of the recording of Destroyer where he claims that Ace Frehley performed on just a couple songs and that session guitarist Dick Wagner did most of the solos, including those on Flaming Youth and Sweet Pain.
While he does not put the blame directly at Ezrin’s feet, Peter claims that Ezrin played a major role in his addiction to cocaine. Ezrin used his abusive nature as the stick, but the carrot for Peter was cocaine. When Peter played well and did as Ezrin told him, Ezrin would supply Criss with large quantities of blow. He became an addict during the recording of Destroyer.
Despite his ongoing battles with Simmons and Stanley, the period during the release of the Alive! album and the recording and tour of the Destroyer album were great times for him. He was in groupie heaven. He was in drug heaven with plenty of money to throw around. He had wealth and fame and was living the life of a rock god. He also met the woman who would become his second wife.
Peter Criss provides many graphic details of his sex life in Makeup to Breakup including his wives. He says of his first wife, Lydia, that he loved her and she loved him. She supported him in those tough, early years. However, sex with Lydia was unsatisfying – especially after coming home after the dalliances with all of those groupies. In his second wife, Debra Jensen, he found someone who could meet and match his prodigious appetites for sex and drugs.
Criss dwells on his relationship and marriage to the Playboy Playmate and Coppertone Girl. He recollects that the attraction was purely sexual, which he concludes was a bad basis for a marriage. The two fought constantly, but enjoyed their mutual drug binges and what Criss characterizes as fantastic sex. When they broke up in the early 1990s, Criss laments that she spent so much of his money and was screwing their attorney. One can’t help but grin at the hypocrisy when he reads of Peter’s large cocaine purchases and liaisons with groupies on a nightly basis.
Peter battled Simmons and Stanley through most of his time in KISS, but the beginning of the end for him in the group came in 1978 when he had a car accident that delayed him getting underway with his solo album. Kiss’s 1977 tour of Europe was cut short because Criss’ rotator cuffs were giving him trouble from having played drums so long and hard over a long period of time. The car wreck not only set back his recovery, it injured him badly, leading to a long recovery.
The band had come up with the gimmick of having the four members release solo albums on the same day. The other three were already underway with writing and recording while Peter was on his back in the hospital. He says Paul Stanley stopped by one day, not to wish him well, but to tell him how badly he’d screwed up and possibly delayed the well choreographed release. Stanley said he had a message from Gene Simmons. Simmons would not deign to visit him and that he thought Peter was a major fuck up.
It was recovering from this accident that Peter Criss brought more woe upon himself. He was issued a prescription of Percocet for his pain. At first, he didn’t take them. One day, his friend, John Belushi was visiting him and told him that Percocet and champagne made for one hell of a buzz. Peter started abusing Percocet as well and was soon addicted to those as well as cocaine.
Criss recovered in time to record and release his 1978 solo album. The albums all bombed with only Ace Frehley achieving a top ten hit. All four albums together only sold as well as one KISS album.
When the bad prepared for their next album, Dynasty, it was their new producer, Vinnie Poncia – who had produced Peter Criss’ solo album – that told the band that Criss could not drum anymore. This is interesting because Peter does not mention this in his book at all and seems to hold Poncia in high regard.
Nonetheless, Peter was not resentful. He didn’t want to spend time in the studio with the other members of the band. His only appearance on the album is playing drums and singing on his own composition, Dirty Livin' which he said Stanley and Simmons changed and screwed up. He was replaced by Anton Fig on the rest of the album although Criss received credit for drums on the album sleeve
The 1979 Dynasty tour was a disaster. Ticket sales were horrible – despite the album having a top ten hit in I Was Made for Loving You. Peter says on this tour, Paul took delight in publicly humiliating him. On stage, Paul would, in front of the audience, instruct him to slow down or speed up tempos. After this public humiliation, Criss says he was done with the group. He even confesses to deliberately screwing up tempos to make his band mates look bad in retaliation.
Thus emerges the great controversy of KISS. Was Peter tossed out of the band or did he quit? Criss says he quit at the end of the Dynasty tour. Simmons, Stanley, and Frehley have all stated that he was tossed out because his skills had deteriorated so badly. Frehley claims to have voted against it, but was outnumbered two to one.
Kiss went on to record Unmasked while not announcing Criss’ departure. They did a video for the song, Shandi where Peter appeared. His likeness was used on the cover and he was given credits for playing drums although he did not play on the album.
Perhaps sensing that KISS was on the decline and the departure of a member would only do more harm, Simmons and Stanley invited him back to jam, just to see if he was still willing and able to play. Criss says he deliberately botched the session, forcing the others to get rid of him. One wonders. . .
His post KISS years were not a happy time for Peter Criss. He continued to struggle with cocaine, painkiller, and alcohol addiction. He tried to put together bands and record solo albums. The albums did not sell. Criss claims he was blackballed by the industry. Again, one wonders. . .
He was forced to take his band on the road to play a series of small dive bars and clubs. This stood in stark contrast to having played Madison Square Garden. The groupies were gone. The jets and expensive hotels were gone. Peter Criss fell into a major depression which he medicated with more drugs and booze.
Furthermore, his personal finances were a wreck. He learned that many of the tax shelters set up by KISS’ management were bogus and that he owed more than $1 million in back taxes. He didn’t have it. Between him and Debra, they had gone through is vast fortune. They downsized homes and sold off possessions. When they relocated to the West Coast, Debra began having an affair with their lawyer. Peter says several people tried to tell him about the affair, but he refused to believe them. He sensed the increasing emotional distance between the two and finally confronted her. She admitted to the affair and the two split.
Criss hit rock bottom in 1994. That’s where the book actually opens, with Peter Criss, alone in his Los Angeles apartment, with the barrel of a .357 magnum pressed to the roof of his mouth. It took a major earthquake at that very moment to dissuade Criss from the suicide solution. He eventually entered rehab to get his major drug problem under control and was forced to file bankruptcy.
Criss had a brief emotional reconciliation with his bandmates in 1995 when he appeared at a Kiss Konvention. He reached out to Paul Stanley, asking if he could bring his daughter to the convention so that she might learn about her father’s legacy. He said Simmons held him in a long embrace and welcomed him back. Stanley was also quite excited about Peter’s return. Criss says the sentimentality was faked. They were just happy to have him back because it would generate publicity and record sales.
Criss I quite cynical about the whole KISS reunion. He notes that KISS tours after he left were disasters, losing money. KISS was losing money and fans as they tried to become a hair band to keep pace in the 1980s. He’s certain the only reason they invited him back was to attract attention and make money. He performed Beth at that convention at the request of the band.
A reunion tour was soon in the offing after the original band performed on MTV’s Unplugged. The tour was an enormous success, but Criss was constantly unhappy. He was no longer an integral part of the band. He was an employee making $40,000 per show while Stanley and Simmons were pocketing millions from ticket sales and merchandising and retained complete creative control.
The insults would continue. When the band announced that the original would record their first studio album with the original lineup since 1979’s Dynasty, Simmons and Stanley asked Criss not to play, but claim that he did. Criss played drums on one song on the Psycho Circus album and sang one number. He said that, as he sang, Paul Stanley hovered over him, constantly stopping him to tell him how the part ought to be sung.
The final insult came when Ace Frehley confessed to Peter that he was making $10,000 more per show than Criss. This led to a rupture of a friendship that had endured for more than 20 years. Frehley and Criss no longer speak. Peter Criss appeared with the band one more time for KISS Symphony: Alive IV, then was gone for good.
After two failed marriages, Peter Criss finally found his soul mate in Gigi Criss. The two were married in 1998. The pair would battle cancer together. Both had breast cancer. Peter Criss kept the disease a secret for a long time before emerging as a spokesman for male breast cancer.
Before wrapping and saying everything is good in his life now, Criss addresses the infamous 1991 tabloid mess that started rumors that he was a homeless drunk living under a bridge. The controversy started with an article in the tabloid, The Star. Roseann and Tom Arnold read it. Being big fans, they set out to find the destitute drummer. A middle-aged groupie did find this “version” of Peter Criss and flew him to her home to stay. It turned out that the whole thing was bogus. The man claiming to be Peter Criss was not Peter Criss, but a mentally ill homeless man that bore a passing resemblance to the KISS drummer.
