Backyard Boys

That’s Jamie on the right with his best friend, David Lambert when they were 9 or 10.

David lived two houses over on our cul-de-sac. He and Jamie were friends from kindergarten.

A year or two before this picture, Jamie and David almost burned down their fort in the netherworlds of our huge backyard. The fort was smartly hidden by some bushes at the farthest point from our house on a point where two creeks met.

I used to “watch” both of my brothers over the summer when mom and dad were at work. I got an allowance for that and cleaning the house. It was pretty sweet deal. 

I was the boss.

It wasn’t always a walk in the park, though. 

If you took your eyes off a pair of 8 year old boys for more than a few minutes, all hell could break loose.

I was probably practicing my guitar, while they were in the backyard playing. I looked every few minutes just to make sure they were still there. I noticed at one point they were up to something, but I couldn’t tell what. The best I could tell, they were digging a hole. 

That’s normal. Boys love to dig holes, I was down with hole digging. They were doing it right, too. I learned the hard way you aren’t supposed to dig huge holes in the middle of the front yard.

Jamie had learned a lot from the mistakes Paulie and I made over the years, but I guess he wasn’t around when I burned my eyebrows off messing with a milk jug, gasoline, and some matches.

I hadn’t seen either one of them for a few minutes, so I decided to go check. As I walked out through the garage I noticed the gas can was gone. That’s weird.

I walked out into the yard to see Jamie squatting down in the creek to my left, with a strange look on his face. Then, I look to my right and David is suddenly running like a bat out of hell across the yard toward his house.

“David! What’s going on?” 

He was gone.

What the hell?

“Jamie, what are you doing?” I called.

He answered just like he did every time I asked that question.

“Nuthin.”

Something was up, I just didn’t know what. He squatted there with this weird expression on his face. He looked guilty and like he was in pain at the same time. 

Then I smelled it. Gasoline.... and smoke. 

“Shit, Mus! What did you do?” I yelled.

I ran back to the fort. There was a big hole in the ground that was charred, and the grass around the fort was burned. The gas can laid over by the bushes and there was a box of matches spilled on the ground next to the hole.

Shit!

They were lucky they didn’t burn down the fort and half the backyard. I’m sure David was scared, so I understood why he took off. He had seen my wrath before. 

Then it hit me. Jamie.

I ran to the creek where he was squatted down in the water. 

“Mus! Are you okay?” I asked, splashing into the creek.

“I’m sorry, Mike! I’m sorry! David did it!”

I pulled him up, his white shorts were now green from the moss in the creek, and his legs were red as hell. I checked him over... his hands were red too. 

“It burns, Mike! It hurts really bad,” he moaned. His eyes were tearing up. 

“What happened?” I asked as I inspected him, frantically.

He looked at me, wide eyed. 

“When David threw the match in the hole, the fire blew everywhere! It got on me!”

Jamie was really too big for me to carry at that point, but he was a skinny ass, so I grabbed him, and started jogging to the house.

“You know you aren’t supposed to play with matches and gas, Mus! Why did you do that?” I asked him as we stumbled into the bathroom. 

“I don’t know,” he said.

Another classic Jamie answer.

I could relate. I used it quite a bit myself.

I couldn’t be mad at him. I felt so bad! I could tell he was hurting. His hands were starting to blister. Dammit! I just wanted him out of pain.

I put him in the bathtub and started the cold water.

Paulie heard the commotion, and came running into the bathroom.
"What happened?"
"He got burned... Paul, will you get all the the ice trays out of the freezer?"
He stood there for a second, and then said, "Burned?" 
He sprang into action.

As the water rose up on his legs I could see blisters forming on them as well.
"It hurts, Mike." 
"I know Jamie, listen.. It's gonna feel better. We are going to put ice in here. It's going to be cold as shit, but it will help."
He looked at me with those big baby blues, and said, "Please don't tell mom and dad, Mike. Please. I'll never play with matches again, I promise!"

Poor kid. He was already hating life, but he was still worried about getting in trouble. We had a few incidents before this one that we were able to cover up, but I didn't see us skating this time. Our bro code was very strong, even then. Jamie had covered for Paulie and I quite a few times. He was very good at pleading the fifth with mom and dad. Like I said, we got a lot of milage out of "I don't know," back then. Spicoli had nothing on us.

I gave it to him straight. "I don't know," I paused looking at his blistered hands. Paulie came in and started emptying ice trays into the tub. "Put your hands down in the water. Maybe... maybe, if these blisters go down, we wont tell them."

He lowered his shaking hands into the chilly water, and let out a hiss as he did.
Paulie and I looked at each other. It was a look we had shared many times...we are so screwed.

