December 22, 1985
Jimmy asked if I still had a copy of “Francis and the Wolf,” a tape we
did just prior to Christmas, 1976 mocking Frank’s life.
We recorded it stoned in a tiny third floor room in a rooming house in
Montclair after a drop of finances forced me to move back there.
I told him I still had a copy of “Francis,” a similar, shorter and less
vicious tape we recorded the previous Christmas season when I still had the
Teac reel to reel, and still lived in “the fancy apartment” on Paulison Avenue
in Passaic.
The highlight of this tape was the tracking Jimmy and I did on the
title song, “Francis,” in which we made ourselves sound like a choir and
included such notable lyrics, “Francis, Francis, please don’t pull down your
pants.”
This also included a speeded-up clip from Bob Dylan’s “Positively
Fourth Street,” where it said, “You have a lot of nerve to say you are my
friend.”
At a tease, Jimmy also included a snip it from the Nova Scotia tape he
knew Frank was desperate to have a copy of.
We were all not every happy with each other at that point, at least not
happy with Frank, and we had found a creative way to abuse him. But I think
Jimmy was a little peeved when Frank found “Francis Francis” amusing and so
that next year we went ape shit seeking to really push things too far.
We doubled tracked by using two tape recorders – since I had sold the
Teac in order to put a down payment on a new car.
This was to be the ultimate biography of Frank’s life, using sound
effect records and all. We even wrote new songs for it, such as Frank’s drinking
song, and a song for his funeral, as well as a song called “Rona from Corona
(let’s go all the way) mocking his girlfriend, Rona” who to that point we had
not yet met.
This was a major effort, a psychological journey through our sub conscious
that reflected our feelings about the man at that time.
Rich Gordy after hearing the completed work asked that we never do a
tribute of that kind for him – and he was serious.
We hand delivered the tape, too, showing up a week or so before
Christmas. A cold spell had set in. We expected him to put it into his tape
player and listen, and we anticipated watching his reaction. But he must have sensed
something about it and did not listen then and there, but suggested we go someplace
– an echo of the magical mystery tours we took when younger, some of which we
took on Christmas Eve.
We went south to Toms River to a stretch of beach below the Barnegat
Light House – a trip designed to help us remember this particular year as other
things on other Christmas Eves had, such as the flat tire Frank’s car had in
front of my mother’s apartment on Trenton Avenue one year. Frank came to pick me
up and was concern, telling me he couldn’t figure out what the funny noise was
coming from the back end of his car.
The following Christmas Eve we also had a flat. This time Jimmy,
Garrick, Lewis and me were in the car with him and we all piled out to change
the tire, dragging out the needed gear from the trunk only to discover Frank
hadn’t bothered fixing the tire from last year and had simply dumped it into
the trunk as his spare.
Garrick tossed Frank’s hat up and it landed on the “N” of the Clifton
Auto sign and when Jimmy jumped up to retrieve it, he knocked down the “N”
along with the hat. For years, whenever anybody mentioned “Clifto” Auto, we all
laughed.
The beach was in deep freeze. Our teeth chattered as we made our way
nearer the water.
Frank had brought a bag of potato chips which he munched on as he
walked next to Jimmy, dropping some of the crumbs which were immediately retrieved
by squawking sea gulls.
“Stop that!” Jimmy yelled as the gulls swarmed around his legs. “I’ve
already seen this movie.”
This was also on tape although like “Francis and the Wolf” has vanished
over time – even though it was Frank’s goal to preserve these special moments
for posterity.
Eventually in private, Frank must have listened to “Francis and the Wolf,”
but he never acknowledged it. He may have understood the deeper implications of
his father’s funeral scene in which Jimmy said, “That was touching, the way Frank
threw the bottle in the grave,” although he must have thought Jimmy’s erection
song funny, “There are three kinds of erections,” he sang. Perhaps having Frank’s
head chopped off at one point and having his body searching for is through most
of the tape was a bit too much, although that was the part I liked best,
especially when we had the head put on a jet airplane and take off as the body
chased it, Jimmy saying in conclusion, “Don’t forget to write.”
Now, all these years later, Jimmy wants to listen to it again, just in
time for Christmas.
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