Criss agreed to appear on Phil Donahue with the imposter and the groupie who claimed to have had an affair with him in the 1980s. Criss was quite angry with the man and let it show. His ex-wives Lydia Criss and Debra Jensen called into the show to offer support.
Today, he and Gigi reside in New Jersey and he is all but retired from the music business.
Peter Criss’ account of the rise and fall of KISS makes Simmons’ and Frehley’s look quite vanilla. While Simmons bragged about his sexual exploits, he was not nearly as graphic as Criss. He is unabashed in describing the sex and drugs that surrounded the band. While Gene and Ace complained about each other in their respective biographies, Criss is much more personal and biting in his comments about his former bandmates. Despite this overt bitterness and anger toward Stanley and Simmons, there is an underlying affection for their early years together when it was them versus the world.
Criss’ autobiography rewrites several chapters of Kiss history and seems to be thoroughly honest, sincere, and emotional. Criss makes no bones about being a very emotional person with a hot temper and easily bruised feelings. That is reflected in the text of the book.
But there’s also an element of self-pity that does not reflect well on Peter Criss. Criss was a good, but not great drummer. His song writing skills were average and the material he recorded with KISS – with just a few exceptions – were usually the weakest material on their albums. Yet, he is quick to blame Stanley, Simmons, KISS management, the recording industry, his ex-wife and everybody around him for his musical failures.
I am a diehard KISS fan dating back to 1976 and quit following the band after the Dynasty album. I agree with Criss that the band went downhill after it lost its original lineup. It wasn’t that Criss was a better drummer than Eric Carr or Eric Singer. When Criss left, the chemistry of the band was destroyed with Stanley and Simmons calling all of the shots.
Aspiring musicians should read Peter Criss’ autobiography as a cautionary tale. KISS is not the only band to endure tensions over creativity and song writing credits. Most bands do. Great bands like The Who and Queen – two bands who battled internally constantly – keep it together by keeping their problems internal. Brian May of Queen and Roger Daltrey of The Who have both stated that that internal struggle, while being frustrating and painful, made their bands and their songs better. Stanley and Simmons, in their need to control KISS music, destroyed that internal tension that improves most bands.
Makeup to Breakup is an easy, entertaining read. The narrative is raw, unpolished, and reflects Peter Criss’ personality as a tough guy from Brooklyn. While Simmons’ book seems to try hard to write a palatable, glossed over history of KISS and Frehley’s book talks mostly about his drug and booze binges, Criss comes across as the most honest and forthright – and probably the truest account of what happened to him and the band he helped make The Hottest Band In the World.
Labels:
biographies,
Makeup to Breakup,
non fiction,
Peter Criss
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Blind Ambition: The White House Years by John Dean
Blind Ambition: The White House Years
By John Dean
Copyright 1976
John Dean, principal architect of the Watergate cover up; traitor to some, patriot to others, chronicles his years inside the Nixon White House. He describes the events that led up to the Watergate break in and his efforts to keep criminal and congressional investigators from finding the links between the bungled burglary and the White House.
John Dean’s service in government started in the Justice Department under the tutelage of Attorney General John Mitchell. He rose through the ranks to become deputy attorney general and developed a close relationship with Mitchell. When he received the offer from Nixon’s chief of staff, Bob Haldeman to join the White House staff, in 1970, as counsel to the president, Mitchell tried to discourage him, telling him horror stories about working in the White House and making a boogie man out of the president’s chief counsel for domestic affairs, John Ehrlichman, telling Dean, “I doubt Ehrlichman will ever take his foot off your shoulder.”
But the 30 year old lawyer was not to be dissuaded and went to work at the White House. He found that counsel to the president wasn’t nearly as glorious as it sounded. He had very little contact with Richard Nixon. His official duties were to serve as the president’s lawyer which amounted to witnessing the president sign an updated will and analyzing potential official acts to reconcile them with the law.
His unofficial duties were to keep tabs on anti-war demonstrations and organized groups opposed to the president and his policies. Political intelligence and combating Richard Nixon’s enemies were valued skills at the White House of the early 1970s. The law and the civil rights of others were no impediment to the White House intelligence gathering operation.
As the campaign for re-election started ramping up, John Mitchell resigned as Attorney General and took over the Campaign to Re-Elect the President. Nixon’s detractors nicknamed it “CREEP.” In official circles it was known as the CRP. The CRP was obsessed with two things early on: intelligence on potential Democratic nominees and security at the 1972 Republican National Convention to be held in Miami.
A former FBI agent and federal prosecutor, G. Gordon Liddy, was hired by the CRP to handle security and intelligence for the campaign. Dean got an early taste of just how intense Liddy could be when Liddy showed up in his White House office one day with a bandage on his hand. Dean inquired as to Liddy’s injury. Liddy said he held a lighter to his hand to demonstrate to his underlings how committed he was to the cause of re-electing Richard Nixon. Later, after the arrest of the burglars, Liddy told Dean he was willing to be gunned down on a street corner if it would serve the plan.
One afternoon at Mitchell’s Justice Department office (just before he resigned as Attorney General), Liddy presented his plan to Mitchell, Dean, and Deputy Campaign Director Jeb Stuart Magruder. It was an intricate, expansive, and absurd plan that called for the hiring of call girls, wiretaps, and miscellaneous dirty tricks to be played on the president’s opponents during the convention. According to Dean, it was him that stood up and said, “This is not something that should be discussed in the office of the attorney general.” No one else in the room can recall Dean making such a moral stand.
Morality aside, the plan was rejected by all in the room. Politely, they told Liddy that it was too expensive and complicated. They sent him back to the drawing board. All agreed that the man hired to supervise the security and intelligence for the campaign was just a bit off kilter.
Conventional views of history find the roots of the Watergate break in in this meeting. Later, Liddy would tell Dean that Magruder was pressuring him for intelligence. Nixon’s current obsession was screwing Democratic National Chairman, Larry O’Brien over a retainer paid to him by Howard Hughes. Nixon’s own brother had been pilloried in the press over taking money from Hughes and Nixon wanted to visit a little revenge on the Democrats.
Just who ordered the break in has never been positively determined.
Dean says he first learned of the Watergate break in upon his return from the Philippines in June 1972. It wasn’t long before CRP staffers and eventually White House officials started showing up in Dean’s office to clear their conscience and seek his advice.
At first, Dean reveled in his new status. Haldeman was checking in with him on a regular basis. He was emerging as point man on the biggest crisis the campaign faced heading into the 1972 election. It was Dean who learned that the architect of the burglary, E. Howard Hunt, had an office in the White House. He had done work for Nixon’s special counsel and “hatchet man” Charles “Chuck” Colson. Many of these operations, undertaken in tandem with Liddy, were black bag ops – including breaking into the office of a California psychologist who was treating Pentagon Papers leaker, Daniel Ellsburg.
Dean took custody of Hunt’s papers retrieved from his safe. Some he destroyed. Others were turned over to acting FBI Director L. Patrick Gray. Dean asked Gray to provide him with the FBI’s “302’s” which are raw notes from investigators as they related to Watergate. Gray complied and Dean was able to monitor the FBI’s investigation.
Most problematic for everyone in the White House and at the CRP were the demands by Hunt, Liddy, and the five burglars arrested inside the Watergate for money for lawyers and to support their families. When demanding money, they made veiled threats of talking to prosecutors about White House ties to the Watergate break-in.
Dean emerged as the go between on the burglars’ demands for money. At first, funds were funneled through the CRP. After that, the task was passed to Nixon’s personal attorney and CRP counsel Herb Kalmbach to raised funds to cover their expenses. Dean, Kalmbach, Mitchell, and Fred LaRue who was a general gopher in the White House. That all changed on December 8, 1972 when United Airlines flight 553 crashed near Chicago, claiming the life of Howard Hunt’s wife. Among Mrs. Hunt’s possessions was found $10,000 cash. The media and investigators began speculating on where Mrs. Hunt, with her husband unemployed and in the DC jail, received the cash.
