Gotta say, one of the trippiest parts of making ROCKIN' was meeting heretofore unknown (to me) but absolutely wonderful, inspiring automotive and rock & roll people, by accident . . . sort of. It's all about the quest and who turns up. -
Meet Kellum Johnson, for instance. But let him tell the story himself, as revealed at www.everything2.com. This is what Kellum wrote [author's note: slightly edited here, for clarity], after the book was published and a box arrived at his door.
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"Okay, okay, okay . . . I've known for a long time that E2 could be a gateway to good things, but OMG! WTF! And other on-line slang as well.
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Alright . . . slow down . . . breathe.
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I got a book in the mail Friday [author's note: this was back at the end of December]. Step back a moment with me, please.
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The time was November of 2004. I had been writing on E2 for less than a month. My work was improving quickly with some very expert guidance from friends. They told me to write about what I like, what I know about. My first writeups were about a favorite animal and a campy album from the '80s. But I'd been reading E2 for years and I'd always admired the essay work. I really wanted to write an essay.
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Saturday afternoon. I came home after a full day at the salon [author's note: Kellum is a highly skilled massage therapist, in private practice]. My housemate was not home, so I flopped down for a nap. Funny, my elderly aunts always extolled the virtues of naps when I was a lad. Never knew what they meant, but as time has moved on, I've been learning just how good a little shuteye in the afternoon can be.
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I awoke around an hour and a half later--a vivid memory in my head bringing a smile to my face. This was a memory of my driving out to my sister's place in Carrollton, Texas as a young man. Roaring down the straight-edge highways in mother's big luxury car, with Freddie Mercury blasting "Mama Mia! Mama Mia! Mama Mia--Figaro!" from the speakers. I thought about those old 8-track tapes and how the 8-track player would change tracks in mid-song.
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I started to write, feverishly. 'Make every word count,' my mentors had told me--both the easiest and hardest advice I'd ever gotten. I polished the essay, I crafted it, lovingly, painstakingly. The next day, after re-reading and re-editing it, I posted the piece
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Allseeingeye wrote to me. Wordnerd wrote to me. I was really touched--this was the first time strangers had ever commented on my work. It felt really great! I was proud, really proud. I felt like a real writer.
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Like that big car blasting through the Texas summers so long ago, the months roared past and I kept on writing. I never forget my little essay; it inspired me to fill a nodeshell or two, and I wound up with a rep in the high teens.
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Then, a couple of months ago, I was snoozing away comfortably on a Saturday morning when my cell phone rang. The voice on the other end was an enthusiastic baritone, with excellent diction. If this is a telemarketer, he's a dead man, I thought.
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"My name is Paul Grushkin, and I'm just finishing a book on rock & roll and the automobile," the man said.
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I was wide awake. Don't say anything stupid . . . don't say anything stupid, I told myself.
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Paul wanted to use my little essay in his new book. What could I say? I said yes. Emphatically. Excitedly. And I did not say anything stupid.
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I did the math. It was 5 am where he was. I'll bet he had been up all night. No wonder he sounded wired.
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I watched on-line for the next few months. I found the book, ROCKIN' DOWN THE HIGHWAY, on amazon.com, available for pre-order. I read about Paul's other work; he'd done quite a beautiful list of rock art books with titles like ART OF MODERN ROCK, TREASURES OF THE HARD ROCK CAFE, and the original ART OF ROCK. So I knew my work would be going into a nice book--a well-designed and interesting book, very likely. But I wasn't prepared for just how good it would be.
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You see, Paul called me again this week [December, 2006], this time sounding much more calm. Plus, he was calling in the afternoon! He needed mailing info.
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The book just arrived. It is magnificent . . . a real piece of art. It boasts brilliant rock photography of stars like Bob Dylan, Snoop Dogg, the Boss, Joni Mitchell, and way too many more to name, running the gamut of cool music from the 1950's on. The pictures blend with album covers, cartoons, notes, quotations, ticket stubs, 45's . . . all sorts of wonderful images, everything laid out beautifully. And of course there are the cars--lots of beautiful hot rods from every generation. And as for the prose, the writing is snappy, mostly by Paul, but also featuring commentary from various car-loving rock & rollers, some famous, some not so famous.
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The book is cool. Cool in the way rock music is cool. Cool in the way cars are cool. Cool in the way only a book about something as cool as rock music and cars can be cool.
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And there, on page 105, is an essay entitled KER. . . CH-U-U-U-KKK. A little fine-tuned for Paul's audience, but those are my words, right there in print! Alongside my prose are photos of 8-track tapes in front of a concert poster with a day-glo dashboard. And, Golden Earring's "Radar Love" nestles up to my work in a sidebar.
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At the bottom of my essay, ---Kellum Johnson. My name, credited in a really great book. How cool is that?"
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note: for more about Kellum's private practice, go to www.kjmassage.com.
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