This might be one of those. But it's really not about David Crosby, who died today, but the guy who'd introduced me to Crosby -- Bob Timmins, who Crosby credited with helping keep him sober.
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| Timmins with Crosby in Timmins' office, by Max Aguilera-Hellweg |
"If you look in Timmins's eyes," Crosby told me, "you can see he's been through it. He understands screwups. He doesn't stand in judgment of you-but he doesn't lie to you about what's going on."
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| Mars, Sixx, Neil, Lee shot by EJ Camp |
I had met Bob in 1987, when I was on the road with Motley Crue for Rolling Stone. He had been hired by management as a kind of sober minder for Vince Neil, who in 1984 had killed his passenger, the drummer from the band Hanoi Rocks Nicholas "Razzle" Dingley, and severely injured two women, in a DUI car crash.
Neil had been charged with vehicular manslaughter and driving under the influence. He served only half of a 30-day jail sentence, paid $2.6m in restitution, had to perform 200 hours of community service, and received 5 year's probation.
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| Vince's deadly car |
Timmins was part of this probation, kind of an unofficial gutter guard. Walking around backstage with an inocuous "Security" pass, he was instantly interesting to me -- indeed, more interesting than the band I was there to interview.
His eyes were haunted, his arms were fully tattooed, he looked like a biker, but he was as gentle and calm as the Dalai Lama. He had clearly seen it all - and his experience gave him power with rockers who normally wouldn't listen to someone.
Turned out, he had grown up in El Monte, California, the son of a law enforcement agent. At 9, he witnessed his mother kill and mutilate a neighbor, after which she was institutionalized. At 12, he started drinking, and by ninth grade, he had dropped out of school. He picked up a heroin habit, began stealing to buy drugs, and eventually did time in San Quentin and other prisons.
I knew Bob's story was worth telling, but for whatever reason, I couldn't get Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner interested. So after I went freelance in 1990, it was one of the first stories I pitched, and my GQ editor signed on.
Remember - this was years before "Intervention" was a popular cable TV show, before Twitter confessionals. Drug use was still very much not talked about.
Yet Aerosmith's Steven Tyler was among many who surprised me by agreeing to talk for the story. "Bob Timmins" Tyler told me, "is directly responsible for a lot of my friends' being alive today."
Among others quoted in the article: Harry Nillson - who Timmins had only recerntly helped get sober after 20 years, and who called his 12-step meetings "the highlight of my life" -- Doug Fieger of the Knack, actor Corey Feldman, CSNY drummer Dallas Taylor. Among others he helped: Nikki Sixx, Anthony Kiedis, Sly Stone (hey, nobody bats 1.000).
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| Tyler, Feldman, Fieger, Nillson, Taylor, Kiedis |
Timmins was not intimidated by star power, partly because, as he told me, “I’m not, like, a rocker guy. I listen to jazz. A lot of times the first time I hear of a group is when I’m called in to meet with them.”
He helped start two recovery centers in 1969 and 1971 while he was still using. Finally in October 1975 he was arrested again, and the judge let him check into one of his own facilities. He had not yet turned 30. "It was a little humbling," he told me, "but it saved my life."
And, after a couple months' sobriety and clarity, he decided to dedicate his life to helping others. Quoting from my piece:
Since then he has lived a workaholic existence, constantly on beeper call [!], out at meetings and clubs until 1:30am, then back in his closet-sized Santa Monica office by 8:30. A widower, he is often out of town - as he was for nine months this past year - and when he returns his desk is piled high with phone messages from such supporters as Paul Newman, Conrad Hilton and Ozzy Osbourne.
He often didn't take money up front, because he didn't want the musicians to mistrust him as being in it for the cash.
Motley Crue's manager Doug Thaler told me, "For a long time, Bob was the ugly demon that came to the door when you were high. The last thing you wanted to see was him coming up the stairs, this Christ figure coming to save you, and you didn't want your soul saved. But I've never seen a more patient man. Even if you cry wolf five times, Bob's still there at the door, ready to pick up the pieces."
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| Timmins in March 1991 GQ by Max Aguilera-Hellweg |
"I wanna be fair," Timmins told me. "Sly Stone was very creative on cocaine, but after a while, he lost his ability to do anything. What I try to reinforce is, maybe you did some great stuff on drugs, but see the work people have done since they got clean. Motley Crue never had a number-one record until they got clean, and both of Aerosmith's sober albums [i.e. their two most recent at the time] are they best stuff they've ever done."
So, what became of Bob? I didn't stay in touch with him, though I know a couple of friends he actually counseled on the phone when they were seeking to get sober. I heard some stories over the years, some of them unsavory, that I can't factcheck on deadline (if you know anything with citations, put it in a comment).
What's in the official record is his obituary from the Los Angeles Times, dated March 8, 2008, that actually quotes a bunch from my piece.
It said he died of respiratory failure at his home in Marina Del Rey at age 61 - my age as I write this - having worked the last several years battling chronic obsstructive pulmonary disease (COPD). |
| Lincoln Center, August 11, 2019 |
8 comments:
wow. really interesting.
Very interesting piece, David. A good reminder that a history of drug use doesn’t have to define a person forever, nor does it explain every past or current drug user’s death.
Wow. Fabulous piece. Fascinating!
This is a fascinating and very well written entry. Any idea why Jann Wenner didn't want to go with it?
Why wouldn't Jann Wenner have run with a story that at any point would have been an obvious fit? Especially when pitched by you, who had keen instincts and proven chops?
David, this is a beautiful tribute. Past artists and poets left praises of their doctors after being cured; it was and is usually politesse for their subjects to deflect such praise, pointing instead to the curative properties inherent in any truthful pursuit of an art (ie medicine).
But the minute you saw this man backstage, all those years ago, you knew he was not about politesse or deflection. You generously bring forth here a broken heart and a loving practitioner of honest, lived truth. That is a deep appreciation of his healing art.
And you do this movingly, simply, with grace and affection!!! <3
Deeply moving. David.
Croz praised Timmins. In the later years Croz would share a glass of wine and a doobie but that was it. His real joy was the music and finding new younger musicians to make that music with. Thank you for spotlighting Bob. He left us way to soon. Croz that time is the final currency. You can make more money but you cant make more time. Except Croz did - he beat death a thousand times. "Miraculous recovery" was the phrase used repeatedly to describe Croz cheating death. He is free and easy now. Fair winds to set a course and go. Thank you D Handelman
David, I too thought of the assignment the day David Crosby died. The incredible experience I had one afternoon when I was assigned to photograph Bob Timmins. As I remember it, Crosby showed up later, but as I’m thinking about it now, the photo shoot was at Crosby’s house and Crosby was there, Crosby, full of life, lived, but just regular, like someone you’d meet hanging out in someone else’s garage. Timmins, solid, was totally present, with you just as Crosby describes him in your story. Crosby was so fucking thankful to Timmins, not overflowing, but more than I imagined a big rock star would ever show, just real genuine human appreciation, which Timmins shrugged off more intent on how David was doing. I was newly sober myself, but also newly keeping it anonymous. On the day he died, I reflected, I knew Crosby was hardcore, it's amazing he stayed sober all these years. Timmins man, and Crosby, that’s real hardcore.
This memory of the photo shoot the day Crosby died reminded me once again how lucky I’ve been in life to be a photographer and to have had the experiences I’ve had, so rare to live this life. I realize now without you opening the door I would not have had this experience with Timmins and Crosby. Experiences are almost more important to me than the photographs. The portrait of Timmins is one of my very favorites. But the experience, tucked away, pulled out and remembered, I’m glad to have shared it with you, though we never met.
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