People Walk in Sideways....

   

     Oh yes boys and girls....ladies and gents...it's been awhile.  We hope that in our absence everyone had the opportunity to see Roger tour, and all props to Master Daltrey for his inexhaustible drive and passion for the music...the maestro's music...  We thought it made sense to break for awhile.  With all the press and posts and general excitement and thrill over Roger's performances, the timing didn't seem right to throw even more into the mix.   But now, with the sum sum summertime blues behind us, we'd like to do a lil stirring of our own!

     Yeah, we heard you!  You were ready for more and we want you to know how appreciative we are of your patience and support.  We're thrilled that you're enjoying the adventures of 'The Glow Girls,' and your letters and comments have been incredible.    Hopefully, you have all had the chance to catch up with all the archives, and remember where we left off.   

     So, where were we?  Ahhh...yes...backstage at Madison Square.  We had arrived in our chariot, actually, in Pete's chariot.  Wedged in the back of the limo between Pete Townshend and John Entwistle.  The Birdman and The Ox.  Imagine yourself in the same situation.  Would you be contained...would you be nervous...would you speak?  We were catatonic.  We used our eyeballs to communicate with one another and didn't say much.  Pete was in great spirits, very mellow and when we picked John up at his hotel, the mood got even lighter.  Many of you may not know this,  but Thunderfingers has a great sense of humor.  Very quiet, very dry, but mischievous none the less and when he joined us, Pete's vibe got a little silly.  It was amazing to see them like that, though we didn't really absorb it the time...we just all became more comfortable in his presence.

     The limo pulled up under the bowels of Madison Square Garden, far away from the fans that were trying to get a glimpse of their heros.  It felt like we were really far underground in a protected holding zone.  We just kept in step with Pete, as he hadn't given us any indication of what would happen once we got there.  But we figured if he took us in his limo, things must be in our favor and we didn't need to ask any questions....So as we wandered along with him, Ann Weldon, part of The Who's business & management team, handed us laminated passes.  No...not just passes.  ALL ACCESS PASSES.  

     When we looked down at the pieces of plastic in our hands, and saw that they said all access, we knew something incredible was going on.  We had been given clout to go anywhere...and we felt like rock and roll royalty...We followed Pete past the curtain that separated the private area for the band, the 

'green room,' and sat down on one of the couches, trying to look comfortable.  Tables of food and drink, friends & family...you know the deal.  

     As we told you the last time we wrote, there were a couple of components that we were trying to manage in our heads.  While the vibe was casual, the tidal wave hadn't hit.  That tsunami many of you know as ROGER DALTREY.  We hadn't seen Roger since we were at his farm in England, and he, had no idea that we were going to be there.  

     We heard him before we saw him...that throaty laugh you know could only belong to him.  And know, that we don't know how he does it, but when he enters a space, even from a distance, the energy changes.  Everyone becomes a little more rigid.  He just has this power, this charisma that hits you in a way you eventually come to expect.

     When he entered the room where we were sitting, he stared straight at us, and we knew in a split second by the look on his face that he was less than pleased to see us there.  We surmised that given we didn't arrive with him, he had to have known we had arrived with Pete, and for that he could only assume we were doing more 'riding' than we were.  It wasn't as if we would walk up to him and say, 'Hey, good to see you Rog, and no, we're not having sex with Pete or anyone else on this tour.  We're still the naive virginal girls we were when you met us.'  So, it was an unspoken perception that we were stuck with for quite some time to come.

     Roger went off to warm up his voice and the sound of his vocal exercised, 'e e e' oh oh oh' could be heard from down the hall.  Pete was off with his roadie prepping his guitar....the show was drawing near and the Garden was full...everyone waiting for The Who.  We still didn't know where we would be once the show started!  Everyone took off in a million different directions...We were still trying to get over seeing Roger...with his new haircut no less, and found ourselves pretty much alone in the green room feeling clueless.  You could feel the energy draw from the room as roadies, management, and ultimately the band were heading toward the stage.

     In the flash of a moment, Ann found us, handed us two tickets and disappeared into the mist of Who-land.  Clutching our tickets, we found our way out into the audience.  Our seats were in the loge, an area above the floor and off to the side of the stage where 'friends & family' were seated.

     While this might have worked for the friend and family group that does this kind of thing all the time....it did not work for us....or at least one of us.  We wanted to be as close as possible...just as we were when we walked through the masses the first time we saw The Who at the Garden, and ended up in front of the stage.  We didn't want to be contained and polite!  It was the fucking Who!  But, we had no choice.  We were there because of our guardian, Pete Townshend, and we behaved respectfully.  For the moment.

     We would love to give you all the nitty gritty show details, but we can't.  We don't remember.  We were basically catatonic and only held it together to keep up a good front given the company we were in.  But as the show ended, we followed the rest of the All Access-ers back to the green room and tried to seem as though we were 'cool.'

     Shortly after everyone settled in, Pete wandered in to the room and parked himself between us.  It was amazing!  It was as if we belonged to him, with him...moments before he stood on the stage in front of more people than you can imagine, one of the most brilliant musicians of our time,,,and everyone, EVERYONE watched in awe....and now?  He was a low key, gentle giant sitting down between us....

     He wanted to know if we liked it....if we enjoyed the show...how was it...can you imagine????

It was a shock to even us when one of us said, " Well,  to tell you the truth, the show was great, but I get claustrophobic in large groups of people.  We were kind of far from the stage."   As outrageous as that sounds, it was just the plain truth.  Maybe something in the way Pete was so natural with us allowed that to come out...WHO knows...Pete smiled that Pete Townshend smile... he didn't say anything at first, and then with a smirk on his lips he sighed and in a quiet, little voice, he said.... 'I'll take care of it."  

     We had no idea what that meant at the time.  Had we known, we probably would have fainted right on the spot.  But he knew exactly what he had in mind...and he knew that we were completely perplexed by his response.  He enjoy that little routine.  It worked for him.  And guess what?  As it turned out....it MORE than worked for us.

Unitl we meet again...The GlowGirls

Run Run Run....

The year is 1975.

     Some things should just be illegal.  Roger Daltrey is one of them. When you’re 17 years old, female and a virgin no less…seeing a movie like Tommy is dangerous.

 

      There was no warning. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw on the screen that afternoon in nowhereville, New Jersey. So no surprise when I called my best friend in a panic screaming, ” OH MY GOD! THERE IS THIS GUY….THIS ACTOR…AND HE IS EVERYTHING!” “That’s no guy….that’s Roger Daltrey. And he’s not an actor. He’s the lead singer of The Who.