Dean went to his superiors, Haldeman and Ehrlichman with the pressing need to raise cash for the burglars and specifically Hunt, to keep them quiet. Both believed that the entire mess was John Mitchell’s problem and told Dean to go back to Mitchell to get him to raise the funds. Finally, with Dean in a panic, Haldeman authorized a cash payment from an illegal $350,000 White House slush fund maintained in his office. Eventually, all of that money would end up in the hands of the Watergate defendents.
After the 1972 election, Watergate became a point of interest in the media. Nixon denied that there was any White House involvement in Watergate and told the media that he had asked his Chief Counsel, John Dean, to investigate the matter. If any White House employees had been involved, Nixon said, They would be fired and subject to vigorous prosecution.
After that, Dean was constantly pressured by Haldeman to draft a “Dean Report” that would clear the White House. But Dean knew that the White House had been involved because he’d been involved, Haldeman had approved payments, and he’d learned that Ehrlichman had signed off on Hunt and Liddy’s excursion into the office of Daniel Ellsburg’s psychologist.
Dean started to realize that the coverup could not be maintained. That eventually, the money would dry up and there would be no more money to keep the defendants silent. He decided it was time he met directly with the president and lay out all the facts so the president could exercise his judgment to find a way out.
That March 21st meeting was a turning point in the Watergate scandal. Dean met with the president and told him he was in danger. He told Nixon there was a cancer growing close to the president and that cancer was spreading as more and more of his aides involved themselves in the cover up. He told Nixon of the money demands. Nixon asked how much Dean thought it would cost to keep the men quiet. Dean told the president it would probably cost at least a million dollars. Nixon said he knew where they could get the money and asked Dean if he had any ideas on who should deliver it.
Dean was dismayed that the president wanted to continue the cover up rather than find some way to bring it to an end. Eventually, Haldeman was summoned and briefed. The conversation became more rational when Haldeman and Nixon agreed that the cash payments would not contain Watergate and in the end, they would all look like “dopes,” anyway. The meeting ended with another suggestion that Dean prepare a report.
From that point, Watergate ceased to be a nettlesome problem and became a crisis in the White House. The Senate was convening a special committee to look into the matter. Mitchell and Kalmbach continued to raise hush money, but it was getting harder to find and harder to deliver. Talks began between Dean, Haldeman, and Ehrlichman about finding someone who would step forward and take responsibility for Watergate. Everybody’s favorite scapegoat was John Mitchell, now in private law practice in New York. But “old stoneface” wasn’t willing to step up.
On March 23, Judge John Sirica imposed harsh penalties on all the Watergate defendants, hoping that one of them would break and offer up bigger fish. Dean was sent to Camp David to draft the Dean Report for the president to use as his defense against charges that he’d known about the break in and that there was a White House directed coverup. Dean had already been publicly implicated in the coverup when Patrick Gray told the senate committee that he’d shared details of the FBI investigation with Dean at Dean’s request.
Dean went to Camp David and began analyzing the situation. He didn’t see a way out for himself. Any report he’d write would either be a lie, or would implicate the highest ranking officials in the White House –including himself. He also felt as if he was possibly being made the scapegoat for the entire affair. With a Dean Report in hand, the president could tell the American people he’d relied on his chief counsel to get to the bottom of the case and was lied to. Dean resolved to hire a lawyer and start talking to prosecutors.
According to Dean, he felt as if he were acting out of loyalty to the president by bringing the cover up to a halt before the president was involved. (Dean didn’t know that Nixon had fatally involved himself on June 23, 1972 when he ordered a CIA to block the FBI investigation). He left Camp David and hired an attorney.
At first, Dean was determined to remain loyal while telling prosecutors about the early stages of the cover up and the payment of hush money. He was cast out of Nixon’s inner circle by Haldeman and Ehrlichman who now regarded him as traitorous. Dean implicated Mitchell, Magruder, Kalmbach, LaRue, Haldeman, and Ehrlichman in his conversations with prosecutors, but kept he president out of the conversation.
Shortly after he began talking to prosecutors, Nixon summoned Dean to his hideaway office in the Old Executive Office Building to talk. There, Dean laid out what he’d told prosecutors. He told the president that Haldeman and Ehrlichman were both guilty of obstruction of justice, as was he. He recommended that the three of them resign together. Dean got the impression from the conversation that Nixon was not talking to him, but to some mysterious third party, like a tape recorder. Rather than trying to get facts from Dean, he seemed to be posturing as if he’d known nothing about the cover up.
The next day, Dean was summoned to the Oval Office. As he was walking toward the office, he saw Haldeman and Ehrlichman leaving, laughing and joking. As soon as they saw Dean, their countenance changed to one of somber bordering on hostility. Dean entered the Oval Office and found that a resignation letter had been prepared for him. Nixon claimed that similar letters had been prepared for Haldeman and Ehrlichman. Dean refused to sign his, saying he’d resign as long as Haldeman and Ehrlichman went with him.
Dean, now feeling no loyalty to the president, continued to talk to prosecutors. He also agreed to testify before the Senate Ervin Committee that was investigating. He became its star witness by providing eight hours of earthy testimony about the cover up. Nixon would go on national television to announce the resignations of Haldeman and Ehrlichman and the firing of Dean.
Nixon denied Dean’s allegations, saying that there was no evidence to back them up other than notes indicating that Dean met with the president at the dates and times specified. Suspecting he’d been taped, Dean instructed prosecutors to inquire about a White House taping system. Those tapes would bear out most of Dean’s testimony.
Dean ended up pleading guilty to one felony count of obstruction of justice. Judge Sirica was especially hard on Dean and sentenced him to four years – much to his attorney’s outrage. He was given a few weeks to put his affairs in order before he was taken into custody.
Dean was incarcerated at Fort Holabird – a special facility for criminals who need protection such as mafia turncoats and witnesses whose lives are in danger. There, he ran into Chuck Colson, Jeb Stuart Magruder, and Herb Kalmbach. At first, Dean was not allowed to talk to his fellow Watergate conspirators because he was the key witness in the trial against Haldeman, Ehrlichman, and others.
Once his testimony was complete, Colson and Dean got together and compared notes. Neither could figure out who ordered the Watergate break in. However, Dean describes one scene when a forlorn and broken Jeb Magruder came close to admitting he did before shuffling off without another word.
Dean survived his time in prison and his attorney was able to get Judge Sirica to reduce the sentence to time served which was about four months. Dean was disbarred, but went on to have a career in investment banking and is a darling of the political left because he is a frequent critic of Republican presidents and politicians.
A lot of what Dean writes in Blind Ambition is self serving bullshit. Dean was the first to tell his story, so it was against his story that everybody else’s story was compared and if their version of events didn’t match Dean’s they were considered to be lies. Dean was also the first Watergate defendant to write a book and provide the public with a firsthand narrative of the scandal that gripped the nation for two years.
The book is still controversial today. Authors Len Colodny and Robert Gettlin, in their book Silent Coup: The Removal of a President, developed a compelling case to demonstrate that it was John Dean himself who ordered the Watergate break in. Dean hired a lawyer and sued. The case was settled confidentially. However, the case laid out by Colodny and Gettlin is compelling and I plan to review their work here soon.
There is also something to be said about honor and loyalty. Some will look at the life of John Dean and say he was a man who did some bad things, but stepped forward and accepted responsibility. There are others who would say he was the person who put the hole in the boat, was the first to know the ship was sinking, and got into the only lifeboat alone. I tend to favor the latter.
John Dean could not have stopped the downfall of Richard Nixon, nor was he the cause of it. Nixon sealed his own fate less than a week after the break in in his June 23, 1972 conversation with Bob Haldeman. But Dean started the cover up. He initiated it and maintained it. His bosses had bigger issues on their mind. Watergate was all consuming to Dean. It was his full time job once it started.
