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Los Angeles

Ten Years Ago

It wasn't too cold a night. Then again, it hardly was that time of year. It was a little before 7 pm, when Woodrow Wilson Jackson III, or "Woody" and his girlfriend Sharon pulled up to the gates of an old Hollywood Film Studio to see a screening of a new film written by, directed by, and starring Vincent Gallo. They drove a German car. The kind of German car that looks best in a shade of grey. Sharon drove that night as legend has it, and Woody, dressed in corduroy pants, an olive t-shirt and leather boots, sat shotgun, looking out his window as the car slowed to a stop outside of the guard gate. Sharon rolled her window down, but kept the car in gear. “Can i help you?” asked a middle age security guard kindly as he put down his peanut butter and banana sandwich and and wiped his mouth. “Yes. We are here to see Buffalo ’66,” Woody Jackson replied as he leaned over the coffee cup holder area of the car. “Buffalo what?” the guard said, and then “Oh right, right...the movie...” remembering...“ Name please sir?” “Woody Jackson + 1” said Sharon, answering the question to spare Woody another move across the car. The guard nodded and looked down at a well worn clip board in his left hand. He flipped through pages and pages of various names and titles. “Woody, Woody, Woody, Jackson.....JACK...SON," he said almost inaudibly. His voice, if you could hear it, had the hollow tone of a man who looked for one too may names on one too many guest lists. "Ok. Woody, here you are. So, you are going to the Fairbanks Jr. Building. Do you know how to get there?” “Nope” said Woody. “Yes," Sharon answered simultaneously. The guard eyed them oddly and then went back into his post. He emerged a second later with two parking passes, and handed one to Sharon and placed the other on the dashboard. “Go up that stop sign and make a left.” Then, once more, he went back into the guard station, pushed a button that lifted the gate and waved goodbye. Sharon and Woody exchanged smiles and pulled forward. Once the gate had again closed, the guard put his clipboard down, and took a small bite of his sandwich.

They drove slowly through the old Hollywood lot. Woody stared at all the large buildings that passed. It seemed to him to look like some sort of an army base or military camp. In fact, if it weren't for forgotten props and extras walking around dressed as vampires and zombies, one probably would not have able to tell the difference. They drove for a couple of minutes in silence, and then suddenly “do we really have to go to this?” Woody asked. “You’re asking me that now!?” she said lovingly. “Yeah, I mean, can’t we just NOT go and tell them you got sick, or i got sick, or we both got sick with the same thing or something?” Sharon eased her foot of the gas and the car gently rolled to a stop. Once again, the German car of grey idled in the Southern California twilight. Sharon put the car in park and closed her eyes. Then, with her eyes still shut, she spoke matter of factly, “Woodrow Wilson Jackson III. I. Would. L O V E. To. Turn. This. Car. Around. I would LOVE to backtrack through this old backlot. Hell, I would love to pass by that old crazy kookaburro security guard, say hi to him again, and maybe even share a bite of his pb & b.!!! But Woody, I said this once, and I said this twice, and then I said it three times..but, because I love you more than life itself, I will now say it for the fourth time: We are here. We are going. We will have fun. And after we will go to Jan's Deli. Okay?" “Okay,” Woody replied quickly. "Thank you," Sharon said. Then, she opened her eyes, put the idling German car from P to D, and continued on in search of their destination.

“Chaplin Building. Keaton Building. Costner Building” Sharon whispered to herself scanning the structures. “Fairbanks Jr. Building!” Woody said spotting it ahead. They found parking a little ways away. Sharon put on some lipstick and Woody asked her if he looked alright. She told him he did, and the two got out of the car. Standing outside of their respective doors, putting their coats on, staring at each other over the roof of the car, woody tried one more time, “Sharon. Can we not-” “Woody,” with finality. They laughed and walked towards the building.