 

      My best friend was far more cool than I was, and she had an older brother, of course she knew who they were. “The what????” I don’t care….you HAVE to come see it with me….you are going to lose your mind!” And that’s how it all began. We went to see Tommy together. not once.. but.30 times…give or take. I guess we both lost count. We were 17..it was the perfect time to become obsessed with a rock star… Little did we know not only the insanity that would follow, not to mention obsession and infatuation. Or, where it would all end up….stay tuned!

My Wife...

Tonight’s blog post is a bit of a departure from the main event. We wanted to talk about a person who was an integral part of our story. Her name was Maxene Harlow....She went on to become Maxene Entwistle.

That first night in the limo when Pete said we were going around the corner to “pick up John”, Thunderfingers got into the limo with a tall, dark beautiful woman. John had recently left his marriage and was seriously head over heels for Max (as we all came to know her). It was very obvious in the way he looked at her; you could just see it in his eyes. We had an immediate connection with her. She was so down to earth and easy to be with and let’s face it, she was also from our side of the pond.

It was rough for Max to be around the other wives and friends of Allison Entwistle. After all, John and Allison had been the childhood sweethearts. As you may remember from our previous post, we had pierced Pete’s ear in a bathroom at the Navarro hotel, and we were not exactly embraced by the other women in the Who’s camp. So there we were, thrown together by happenstance, and, as Maxene used to say, “we got on like a house on fire."

John really appreciated us being there for Max, something he never forgot. We wanted to mention Maxene because she got a bad rap as being a home wrecker, which she most certainly was not. She was not even a Who fan initially, she could have cared less. She was a seamstress and a really good one at that. I think she met John because she was making clothes for Keith Moon and was a waitress at at a famous rock and roll hang in L.A. She was a pretty bad waitress and John thought it was amusing and that she was adorable.... and she was!

He pursued her for a long time and, while she turned him down many times, finally she said yes and they got together and stayed together for many years It was the beginning of an close friendship between Max and ourselves and even more unexpected, was the deep bond we would form with John Entwistle.. Ironically this really changed our perception and our role in this world we had collided with. We were no longer outsiders looking in….

Dizzy in the head....

It's overwhelming enough to meet Pete Townshend....but to have his bodyguard fish you out of the crowd of fans and escort you into his limousine...

Pete Townshend sat in the back seat, on the right side, nuzzled up against the door. He faced away from the window and seemed amused. What could have been going through his mind? If you know Pete at all, and that includes watching him perform, you know what a "Pete Townshend half smile" looks like. It is exactly that expression that was on his face as the door to the limo opened and
he saw us. I slid in next to Pete and she sat in one of the little jump seats directly across from me.

You can sit a many different places. You never give it much thought though...trains, planes. dentist chairs, theaters, family dinners....but as most people know, there is an undeniably special quality to sitting in a limousine. You automatically feel important. You feel special. It's glamourous, it's chic....it's anonymous when the windows are tinted. But to sit in a limousine with Pete Townshend....out of the ballpark...

And as sparkly as it may be to sit in a limousine, when you're sitting in between Pete Townshend and John Entwistle, the feelings of 'special, important and glamourous' escalated to a wholly different level. The week before, we had been instructed by Pete to wait in the lobby of The Navarro Hotel, after spending the evening as part of an intimate gathering in his hotel room. Pete to an intimate As we were leaving that night, Pete had asked if we had tickets to the week of shows The Who would be doing at Madison Square Garden....we realized we did not. So, he simply told us to meet him in the hotel's lobby on the night of the first show.

Now, a week later, we sat with him in his limo as the driver put the car in drive and headed east on Central Park South. Pete....for all his bravado and intensity can be a very soft spoken and gentle man. That was his demeanor when he said the words,
" We've just got to make a stop. We're going to pick up John."

John who???? She told me that's what she thought later....the shock of being there had clearly clouded her head. John Entwistle was staying at a hotel on 5th Avenue. It was literally 3 blocks from Pete's hotel. To get to John's hotel, the driver had to go around in what seemed like circles because of the way the streets run in that part of New York City.

When the car pulled up to the curb at John's hotel, it stopped, and we waited. If only we were able to remember every detail of what might have been said, we'd be happy to share it. But it's like drinking just a bit too much champagne....your head's a little dizzied. I remember this, the door opened and John Entwistle eased into the car and sat next to me. Sitting in between John Entwistle and Pete Townshend. Is this really happening?????

There we are, having no ideas we'd refer to ourselves as The Glow Girls years later....We both used only our eyeballs to communicate. We had no choice! It wasn't as if we would say out loud, " Oh my fucking Christ! Are we really sitting in a limousine with one half of The Who???? We can only hope you'll use your imagination to wrap your heads around this experience....and realize that the only thing that was clear was that this car we were riding in was heading towards The Garden....and we were going to see The Who perform.

It takes about 15-20 minutes to get from Central Park South to The Garden. The traffic in that part of town is insane. And, with The Who in New York, even worse. The car made the turn to the
street where The Garden is located. We'd been there before, but had only gone in to the main entrance, like all the other concert go-ers. We didn't know there was a discreet entrance below ground level where the 'important' vehicles went. So as the car disappeared below ground, the excitement was raging.

Keep in mind, we had other things on our minds....We knew we were going to see Roger Daltrey.
We had not seen him since we had been to his home in England. We were concerned about how he would interpret our arriving with Pete. We knew he was going to think we were doing the 'groupie' thing. It was a huge issue for us. In fact, little did we know at the time, that many of the people in The Who entourage...management, wives, friends...they all assumed that we were sleeping with Pete.
NEVER. We never, ever went down that path. EVER. It just wasn't that kind of party. We take great pride in that fact. Never the less....we knew that's what Roger would assume. But there was no way we were not going to do this just to make sure we looked honorable to Roger. Or anyone for that matter....after all...we loved The Who....the music....the men....out of the question.

The limo pulled into an indoor parking area. Pete...and John....well, they've done this a hundred times before. They seemed unphased. We were quite the opposite. Where do we go? What do we do? Who will tell us what happens and where we'll be sitting....

There is a backstage area where everyone who's part of the 'in' crowd gathers. Tables, with food and drink, couches and so on. It's " backstage." We tried to look as though we were seasoned 'backstage' people...though we admit it's highly unlikely that we were anywhere near as cool as we'd like to believe. Particularly because we knew Roger Daltrey was near....the very idea of seeing him again up close was more than enough to make us feel completely undone. You don't get over the whole 'Roger Daltrey' thing. You just don't...and anyone who has felt those feelings knows exactly what the means.


As we sat in this highly exclusive 'all access' area, we finally had the chance to talk. We tried to be discreet as we ranted in whisper tones about what had just taken place. Was this real? Were we....sitting backstage....guests of Pete Townshend????

And then...just as we were gaining our composure....we heard it.....that throaty laugh....it was Roger....he was heading down the corridor....how were we going to manage this? stay tuned...

ARMENIA....