Jamie sat in the water for a few minutes. He started to shiver, but he never complained about being cold. The cold water was bringing relief. We sat there with him and watched to see if the blisters on his hands got any worse. Thank God, they didn't. There were a few coming up on his legs, but they were very small. His hands worried me, though. I knew we were not going to be able to hide this one. Plus, I wasn't going to take a chance on making the situation any worse by trying to hide it, and risking his health in any way. I didn't know how serious the burns were.

He looked at me, pitifully. He knew.

"I have to call her, Mus."

He looked at his blistered hands. "I know," he sighed. "You think I'm in big trouble?"

"Well," I said, "Since you're burned up, you will probably not get it too bad... at least not right now. Does it feel any better?"

"Yeah, a little bit." He whispered through clinched teeth.

"Go ahead and call her."

I called mom at work with emergencies a few times since I had been watching Jamie and Paul over the summers. This one is the only one I remember, though.

"Tom T Hall Enterprises, Judi speaking." She answered.

"Uh, hey mom, it's Mike. Listen, something happened."

"What's wrong, Michael?"

I tried to choose my words carefully, but I knew there was no way to avoid the inevitable.

"Well, it's not as bad as I thought, and we have him in the bathtub...."

"Bathtub? Who? What are you talking about?" She asked. Her voice was a little higher.

I let out a stream of sentences in one long breath that basically covered the whole story in 20 seconds. I ended with, "But, he's okay! Just some blisters on his hands and legs. I think he's going to be fine."

"BLISTERS?" She yelled. "Michael Andrew! Why weren't you watching him?"

Well, there it was. Everybody on Clearwater Drive was going to be in trouble now. She didn't even say goodbye.

Not one minute later, Betsy Lambert, David's mom, came busting in the house.

Betsy and mom had been best friends since we moved to Edge-O-Lake in 1968. She was very sweet, and loved us, but she was no nonsense, and could be kinda scary when she was mad. She was mad.
"Where is he?" She asked.
David came sulking in behind her. I shot him the evil eye from hell.

We pointed toward the bathroom.

Mom called Betsy, told her what happened and that she was on the way home. Betsy came over, checked on Jamie, then called mom. She told her yes, he was burned, but it was not an emergency and she would wait until mom got there, then they would take him to the doctor if she thought he needed to go. She scolded David under her breath in between sentences while mom was talking on the other end. Good times.

Paulie and I went to the den and sat on the couch. We were like two prisoners awaiting our sentence. Paulie didn't do anything wrong, but that didn't matter. In situations like this, all you had to do was be there to get in trouble.

It turned out the burns looked worse than they actually were. Mom and Betsy put some cream on his hands and legs, propped him up on pillows in his bed, then mom took him to the doctor the next day.
We all got a stern lecture, but the fact that it was not serious, and our fast reaction apparently saved Jamie from scarring, we got off easy. I even got a few "attaboys" in the days that followed.

Hero status didn't last long, though. Guess who was assigned the job of trimming back all the bushes in the back yard and tearing down the fort?
Mmm Hmm.

As far as I can remember, Jamie never played with fire again.


***

We loved our big backyard. We practically lived there whenever we were home. I hated having to go inside at night. We were always up to something and always had a project of some sort going on back there. Having a creek on each side of the yard was pretty sweet, too. 

One time I built a ramp and tried to jump the creek. That’s another blog, though.

I still feel bad about blowing up frogs and craw dads with firecrackers, and building the damn in the creek that flooded our neighbor Smitty’s yard. 

One time we mowed out a three hole chip and putt golf course in the backyard. Dad let us keep it for a couple weeks until the rough got so high that the neighbors started bitching.

My favorite backyard memory is about Jamie when he was 10 or 11, I was 16 or 17.

He had a section to the left, about 20 yards back where the yard met the bank of the creek. It was where he would build his intricate “Matchbox” worlds. 

It was not only Matchbox cars; he would use Hotwheels,  army men, Legos, Lincoln Logs, Tonka Trucks and other little model buildings. 

He would carve out roads in between tufts of grass, and build little villages along the ridge of the creek bank. He had these little roads going out to different outposts in different areas.

It was amazing! 

This particular Saturday morning, I came home after being up all night. I think I told mom I spent the night with Jeff or Joey. I don’t remember what happened, I just know I didn’t want to go inside.

I saw Jamie, busy with something, so I went over to see what he was up to.

“Whatcha doin’?” I asked.

“Nuthin.’” He responded. 

Then he made a noise, “Zzzzzzrrrrrroooom!” That was his truck noise. He was pushing a Tonka truck over to the edge of the cliff to dump some dirt. He was very focused on his project.

I grabbed my favorite little blue Hotwheel motorcycle and started doing some motocross on the little track he had. 