The Elliott Gould Screening Room in the Fairbanks Jr. building held a capacity house of maybe 100 to 150 people. The room was somewhat small compared to "real movie theaters" and the screen wasn't very large. But, the seats were large and quite plush. They also had faded red velvet upholstering, which added to the room's aura of times passed. One could quite easily have imagined the old days in this room: Kazan and Brando watching On the Waterfront for the first time. Or the Marx Bros. watching Duck Soup for the last time. Woody and Sharon stood in the doorway of the theater and took in the crowd. It was filled, if you could call 150 people “filled”, with a of crowd of actors, directors and producers. Neither Sharon or Woody wanted to stand around in that doorway any longer than they had to, so taking her hand, Woody walked into the room and searched for two empty chairs. Along the far right wall of the skinny old theater he saw some.

They bobbed and weaved their way through the crowd, smiling and shaking hands with various acquaintances. After what seemed like hours through this social maze, they finally arrived at their seats. “Are these two taken?” Woody asked a beautiful young lady sitting alone next to the two chairs. “No. They are free,” she said kindly. Her voice was almost as soft as the 1950’s style flower print dress she was wearing, and her horn rimmed glasses and yellow plastic purse were almost out of time, or rather, completely “in time” considering the surrounding old Hollywood landscape. “Okay. Cool, “ Woody said as he sat down. Taking off his coat, he hit the young lady's right shoulder with his left elbow. “Oh I am sorry," he said apologetically. Then, continuing, "I get kind of hot...or, i mean, i get kind of nervous at these things...and...then i think i get hot BECAUSE i'm nervous, and then i start sweating kind of...so...I like your glasses.” “oh thank you...i like yours. Yeah. I don’t know what i am doing here either. But i am excited to see the movie. People tell me its really great... but, yeah, i get a little nervous too. My name is Petra by the way.” She held out her hand. “I am Woody. This is my girlfriend Sharon. Yeah. We are excited to see the movie too, but, honestly i wish, we could just wait until it came out on video...not that i don't want to see it...but...all these people...i don't know." Sharon, Woody, and Petra all nodded and sat in silence for a few beats. Then, Petra asked, “So are you involved with the movie?" “No. I am a musician. I don’t work on or in movies or whatever.” Woody answered. “Cool. Yeah. I am musician too. Well. I sing and play violin. What do you play?” Sharon laughed a little loving laugh knowing it could be a complicated answer to a simple question. You see, Woody was not only a gifted gifted guitar player, but was also an incredible recording engineer and noise maker, employing all sorts of pedals and synthesizers and rare old instruments to make haunting yet beautiful sounds. “Ugh. I kind of...well...i loved these things called Guitorgans. Have you heard of them. “ Petra shook her head, Sharon smiled and listened as her boyfriend tried to explain the almost unexplainable. “Oh. Well, their kind of like...well...they are like...um...a perfect combination of a guitar and an organ: GUIT -ORGAN. Like half guitar half organ.” “What. Wait. What? I don’t get it. What does it look like? A big organ with strings on it like a guitar??” Petra laughed. She was interested and yet totally baffled. “No no, it looks like a Gibson hollowbody, you know what i mean? The rounded double cut away ones, like Chuck Berry played? Okay, so it looks like that but it’s got all these buttons and switches on it that trigger Hammond Organ sounds.” “WOW” Petra twisted her upper body, turning her back on the crowded room, and faced Woody and Sharon. Petra opened her plastic yellow purse and took out a little notepad and wrote down the words GUIT ORGAN HALF ORGAN HALF GUITAR. WOODY. Woody, excited, continued, “Yeah, and the best part about them is that you can run the guitorgan out and into pedals or filters or whatever. It can make some odd sounds. I have lots of them. “ Sharon laughed and said. “Yeah, our dining room looks like a GUIT ORGAN factory.” They all laughed. Woody's laugh, though, was a combination of embarrassment and pride. Then, backtracking, “I also just have normal guitars too. So, yeah i don't want you to think that i just weird things like optigons and chamberlins and Synthi's and stuff.” “Wait what are those??” Petra couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was like talking to a musician/scientist or something. “Chamberlins? You haven't seen one? They are like, i guess early samplers, or keyboards. They have tapes in them on spools. And on the tapes are recordings of real instruments. The chamberlin is kind of like a mellotron. You know mellotron?? Strawberry Fields Forever? The Beatles??" Then, out of what seemed like nowhere, Woody said, "OH wait, are you Petra, as in Petra HADEN??” “uh huh” petra said, smiling. “Cool. I heard your solo record. Imaginary Land right? It was great i thought. I loved how it was all a capella. I really liked it. I don't like a lot of stuff. So i am not lying, so you know. Are you working on another album?” “No. I have some song fragments, but, nothing that i think is ready to record. I cant believe you heard the album. “ “No it was great. You really are a great singer.” “Thank you so much. So, you play? Obviously. Duh. Stupid question after telling me about all your instruments. No, what i meant was, are you playing around town, or do you sing or are you in a band?" Woody answered, almost cutting her off, out of excitement not rudeness, "Yeah, i used to be in this band called Friends of Dean Martinez but now i am not. I have just been kind of writing songs alone. I have a bunch of ideas. But, yeah, like you said, they aren't really ready to be recorded. They are ideas and need some more stuff over them. I have the rough ideas, but, nothing is too focused right now.”