    Where were we....ahhh...yes....still reeling from our latest adventure.
Having been invited by Pete Townshend to a party in his room, we were still in the clouds...what was it that inspired one of the world's most accomplished and revered men to ask us, two strangers to hang out with him that night? 

     Moreover, what the hell kept us from never getting tickets to one of the shows The Who would be performing in the week that followed???  Somehow, in our determination to get ourselves right up in front of Pete Townshend, we had neglected to get tickets....and, as we left his room that night, that was the question he put to us. 

           "Are you coming to the shows next week?"

     Funny to look back on it and remember our response to him....
"No, do you think it's too late to get tickets?"  Smiling back at us, he told us the alias he was using for his room, and to get in touch with him
on the day of the first show.  Please take a breath.  Now, take another one.  Pete Townshend.  Call him.  Okay?  No need to say more, right?

     On the day of the first gig at Madison Square, we contacted Pete in his room.  We were told to be in the lobby of the hotel at 5:00.  We just assumed he would leave us tickets at the front desk. 

     When that day arrived, we headed to The Navarro Hotel a little before 5:00 in the evening.  A small group of fans had gathered of course, waiting for a chance to see Pete up close.  The anxiety and excitement began to increase as we walked our confused asses into the lobby.  We went to the front desk to see if something had been left for us.  No. NO! We should have known....After all, it's the first night of a week's worth of Who shows in New York City.  Would anyone expect that Pete Townshend, who requires no further description, would remember that he had told us to show up?  Certainly not...

     We had no clue what to do at that point.  As amazing as it had been to meet him, the thrill of seeing The Who perform again was overwhelming.  And, to think that we were not going to be able to go was tragic as far as we were concerned.....and we were nearly in tears.  How fucking stupid could we both have been not to get tickets???  We deserved to sit in the goddamn lobby. 

     The crowd was growing by the minute outside and the energy was not just in front of the hotel, the whole city of New York seemed to have a buzz.  And there we sat. Idiots.  We could feel a ground swell of
power building....something was happening.  People in the lobby began moving around nervously.  No doubt that was due to the people who were a part of the Townshend 'camp were securing the lobby and surrounding areas to make sure it was safe and ready for his arrival.  You could just feel it.  It was so potent it's difficult to find the words to describe what was taking place....

       We were sitting on the same couch we had occupied the week before when we waited to meet Pete.  It was a small lobby, and our little perch gave us a bird's eye view of the elevators.  At least we would see him once again, and while that was hardly a comfort, we didn't have much choice....

     He was coming....you could tell....and then, the elevator door opened.
And there he was....Pete Townshend....towering over everyone around him and looking very, very intense...very serious...  Obviously.  After all, he was on his way to 'The Garden' to play with The Who for chrissake!

     Surrounded by bodyguards and security, he sauntered through the room, eyes directly in front of him.  He never even looked at us.  Not even a glance.  And just like that, he disappeared into the crowd.  We got up and watched him vanish into the sea of adoring fans that had waited for just that moment. 

     The door to the limousine opened....he got in....the door closed.  The tears welled up in our eyes only to be outdone by the overwhelming sadness in the pits of what felt like our collective stomach.   We blew it.  He was gone.  Safely tucked in to his chariot, windows blackened, and the smell of official surrounding him....And all those people who had waited outside?  Well, they would be leaving too.  Why??? Because THEY had tickets!!!!

     How does everyone feel right now?  Do you feel like a little kid that wants a happy ending?  Are you finding the corners of your mouths turned down?  You had hoped that this little thriller you've followed would only get better and better, right?  You feel our pain don't you....

      Well....we would never, ever disappoint you....Brace yourselves....and know that tears of joy come back as we remember this unbelievable moment....Here you go-

      Just before the limousine pulled away...while the crowd was still thick....while we stood arm in arm in the lobby....Little did we know that there was a man pushing his way through the crowd....We could not see him.  But we heard him..... 

              "WHERE ARE THE TWO GIRLS???"

Townshend sitting there smiling at us!  

        I got in first and sat next to him.  She sat across from me.  Who knows what the expression on our faces was....but Pete's face was smiling....We stared at each other trying desperately to speak just through our eyeballs....intensely gazing at one another and attempting to act cool.  Like it was the kind of thing we do every day....

      As if this weren't enough, Pete had to add to the mix.  Perhaps he thought we were too young to have heart failure....and here's what he said....

        "We've got to make a stop.  We're going to pick up John." 
My co-Glow managed to top that by responding with, "John who?"
     If my head could have spun around in a 360.....you can be sure it would have done several rotations....but the look on Pete's face said it all....clearly we were insane with excitement....he smiled patiently... as he has done so many times since ..Stay tuned....we love you too!

The Music Must Change...

How do you manage that....Having been enthralled and amazed by the world's most notable and celebrated rock n' roll bands, we had set a course to get up close and personal with Roger Daltrey. For the followers of this blog, you already know that we spent time with him on a few different occasions.

We had been to his hotel room, we had been to his home. We spent hours with him, alone, on his farm, and it was surreal. He had driven us to the train station. Does it get better than that? No, but certainly...it got 'different."

We were now older, a touch more worldly, and far more familiar with the underground music scene. In the time that we had seen Roger, the relative maturity in us, created a deeper understanding of what we were listening to.
Of course, we had heard every album The Who had done, bootlegs and all...but the way in which we heard the music was changing.

In the documentary, Amazing Journey, Eddy Vedder said something that was so on point. "You listen to The Who and you hear this voice, (Roger) and you think the music is coming from him. Then you realize there's this guy, Pete Townshend, who is writing all this stuff..."

The power of everything Pete Townshend touches had reached us and his grip on us had more impact than we had expected. We were undone by the depths of his creative genius. He was so prolific...both raw and refined as a musician and a writer...clearly a force that was unavoidable. We were in no uncertain terms, consumed with fascination about him....and we wanted to 'know' him as well.

Pete was in New York the week before the infamous series of shows The Who would be performing at Madison Square Garden. In our last post, we left off telling you that we had heard he was in New York and staying at a hotel on Central Park South. On that tip, and a good tip it was...we went to The Navarro Hotel. We had entered the lobby fairly early and were fortunate enough to bypass the small crowd that had tips of their own. We sat quietly on a sofa in the lobby and waited....and yes, introduced ourselves and he sat down on the couch with us...You can only imagine what it felt like when he asked us if we'd like to join him for a party in his room that evening. We returned to our apartment and stared blankly at each other. It was almost as if neither of us believed it had actually happened. We were in a 'dream state.' We had no idea what to expect. We were mystified that he stopped in his tracks when we called his name. After all, everyone calls his name! It was not dissimilar from what had happened when we met Roger Daltrey. Neither of them seemed surprised by us, and both, seemed to be very at ease in our company.