“Vrrrrroooommm!” I said, as I spun out and then did a jump off the edge of the “cliff,” landing perfectly and climbing back up, “Rrrrrr Rrrrrr Rrrrrr...”

He smiled, and kept digging.

Jamie’s feral cat, Ben came wondering over while we were playing. 

“Is Ben gonna be Godzilla today?” I asked. 

He grabbed Ben up, and snuggled his neck. The cat started licking his face. 

“Nah, I’m doing construction today.”

I sat there, a little hungover, and looked in wonder at my sweet little brother. He was dirty and sweaty, but he was so beautiful. I was overcome with emotion in that moment. I loved him so much.

He put Ben down, and I bent over and gave him a hug. 

“I love you, Mus.”

We hugged a lot in my family, but this one was kind of out of the ordinary. Plus, it had probably been awhile. I had been off being a teenager for a long time.

He pulled away, but I wouldn’t let him go. “Mmmmmwhhhhuah!” I kissed him on the cheek.

“Ewwwww! Gross! Mike, stopuuht!” 

I started laughing. I let him go. 

He looked at me, half smiling, “Gross, what’s wrong with you?” 

“Nuthin, I just love you,” I said.

He looked at me curiously, then said:

“I love you too, but your breath stinks. You smell like beer. You better go brush your teeth before mom smells it.”

“I will later. Can I stay here and play with you for a while?” I asked.

“Yeah. Let’s go down there,” he pointed at the creek, “I was gonna make a boat ramp down there.”

Okay, Jamie... Mom said you can be in the band. (Part 2)

There’s that P bass. 

The picture above is from our show in the parking lot of Cat’s Records on Nolensville Road. It was the summer of ‘84 and SIMMONZ was on a roll. 

There were probably 1000 people at that show. It was our biggest crowd yet.

Many of the pictures from that year feature Jamie’s red and white rockstar shirt and silver spandex pants. He had cool wristbands too! Very Judas Priest. 

Things really started to take off when we got Robert “Bobby” Eva to manage the band. My memory is kind of foggy, but I think Bobby pushed us to call the band SIMMONZ. He had been helping us toward the end of the Assault days and was a big proponent of Jamie coming into the band. Easlo used to joke that he wanted to call the band “EASLO,” but he was outvoted 3 to 1.

It made sense to call the band SIMMONZ, since it was three brothers on the instruments. Easlo was a good sport about it. 

As our heroes Van Halen said, we hit the ground runnin’.

It was an awesome time.... that almost never happened.

***

When I pulled up to mom’s house, Jamie was finishing up mowing the front yard. He didn’t look happy. 

Mom, Jay, Aunt Jacque, Paw Paw Bates, and Jamie had moved out to a big house in suburban Franklin Tennessee. Jamie had just finished 10th grade and got his drivers license. He didn’t have a car yet, so mom made him do chores as a trade to use her maroon Chevy station wagon on weekends.

Mom had no idea what we had been up to... until now.

He shut down the lawnmower and came walking toward me, looking over his shoulder. 

“She said no way, Mike. She’s not gonna let me!” He said, looking at me desperately.

I took a long draw on the last of my Marlboro, and tossed it.

“I didn’t think this through,” I said, contemplating the situation. “Damn it, Mus. What did she say?”

“She said ‘There’s no way I’m letting you run around in clubs with your brothers doing God knows what! I know they will be drinking and I don’t even want to know what else. You are not going to be around that!’ That about covers it. She also said something about it being illegal for me to be in clubs, I don’t know, she’s pissed, Mike. She wonders why you didn’t talk to her about it first.”

My boy was bummed.

“Does this mean I can’t be in the band?” 

“No, it does not mean that!” I said, doing my best to calm his fears. “Listen, I’m gonna go talk to her. It’ll be okay.”

I told him to finish mowing the yard, and then get ready for practice. I didn’t know how this was going to go down, but I just knew it couldn’t end like this.

Mom was sitting in her chair in the den when I came in the back door. 

“Hey mom! You are looking gorgeous today!” I said, in my sweetest, oldest son voice.

Pepper the dog jumped out of her lap and ran to greet me.

“Mmm hmm,” she said. “Don’t even try that.”

“Try what?” I asked, innocently.

She wasn’t smiling. “You know what. How in the world could you think I would let Jamie run around playing clubs with you boys? He’s 16 years old. He’s still in high school! This is not going to happen, Michael Andrew. And why would you get his hopes up like that?”

“Because he’s bad ass, mom!” It was all I could come up with. I didn’t expect her to come out swinging like that.

I quickly followed. “He’s really good, mom. Really good. He’s got it in his genes! He got it from you! I know he’s only 16, but he’s a great kid, you know that. You can trust him. You have taught him so well.”