Just then, the lights of the theater began to dim and crowd of actors, directors and producers hushed as they ran for their seats. The theater grew darker and darker until it was pitch black. Then, just before the film started, Woody leaned over and to Petra and whispered, “ I know it sounds weird. All the instruments I mean. They are kind of weird, and i have hard time describing things anyways, especially THOSE kinds of things. But, i was thinking, maybe any time you wanted to, you could come up to our house and see all the instruments in person. Then you could if you like them. Maybe they could give you some good ideas for your unfinished songs. And...i don't know...i have a bunch recording equipment there, and maybe if you wanted to, you could play me your ideas and i could play you mine. Or if i that sounds like too much i am sorry. Nevermind” Petra giggled a little. The movie began before Petra could answer. For a the first few minutes of the movie, Woody felt a little embarassed that perhaps he had come on too strong to a total stranger. But, that was just it, she didn't seem like a total stranger. Maybe it was because he knew her music. Maybe it was because they were both odd men out in a room of Hollywood types. Regardless, he hadn't seen any reason not to ask. The timing might have been poor Woody thought. But soon, as the movie began to get intense, all of Woody's worries evaporated in joy he had in watching the film. It was so captivating. Not only to Woody, or Petra or Sharon, but to the entire audience. People were transfixed. Woody was particularly taken by Vincent Gallo's cool red boots. He thought they looked great and wanted to get a pair as soon as he could find them. After about ten minutes, Petra, quietly turned her head to Woody and replied, “I would love too.” Woody smiled. Petra smiled as well. Even Sharon smiled, because she knew Woody had found someone to play music with.