How do you process in your mind that you've been personally invited by Pete Townshend to a party in his room? Never mind that...what do you wear? Do you show up fashionably late?

We arrived at the hotel, said something or other to the man at the desk, and were told which floor and room to go to. And, just as Pete had told us, it was a very cool hang. There were a decent number of people in Pete's suite, but not too many. It was an intimate gathering and fairly low key. Richie Havens was there, and surely others from the music industry. For the obvious reasons, we were focused on Pete, and we listened while Pete was on the phone, chatting with Bruce Springsteen, trying to convince him to come to the party. We were perfectly happy just to be there and watch Pete Townshend as he went about the room chatting with this one and that.

To observe this man in such an intimate setting, and to be in his company is not easy to describe. He is a ROCK STAR, he is a deep and intricate artist, but you don't get any of that when you're with him. Surprisingly, he was extremely gentle, easy going, and very, very funny. His favorite phrase of the night was "toe rag." Everyone was a "fucking toe rag" at one time or another throughout the evening. Every time he said it, he cracked himself up, and us as well.

As the evening progressed, we had been trying to do the chill party thing. But we were dying to talk to him. Not about anything in particular, but we definitely wanted his time and attention, even for a moment or two. Almost instinctively, Pete wandered over to us, and asked if we were having a good time...He sat down in a club chair, and we perched ourselves on either arm of the chair.

Pete sat for a while...he seemed to be relaxed and happy. He smiled up at us. He seemed to be thinking out loud when he said, " Baby, I'm Amazed." Confused, we looked at him. It wasn't until he said, " My friend Paul wrote that song," that we realized he was talking about Paul McCartney. We never forgot that moment...

The mood shifted to silly. It was as if we were a little trio of trouble that needed to be separated from the rest of the class. At some point in this conversation, one of us told him how cool he looked when he was wearing a ring in his ear. With that, he said, "Yeah? Let's pierce it again!" We disappeared into his bedroom and he said, "go for it."

Who knows where the needle came from, but the next thing we knew, we locked ourselves in the bathroom, the three of us....and with Remy to sterilize, the needle was piercing his lobe. We were all cracking up, and Pete, well....patient...and grimacing.

      When the dirty deed was completed, and we don't even remember how successful it was, we emerged from the bathroom and sat together....talking and talking and talking....There was no foul play, there was no dirt, and as much as that would have made a great gossip tale, it simply was not that kind of party. It was just fun. We adored him. He was beyond cool, and from that moment on, we knew we'd always be connected. He was and always would be, very important to us both.

      It was getting late, and wanting to leave the fairy tale in tact, we got ready to leave. We were a bit tipsy, and we were not exactly seasoned party girls. It wasn't our thing....We thanked him, and thanked him and hugged him and while we really didn't want to ever leave...we did.
 
     As we headed out, Pete called us back. He asked us if we had tickets to the shows the following week. It was then, that we realized, in all the commotion...we didn't ! We said, "no, do you think it's too late to buy them?"
That must have been funny to him...given his obvious ability to arrange for anything having to do with seeing The Who....but we were genuine in our response, surprising as it may have been to him.

Pete looked at us, smiled that half Pete Townshend smile, and said, " Look,
I'll be back next week. You two show up here in the lobby the night of the first show. I'll take care of it. I'll be staying under the name **********."

We guessed he would arrange for us to have tickets to one of the shows.
We had no idea what was in store for us....stay tuned.

FACE THE FACE....

Yes, it had certainly been an extraordinary experience...we had set out on a mission...and a very targeted one at that. We wanted to know Roger Daltrey. We didn't just want to meet him, or have him sign an autograph, or take a picture with us. We wanted him to know us by name, and have a closer, more familiar relationship with us. He did....and he does...

From the very start, we both felt we really were connected to him. That it was only a matter of time before that encounter would happen. Not if, when. Do all fans feel that way? We have no idea. In the long run, we suspect that our instinct counted for something, because the wheel did not stop turning on our ride with The Who....in fact, little did we know...it was just beginning.

Quite a bit happened over the next couple of years. The most notable, of course, was the the tragic loss of Keith Moon. For those who knew him, and those who were lucky enough to have witnessed his magic on stage, it was an unexpected, devastating hit...one that would leave a permanent mark, particularly on the the band. Everyone suffered the loss of an incomparable talent....an unpredictable force to be reckoned with....but for the remaining members of The Who, Keith Moon was an equal part of their equation as a whole...an integral component of their musical success....a success that gave them the freedom to reach as far and as wide as they could imagine. It was the end of an era....and...it would never be the same....it would be different.

We had remained in touch with Roger since our time with him in England.
When Keith died, we were compelled to speak with him. We decided it was appropriate to call him. We didn't have the Roger's home phone number, but we convinced the pub down the road to give it to us...We called the house, and the anguish in his voice was palpable. He sounded so hollow, so deflated, that it was almost painful to talk with him....He was nearly unable to communicate... out of respect, we kept it brief, and just let him know our thoughts were with him.

A few years had passed since our visit with Roger. There was no touring for The Who, for the obvious reasons, and while they were going through their recovery, we were doing a bit of re-grouping as well. Our sheltered lives as ballerinas had kept us far away from the world of rock n' roll and all the enticing, dangerous facets that world has to offer. It was no surprise that we were easily seduced by the music scene we had encountered in London....and we began to explore the music circuit in New York City. When that rock n' roll bug bites, the stinger is in you for life, and we had a fucking blast. From Max's Kansas City, to CBGB's, and a whole host of underground clubs in between...after all, we were a little older...only slightly less naive....and ready for everything.

Our connection and love of the music didn't waiver...in fact, the power of the musical genius of Pete Townshend became so pervasive that it began to take on a life of it's own. We continued to adore The Who, and listen to them, but something began to shift....we were hearing them in a different way. We had been listening to The Who as Roger Daltrey....after all, he is a powerful singer and performer....and clearly, our attraction to him was not unlike many who are drawn into the intensity that he exudes.

Those who know are clear...it is impossible to listen to The Who with the frequency or intensity that we did, without being stopped dead in your tracks by Pete Townshend. And, we were.....stopped....dead in our tracks. The power of his words, the depth of his mind, his range as a man and an artist are ....in the words of Pete himself.....
" A force you can't oppose..."

Pete's work on various solo projects gave his audience an opportunity to really hear him, to really experience the vast playground of his spectacular mind. And while we hate to admit it, particularly given the beginning of this story, we were smitten. Pete Townshend had become a whole new obsession, although a very different one...It was almost as if we had been hypnotized...as so many of you know...it is unavoidable.

In addition, we were no longer 17 going on 18. We were 21 years old and a bit more worldly, a bit less naive...we were young women as opposed to teenage girls and we were becoming a force to be reckoned with as well. We were absolutely smitten with Pete Townshend and on the heels of our dedicated and successful pursuit with Roger Daltrey...we knew if it was something we were after...we would find a way to make it would happen. And so it began...we had our sights on Peter Dennis Blandford Townshend...and we were not stopping until we faced him head on.