She wasn’t buying it.

I kept going. “Look, I promise you, I won’t let anything happen. We won’t even play that many clubs,” I lied, “Most of our shows will be parties and outdoor gigs.”

“What kind of parties?” She asked, suspiciously.

“Birthday parties!” I said, smiling.

“Oh bullshit, Michael! You must think I’m stupid.”

“No, I’m serious! Our first gig is a birthday party for Lee Greenwood’s daughter.”

Actually, our first gig was booked at Cantrell’s, the local rock club, slash beer joint, two weeks from then. But, the birthday party was the next night.

She looked at me, stoically.

“Mom, listen. I’ll be totally responsible for him. I’ll make sure he never drinks or anything. I’ll make him leave right after the gigs so he’s home by midnight on the weekends, before the curfew. We will even load out his gear so he can leave early. We won’t practice late on weekdays, so he can get home by what? 10?” 

I detected a shift in her demeanor.

“Mom, I promise. It will be fine.” 

I had to go for the kill.

“It will make him so happy, mom. He’s always wanted to be in a band with his brothers. If you don’t let him, it’s going to crush him! He is so excited about this. He’s worked so hard!”

She loved her baby. 

“I don’t know, Michael.” She trailed off.

Yes.

I knew it was in the bag at that point. The rest was just agreeing to any rules she laid down and making a few more promises so she would feel okay about it. I fully intended on keeping them too, I knew we just dodged a bullet. Mom wasn’t going to take too much shit on this one, especially when school started back in the fall. 

The last thing she said was, “If anything happens, it’s gonna be your ass, Michael. I don’t care how old you are.” She went on, “From now on, when he is with you guys, he is your responsibility. If anything happens, I will shut this down.”

Fair enough.

I walked out, Jamie was putting the lawnmower away.

I fired up a cig, and gave him a big, happy smile.

“Okay, Jamie, mom said you can be in the band.”

“No shit?” He exclaimed. “NO SHIT?....Hell yeah!” 

He ran over and gave me a hug. 

“Get off me, ya queer!” I kissed his sweaty head.

“Thanks, Mike. Thanks for talking to her. I didn’t think she would go for it. I thought we were screwed!” He was happy. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” I laughed, “Let’s go in and talk to her. We gotta go over the rules.”

“Rules?” He asked, curiously.

Mom laid down the law for the next thirty minutes. We sat solemnly, nodded our heads, and said “Yes, mam,” about fifty times.

I’d like to say we never broke any of the rules.

I’d like to say that.

***

From the very first note of our first rehearsal, everything clicked. 

He was so bad ass. We were so blown away that we would just start laughing at the end of each song. 

Jamie didn’t know what to think at first. He asked if anything was wrong.

“Hell no! You are just kicking so much ass! You are killing us you skinny son of a bitch!”

There was a lot of laughter that night. 

He was in!

There was never a question.

From the very beginning, there was pure joy whenever we got together to play in SIMMONZ. It was like that from day one, and it all started when Jamie joined the band.

Jamming had been fun before, but it never felt like this. He brought something very special to the band not only with his playing, but with his gentle spirit, energy, and enthusiasm.

He was the missing link and everything gelled once he was in the band.

I took it for granted for a long time. I was really a kid, too. I had no way of seeing the effect he had back then, like I can now.

Our first show with Jamie was on a Thursday night at Cantrell’s in Nashville. 

Word got out that the Simmons brothers had a new band with Easlo on vocals and the youngest Simmons brother on bass. Our flier game was good back then, but I think most of the draw was word of mouth. We packed it on a Thursday. 

That was our last Thursday.

All I remember about that show was watching everyone in the crowd from that tiny stage. They started out all sitting calmly at their tables. By the end of the show, even more people had come in and were lining the walls. The place was going nuts! We had to play a few songs twice because we ran out of songs and the people kept wanting more. 

Jamie kicked ass that night. 

He was smiling from the time we loaded in, until we rushed him out to his car like the president after the set was over. School had just let out for summer so we had made a deal with mom for him to come home by midnight that Thursday. She didn’t know we played a club that night. 

She’s probably reading this. Mom, I swear, he didn’t drink any beer that night.

The next two shows were parties. 

I blew up my Marshall at Kelly Greenwood’s party out in the boondocks. Luckily it was at the end of one long, ass kicking set. 

We left them wanting more.

If I’m not mistaken, Kelly was Jamie’s friend from high school and he got us that gig. A lot of the people there were from his school. It was so great to see him rockstar his ass off around his peers. He had his own little fan club on his side of the stage, mostly girls going crazy,  ala Paul McCartney. 