The audience stood on their feet when the movie ended. It was adored. Woody and Sharon applauded loudly. Someone even whistled and hooted. After the lights came up, the guests all began to stand and stretch their legs. Petra remained seated and dug around in her purse. A second later she pulled out a pencil and paper. She wrote down her number, closed her purse, stood up and handed her information to Woody. "Here is my number. I really would love to come up sometime and see your place and all those great sounding instruments. That sounds great. I can't imagine what they all look like." "Great. Well, I will call you and we hopefully get together soon. Yeah. Like i said, its not big deal if you don't want to. Or, if you just want to see the gear. I just thought you would like it." "No, honestly, Woody, i really would love to come over. Where do you live?" "On Old GoldRush Lane. In Trickles Canyon." "Oh, is it far up in the canyon?" "Yeah. About 3 miles. Not too bad." "No i only asked because i dont drive. I take the bus. So maybe, if i took the bus to near Sunset and Fairfax could you pick me up around there?" "Yeah. NO i will just pick you up. I will call you . We can figure it out then." "Great," Petra said. She was very happy she had met both Sharon and Woody that night. Then, Woody added, "So, i will call you this week. I leave on Thursday for Montana. But I am back on Saturday. So, maybe next Monday? " "Sure. Montana? That sounds fun. Are you playing music out there?" "No, I actually also like to take pictures. And, i guess i really love to photograph nature and wild life...rare birds in particular. And in Montana there is a rare bird called a Brady Bird. It actually has curly red feathers and a it looks like it is always smiling. It is great. Also, they have these rare crickets called Boz Crickets. They are white with black circles around their eye area. They look like Panda Bears but they are crickets. Anyways, yeah, they only exist in Montana. So that was long and boring answer i guess. I like a lot of stuff." Petra was smiling picturing a panda like cricket and a red curly feathered bird. "No, that sounds, almost as amazing as a guitorgan. Do they have guit-crickets??" They all laughed. Eventually, after the long single file out had dispersed, and they were all outside, they shook hands and parted ways. Woody and Sharon went to Jan's deli on Beverly Blvd. That was where they had gone on their first date. They go back because they like the soup.

After his trip, which, in the world of nature photography, is still to this day considered by most, to be a true milestone, Woody called Petra at her home in Pacific Palisades, Ca, and the two made a plan to meet up and play each other their song sketches. They agreed to meet up on a Tuesday, and when that day rolled around, there could not have been a more perfect day to play music. Outside the sky was blue and whatever clouds there were made shapes that resembled zoo animals. There was an easy going breeze and the trees swayed in it like people on a roller coaster with their arms raised above their hands.

Woody whistled as he walked down to his car. Getting in, he adjusted the seat and mirror to his liking and made his way down his gravel driveway on Old Gold Rush Lane. Instead of taking the freeway, which ultimately would have gotten him there in a shorter amount of time, Woody opted for gentle twists and slow curves of Mulholland Drive. He rolled down his window and stuck out his left arm. He loved to let his hands blow in the wind.

At exactly 2 pm, Woody pulled up outside a 1920's cottage, shaded from the sun by two large oak trees. The house was mint green and had white trim. The front door was thin yet tall, and in the center of it, was a stain glass window. It was two stories, and had pitched roof, which Woody figured was an attic space. There was a long driveway, and standing at the end of it, on the sidewalk, waving to Woody, was Petra. She wore a similar, but different, 1950’s flower print dress. She also still had on her horn rimmed glasses, and carried her yellow purse. There were two new additions. On each of her hands, Petra wore delicately woven, lace gloves. They were thin, and must not have been too hot. They had yellow bows near the underside of the wrist, and appeared to by almost brand new. Secondly, she held in her left, gloved, hand, a small brown violin case. She smiled as Woody pulled up in front of her home. Petra opened the car door for herself, and said as she sat down and buckled herself in, “Hi Woody! Thanks for coming to get me! This is gonna be fun! How was Montana?. “It was great.” he answered. "I have the pictures back at the house to show you if you- -wait, what’s the fastest way back to Hollywood?” He put the car in gear and switched on his blinker. “Oh, um, well i don't drive much like i said, so i don't know. But when i go into Hollywood on the bus it usually just takes sunset the whole way.” “Okay cool. So yeah, I can show you the pictures at the house. The panda crickets were insane looking. You can't believe all the great stuff out in nature. So, sorry, i am talking a lot. i am nervous to play you my songs...well...they're not even really songs, so...0nly Sharon has heard them...but if you don't like them its ok...my feelings wont be hurt." "Woody," Petra said looking at him square in the eye, "i am nervous too. Let's just agree right now to be nervous together."