We had met Roger in 1976, and it wasn't until 1979 that The Who announced their plan to tour the U.S. They would be doing a week of shows at Madison Square Garden....same bat time...same bat channel.

You do the math...it's been quite awhile since this time...and while we would love to say our memories are crystal...it simply isn't true. The only thing we are really clear on is the critical moments. The connecting details...who told us what and when they said it...well, that's of less importance. One thing is clear....someone tipped us off that Pete would be in New York the week before the shows, and he would be staying at The Navarro Hotel, on Central Park South.

With no hesitation, we made tracks to the hotel, with the clear intent of finding Pete Townshend, and meeting him face to face. You're never alone when you have a plan like that. There are always other people who have been 'tipped off' as well. So, it was no surprise when we arrived at The Navarro only to find other Pete Townshend fans waiting for him. It was a relatively controlled group of fans, and they had gathered outside his hotel on the sidewalk, patiently awaiting the opportunity to see him in person, or shake his hand. Townshend fans are very different from Daltrey fans, which tend to be more of the female variety, for the obvious reasons.

We had arrived early enough to be able to walk in to the lobby, and sit quietly without raising a red flag. There were two other people waiting inside....Raphael Rudd, and his girlfriend, and we struck up a conversation with them. We were unaware that Raphael was a close friend of Pete's, as well as a musical collaborator, but the fact that they were there meant the rumors had been true, and that at any moment, Pete Townshend would enter the building.

We thought that given our Roger Daltrey experience, we were more than ready to meet Pete Townshend. We were admittedly smitten with him, but everyone is 'smitten' with Pete. But we thought, somehow, this would be a piece of cake compared to meeting Roger. In hindsight, we knew less...than nothing.

When Pete Townshend enters a building, you know it. Not only does the energy in the room shift, you almost feel as though you are in another dimension.
He is almost a contradiction in terms....he presence and his size alone are so potent. His demeanor however, is the polar opposite of his physical being. His words and music lead the listener to a perception of him that is significantly different than the way he presents. He is very tall, his face angular, his features strong....and he is...a rock star. His disposition....gentle, sweet, funny....but his intellect is so beyond that there is a little tinge of arrogance...and you could eat him up with a spoon.

So there we sat, on that little couch, very much aware of the presence that was walking through the door...and...there he was...Peter Dennis Blanford Townshend...standing less than 6 feet away from us. It took several moments to get past the way he affects your being just by being nearby. He was completely unaware of us, and so gracefully casual and charming as he said hello to Raphael. They chatted for a little while, shook hands, and then Pete began to make his way toward the elevator. He was going upstairs and time was running out.

One or both of us called his name, "Pete?" He turned around slowly and looked at us, the corners of his mouth turning up a bit into what appeared to be a smile...The first thing we both noticed as he approached us, were his eyes....
a pale, translucent blue...they were kind, appealing and intense all at once. There was an immediate comfort being in Pete's presence.

While we attempted to spit out reasons that gave us credibility...or a reason for being there...he simply wasn't interested. We mentioned that we knew Roger, we loved his music, anything we could come up with....but while we sputtered, he was moving toward us... and when he had made his way to the couch, and sat down in between us, it's amazing we both survived.... Everything about him rendered us helpless.

Pete smiled and let us finish our 'bit.' He didn't really seem interested in our reasons for being there. He immediately took a shine to us...but nothing in comparison to the shine we took to him.....And then, in that inimitable voice, he said, " You know, I'm having a little party in my room tonight. There will be a lot of very cool people there. Would you like to join me?"
Stay tuned.....

ALL THE GIRLS WANNA TAKE A RIDE WITH ME...

    "I'LL TAKE YOU MYSELF."

     Those were the words that came out of Roger Daltrey's mouth when we asked if we could call a taxi to the train station.  As if the day we had spent on his farm wasn't enough to send you over the edge...Roger Daltrey was insisting on driving us..
      He went inside the house to check the train schedule back to London for us.  When he returned to where he had left us out back, he  gestured toward an older car that was parked past the stone wall that enclosed the yard.

      We gathered up our gear, and headed toward an old, black , beat up Mercedes.  Roger  went in to get his car keys, then came to meet us by the car.  He noticed there  was a bunch of stuff in the back seat and started clearing it all out...muttering to himself about who had left the mess....

      This was extraordinary to us.  Roger Daltrey, our idol, the rock god we had worshiped from the rafters, now standing in front of us, barefoot, shirtless... clearing a space for us in the car he was going to use to drive us to the station...
It was unreal...we show up unexpectedly at his home....we don't really know him, he doesn't really know us...and yet, he gives us carte blanche to wander his property for the day, then spends his entire afternoon with us, and tops it off by insisting he drive us.  How does one, no...two... even begin to process that...

      When he felt it was acceptable, he gestured for us to get in. Oddly, we got into the back seat...both of us.  Neither of us even attempted to take the seat next to him in the front of the car.   Roger got behind the wheel,  and headed down the road toward the station.

        No one spoke.  There was a clear and potent tension in the air.  He knew it...and we knew it.  We sat in silence staring at the back of his head.  Looking at the curls falling down his back, and following their path up to where the hair met his scalp....almost as if your eyes are boring an imaginary hole into the back of his head....it was as if we were trying to take in every part of his being, and our being with him while we still could.  My eyes drifted upward, and looked into the rear view mirror only to see him staring back at me.... his gaze so piercing...those iconic, turquoise- blue eyes... and that hypnotizing Roger Daltrey stare we are all so familiar with.  It's almost like staring at the sun...forbidden.  Little did I know that as she sat next to me, she was experiencing exactly the same. 

     We arrived at the station and silently got out of the car.  Roger hung his still shirtless upper body slightly out of the window and slowly looked both us of us over from top to bottom.  The engine was running and at a complete loss for what to do at an incredibly awkward juncture, we thanked him profusely....We told him we'd love to see him again before we left, and he nodded....we headed toward the train tracks, and Roger trailed off into the distance.

     We waited until he was well out of earshot to talk about what had happened.  We couldn't process it all that quickly...overloaded, overwhelmed, tired and in absolute disbelief, we shelved the conversation until we had both had time to let the events of the day settle in.  

     The remainder of our stay in England was definitely filled with adventures that would probably send most people over the edge, but for us, nothing could even come close to what we had experienced.  We did some serious shit while we were there...