Had Dean done nothing, The investigation would have probably never made its way to the president because Dean was the first link to the White House. He involved the White House and left a trail that led to the White House. Had he done nothing, the prosecutors would have got Hunt, Liddy, Mitchell and Magruder. Dean started the cover up, and then made sure that all of his superior and coworkers were coconspirators.
I sympathize with Dean in that it did appear that Nixon and Haldeman had no problem in making him a scapegoat when both had been compromised. He could not have been reasonably expected to let the President of the United States lead the world to believe that he alone was responsible. But a more honorable man would have gone down with his team – not throw them overboard.
Dean’s book is a valuable resource as it serves as a thorough and authoritative chronology of the cover-up. When paired with Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein’s The Final Days, one can get a complete story of events from the break in to the resignation.
By John Dean
Copyright 1976
John Dean, principal architect of the Watergate cover up; traitor to some, patriot to others, chronicles his years inside the Nixon White House. He describes the events that led up to the Watergate break in and his efforts to keep criminal and congressional investigators from finding the links between the bungled burglary and the White House.
John Dean’s service in government started in the Justice Department under the tutelage of Attorney General John Mitchell. He rose through the ranks to become deputy attorney general and developed a close relationship with Mitchell. When he received the offer from Nixon’s chief of staff, Bob Haldeman to join the White House staff, in 1970, as counsel to the president, Mitchell tried to discourage him, telling him horror stories about working in the White House and making a boogie man out of the president’s chief counsel for domestic affairs, John Ehrlichman, telling Dean, “I doubt Ehrlichman will ever take his foot off your shoulder.”
But the 30 year old lawyer was not to be dissuaded and went to work at the White House. He found that counsel to the president wasn’t nearly as glorious as it sounded. He had very little contact with Richard Nixon. His official duties were to serve as the president’s lawyer which amounted to witnessing the president sign an updated will and analyzing potential official acts to reconcile them with the law.
His unofficial duties were to keep tabs on anti-war demonstrations and organized groups opposed to the president and his policies. Political intelligence and combating Richard Nixon’s enemies were valued skills at the White House of the early 1970s. The law and the civil rights of others were no impediment to the White House intelligence gathering operation.
As the campaign for re-election started ramping up, John Mitchell resigned as Attorney General and took over the Campaign to Re-Elect the President. Nixon’s detractors nicknamed it “CREEP.” In official circles it was known as the CRP. The CRP was obsessed with two things early on: intelligence on potential Democratic nominees and security at the 1972 Republican National Convention to be held in Miami.
A former FBI agent and federal prosecutor, G. Gordon Liddy, was hired by the CRP to handle security and intelligence for the campaign. Dean got an early taste of just how intense Liddy could be when Liddy showed up in his White House office one day with a bandage on his hand. Dean inquired as to Liddy’s injury. Liddy said he held a lighter to his hand to demonstrate to his underlings how committed he was to the cause of re-electing Richard Nixon. Later, after the arrest of the burglars, Liddy told Dean he was willing to be gunned down on a street corner if it would serve the plan.
One afternoon at Mitchell’s Justice Department office (just before he resigned as Attorney General), Liddy presented his plan to Mitchell, Dean, and Deputy Campaign Director Jeb Stuart Magruder. It was an intricate, expansive, and absurd plan that called for the hiring of call girls, wiretaps, and miscellaneous dirty tricks to be played on the president’s opponents during the convention. According to Dean, it was him that stood up and said, “This is not something that should be discussed in the office of the attorney general.” No one else in the room can recall Dean making such a moral stand.
Morality aside, the plan was rejected by all in the room. Politely, they told Liddy that it was too expensive and complicated. They sent him back to the drawing board. All agreed that the man hired to supervise the security and intelligence for the campaign was just a bit off kilter.
Conventional views of history find the roots of the Watergate break in in this meeting. Later, Liddy would tell Dean that Magruder was pressuring him for intelligence. Nixon’s current obsession was screwing Democratic National Chairman, Larry O’Brien over a retainer paid to him by Howard Hughes. Nixon’s own brother had been pilloried in the press over taking money from Hughes and Nixon wanted to visit a little revenge on the Democrats.
Just who ordered the break in has never been positively determined.
Dean says he first learned of the Watergate break in upon his return from the Philippines in June 1972. It wasn’t long before CRP staffers and eventually White House officials started showing up in Dean’s office to clear their conscience and seek his advice.
At first, Dean reveled in his new status. Haldeman was checking in with him on a regular basis. He was emerging as point man on the biggest crisis the campaign faced heading into the 1972 election. It was Dean who learned that the architect of the burglary, E. Howard Hunt, had an office in the White House. He had done work for Nixon’s special counsel and “hatchet man” Charles “Chuck” Colson. Many of these operations, undertaken in tandem with Liddy, were black bag ops – including breaking into the office of a California psychologist who was treating Pentagon Papers leaker, Daniel Ellsburg.
Dean took custody of Hunt’s papers retrieved from his safe. Some he destroyed. Others were turned over to acting FBI Director L. Patrick Gray. Dean asked Gray to provide him with the FBI’s “302’s” which are raw notes from investigators as they related to Watergate. Gray complied and Dean was able to monitor the FBI’s investigation.
Most problematic for everyone in the White House and at the CRP were the demands by Hunt, Liddy, and the five burglars arrested inside the Watergate for money for lawyers and to support their families. When demanding money, they made veiled threats of talking to prosecutors about White House ties to the Watergate break-in.
Dean emerged as the go between on the burglars’ demands for money. At first, funds were funneled through the CRP. After that, the task was passed to Nixon’s personal attorney and CRP counsel Herb Kalmbach to raised funds to cover their expenses. Dean, Kalmbach, Mitchell, and Fred LaRue who was a general gopher in the White House. That all changed on December 8, 1972 when United Airlines flight 553 crashed near Chicago, claiming the life of Howard Hunt’s wife. Among Mrs. Hunt’s possessions was found $10,000 cash. The media and investigators began speculating on where Mrs. Hunt, with her husband unemployed and in the DC jail, received the cash.
Dean went to his superiors, Haldeman and Ehrlichman with the pressing need to raise cash for the burglars and specifically Hunt, to keep them quiet. Both believed that the entire mess was John Mitchell’s problem and told Dean to go back to Mitchell to get him to raise the funds. Finally, with Dean in a panic, Haldeman authorized a cash payment from an illegal $350,000 White House slush fund maintained in his office. Eventually, all of that money would end up in the hands of the Watergate defendents.
After the 1972 election, Watergate became a point of interest in the media. Nixon denied that there was any White House involvement in Watergate and told the media that he had asked his Chief Counsel, John Dean, to investigate the matter. If any White House employees had been involved, Nixon said, They would be fired and subject to vigorous prosecution.
After that, Dean was constantly pressured by Haldeman to draft a “Dean Report” that would clear the White House. But Dean knew that the White House had been involved because he’d been involved, Haldeman had approved payments, and he’d learned that Ehrlichman had signed off on Hunt and Liddy’s excursion into the office of Daniel Ellsburg’s psychologist.
Dean started to realize that the coverup could not be maintained. That eventually, the money would dry up and there would be no more money to keep the defendants silent. He decided it was time he met directly with the president and lay out all the facts so the president could exercise his judgment to find a way out.
That March 21st meeting was a turning point in the Watergate scandal. Dean met with the president and told him he was in danger. He told Nixon there was a cancer growing close to the president and that cancer was spreading as more and more of his aides involved themselves in the cover up. He told Nixon of the money demands. Nixon asked how much Dean thought it would cost to keep the men quiet. Dean told the president it would probably cost at least a million dollars. Nixon said he knew where they could get the money and asked Dean if he had any ideas on who should deliver it.
Dean was dismayed that the president wanted to continue the cover up rather than find some way to bring it to an end. Eventually, Haldeman was summoned and briefed. The conversation became more rational when Haldeman and Nixon agreed that the cash payments would not contain Watergate and in the end, they would all look like “dopes,” anyway. The meeting ended with another suggestion that Dean prepare a report.