The rest of the drive back to Woody’s house/studio consisted of more talks of the Brady Bird and the elusive yet cute panda like Boz crickets; likes and dislikes; and intense arguments about whether or not tennis was actually sport or if it was only skill. I.E. : “ANYONE CAN LEARN HOW TO PLAY TENNIS!!!” “ No way. Not EVERYONE could be a great tennis player. You are born with it” “NO ANYONE CAN DO IT.” “OH REALLY YOU MEAN I COULD BE AGASSI”

At around 3 pm they returned to 2115 Old Goldrush Lane. The trip took longer because of traffic and its worsening due to the time of day. Woody’s studio was a two story converted garage, separate from the house. It was technically painted "Nantucket Grey" but for some odd reason looked Army green. Woody liked Army green because some of his power supplies for his old microphones were also this color. The main house, a beautiful 1930’s ranch house, by contrast, was off white with light blue trim, and looked like belonged in a romantic movie. Inside, the converted garage/studio, Petra found a treasure chest of old guitars, chamberlins, drums, marimbas, modular synthesizers, a mixing console from Abbey Road, and assortment of microphones ranging from pristine Neumann u47’s and u67’s to battered but character filled ElectroVoice 666’s. Woody’s studio was like a museum. Yet, instead of fine works of art hanging on the walls, there were old beaten up guitars, reverb units, mandolins and basses. Neatly scattered around the studio were restored pianos, mellotrons and thermins, most of which, had been found in disrepair by Woody, and revived piece by piece by hand by Woody.

Petra’s jaw dropped as she set down her violin and purse down atop an old Bosendorffer grand piano. “This place is amazing!!!! Look at all this stuff! I haven’t heard of half of this stuff!!! What is a Guitarette??” she asked picking up a tiny guitar shaped instrument. “Eno used them. You strum it. But, it sounds like bells. It makes random sounds. Listen. “ He plugged in the instrument and showed her how to play it. She smiled as she heard the chimey wonder. After about a half hour or so of wandering around the studio, picking up and messing around on the variety of rare instruments, Woody and Petra sat down on the floor to play each other their songs(on cd). Woody, sheepishly took out a cd from a CaseLogic Booklet marked WOODY’S SONG SKETCHES AND SOUND TESTS and inserted it into the cd player. Petra smiled when she saw that Woody had written on his cd in sharpie, such a serious sounding title. He hit play and looked down at his shoes. Then, slowly, from the speakers, aching sweet acoustic guitar finger picking began to play. Woody hit the pause button and said, “So, like i said these are just ideas and not really finished and they need work and stuff. i have some ideas of melodies that could go over them." "Woody, i thought we were both gonna be nervous together! come on, i only heard two seconds, and it sounded great. just play it. i am excited." Woody nodded, hit the Play button and looked down again. His heart pumped harder and harder as each chord changed. Major to minor. His face became beaded with sweat. His glasses fogged up and he removed and cleaned them with his shirt. His red boots tapped on the wooded floor. His nails, once a good looking length, were soon consumed by a ravenous nervous mouth.

The song ended on a C chord. There was a silence. And then more silence. And then an even more silent silence. Woody looked out his window at a bird that had landed on a railing. Then, seeming to from sitting to standing in one direct dancer like movement, Petra got up and paced around the room. She hummed to herself, at first very quietly , and then louder and louder. Woody watched her. Not sure what to do. Should he leave the room? Let her be alone? Would that seem rude and heart her feelings? “Can i record an idea i have for that song?” She asked still singing, in between notes. Woody was stunned by the question. 'Could i record an idea i have for the song' he repeated to himself in his mind. “ Does that mean you liked it?” He finally asked. “Are you kidding me. YES! I never react to music. I cant stop singing. I hear all these different harmonies i could put over it. It is great. But, please, can you set up a microphone fast. I don't want to forget this idea!!!!" And with that, Woody too, seemed to rise, dancer like, from a crossed legged seated position on the floor, to standing and pacing. He opened drawers, searching for a mic clip. He opened his mic locker and took out a Telefunken 251 and set it up. He turned on his gear. Armed his mic. Ran it through his fairchild to his pultec and sent it to his echo chamber and back into his Abbey Road console. “Would it be okay if you got a vocal sound that you liked and then taught me how to hit record, and then i could be in here alone and mess around with some ideas? I like to sing alone. I am used to it. I don’t want to waste your time. Would that be okay?” Petra asked. “Oh sure. Yeah. I will set it up. So all you have to do is just hit this button,” he referring to big button labeled REC, “ and then if you don’t like it hit it again.” Petra was a fast learner and within minutes was off an running. Woody gently closed the studio door behind him, and as he made his way to the main house, he laughed out loud. He thought, " Is this really happening? Are we already recording??"