     We went to The Speakeasy, an underground club in London...and two guys asked us if we wanted to go to a party.  She said no way, I said sure, absolutely.  Probably not the smartest thing to do....take off in a car with two men you don't know....but we ended up at Ritchie Blackmore's house (Deep Purple), and were one of about 8 people there.  The house is a pretty far distance from London, all the way out in the countryside.  Ritchie Blackmore is one of the stranger people you could possibly encounter.   He's got a home rigged from top to bottom with all sorts of gadgets, designed to make his visitors uneasy.  Objects randomly fall from the walls, lights would turn on and off....the sole purpose to make you feel as though you were in a haunted house.

     Terrified, we ended up locking ourselves in the bathroom until the sun came up, and we slipped out and wandered the rural roads and rolling hills in Surrey, until we found the train station. Ironically, one of the other guys that had invited us to the party, also showed up at the station, a writer for Melody Maker.  We became friends and saw him when he was in New York...and recently re-connected for the first time since back then.

    We also decided to go to Trinifold, The Who's management company at the time.  We were blatantly lying when we told them Roger had sent us... that if we wanted anything, they should take care of us.  He never did of course, but we did walk out with a massive black and white poster that was so huge, it took two people to carry it.  Must have been 5 feet wide by 8 high...quite a sight when we carried it back through the airport...

     We did see Roger again.  We bought him a book on Renoir at The Tate Gallery and he loved it.  We could tell he was in an irritable mood when we went back....and for good reason.  One of their house guests had damaged part of his record collection and he was pissed.  So you have an idea of what not to do if you don't want to irritate Roger Daltrey...  So we didn't linger.  We didn't need to....

     We've often wondered what accounted for the dynamic that took place  between the three of us.  It is something we've never really grasped.   We still find ourselves asking the same questions ....why didn't he throw us off the property?  We were unexpected...we didn't know him well...only that one meeting in his hotel room in New York.  Why did he invite us to spend the entire day?   What was it about us that HE wanted to be with...he seemed to be at ease in our company....playful and silly one minute....deep, thoughtful and introspective the next....

     One thing is for sure...we never, ever approached him in a selfish way.  We have always respected his space and his time and most of all, his privacy....We never pushed him to sign autographs or take photos...just enjoyed him in our own way...and maybe he enjoyed us for that reason.  We're not quite sure....but certainly, our approach with The Who in the years to follow was the same, and we were fortunate enough to reap the rewards of it. 

    It took a long time for our feet to even come close to touching the ground after that trip.  And... as much as we'd like to find some clever way to put it into words....it just cannot be done.  For us....it was monumental.

     We were perfectly happy to return to New York City, and re-live every second of our time with Roger over and over again.  We thought we could cruise along like that forever...but things never go quite the way you plan them, do they?  Little did we know, that we were about to hit a fork in the road....a very formidable....serious
fork in the road....Enter...Pete Townshend.

     Stay tuned........


    

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Imagine a Man....

     Think about it.....you're a teen who has been bitten by The Who bug. That's a helluva sting. And it's a bite that gets worse before it gets better....You've seen Tommy, and been hit hard by the R0ger Daltrey tidal wave. A few months later, you're seeing the band perform....Shortly thereafter, you've gone from the nosebleed seats to the front row. Hours later, you have found yourself face to face with Roger Daltrey in his hotel room....his parting words to you are,
"If you're ever in England.....look me up."

and a few months after that....

We took the train to the sprawling hills nestled in the countryside a couple of hours outside of London. We have done enough digging to chart where we believed Roger lived. This picturesque, tho vast region, has but one taxi driver. He'd warned us that Roger does not respond well to fans and intruders....two girls just like us had been thrown off his property a few weeks back- by Roger himself. We'd like to say we were undaunted by that, but in truth, we were terrified. We were nervous, excited, and overwhelmed by the fact that he was steps away. Was he home? Would he toss us off the property? No....he didn't.

Heather saw us first...and she left us to sit on a little cobblestone ledge in front of the house, while she went to get Roger down from the roof...yeah...Roger Daltrey fixes his own shingles...We were seated next to a pair of jean shorts that we knew were the pants he wore in Tommy...we just knew it...and of course stole a couple of pieces of fringe as keepsakes.

In the heat of an absolutely gorgeous afternoon, we....were....waiting for ....

ROGER DALTREY....AT HIS HOME~

And then it happened....he came around the bend, and stood before us in nothing more than a pair of faded, and very low slung denim jeans. No shirt, no shoes....nothing. Bare chest, bronzed skin, blond curls falling around his face....and sweat dripping down his neck....That was some vision... HE WAS STUNNING...HE JUST STOOD THERE... IN ALL HIS ROGER DALTREY GLORY......

He didn't say anything. He looked at us. We looked at him. He didn't smile...but he didn't snarl either. He just cocked his head to one side and with a nod gestured for us to "FOLLOW HIM." Far be it from us not to abide by the rules of the manor....

He did say something as we trailed behind him and followed him into the house....something along the lines of, " Here- let me show you around the house." But it was clear that it was half hearted and if you think about it, Roger Daltrey isn't exactly the 'lemme give you a house tour type!' He quickly gestured which room was what on the main floor...." this is the living room, here's the pool table"...like that. But the house is laid out in a way that you can stand in the main entrance and it's open, so you can kind of see everything at once.

    We all went into the kitchen...one of us needed a glass of water, and he pointed to where the glasses were kept. GOD ....HE IS JUST EVERYTHING!!! Sorry- just needed a moment~ The kitchen has a door that leads to the back yard....and we all went outside. From this part of the property, which stands high on a hill...you can literally "SEE FOR MILES." It is breath taking. That's all there is too it....paradise.

He told us that he was in the middle of fixing the shingles on the roof. We anticipated that he was going to tell us to leave....but he didn't. He said that he had been up on the roof fixing the shingles and he had to get back to it.

"Why don't you wander around the property and look around...I'll be done in an hour or so."
Wander around the property and enjoy ourselves while he took care of what he was working on, and he'd meet us back in the yard in an hour or so???? What???

Okay...ARE YOU GETTING THIS????? Roger Daltrey, wants US to wait while HE
finishes up his domestic detail! We would have done just about anything he asked us to do....we would have fixed the fucking shingles! But, we nodded and mumbled something- who knows what...and as he disappeared into the house, we took off down the path to amble around until he was done.

We found a picnic table and took turns standing on it imitating Roger's onstage poses...pretty hysterical...We also came across the capsule from the spaceship in Lisztomania, as you can see in the photos in this post.

We were having an afternoon on Roger Daltrey's farm....and it was a good thing he had things to do because we did too. We needed to pull ourselves together. We'll say this, and it's as true today as it was then....you cannot be around Roger for too long without needing a bit of time to pull yourself together. It's not just his physical presence, which doesn't even need an explanation, it's everything. The way he looks at you, the way he speaks to you, he is just so intense in every way that it's almost indescribable. He doesn't waste a move. Every step he takes has power. He doesn't speak unless he really has something to say....there isn't a drop of wasted thought or emotion or energy in his whole being.....and that put together with just looking like he does....you have to regroup.