From that point, Watergate ceased to be a nettlesome problem and became a crisis in the White House. The Senate was convening a special committee to look into the matter. Mitchell and Kalmbach continued to raise hush money, but it was getting harder to find and harder to deliver. Talks began between Dean, Haldeman, and Ehrlichman about finding someone who would step forward and take responsibility for Watergate. Everybody’s favorite scapegoat was John Mitchell, now in private law practice in New York. But “old stoneface” wasn’t willing to step up.
On March 23, Judge John Sirica imposed harsh penalties on all the Watergate defendants, hoping that one of them would break and offer up bigger fish. Dean was sent to Camp David to draft the Dean Report for the president to use as his defense against charges that he’d known about the break in and that there was a White House directed coverup. Dean had already been publicly implicated in the coverup when Patrick Gray told the senate committee that he’d shared details of the FBI investigation with Dean at Dean’s request.
Dean went to Camp David and began analyzing the situation. He didn’t see a way out for himself. Any report he’d write would either be a lie, or would implicate the highest ranking officials in the White House –including himself. He also felt as if he was possibly being made the scapegoat for the entire affair. With a Dean Report in hand, the president could tell the American people he’d relied on his chief counsel to get to the bottom of the case and was lied to. Dean resolved to hire a lawyer and start talking to prosecutors.
According to Dean, he felt as if he were acting out of loyalty to the president by bringing the cover up to a halt before the president was involved. (Dean didn’t know that Nixon had fatally involved himself on June 23, 1972 when he ordered a CIA to block the FBI investigation). He left Camp David and hired an attorney.
At first, Dean was determined to remain loyal while telling prosecutors about the early stages of the cover up and the payment of hush money. He was cast out of Nixon’s inner circle by Haldeman and Ehrlichman who now regarded him as traitorous. Dean implicated Mitchell, Magruder, Kalmbach, LaRue, Haldeman, and Ehrlichman in his conversations with prosecutors, but kept he president out of the conversation.
Shortly after he began talking to prosecutors, Nixon summoned Dean to his hideaway office in the Old Executive Office Building to talk. There, Dean laid out what he’d told prosecutors. He told the president that Haldeman and Ehrlichman were both guilty of obstruction of justice, as was he. He recommended that the three of them resign together. Dean got the impression from the conversation that Nixon was not talking to him, but to some mysterious third party, like a tape recorder. Rather than trying to get facts from Dean, he seemed to be posturing as if he’d known nothing about the cover up.
The next day, Dean was summoned to the Oval Office. As he was walking toward the office, he saw Haldeman and Ehrlichman leaving, laughing and joking. As soon as they saw Dean, their countenance changed to one of somber bordering on hostility. Dean entered the Oval Office and found that a resignation letter had been prepared for him. Nixon claimed that similar letters had been prepared for Haldeman and Ehrlichman. Dean refused to sign his, saying he’d resign as long as Haldeman and Ehrlichman went with him.
Dean, now feeling no loyalty to the president, continued to talk to prosecutors. He also agreed to testify before the Senate Ervin Committee that was investigating. He became its star witness by providing eight hours of earthy testimony about the cover up. Nixon would go on national television to announce the resignations of Haldeman and Ehrlichman and the firing of Dean.
Nixon denied Dean’s allegations, saying that there was no evidence to back them up other than notes indicating that Dean met with the president at the dates and times specified. Suspecting he’d been taped, Dean instructed prosecutors to inquire about a White House taping system. Those tapes would bear out most of Dean’s testimony.
Dean ended up pleading guilty to one felony count of obstruction of justice. Judge Sirica was especially hard on Dean and sentenced him to four years – much to his attorney’s outrage. He was given a few weeks to put his affairs in order before he was taken into custody.
Dean was incarcerated at Fort Holabird – a special facility for criminals who need protection such as mafia turncoats and witnesses whose lives are in danger. There, he ran into Chuck Colson, Jeb Stuart Magruder, and Herb Kalmbach. At first, Dean was not allowed to talk to his fellow Watergate conspirators because he was the key witness in the trial against Haldeman, Ehrlichman, and others.
Once his testimony was complete, Colson and Dean got together and compared notes. Neither could figure out who ordered the Watergate break in. However, Dean describes one scene when a forlorn and broken Jeb Magruder came close to admitting he did before shuffling off without another word.
Dean survived his time in prison and his attorney was able to get Judge Sirica to reduce the sentence to time served which was about four months. Dean was disbarred, but went on to have a career in investment banking and is a darling of the political left because he is a frequent critic of Republican presidents and politicians.
A lot of what Dean writes in Blind Ambition is self serving bullshit. Dean was the first to tell his story, so it was against his story that everybody else’s story was compared and if their version of events didn’t match Dean’s they were considered to be lies. Dean was also the first Watergate defendant to write a book and provide the public with a firsthand narrative of the scandal that gripped the nation for two years.
The book is still controversial today. Authors Len Colodny and Robert Gettlin, in their book Silent Coup: The Removal of a President, developed a compelling case to demonstrate that it was John Dean himself who ordered the Watergate break in. Dean hired a lawyer and sued. The case was settled confidentially. However, the case laid out by Colodny and Gettlin is compelling and I plan to review their work here soon.
There is also something to be said about honor and loyalty. Some will look at the life of John Dean and say he was a man who did some bad things, but stepped forward and accepted responsibility. There are others who would say he was the person who put the hole in the boat, was the first to know the ship was sinking, and got into the only lifeboat alone. I tend to favor the latter.
John Dean could not have stopped the downfall of Richard Nixon, nor was he the cause of it. Nixon sealed his own fate less than a week after the break in in his June 23, 1972 conversation with Bob Haldeman. But Dean started the cover up. He initiated it and maintained it. His bosses had bigger issues on their mind. Watergate was all consuming to Dean. It was his full time job once it started.
Had Dean done nothing, The investigation would have probably never made its way to the president because Dean was the first link to the White House. He involved the White House and left a trail that led to the White House. Had he done nothing, the prosecutors would have got Hunt, Liddy, Mitchell and Magruder. Dean started the cover up, and then made sure that all of his superior and coworkers were coconspirators.
I sympathize with Dean in that it did appear that Nixon and Haldeman had no problem in making him a scapegoat when both had been compromised. He could not have been reasonably expected to let the President of the United States lead the world to believe that he alone was responsible. But a more honorable man would have gone down with his team – not throw them overboard.
Dean’s book is a valuable resource as it serves as a thorough and authoritative chronology of the cover-up. When paired with Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein’s The Final Days, one can get a complete story of events from the break in to the resignation.
Labels:
biographies,
Blind Ambition,
john dean,
non fiction,
Watergate
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Henry Clay: The Essential American By David S. Heidler and Jeanne T. Heidler

Henry Clay: The Essential American
By David S. Heidler and Jeanne T. Heidler
Copyright 2010
Any serious study of the period between the so called Era of Good Feelings and the Civil War must include Henry Clay. As much as the presidents of this era, he helped define the nation’s course through its most tumultuous time. His career in national politics spanned from the era where the new United States established itself as a truly independent nation through the calamitous lead up to disunion and the Civil War.
Clay was born in Hanover County, Virginia in 1777 the seventh of nine children his mother would have with his father. (She went on to have another seven with her second husband) His father, a Baptist minister, died when Clay was four. His mother remarried and his family moved to Kentucky, leaving Clay and several of his siblings behind in Virginia to be cared for by friends and relatives. Clay worked in Richmond as a shop assistant and then in a law office. He had little formal education – something that he regretted for his entire life.
When he was in his late teens, he joined his mom and stepfather in Lexington, Kentucky and established what would become a lucrative law practice. He married Lucretia Hart in 1799.