The next night was a backyard keg party in Bell Meade. I had to use my backup amp and we built a makeshift stage. Jamie’s woodworking skills came in handy that night.

There were hundreds of people there and the cops came about 5 songs in, but we kept playing. This cop kept waving at me, trying to get me to stop playing. I kept waving back saying “Hi!” between dive bombs and burning leads from hell. 

They finally pulled the plug.

It didn’t matter, our first weekend out was a huge success.

There was a different energy around the band now that Jamie was there. You could feel it. 

A buzz started immediately around town about us. 

“A band with three brothers and a bad ass singer!”

“They sound like a cross between Van Halen and Ozzy!”

“You gotta see this band! The drummer is amazing! They are brothers and the bass player is only 16!”

You get the picture. 

We capitalized on it. Bobby started booking gigs for the rest of the summer. We played anywhere and everywhere. The crowds got bigger and the buzz got louder.

We played Cantrell’s 5 or 6 times. 

We played on a trailer out in the lawn of WKRN, local channel 2 on television.

We played Showdowns in Clarksville.

We played The Shelbyville Jam. (Below.)

Jamie stole the show that night. The concert was on a farm outside of Murfreesboro, TN. There were a bunch of bands, but they had never seen anything like us!

Jamie turned his bass upside down like Rudy Sarzo for the intro of “Feel the Knife,” and the crowd of hundreds went wild! He was all over the stage after that. He was a true showman. Paulie and I looked at each other a few times during the set and just cracked up.

Our little brother was showing us up!

We all stepped up our game after Jamie came onboard.

When we started out, Paulie and I were living in a house out in Hermitage with our girlfriends. We decided that the women were just going to hold us back, so we bailed on the house and the girls, and got a one bedroom apartment in Antioch.

I think Paulie won a coin toss, so he got the bedroom, and I got the living room. Jamie came over all the time and we were writing a ton of new songs.

"Metal Machine"
"The Road Warrior"
"Final Frontier"

Those are some very metal song titles.

We had been doing good keeping to the rules mom laid down. That won us some trust, and we took advantage of it. She started letting Jamie spend some nights and weekends with us.
He was loving his newfound freedom and getting to hang with his brothers. 

We had a few parties and I know Jamie saw some pretty wild stuff. I did my best to shield him from anything too crazy, but come on, he was 16. I know all you guys never did anything your mom didn’t want you to do when you were 16.

We rented a jam room off Nolensville Road close to Harrison Systems, where Easlo, Paulie, and myself worked soldering boards that went into recording consoles. We stored our gear there and rehearsed constantly. 

Jamie probably put 10,000 miles on the station wagon that summer. 

In August of ‘84, Paulie and I rented a big house in Antioch with Bobby Eva and Joey Hicks. It was immediately nicknamed the “Pomahouse,” thanks to Richard Pryor.

We set up SIMMONZ headquarters, and began planning our takeover of Nashville and the world.

We did a show at the Brass A in September that was to be broadcast live on local channel 39 television. It was cut with band interviews and stuff. It was a long stressful day that started with the club being locked for hours after we arrived to set up. The show went well, finally, but by the time we got back to the Pomahouse at 2am, everyone’s nerves were shot. 

Paulie and I had been bitching at each other about something, and by the time we were loading the drum riser in the house, we started fighting right there in the basement. I think there are still black marks from our leather jackets on that wall where we slammed each other around.

We never fought, so all the people helping us were stunned and freaked out, except for Jamie.

He jumped in the middle of it and pulled us apart, yelling, “Stop it you stupid mother%*#@$’s!” 

I remember thinking, damn, Jamie got strong!

After he pulled us apart, he started yelling at us reminding us how much we loved each other and how stupid we were being.

It ended with tears, apologies, and a group hug.

Looking back, I see how Jamie joining the band changed everything. He was no longer our “little” brother. We were a band. There’s nothing like being in a band... but being in a band with your brothers? That is a whole different level, especially when you love each other like we did. 

From that time on, not matter what was going on in our personal lives, we were always there for each other. 

We were on a mission.

We went through many things together in the years that followed... Many highs and many lows. 

The band broke up a few times and got back together.

We played together on different projects and with other bands.

But, whenever the three of us got together, it was like we were never apart.

Our bond only got stronger over time.

As I finish this story, it is late afternoon, March 25th.

One month since he left us. 

It still doesn’t feel real. 

His memories are real, though. They flood me all the time, and I’m grateful for it. 

I’m having to make notes, because I don’t know what I want to write next. 

The time I got my van stuck in the school yard, left it there, and Jamie ran home to warn me dad saw it?

The time I found him in the backyard building his mega city of hot wheels and army men with Ben the cat playing Godzilla?

The time he fell asleep on the beach when we were on tour and got so sunburned we called him “Sunny Redfoot?”

