“Summertime Blues: A True Rock’n’Roll Adventure with Eddie Cochran” by Sharon Sheeley (Ravenhawk Books)

(NOTE: This review is based on an uncorrected advance review copy. The book itself will be issued on November 1, 2010)

Sharon Sheeley (1940-2002; sometimes known as “Shari” Sheeley) peaked young. When she was 18, she was at the top of the pop-songwriting world, having written Ricky Nelson’s first #1 hit, “Poor Little Fool.” About two weeks after her 20th birthday, she was plunged into deep despair after barely surviving an auto accident, which killed her fiancé, rockabilly legend Eddie Cochran. Although she managed to piece her career back together in the years following the accident, forming a successful songwriting duo with Jackie DeShannon, these two milestones came to define Sharon Sheeley’s life for all time.

This autobiography, which would appear to be appearing in print for the first time, tells of Ms. Sheeley’s life up to and including the aftermath of the accident. In the process, we meet some of the biggest and most colorful rock’n’roll and pop stars of the late 1950’s, and get more than a few glimpses into their off-stage personalities. It may or may not be a “tell-all” – unless, of course, rockabilly singers were as innocent in their flirtations as they are portrayed to be here; it was, after all, a very different, more respectful era – but neither does she gloss over some of the negative aspects of your favorite artists.

For instance, we are introduced to Don Everly of the Everly Brothers, dating Ms. Sheeley without deigning to tell her he was already married. Indeed, Don comes off as a rather cantankerous young fellow with a huge chip on his shoulder. (His brother, Phil Everly, on the other hand, comes across as kind, helpful, a real sweetheart of a young fellow, who would do anything to aid a friend in need.) There have been tales of Paul Anka’s obnoxiously massive ego circulating around the music world for decades, and we see the beginnings of this right from the outset of his teen-idol career, when he was still a teenager himself, coping with so-called overnight success. (We are, however, informed of Anka’s kinder side as well.) But the real “villain” of this book is Gene Vincent, a paranoid schizophrenic, manic-depressive megalomaniac of the first order. (Keep in mind I am not a trained psychologist; but even so.)

Before you get the idea that all 50’s rock’n’rollers were abnormally troubled young men, let me quickly point out that most of the young heroes Sharon Sheeley encountered seem like normal, average everyday 1950’s American youth. To be sure, she meets Elvis Presley just as he is discovering that he no longer has a private life. Sheeley’s sympathetic portrait of a polite, friendly, yet increasingly trapped young Southern boy who is becoming afraid to look out hotel windows at mobs of screaming girls is one of the most touching parts of the book. Ricky Nelson as she encounters him off-screen is the exact same Ricky Nelson we watched every week on t.v. (The same goes for Ozzie as well.) Buddy Holly is insecure, Ritchie Valens unprepared for stardom, and so on. Perhaps there are not many surprises in regard to most of the performers we read about here, but it’s nice to have our pre-conceptions supported by eyewitness reports.
Needless to say, Sheeley devotes the largest chunk of space to Eddie Cochran, whom she actively pursued even when he seemed disinterested. He comes across as a complex man, in many ways quite mature for his age. On the other hand, we see him practical jokes on unsuspecting friends, pranks often bordering on cruelty. On the whole, though, Cochran is portrayed as a virtuoso electric guitarist who is all for business, who would rather have spent his time working in the studio or jamming with friends than becoming a star performer, or engaging in a normal private life for that matter. He jealously guarded his relationship with Sheeley, and forbade her to tour with him – until the fateful final tour of England. Much has been written about the accident that caused Cochran’s death, including many downright apocryphal tales. Sheeley covers the incident with the keen eye of a journalist, until the final moments, in which she was so severely injured herself that she had no real memory of it. One of the most affecting chapters of the book details her long, painful recovery amidst her loss of the man she was supposed to marry once they arrived home in California.