One of his most famous cases was the defense of vice president Aaron Burr when the state of Kentucky brought him up on charges of trying to divide the United States and seize western lands. Clay’s avid defense of Burr earned Burr an acquittal of the charges in Kentucky. Later, history would bear out most of the charges brought against Burr and Clay lived with the embarrassment of having secured the acquittal of a traitor and the man who murdered the country’s favorite Federalist, Alexander Hamilton. Years later, the two would meet and Clay would not even acknowledge his presence.
Clay’s law practice brought him wealth and he and Lucretia purchased 600 acres for a plantation they called Ashland. Clay’s first foray into politics was election to the Kentucky state legislature where he quickly distinguished himself by advocating the movement of Kentucky’s capital to Lexington which he regarded as the center of Kentucky commerce. His fellow legislators thought enough of him to serve as at least a place holder in the U.S. Senate and elected him to that position in 1806 even though he was but 29 years of age and constitutionally unqualified to serve. Although he was there for just a few months, that first taste of Washington politics and its intrigues lit a lifelong fire in Clay that death barely extinguished. He, again would be called upon to serve out the final months of the term of another Kentucky senator who resigned. It would be several years before he would return to the Senate. He had a great deal of work to do in the House first.
Clay was elected to the House of Representatives in 1811 and was promptly elected Speaker – the only freshman ever elected to the position. While in the House, he consolidated and strengthened the position of the War Hawks who supported President James Madison’s call for war against the British in the War of 1812.
He would go on to serve as a member of the U.S. delegation to Ghent to develop and sign a treaty to end the war. It was here that he came to know John Quincy Adams – a man who would be forever tied to Clay’s political fortunes and misfortunes.
The two men did not get along particularly well. Adams, like his father, was puritanical in his conduct and beliefs. Clay was not an immoral man or given to flights of vice. However, he did enjoy drinks with friends and enjoyed gambling. According the Dr. and Dr. Heidler, it was this knack for gambling that helped Clay read the British delegation and determine what their fallback position would be – what poker players call, “the tell.”
Adams and Clay were also in conflict because they came from different regions. The country was essentially united in war, but different territories had different aims in peace. The British opening proposal at Ghent asked for navigation rights on the Mississippi – an anathema to those in the west that would not stand for British ships sailing through its territory. The British also wanted to restrict commercial fishing off of the coast of Nova Scotia which was vital to the economic interests of New England. Adams was willing to give on the Mississippi navigation question. Clay was willing to give up Nova Scotia fishing. The delegation had to do quite a bit of negotiating themselves before they could negotiate with the British. Eventually, America got a peace they could live with and Adams and Clay returned to the United States heroes.
However, weeks after the treaty was signed and hostilities ceased, a new American hero emerged. Colonel Andrew Jackson had won an unlikely and important victory over the British at New Orleans, securing that port city for America. Jackson would bedevil Clay for the rest of his life.
Most of what is generally known about Clay is his work in the Senate, being the Great Compromiser. However, it was he who modernized and refined the post of Speaker of the House and made a center of power – power he wielded as an equal to the president. Through the skillful use of House rules and parliamentary procedure, he used the Speaker’s chair and gavel to shape legislation. He appointed committees – not with regional balance in mind – but rather with a mind’s eye toward achieving legislative goals.
While in the House, Clay developed a plan of internal improvements he called The American System. He envisioned federal investment in internal infrastructure to build roads and bridges to facilitate commerce. Again, the sectional nature of American political culture hampered progress in implementing Clay’s system of federally funded improvements. South Carolina farmers were bound to resent funding the Maysville Pike that ran between Washington, D.C. and the western states and territories just as Ohio farmers were loathe to have their tax dollars supporting improvements at South Carolina ports.
Perhaps Clay’s greatest accomplishment in the House was the Missouri Compromise. It is a popularly held belief that Clay was its author since he receives so much credit for its passage. He was not its author. However, it was he who brokered the deal that separated Maine from Massachusetts and allowed it to become a state along with Missouri. Despite a general prohibition on slavery in Missouri’s constitution that required a second compromise, President Monroe signed both enabling acts, bringing to the union a free state and an at least nominally slave state, maintaining the ever important sectional balance in Congress.
By 1824, Clay was a strong national figure and was a candidate for the presidency. He finished third in the field. However, neither of the top finishers, John Quincy Adams nor Andrew Jackson managed to secure a majority in the Electoral College and the election was sent to the House of Representatives to be settled.
Much research has been conducted and much speculation swirled around the ultimate decision that led to the election of John Quincy Adams as president. Adams and Clay were not friendly with each other. That was well known. Clay had vociferously defended Andrew Jackson’s reprehensible conduct toward British civilians and Seminole Indians in Florida. Yet, when the time came to cast ballots in the House, Clay came down on the side of Adams. Shortly thereafter, Adams named Clay as his secretary of state. In the early 19th century, the position of secretary of state was a pathway to the presidency.
Jackson backers immediately claimed that Clay had sold his vote to Adams in exchange for the plumb position. They offered as evidence a late night meeting the two men had just weeks prior to the House vote. One man stepped forward to say that he had delivered the offer to Clay. No definitive proof exists of the “Corrupt Bargain” as Jackson’s disciples came to call it, but no evidence exists that completely refutes it either. The Heidlers offer no opinion either way. The election of 1824 set off one of the most bitter periods in American political history –perhaps matched only by the Civil War itself in overt political and personal animus.
Clay’s tenure as secretary of state was not as distinguished as that of his predecessors perhaps because few foreign crises hampered the JQA administration. It is known fact that JQA was the principal author of the Monroe Doctrine and was determined to see it enforced. As an extension of that, Clay became an ardent supporter of the recognition of South American country’s rights to self determination and led the effort for the Adams administration to recognize most of the governments of South America.
Clay worked hard to secure the reelection of JQA in 1828, but the Jacksonians were not to be thwarted in their quest for the presidency. With the echoes of the Corrupt Bargain still ringing throughout the country, Andrew Jackson and his Jacksonian Democrats launched into the most vociferous presidential campaigning to date, literally hounding Adams from office. Clay left the State Department, but was promptly returned to the Senate by the Kentucky legislature.
Clay immediately became President Jackson’s chief adversary. From what the Heidler’s write, it was not so much policy differences that separated Jackson and Clay as it was consolidation of power within the chief executive. For the first 50 years, the president and the Congress acted as equals with Congress proposing and the president ratifying or vetoing as he saw fit. Most presidents saw themselves simply as a bulwark against unconstitutional legislation or legislative over reach on the part of Congress. Jackson, however, being a general and used to being obeyed, was a different political animal.
Jackson proposed programs and vetoed items, not because he thought them unconstitutional or congressional over reach. He vetoed them because he did not agree with them. He was not above applying political pressure to gain votes in Congress – an executive practice rarely used in the early days of the Republic. Furthermore, Jackson often acted, not out of principle or belief, but rather personal animosity. It is well known that Jackson was a world class grudge holder and he held few grudges stronger than the one he harbored against Clay for the Corrupt Bargain. Clay was appalled at Jackson's consolidation of power within the executive mansion.
The largest political battle fought during the eight year reign of Jackson was that over the charter of the Second Bank of the United States – or the National Bank. Clay had been against the charter of the First Bank of the United States, but now had come to believe that the nationally charted institution provided economic stability in an era of loose currency printed by unchartered state banks.
Unfortunately, the Heidlers to not cover this epic battle in any great detail. During this time, Andrew Jackson took his sights off Clay briefly and aimed them squarely at the bank’s president, Nicholas Biddle. Clay fought the good fight in leading the charter through the Senate. Jackson ultimately vetoed the charter through the practice of pocket veto – simply not signing the legislation whilst Congress is in recess. This was a huge defeat for Clay and the National Republicans who were beginning to call themselves Whigs. What the Heidlers do not discuss is just how badly Nicholas Biddle, cocky, arrogant, and determined to tweak Jackson’s nose at every opportunity, hurt the efforts of bank proponents. It is true that entire books have been written on this titanic legislative battle, but it deserved more coverage than the Heidlers gave it.