I’m not sure yet, but I will let you know soon.

Okay, Jamie... Mom said you can be in the band. (Part 1)

Jamie was 16 years old when we got him in the band. He may be 17 in this picture. The only way I can tell is because he's playing his new bass. When he first joined, he had a cream colored Fender Precision Bass that our stepdad, Jay, had given him.
Looking back, the P Bass was bad ass. We all know that now, but back then it had three strikes against it: 

It was a pale yellow.

It was too heavy for a 16 year old bean pole like Jamie to handle for our 90 minute set.

The action was too high, so it was hard to play. (If you were going to play metal, the instrument had to be white or black, and easy to play.)

I don't even remember what it was, but his amp was a piece of shit too.

After our first few shows, we knew we had to help him up his game. 

Cashing in a bond that our grandma gave him, Jamie and I drove down to Rhythm City in Atlanta one weekend and he bought the white Guild Pilot bass in the picture, and a killer Gallien Kruger bass rig that he used for years afterward.

That trip is just one of many fond memories of my little brother.

He drove his little Honda Hatch Back on the way down, scaring the shit out of me the whole time. A small plane even made an emergency landing on the interstate right outside of Chattanooga right in front of us. We loved that! (Even though it held us in traffic for an hour, it didn't matter, we were on an adventure.)

Jamie wanted me there so he wouldn’t buy anything "cheese." He was filling some big shoes replacing Skully, our old bass player and one of Jamie's heroes, so he needed me there to approve the upgrade.
I'm sure we could have found the same stuff in Nashville, but this store in Atlanta had a mystique back then. Plus, it was a good excuse for some brother hang time and a road trip. Paulie and I had been like ham and cheese for a long time. We were always together and had been playing in bands for years while Jamie was still playing baseball and riding bikes. Paulie and I were only two years apart, while Jamie and I were 6 years apart. It was so awesome to see the fine young man and musician Jamie was growing into, and it was exciting having him in the band now. It was great just hanging with him as a friend now, as well as a brother.
We decided on the gear, made the purchase, and I drove back. He fell asleep on the way back and I remember looking over at him sleeping in the passenger's seat. I was so happy about this latest turn of events.

We were brothers. We were a band.

We were SIMMONZ. 

The story of how we got there, is pretty cool.

***

Jamie came out to California in the early summer of '83 to visit me and Paulie, and spend the summer with dad. We were living with our dad, his second wife Kelly, and our two step sisters, Kristy and Jenny.
Paulie and I had initially come out to Los Angeles with our bass player, John Downey. John, also known as "Skully,” had convinced us that LA was the place to be, and we quickly agreed. We moved out in March of 83', briefly stayed with some friends, then moved into an apartment with the Skull and his girlfriend, Laura.
My sweet grandparents left each of the brothers a 5k bond that matured when we were 18. Well, Paulie was 18, I was 20, and we both cashed those suckers in! We were moving to California to find a singer and become the next big metal sensation. I just knew, 5k would last forever.

5k didn't last forever.

We had some great times in those first three months, but after we struck out finding the next Ronnie James Dio, Skully was headed back to Nashville to go on the road with Lust, and we were headed to dad's place in Camarillo, about 30 miles north of Hollywood.

Once we were settled in with dad, we hooked up with some local guys there, and started our next band, Ezekiel Steel. It was right around the time of Ezekiel's first gig that Jamie came out to visit his two fledgling rocker brothers.

I think he was 14 then. The first thing I remember when he got there was... "Damn! Mus, you are as tall as me!" Mus was one of his many nicknames. It was short for Jamus Bon Bonus. He begrudgingly accepted it over time. After all, it was much better than SBQWBBBB. (Short for, Skinny Boned Queer With A Big Brown Baby Butt.)

My whole perception of him changed after that.
It had been a while since I had seen him. I was amazed that my baby brother was actually growing into a young man.

While Jamie was there, Ezekiel Steel's first big gig fell through. We were so bummed and pissed off.
I think it was the next day that we got a call from Skully saying that if we came back to Nashville, there was a good chance the singer from Lust, Mike Easley, would join our band. Skully had played him a rehearsal tape we made in LA of our original songs, and "Easlo was totally amazed, mannnnn!"

We started packing. We were nothing, if not driven. And, we were about to drive, again.

As we were leaving, we both hugged Jamie and said our goodbyes.
I’ll never forget, Jamie pulling me aside.

"Mike, I'm learning the bass. I don't want to play keyboards, I want to play metal."

It felt like he had been wanting to tell me this since he got there. We were about to drive back to Nashville, so it was now or never.
When he was old enough, our plan was to get him in the band playing keyboards with us and Skully. We never dreamed there would be another bass player that could replace Skully, even after he left us hanging in LA. It was like we knew we would get back with him.

