It had been 30 years since I
caught up with Gregg Allman at The
Roundtable Restaurant. The year the
KSHE book was published; I got
another chance to get an autograph
from the musician. By some strange
alignment of the planets, I met him
again at my place of work.
In 2009 Gregg Allman was finishing
his book My Cross to Bear. That
summer he made an impromptu visit to
our office building. On that day, I
was mired in my work when an art
director stunned me with the news. "Hey
John, do you know Gregg Allman is on
27?" he asked.
Work came to an abrupt halt, and I
dashed down six flights of stairs.
Shortly after he started telling
stories that were to go into his
book I caught up with the rock star.
As I stood at the outer edge of the
crowd, I could hear him recount how
he and his brother held a "foot-shootin'"
gathering, a plan concocted in order
to avoid getting drafted during
Vietnam. Gregg seemed comfortable
with the setting and told a number
of stories that day. Unfortunately,
I have no recollection of anything
else because I knew that there would
be a brief question and answer
period.
"What the hell should I ask him?" I
wondered. I was short of breath from
the mad dash from my cubicle. My
mind was reeling. By 2009, I had
talked to a number of people who
hung out in the late 1960s at
Gaslight Square, Castaway, and
Prince's Palace in Belleville when
Duane and Gregg Allman played gigs
at those clubs with the Allman Joys
and Hourglass. I heard some great
stories of those bands from that
brief time before The Allman
Brothers Band were to become famous.
Once the question and answer session
started, I shot my hand up. After a
few co-workers got their turn, he
pointed at me. "Do you remember The
Acid-Sette?" I asked. The room was
stone silent for a few seconds, as
he appeared unsure. The
uncomfortable stillness in the air
for that brief time made it apparent
that he had no idea what I was
asking. Before I could elaborate,
the moderator interjected and
wrapped up the event and the crowd
closed in as he was quickly ushered
in the opposite direction. Feeling a
bit dejected, I took the elevator
back to my floor.
Fifteen minutes back into my work
routine, an art director stopped by
and told me Gregg had yet to leave
the building and was still on the
27th floor. I quickly printed off
the spread for the Allman Brother's
section I had designed for the book,
grabbed the copy and once again
dashed down the stairs. Walking
quickly around the 27th floor, I saw
no sign of him. As I passed rows of
cubicles, I asked a few people if
they had seen him and was about to
give up when a copywriter told me
Gregg had gone in the men's room.
Realizing there are two exits to the
restroom, I bolted through the door.
After I burst through a second door,
I was met with the sight of Gregg
Allman standing at the urinal. Not
wanting the day to get weirder, I
walked as far as I could down the
row of stalls and waited patiently.
Didn't want the guy accusing me of
being a men's room stalker. Standing
there for what seemed like eternity
I decided I would introduce myself
when he went to wash his hands. He
finally finished his business, but
instead doin' the hand-washing
routine, he went straight for the
exit.
At that point I sped after him and
caught up before he made it through
the second door. We were standing in
the foyer the size of a large
closet. After introducing myself, I
immediately handed him the color
copy. Rather than a wet bottle of
beer like thirty years before, Gregg
was holding an 11x17 inch piece of
paper. There prominently to the
right in the layout was a large
photo of him at his Hammond B3. In
the picture Gregg was sporting a
Dutch Boy haircut. To the right of
the photo another picture featured
his brother Duane with his giant
mustache. Duane's eyes were closed
and he seemed to be in another world
with his Stratocaster. The photos
were taken in July of 1968 at the
Castaway in Ferguson. Above Duane,
the club's familiar checkerboard
ceiling tile was visible.
I explained to him that I had been
working on a book about KSHE and the
St. Louis music scene for the last
seven years. I had talked to guys
who met him way back in time such as
Jan Marks and Joey Marshall. I then
asked him, "Joey was a guitarist
with The Acid-Sette. He told me when
he first met you and Duane in 1967
at Pepe's a Go Gos in Gaslight
Square in St. Louis, you all went
back to his parent's house. At the
time you and Duane were happy to eat
bologna sandwiches. Do you remember
much of those days?"
Gregg looked at me and spoke slowly
in his gravely voice, "Yeah, those
were some hard times," he said. "I
remember selling half of my rights
to "Melissa." I needed the money and
never did get what I was supposed
to," The question was all I could
muster. Adrenaline and anxiety left
my mind in a fog. He signed the
color copy. I thanked him – and yes
– I did shake his hand. I still
wasn't sure if he remembered much
from those days so long ago. I
didn't have much time to think about
it. Just like 30 years before, I had
to get back to work.