In the main house, Woody found Sharon, lying on her side in the shape of an S, reading The Taming of the Shrew. He kicked off his boots, set his glasses down on the floor beside them, and got on the couch and snuggled with Sharon. "How's it going in there," she asked still reading. "Great," Woody said, almost goofily, "She is in there recording." Sharon put down her book and turned her head around. "Oh Woody! That is so exciting. You write beautiful music. She is an amazing singer who also writes beautiful music. I have a good feeling about this." "I do too." Sharon and Woody kissed for a second. Then, she turned her head back around and turned to the next page of the book. About an hour, Sharon had fallen asleep, and now it was Woody who found himself deeply engrossed in the Shakespeare classic. Then, Woody is startled by a light tapping on the living room window. He looked up, over Sharon, to find a smiling Petra beckoning him to come outside. The hand gestures she made, implied that she thought she might have something good. Woody, put down the book, and slid his arm out from underneath the back of Sharon's neck. As he did that, she whispered, "i love you Wood." That was the first time Sharon had ever told Woody that, and he knew she meant it, because she was still asleep. People don't lie when they talk in their sleep.

Petra was giddy as Woody entered the studio. She was pacing once again, and her fingers were playing with each other. Woody could relate, and didn't look at her so as not to make her feel uncomfortable. "I am excited but really nervous right now. But we said we were gonna be nervous together, so i am just gonna be nervous together with you. Now, remember these are just rough ideas. I did them really fast." "Petra. You are stalling." And with that, Woody hit play. The first couple of seconds were the same as Woody had left them: Solo acoustic finger picking. And then, something new, crept in on the left speaker. A voice. A small pretty melody that floated atop the guitar, ducked in and out, making a perfect musical counterpoint. Woody, smiled inside. Then, another voice, another Petra came from the right speaker singer another counter melody. Woody looked up at her. She was looking down. Sweating. Then another voice and then another and then another until Woody lost count. Within 30 seconds, Woody found himself completely and happily overtaken by the most incredible harmonies he had ever heard. They practically seeped out of the speakers. Counter melodies crissed and crossed. Her voice resolved dissonant harmonies into a Beach Boys like harmonies and vice versa.

Slowly, the song came to its end, and just as gently as the harmonies had joined the lonely guitar, so too did they leave it to be end the song alone again. Then, there was nothing. It was the beginning. They smiled. At the ground.

For the next few months Woody would drive to Petra's house, where she would be standing at the end of her long driveway, in a 1950's flower print dress, horn rimmed glasses, a yellow plastic purse, and brown little violin case. Together, they would drive across Los Angeles, and talk about rare birds, crickets; likes and dislikes; and yes, whether or not tennis was in fact a true sport or rather a learned skill that almost any one could pick up. When they would finally arrive at old GoldRush Lane, Petra would always like to walk around the studio and ask Woody about the history of each of the instruments. He likes to show her new old things he has found that he cannot wait to restore. And after a while, like they had done that one Tuesday afternoon so not so long ago, Woody, would leave Petra alone with a mic and a recording machine. And, there all alone, with Woody next door snuggling with Sharon, Petra Haden would lay down vocals and record songs.

The record TEN YEARS will finally come out this fall. Though the entire recording process only took a couple of months to record, it has taken almost a decade for it to find its way out into the world. For years, it was a very secret or private thing passed around to friends close to Petra and Woody. Now, finally, it can be everybody’s secret.

written but not corrected by Jason Schwartzman