"You don't even have a bass, Mus." I said, skeptical.
"Oh yes I do! I bought a Hondo bass, and Jay just gave me his Fender P Bass!"

Then, with eyes wide, he said, “I've been practicing too. Will you show me some stuff when I get back home this fall?"

"Hell yes I will! Call me when you get back."

As we drove out of California, Paulie and I talked about how cool it would be to have a band of brothers on all three instruments. I loved the idea, but it seemed too far off. It was 1983 and Metal was hitting its prime. The clock was ticking. The age difference seemed too great, and it would be a long time before Jamie was any good.....we thought.

***

Paulie and I formed Assault in the summer of ‘83 with Mike “Cash” Easlo on vocals and Skully on bass. We were the only metal band in Nashville doing all original material. There were a few other bands around doing originals but they all played covers as well. 

The other bands were good, but our songs were a few steps above anything else that was being done in Nashville. We were heavily influenced by Dio, Iron Maiden, Rush, Van Halen, Saxon, Judas Priest and others, and our musicianship raised the bar. We were focused and inspired. We killed right off the bat. 

Nobody liked playing after us.

We lived up to our name.

We recorded a six song demo and played quite a few shows around the area. There were not many places for metal bands to play then, but we played wherever we could.

We were offered a recording contract after a show at Brass A Hickory Hollow one night. We ended up passing on it and that was the beginning of a major rift in the band.

By spring of ‘84, things had gotten very strained in the band. 

Jamie came over to the band house where Paulie and I lived around that time to hang out and show me how he was coming along on the bass. We got together a couple of times a few months before, and I showed him some scales and stuff. He told me he had been practicing for hours every day. I found out later he had been jamming with friends from school too.

I don’t know what I expected, but I was floored by what I heard.

The kid was amazing! 

Skully was an absolute bad ass on the bass. Jamie loved the way the Skull played, so he learned every song on the demo tape.... note for note!

Not only that, he had it.

He had that thing Paulie and I had. It is this musical ESP we have where one guy intuitively knows where the other guy is going. I felt it right off the bat when we started jamming in my bedroom together with my old wooden metronome. I started showing him scales and new stuff, he picked it up immediately. 

I knew right then that we were not going to have to wait for Jamie to get any older. 
It wouldn’t have mattered if we were having trouble in the band or not, this was what had to happen, I was sure of it.

I knew Paulie and Easlo would be skeptical, so Jamie and I went to the woodshed for about a week. I showed him all of the other songs and we went over and over the whole set until our fingers were numb. 

He was ready. 

By this time, we had parted ways with Skully. We were working on new demo recordings for a few weeks and he was very upset about the volume of the bass in the mix. It was a major bone of contention in the band. 

One night he said he was going to start a band with all European musicians and we told him to go ahead.

That was that.

We tried out one other guy after that, but it didn’t feel right at all. 

Everything was set. I was so excited. Jamie was going to be our bass player!

I knew it was gonna work. Well, I hoped it would. We had shows coming up too... it had to work.

I set up a rehearsal for Saturday night. 

Easlo said, “You sure about this, man?”

Paulie, “You think he can do it, Mikey?”

Me: “Just wait boys, you’ll see!”

That Saturday morning I got a call from mom.

“Michael, Jamie wants to borrow my car. He said something about going to rehearse with you guys. You want him to join the band? Well, that is not going to happen. He’s only 16! Michael Andrew, what are you thinking?”

Uh oh. 

She called me Michael Andrew. This was going to be more difficult than I thought.

“Mom, mom... calm down. Listen, I’m coming out there. I’ll be there in an hour.”

Damn. This could be a problem.

It was time to muster all of my powers of persuasion. 

(To be continued....)

Jamie Simmons 4/4/1968 - 2/25/2018

I've posted a couple of things on Facebook since my youngest brother, Jamie Simmons, passed away on February 25th, 2018.
I've also had quite a few long conversations, many accompanied by uncontrollable sobs and tears, with close friends and family who knew him well.
All of us who loved him are heartbroken. His wife, parents, daughters, brothers, and grandchildren are constantly on my heart and mind.
What I intend to do with this blog is share the Jamie I grew up with, played music with, shared much of my life with, and loved more than anything.
Jamie, Paulie and I had a special bond that we spoke about briefly at his funeral, but there was no way to condense that into an eight minute eulogy. It really doesn't matter who or how many read this, it just matters that I write it. There are many people who had their own personal experiences with Jamie and many of them have shared with me how grateful they were for those experiences. These  stories and memories comfort me so much. This is what I have loved to hear the most during this time of unbelievable loss and grief.