The Nullification Crisis, the contrivance of vice president John C. Calhoun made Clay and Jackson unlikely allies and permanently split the political friendship of Clay and Calhoun. To raise revenue, Jackson secured the passage of a series of tariffs. Tariffs benefited northern industrialists because it protected their industries from foreign competition, but hurt the south that relied on exports of the raw materials they produced. Called the “Tariff of Abominations” by southerners, the act set off a looming constitutional and sectional crisis that was a precursor for sectional tensions to come.
Calhoun postulated that, in a republic, each state had the right to nullify through its state legislature, any act by the federal government they did not feel was in their best interests. Jackson, now firmly entrenched as the chief executive, insisted that federal will always superceded state whim. South Carolina threatened to not enforce the tariff and to perhaps leave the union. Jackson countered that he would send federal troops to enforce the tariff.
While Clay’s principles put him in Jackson’s camp, he revealed his penchant for brokering deals, fostering compromise, and defusing crises in a way that allowed both parties to save face and allowed equilibrium to be maintained. Clay went to work in the Senate and secured passage of legislation that gradually lowered the tariff, allowing the country to meet its need for revenue while slowly relieving the burden on the South.
In their narrative of Clay’s life, the Heidler’s do an excellent job of recreating the chaos and disorganization that was the Jackson cabinet. The hot headed and impetuous Calhoun was ill suited for the vice presidency under the imperialistic Jackson. The silly Eaton affair and Jackson’s over reaction to it led Jackson to demand and receive the resignations of his entire cabinet. The cabinet reorganization led to Secretary of State, Martin Van Buren, being elevated to the vice presidency and it quickly became clear that he was Jackson’s heir apparent.
Clay was the clear choice of the new Whig Party in 1832. However, Jackson remained a folk hero in the hearts and minds of his countrymen and he crushed Clay in an election that was never really a contest.
Of all the presidents under which and with which Clay served, he had his best personal and least politically acrimonious relationship with Martin Van Buren who was elected in 1836 over a number of Whig candidates run by the party with the hopes of fracturing the electorate and causing the election to be sent to the house.
Van Buren is very much like Herbert Hoover in presidential history. The seeds of his destruction were planted in the economy in the prior administration. The decentralization of banking combined with the demands that territorial land purchases be paid in specie caused a run on banks and widespread deflation that developed into a national fiscal crisis that hurt at every level of the socio economic strata.
As usual, the government was deadlocked over what to do. The fracture came along sectional lines rather than party lines. The north wanted higher tariffs for revenue. The south opposed them. The west wanted a relaxation of credit to allow for territorial land purchases to increase the value of the deflated land values. The eastern financial establishment opposed them. Misery and suffering were hallmarks of the Van Buren years.
It would seem that 1840 would finally be Henry Clay’s year. As leader of the Whig Party, he felt certain that he would be the party’s nominee to run against the unpopular Van Buren. But Whigs were reluctant to back a man who had lost in the past. Instead, they looked for a general who might replicate the aura of national hero that Jackson had so aptly cast. They found their man in William Henry Harrison.
Clay did not think highly of Harrison. He did not respect his intellect and thought him lazy. He was probably right on both counts, but history will never know for he died just thirty days into his presidency.
However, between his election in November 1840 and his death in April 1841, it was clear that Harrison had little respect for Clay. As the party’s leader in Congress, Clay figured to have a prominent role in the appointment of the cabinet and dispensing patronage. Harrison ignored his recommendations, much to Clay’s embarrassment. When John Tyler ascended to the presidency, Clay fought a hard political battle to have Tyler – the first vice president to ascend to the presidency through Article 2, section 1 of the U.S. Constitution – to be called “President” rather than “Acting President.” Yet Tyler’s snubs of Clay were more onerous. This would set the stage for four more years of governmental gridlock.
The battle between Clay and Tyler resembles the modern day difficulties experienced between President Jimmy Carter and House Speaker Tip O’Neill. Tyler, like Carter was a proud and arrogant man, determined to chart his own course. Clay, like O’Neill, was a Washington fixture, used to influencing presidential appointments and policy. Like Carter and O’Neill, Tyler and Clay were of the same party. Like the years of Carter and O’Neill, little got done on behalf of the country.
The Tyler years were terribly demoralizing for Clay. Tyler biographer, Norma Lois Peterson lays the blame on Clay, claiming that he tried to co-opt the presidency and make Tyler his puppet. The Heidlers describe Tyler as a vain, imperious man whose goals were moving targets that Clay could never hit, despite his best efforts. Given that Whigs eventually expelled Tyler from their party, history seems to bear out the Heidlers.
Tyler was first against a new Bank of the United States. Then he was for one with limited powers. When presented with legislation that chartered a new national bank with limited powers, he vetoed it. He seemed to be in favor of nothing and against everything that came his way from Congress to deal with the ongoing economic crisis.
With Tyler out of the party if not out of the White House, the Whigs chose his chief adversary, Henry Clay to be their nominee for the presidency in 1844. The Democrats chose former House Speaker James K. Polk of Tennessee.
The election of 1844 shows how difficult it is to run for the presidency after having served as the leader of the Senate (in those days, President Pro Tempore, today Majority Leader). It was hard for Clay to be for or against anything because he had been in the middle of so many compromises. He stated that he abhorred slavery. Yet he owned slaves. He could claim no regional alliance in the north or the south because he came from the west. Polk could lay claim to southern loyalties, but New York, which was the prime mover in northern politics never completely trusted Clay and New York power brokers Thurlow Weed and William Seward were not eager to see Clay become more powerful. Their efforts in surreptitiously backing anti-slavery candidate James Birney cost Clay that important state.
Polk favored that annexation of the Texas territory into the United States. Clay, wary of souring relations with Mexico and upsetting the delicate balance between free and slave states opposed it. Polk balanced the equation by including bringing the Oregon territory into the United States, thereby creating a scenario where the U.S. would be at odds with two foreign powers at one time because the British were disputing claims to part of the Oregon territory. Clay, as was his nature, wanted to be cautious and deliberative. However, cautious and deliberative are seldom recipes for electoral success and Polk’s expansionist views won the day.
Clays fears of war with Mexico were realized when Mexico tried to defend its claim to the Texas territory. Clay vociferously opposed American entry into the Mexican American War. However, expansionist fever ran rampant in the country. Clay would pay with his dearest blood in that fight as his son, Henry, Jr. died at the Battle of Buena Vista.
When the Whigs again looked to a general to be their standard bearer in 1848, Clay was frustrated and tired and resolved to retire from politics. His chief political ally for most of his career, John Crittenden, a fellow Kentuckian, had betrayed him, working to secure the nomination for the hero of the Mexican American War, Zachary Taylor. Clay lost the nomination and retreated to his plantation.
His retirement was short lived, for Kentucky sent him back to the Senate. Just as it had been with Tyler, his entreaties for cabinet and patronage appointments were ignored by the new president, Zachary Taylor. Taylor was a dull man and given to listening to the opinions of those closest to him, right or wrong. John Crittenden, trying to establish himself as a national figure, did not need Clay’s influence peddled in the White House and blocked Clays entreaties.
Although the Texas territory had been secured from Mexico upon the end of the war, internal strife now bedeviled the nation as settlers in the area prepared to go to war with each other over the boundary between Texas and New Mexico. Taylor prepared to send U.S. troops to the area to maintain an uneasy peace. Hoping to spare bloodshed in the region, Clay went to work again to fashion a compromise that would allow Texas, New Mexico, California and Utah to enter the union without bloodshed.
Whilst this wrangling was afoot in Washington and Texans and New Mexicans squared off over territorial boundaries, Zachary Taylor met an unfortunate end with a bout of gastroenteritis. According to Taylor biographer K. Jack Bauer, Taylor was prepared to settle the dispute with an agreement of his own construction. However, new president Millard Fillmore was eager to let Congress decide the issue.