One of our cameras was acting up and he took it - tried to fix it...he got it up and running and started taking pix of the two of us- yes....those photos of us together on his farm....Roger took them....We talked about his trout farm and he went to get his fishing pole to show us....soooo cute....like a kid with his toys.

It was late in the afternoon...we were all winding down. Something happened in his head...a shift in his gears. He decided he wanted to "show us around" some more....He walked us out beyond the back yard, where he has a caravan. It's actually like an old fashioned gypsy caravan and there are a few steps up to get inside.

      Hard to know how even though he was walking behind us, he was leading the way. He got us right up to the steps of the caravan and he was very, very close behind us. We were on the steps and suddenly, his arm reached past us and pushed the door open.....We turned around and looked at him....we froze. Newly 18 years old, naive....inexperienced... We knew from the beginning that we were way out of our league...maybe that's why we liked it. Who knows...but right then, there was no place to hide. The look in his eyes was no joke. He said, " go on...go inside and take a look..."

Put yourself in that place and ask yourself, honestly....what would you do?


The remainder of the afternoon was magical. Sitting in the back yard, just the three of us with the sun setting over the hills. Roger was perched on the arm of a chair. We sat on the ground looking up at him ....a yellow jacket was buzzing around his head..."Roger...be careful...watch out..." He didn't even flinch. "Nah...don't worry about it....if you don't trouble it...it won't trouble you." And with that, the bee literally landed on Roger's index finger. He sat there, the ruler in all worlds magical and real....undisturbed by the bee. He looked at taking it in and said quietly..."Ah...you're lovely..."

      The bee flew off his finger tip. Something in that moment, and, all it's quiet perfection was something the three of shared in such a personal kind of way. So much so, that many years later....he still wanted to take our picture...said Heather would never believe it...

      We could not have asked for more perfection in a day, or time with him...and we would have been quite content to leave our live as we knew behind and stay with Roger for as long as we could....but we never allowed ourselves to be in a position where we might have overstayed our welcome....so we suggested it was time for us to head back to London.

" You've been amazing....but it's getting late and we need to catch the train back to London. We've got to get going. Roger....can we call a cab?"  Never, ever did we expect him to say...."No."

Out Here in the Fields....

     For all of you who have been so amazing in following our blog...know that we are enjoying sharing it with you....It has given us the opportunity to re-live the whole thing once again.  It has just as much impact as it did when it happened, and know, that the best has not even happened- so please stay with it-

Moving on....
     We were in Roger Daltrey's  room at The Plaza Hotel in New York City.  The year is 1976.   Not only did we see The Who at Madison Square Garden, but we wound up- quite by accident in the front row.  Being that close to the spray of the sweat, and the pulse of the music would have done anyone in....    

     As if that weren't enough, we then found ourselves, only a few hours later, in Roger Daltrey's hotel room.  The shock of him opening the door,  realizing that WE were the 'ballet dancers' (as we had stated in our letter), and inviting us in to hang with him for what seemed an eternity....gold stars for surviving that one!

               His parting words to us were, "If you're ever in England, look me up." 

     So, here we are, 18 years old, and about to graduate high school.  We didn't go to a "normal" high school.  We went to a school for kids who were already professionals in the arts, and so on.  Our peers had no idea who The Who were, nor did they care.  It was ballet, ballet, and then, a little more ....ballet.  So our insane enthusiasm and the cloud we were hovering on following this experience was something that no one around us could relate to....  And that was just fine.  We were on to much bigger plans. 

     We had an agenda.  How were we going to manage a trip to England???  The answer presented itself within a matter of days.  The concept?  We decided that since graduating high school was supposed to be a milestone....we would milk the living hell out of it.  We presented what we thought was a brilliant plan to our respective parents.  We want to take a trip to London, and study at The Royal Ballet School for a graduation gift.  Who could say no to that?  And...they didn't. 

     As soon as school was 'done and dusted,' we were on our way.  And that...friends...was a fucking extravaganza.  And just how did we know how to find Roger Daltrey?  Well, we were super sleuths.
We had combed over every article ever written, and had found in one particular interview, he mentioned the region of England (leaving it out - he'd prefer it), and....the name of his 'manor.'

     Armed with that information, we left for London.   We were not traveling lightly...like a baby with a pacifier (don't say it),  we felt the need to bring our scrap books...heavy portfolios filled with photos of Roger.  Smiling Roger, glaring Roger, sexy Roger, intimidating Roger, angelic Roger....if it was out there, we had it, and we brought it with us.

     We arrived at The Russell Hotel, a dark, dreary  little place.  We had a tiny, little room with one bed and no space.  We got down to business, and planned our week.  At the top of the list....the train station, scheduled....and of course, which day to go.

     We decided we needed a day to get acclimated, and wandered around London.  We went to the old venues where The Who had played before they were even the Who.  We went to The Marquee Club and ran our hands across the walls and imagined what it must have been like to be in that small little club, when the band first started.  It was still musty, and dark, and had all the markings of a British underground circuit.  Very cool....

      We felt ready.  As ready as we were ever going to be.  The next day was the day.  Who knows if we slept that night.   Bright and early the next morning, we found our way to the train station.  It was a massive structure, with trains heading in every direction.  We hoped we were getting on the right one when we boarded, and settled in for the ride.

     It was a beautiful day....sunny and warm, and the ride through the countryside was breath taking.   Keep in mind, we had absolutely no idea whether or not Roger was even in England...and he had no idea we were on our way to his home!  What gave us the nerve to think we could just show up unexpectedly , after what was less than a direct invitation is beyond us.

     In fact, when the train pulled into the rolling hills of ****** *****, we were completely alone.  It was completely rural, and not a soul in sight.  There was one taxi, and we approached it.  We got in, and  told the driver the name of the home.  He snickered and informed us with the following warning,

       "Mr. Daltrey does not like to be bothered at home."  He said, "Yeah...two girls showed up on his farm a few weeks ago....and he threw them out!"
     Oh for chrissake!  Now what?  We looked at one another and found ourselves with the same feeling we had when we going up to his room.  We had to do it.  We asked the driver to leave us off  down the road a bit, so we could  walk around....We didn't know what to expect.  We had no idea what the house looked like...would there be high gates with a padlock?  Would he even be there??

      And suddenly...there it was.  The driver gave us an idea of how far down the road it was and when we approached it....well....it was amazing.  There were gates, but, remarkably, they were w ide open.  We walked in to the drive and to our immediate right was a pool.  There was Heather, sitting poolside with another young girl.  She recognized us immediately, and she didn't look pleased.  All she said, was, " Roger's working up on the roof. I'll go get him. Wait here."