This will be some of my experience. There is no way to tell it all, but I will write as it comes to me. I feel it's what I need to do and maybe it will help me in the grieving process. Maybe it will help some of our friends that are grieving too..... I don't know. I hope so.

I never really connected with the word grief. I think the closest I ever came to feeling this way was when Jamie had his motorcycle wreck on March 15th, 2012. That was six years ago today. (When I started writing this, 3/15/18)
When the surgeon came in and told us Jamie might not make it that night, that was the first time I had ever felt a hint of what I'm feeling now. He did make it that night. We had him for six more years after that.

He did not make it this time.

He had a terrible car accident on February 22, 2018. He was driving home after work in foggy, wet conditions. He lost control on a treacherous curve and went off the road sliding, which caused him to flip multiple times, landing in a creek bed. The violence of the crash was just too much. The Jamie that I knew left this world that night as a result of the brain injury he suffered. His body held on for a few days, but there was nothing the doctors could do. We were able to say goodbye. He was able to donate his organs. Late, on Sunday night, February 25th, he died.

Those first pangs of grief in 2012 are nothing compared to the reality of my brother no longer being here. There is no way to put this feeling into words. It is out of the natural order. It is not like any other loss I have experienced. He meant so much to me and the suddenness of his death is too much.

Another thing that makes this loss so devastating, is that he fought back from that horrible accident in 2012. He was nicknamed "Miracle Man" by the staff at the Vanderbilt Trauma Center because he lived and recovered from that terrible accident. Everyone involved, from the policemen on the scene, to the paramedics, were shocked that he was still alive.

While I know this is not true, it feels like God has played a cruel joke on us.

I keep wondering why.

Why?

I know it’s pointless to try and make sense of this.

I know I have to accept that there will probably never be answers to these questions, but I'm just not there yet. 

Acceptance is slow coming for me.

I think the best thing I've heard through any of this, is: "I don't know why this happened, but I love you."
That, and a hug are so much better than anything else.

I go back and forth.

I am so grateful we got to have him for those 6 extra years. His story of talking to God while he was dying on the operating table in 2012, being ready to go if that was the plan, asking to come back if there was more he could do, and being granted that request, comforts me.
Being there when he walked his oldest daughter down the aisle, watching him play with his new grandchildren, and knowing how proud he was of his youngest daughter and the woman she was becoming, comforts me.

There was more he could do, and did.

There was a good chance he would never play his bass again. Beating all odds, he did.

He volunteered at the Vandy Trauma Center and helped many survivors that were going through what he went through.

He spoke before the Tennessee Legislature in support of the motorcycle helmet law because a helmet saved his life.

He shared his beautiful testimony whenever and wherever he was asked.

The other thing that lifts my spirit so much, is hearing the stories of how Jamie affected so many in a positive way while he was here, and even after he left this Earth.

So many left his funeral wanting to be more like him. I know I did.

There were people there that never met him, but wished they had.

As I am finishing this first post, it is almost a month since the accident. This nightmare rollercoaster started with a phone call. 3 and 1/2 surreal days, back at the same Trauma Center. Removing him from life support. His funeral. His burial. The first weeks were blurred by shock, and maybe numbed a bit too.

Now that the shock is gone, there is nothing to do, but feel it.

I'm not wallowing in it. I know life goes on. It will just go on differently now. Very differently. It will never be the same. It can't be.
Those of you who have lost someone you love dearly, know.
I'm going to write about Jamie because I need to write about Jamie.
The void is too big right now, the loss too great.
I miss him so much.

I never know when a moment will grab me, and I'm reduced to tears in an instant.

Every time I open my quick call list, there is his name. I will never delete it.

I walked into Blackbird Live today to teach. The first thing that hit me was: "The last time I was here, Jamie was here. We were rehearsing. Rocking out. Taking selfies. Making fun of our aches and pains. Laughing.
Hugging.

Jamie's 50th birthday would have been April 4th. We never did much for our birthdays these days, that’s for the wives and kids. But there was always a call or a text and an "I love you bro."

So, welcome to the new SIMMONZ blog. There will never be another SIMMONZ show. Both Paulie and I will keep playing and I'm sure Easlo will keep singing. I hope we get together from time to time and play, record, and remember our beautiful brother. I know Jamie would want that, but SIMMONZ as a band ended on February 25th, 2018.

Please subscribe if you want to remember him with me. This works better for me than posting on Facebook or other social media. It won’t be lost on a newsfeed and will stay chronological and organized here. This may be too much for the casual observer on those sites, so we will dedicate this site to Jamie.

I want to thank everyone for all of the love and support for my family through this difficult time.
It means more than you know.
Thank you for remembering Jamie.
Love,
-Mike