One cannot help but notice that she has very little to say about her life post-Cochran. She talks about her writing partnership with DeShannon, but only briefly. We learn that she later married (and divorced) L.A. disc jockey Jimmy O’Neill, best known nationally as host of the mid-60’s pop-music TV show “Shindig”, but that’s about all we learn. Sheeley retreated from the music business in the late 60’s, but we never really find out why, or what she did with her life beyond that point. She shared what she wanted to share, and then stopped. I mean no disrespect, because I am quite pleased with what she did give us, but I would have liked more.

Because this was reviewed from an advance copy, there is no index. Because the announced page count is greater than what I received, I would assume an index would appear in the final volume, and it will be helpful to future researchers, I’m sure. There are typos sprinkled here AND there, but these will no doubt be caught before final publication as well. There is also a lengthy section, nearly a hundred pages, of photographs, posters, and other “memorabilia” of people who figure into the narrative (again focused primarily on Eddie Cochran), most of which I had not seen before.

Overall, this will be an entertaining and informative addition to anyone's 50’s rock’n’roll bookshelf.

“Cold Pizza For Breakfast: A Mem-Wha?” by Christine Lavin (Tell Me Press)

Singer-songwriter Christine Lavin celebrates 25 years as a full-time professional contemporary-folk singer-songwriter with the publication of this book of reminiscences.

For those of you may not follow the current folk scene, Christine Lavin is a songwriter with a sly sense of humor, more than a few clever turns of phrase, a penchant for writing songs on topics few other performers dare to consider, and a generous heart for promoting the music of other performers she believes in. If her songs are often atypical of her genre, her book is hardly your average garden-variety autobiography, either.

This is not the usual dry recitation of names, dates, facts, and lists of accomplishments. Indeed, the historian in me wishes there were a few MORE names and dates. Being a kind-hearted person, Lavin will sometimes avoid last names, even first names on occasion, of people she would prefer not to identify in full. (For example, at one point, she lets slip that she was once engaged to another performer. I suppose people in the know realize whom she’s talking about; I don’t.) Likewise, there are times when it is a bit difficult to determine exactly when some of the events she recounts occurred.

But these are really minor quibbles in the long run. This is a very entertaining book, chock full of humorous (and true) stories, often of the laugh-out-loud variety, though even these were not always funny while Lavin was living them. Right off the bat, she tells us of her Gig From Hell, when she opened for Joan Rivers before an audience of senior citizens who had never heard of her and didn’t want to hear her. In my past life as an Irish folksinger, I had a couple gigs like that, so I can empathize with the author right from the outset. Then there was the night at a regular Birdland event called “Cast Party” where she not only battled a peripatetic microphone; she also miscalculated audience reaction to the song she was attempting to perform. I should quickly add that the book is not simply a collection of Christine Lavin’s Greatest Disasters; she shares her triumphs as well.

I don’t wish to give the impression that it’s all humor. There are moments of sadness and tears, plenty of sound advice from her mentors (including her guitar teacher, the great Dave Van Ronk, as well as from veteran club owners), tales of growing up (in the Hudson River town of Peekskill, NY, and in Geneva, in New York’s Finger Lakes region) and finding her way in the world, stories on how she encountered many of her musical associates (including the other members of her old group, the Four Bitchin’ Babes), and anecdotes concerning her various obsessions (Dame Edna, knitting, individual Broadway musicals which she attends over and over again).

One of the things I like best about “Cold Pizza For Breakfast” (named after one of her best-known songs, which supplied the title for an ESPN2 show, which wound up NOT using the song on the program itself – well, you can read about that) is that you have this feeling that you’re in a cozy chair having a conversation with an old friend. It’s a most pleasant diversion, an easy read, yet a substantial one. You’ll feel as if you’ve learned a few things about Christine Lavin, about the contemporary folk-music world, and a few important things about life as well.

“Cold Pizza for Breakfast” may be found through tellmepress.com as well as some of the usual online sources such as Amazon. It includes a complete discography of Lavin’s many CD’s and the various-artists releases she has helped compile. There is also a fascinating list of a thousand recordings she has played on her radio show.

Get this one. You can’t help but enjoy it.