WILSON PICKETT EXPLODES IN EUROPE, 1982
Pickett’s tourmates recall guns, vodka, cocaine and ambushes from above.
JOHN ABBEY (tour manager): “We did a European tour with Wilson with Sam Moore, Carla Thomas and Eddie Floyd. Went on for about four weeks. Whenever Pickett was normal, it was fine. Once he mixed the vodka and the cocaine, that’s when the crazy shit started. In all fairness to him, until Paris, it never really affected the actual shows, because he was so used to working under those conditions. Once we were staying in a motel- like hotel, and Sam, Joyce [McRae, then Moore’s manager and fiancée] and her daughter were walking to their room to check in. Somehow or other Pickett had gone into the ceiling, and when Sam came by he jumped out of the ceiling onto him. It was just unbelievable. Another time [in Italy] Pickett and his valet had his personal manager over a balcony hanging there until he would admit cheating or stealing Pickett out of money.”
Joyce McRae-Moore: “When we went to Portugal, Sam had an incredible show, and Pickett was knocked and he was looking for us, ’cos he wanted to fuck Sam up. He was running through the halls, pounding on people’s doors, ‘I will find you motherfucker Sam Moore, you aren’t going to hide from me.’ We’re scared shitless. I call downstairs, they send a Portuguese policeman to sit at the vestibule of our hotel room, with a pistol pointed at the door, all night, so that if Pickett broke down the door he would have shot him.”
Sam Moore: “On-stage, Pickett could bring it. He could really bring it. He could just stand there and just squall all night with those songs. Off the stage, I’m personally trying to stay away from him as much as I could. I know a lot of people said they’d sooner not do a show with Pickett ’cos of how he could get inside your head and intimidate you from doing a good performance.”
Marc Ribot (Pickett tour guitarist): “I didn’t even meet Wilson Pickett until we were on the bus on the way out to the airport. Crusher [Green, drums] was coaching me and said, ‘Don’t think you’re going to be Wilson’s buddy. Don’t look at him, stay out of his face, don’t have anything to do with him.’ I’ll be frank: the cat was kind of a gangster. Both in his image and the way he comported himself. Musically, it was a great vibe. But you never knew: you could play a great night and Wilson would be in a ‘bad mood’ and he’d dress the band down like a drill sergeant. He was accompanied by a bodyguard, who was reported to be armed. Plus, he had your pay. He decided to end the tour in Paris. There was this new club that had opened on the Champs-Élysées. The show was two hours late, it was packed to the rafters. Wilson delayed. People were getting heavy. Finally Wilson came on, did one tune and split. Walked out the back door, got in a car and drove away. This is a formula for starting a riot – and it worked. I had the forethought to grab my pedals and guitar and we hid in the basement while people tore the club apart. But the music was astounding. When it was cooking, it rocked like crazy and I can’t imagine anything better.”
Interviews from Tony Fletcher’s In The Midnight Hour: The Life & Soul of Wilson Pickett (OUP), available now.