During Taylor’s final days, Clay had led an effort to create an omnibus bill that would allow the states to enter the union and decide the issue of slavery by popular sovereignty. Taylor, a slave holder and southerner, nonetheless did not want to see slavery spread to the pacific. After a great deal of brokering and dealing on Clay’s part, Taylor scuttled the deal. With Taylor out of the way, the door was open to maintaining the precarious peace between slave and free states.
Again, Clay is often given credit in history for being the author of the Compromise of 1850 that preserved the union for ten more years. He was not. Sen. Stephen Douglas of Illinois, a Democrat, was its principle author with Clay, now near death, providing oratory and political support. Fillmore, not the strongest of chief executives, grasped at the lifeline offered by Congress and signed the bill that brokered an agreement that allowed Texas to enter the union as a slave state. Texas gave up its claims on New Mexico in exchange for debt relief which it desperately needed. California entered the union as a free state, and New Mexico and Utah remained territories left to determine the issue of slavery by popular sovereignty.
It was Clay’s last and perhaps greatest act in a distinguished career of civil service that few have matched.
The Heidels did an absolutely wonderful job of weaving into their narrative a great deal about Clay’s personal life that makes this book something greater than a history text. Personally, Clay was torn between his love of his wife and family and his love of politics. He would leave home for long periods of time. Lucretia was no fan of the Washington social scene and did not return to the capital after Clay’s term as Secretary of State. The correspondence between them that survives demonstrates a strong, mutual love that endured for 53 years.
Lucretia, however, was not a political wife in the mold of Abigail Adams or Dolley Madison. She had no political views that she ever offered and seemed to offer her husband no advice. Nothing in her surviving writings indicates that she bore any ill will against anyone in politics, friend or foe to her husband.
In terms of children, Henry and Lucretia’s life was tragic. They had six daughters, all of which died before reaching middle age. Several died in early childhood. Henry’s personal favorite was Anne. Anne took ill soon after giving birth to a child. She rallied after her illness and just as she seemed to rally and Henry drew a breath of relief, she died. Clay was on the senate floor when he received the news and had to be carried from the chamber by friends.
Their sons were a mixed blessing. Theodore Clay suffered a head injury as a child and behaved erratically from that point on, suffering from periods of deranged violence that eventually landed him in an asylum where he spent the rest of his unfortunate life. Son Thomas was a restless soul who failed at many endeavors and his misfortunes piled debt on the Clay household. Late in life, he would find his way, much to the relief of Henry and Lucretia. The aforementioned Henry, Jr. met a hero’s death at Buena Vista.
Clay's devotion and dedication to the practice of politics drove him to inexplicably take one final trip to Washington, D.C. even though he had to be certain he was dying of tuberculosis. It would have been easy for him to have spent his final days in the comforting confines of Ashland, surrounded by his family. Instead, he headed for Washington, ostensibly to argue cases before the Supreme Court. Once he got to D.C. however, it was clear he was not long of this earth. He sent for his son, Thomas and urged him to hurry. Meanwhile, he spent what time he had left resolving old differences with old political enemies before meeting his maker. Only John Crittenden, once his closest ally, was not offered forgiveness.
Thomas arrived in time to be at his father’s bedside when he died of tuberculosis. He was feted on the floor of the Senate – the first man to receive such an honor. His funeral would become the model used for that of Abraham Lincoln. His coffin, oddly hued to the shape of a person and provided with a window that allowed viewers to see his face, was borne across the country via train so the nation could pay its respects. No man who did not hold the office of president was ever shown so much affection and adoration in death as was Henry Clay.
This book was selected as the book of the month by my book/scotch/cigar club. The theme was “Kentucky: in honor of the Kentucky derby. However, the subject was much more about the United States in its most trying times than it was about Kentucky or its famous horse race.
Many in our group said the came away from the book not really knowing what Henry Clay was all about politically or personally. He was not a man of letters and not a prodigious keeper of a journal like John Adams and John Quincy Adams. His daughter in law took it upon herself to become custodian of his personal papers before he died, but she was selective in what she kept. While not the enigma that James Monroe – who took great pains to destroy all of his personal papers – much of the man who was Henry Clay is lost to history.
Most historically significant senators are associated with great causes. Therefore, their personalities and political inclinations are evident. Clay had no great causes for which he fought. His cause was to find balance and compromise between competing factions. Even his political party – the Whigs – essentially stood for very little which is why they vanished. To be a Whig was to stand for very little except opposing Jacksonian Democracy.
Yet Henry Clay is feted as a great American as he should be. The Heidler’s title is apt, for Henry Clay, through his legislative prowess and ability to build coalitions, kept the union together just long enough for another essential American to guide us through our darkest hour. One can not study America’s formative years between 1815 and 1860 without studying Henry Clay. More than any chief executive with the possible exception of Andrew Jackson, Clay shaped and molded this country’s government as it evolved from an experiment in a republic divided by sectionalism into a nation forged into one by a bloody civil war.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
The Lord of Misrule: The Autobiography of Christopher Lee

The Lord of Misrule: The Autobiography of Christoper Lee
Copyright 2005
As a child growing up in Southeastern Ohio, I spent my Friday nights with my friends watching "Double Chiller" with your host, Fritz the Night Owl, on WBNS, Channel 10 out of Columbus. Fritz was a great movie host and he got top flight movies. It was these Friday nights that introduced me to Hammer Studios, Hammer films, and Hammer's most prolific performer, Christopher Lee. For me, Lee, Peter Cushing, and Vincent Price were the Unholy Trinity of horror.
To a younger generation, Lee is best known as Saruman of Lord of the Rings and Count Dooku of Star Wars. To Generation X, he is Dracula and a host of other evil characters.
Lee's autobiography has a lyrical quality to it, as if he dictated it into a tape recorder. This would not work for most authors, but Lee's extensive vocabulary and great story telling makes it a worthwhile read for fans of Hammer horror.
Lee was born in London to a career soldier and a mother descended from Italian nobility. His father left him at a young age and his mother soon remarried. Lee recounts in great detail (perhaps too great detail) his education in private schools and the brutality of the British education system.
He would go on to serve in the British Army during World War II as Army Intelligence and learned to speak many languages in the process. He recounts many interesting stories of his war experience, but never makes himself the hero. He served in North Africa and Italy and saw frequent combat.
What is missing in Lee's account of his life is how he broke into show business. He simply moves on to working in his first movie. He talked about how he had trouble getting parts because of his height (6'4") and his deep voice.
Lee made dozens of films for the British Hammer studios and played Count Dracula in a series of Dracula films Hammer made in the late 1950s and 1960s. He was also famous for playing Fu Manchu in a series of films. His costar was often Peter Cushing who is best known for playing Governor Tarkin in Star Wars. Peter Cushing was his best friend and, for Hammer fanatics such as myself, it would have been great to learn more about Cushing and Lee's relationship with him. Lee states his affection and admiration for Cushing, but gives us little detail of their work together.
Lee was honored to play a Bond villain in The Man with the Golden Gun. He recounts a humorous story about appearing on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. Customs confiscated the movie prop, believing it could possibly be a weapon although, according to Lee, nobody could have mistaken it for anything but a prop. He was supposed to have the gun with him on the Carson set. He was embarrassed when he showed up empty handed.
We learn that Lee's favorite movie was The Wicker Man which he made in 1973. A poor remake was done in 2007. We also learn that he desperately wanted to play Gandalf in Lord of the Rings, but realized that Ian McKellen was better suited for the part. He relished his role in the movie version of his favorite books. It was great to find out that their are others who read those great books once a year, religiously. Lee did.
Lee is also a scratch golfer and relishes telling golfing stories as much as he enjoys telling tales of Hollywood and the British movie industry.
While his commentary on costars Cushing and Vincent Price is somewhat lacking, he is more detailed in describing his relationship with horror greats Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi. His admiration for those pioneers of movie horror is well stated.
Lee tells his life story in anecdotes which seems to be a European style of story telling. His references to European history are often obscure and requires Wikipedia to get the context. The book is obviously a book written by a European for a European audience. Nonetheless, true fans of horror will enjoy the anecdotes and insights of this film legend.
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