     We sat down on a little cobblestone wall in front of the house.  Laying on top of the stones were a pair of denim cut off jeans....Roger's denim cut off jeans!!! We'd know them anywhere, in fact we were convinced they were the pants he wore in Tommy- we'd know those anywhere too.....No..of course we would never, ever pull off some pieces of fringe to stash away in our pockets!

    I was jabbing her in the ribs, she was slapping me in the thigh....and then....from around the corner...sweat dripping down his chest, which we could see because, why? Why? Because he was wearing nothing but a faded pair of low waisted faded jeans. 

     That's right, no shoes...no shirt.  Nothing. Deal with it. We did - you have to. He was magnificent.  Absolutely magnificent....and in all his Roger Daltrey glory.  He was at home, he was not expecting us, he was barely dressed.

          Roger Fucking Daltrey.  Barely dressed.   We looked up at him...he looked down at us, and said.... "C'mon.  I'll show you around." 
     It was as if he was expecting us all along.  He couldn't have known, but he wasn't surprised...and he wasn't angry, irritated, or displeased in any way.  He took us into the house....
Yeah. That's right.  More to ....come.

This song is over...

Not by a long shot....So, where were we? Ah!

The story so far....So, here we are...The Glow Girls.  Two teenage girls who like every other teenage girl, had fallen for Roger Daltrey.  Hit between the eyes by the movie Tommy, the obsession grew at rapid speed.  We'd been to see The Who in Philadelphia and sat up in the nosebleed seats.  From there, we went to see them at Madison Square Garden in New York City.  It's 1976.  We hopped the gate from the back of the orchestra.  The crowds seemed to part and we walked a path that led us to the front row...staring straight up at Mr. Townshend.  

     Scoping out info about where The Who would be after the show, some obscure guy, think his name was Terrence, told us if we wanted to see Roger Daltrey, he was staying at The Plaza Hotel.  We raced up to the hotel, and it seemed our luck had run out when we heard the girls racing through the lobby screaming, " We met Roger Daltrey!"  We had missed him ....two entrances...we were at the wrong one.  

     So, here we are, in the lobby and we are crushed.  We were surprised when from around the corner, who showed up, but Terrence, the guy who had told us Roger was staying there.  He could see how destroyed we were.  Who knows what led him to tell us what room Roger was staying in...but he did.  One of us...terrified.  The other...like an arrow to the mark. 

      It was late...after midnight.  Who does that? Who even thinks about going up to ROGER FUCKING DALTREY'S hotel room and knocking on his door at midnight????

    I was prepared to think about it...she was ready to do it.  She pulled me up off the couch where we had been waiting for him in the lobby.  Trying to be cool and act as though we were guests...ridiculous...we turned the corner, and walked toward the elevator.  She pushed the up button.  As the door to the elevator opened, it was clear this was gonna happen.  

     We weren't alone.  A hotel security guard had followed us in the elevator, and oddly, so did Terrence.  Know that this all happened so quickly...seconds...so it's difficult to recount all the details with precision.  But that's not important.  What is important, is, that the elevator had arrived on the 8th floor and we were stepping out.

     We made our way down the hall, looking for room 831.  And then, the security guard stepped in.  He said, " Girls....Mr. Daltrey has retired for the evening.  You can't go there."  Mr. Daltrey????  Was this really happening.  Not only were we in the same building as Roger Daltrey, but, on the same floor!  Are you kidding????

      She turned to him and in a style only she can pull off said, "Please... we are not crazy fans, we won’t make a scene..we were waiting at the wrong entrance.  We waited a long time, please just let us knock on the door..if he does not want to see us, we will go quietly.”  Who knows whether he planned to let us try or escort us out...but by then, we found ourselves in front of his door. Room 831.

   We  stopped dead in our tracks.    There it was....the only separating us from Roger Daltrey was the door to his room. And then.... we heard it!  We would have known it anywhere....that voice!  It was without a doubt Roger Daltrey speaking on the other side of that door!   We heard him laugh... that inimitable, throaty, Roger Daltrey laugh!

    I wanted to die...I was never so frightened in my life.  What if got angry at us???  It was late...what the hell were we going to say?? I was speechless already..This was a fucking big mistake and I wanted to get out of there asap!  She turned to me and once again she said..."It's now or never."  She raised her hand to knock. 

       ...She knocked on the door.  And then it happened.  The door opened and we were standing face to face with Roger Daltrey.  He had one hand on the door knob and he stared...no....he glared at us with that Roger Daltrey face we all know so well.  And this is not the softened, a little older Roger we all know now.  This was Roger Daltrey in his absolute peak Roger Daltrey magnificence....long flowing curls, golden brown skin, that jaw....oh my god...that jaw!   

     He stood in front of us looking like a caricature of himself! Wearing a white button down, long sleeve henley shirt, red suspenders and high waisted, 3 slit-pocket bell bottom jeans.  But it's the eyes that hit you the hardest.... there is something about them... they were absolutely hypnotic.  The most intense, piercing eyes in a color we've never seen before...or since for that matter.  Like Caribbean blue water...and when you look in those eyes, it's as if like a laser went right through you...freezing you in your tracks. 

     

    I took a moment, then found my voice, and searching for the right words,  I said something like this: 

      

              “We missed you downstairs, we were waiting at the wrong entrance

                                 …We sent you a letter"...

     And with that...he... Roger Daltrey... broke into a smile.  He poked his head out from the door, looked down the hall and waved both the security guard and Terrence away.  He turned to us and said:

" Well, you must be the ballet dancers...you don't want to stand in the hallway, do you?  Come on in...."

She had knocked on the door and Roger Daltrey had not only opened the it, he had invited us in.  I was so out of body at that point,  that all I kept thinking was, " How the hell does he know we're ballet dancers."   I had completely forgotten that we had sent a 3 page type written letter as registered mail backstage to the Garden.  We never expected he would get it.  We certainly didn't expect he would read it.

     It was awkward at first.  Heather walked in.  She was in her nightgown and it was pretty clear she wasn't pleased when she looked at Roger and said she was ready for bed.  But you know Roger's style. He does what he wants, and he made it clear he was into having us stay.  With that, Heather left the room.

   

     Roger had a pot of tea in front of him.  He was pouring himself a cup and paused for a moment.  He looked at us with a devilish grin, and said in that inimitable Cockney accent, "I'd offer you some tea..but I want it all!"  That accent....every word that poured out of his mouth was magical.  He was just so....what's the word...Roger Daltrey!  He was everything we knew and expected and more.  More intense, more beautiful, more witty, clever, sexy, engaging...all of it.  He was...even more Roger Daltrey than we expected!

     Neither of us knows exactly how much time we spent in Roger's room, or, for that matter, what we discussed....but it was other worldly...more than we ever had dreamed could happen.  We had hoped to see him up close.  We wanted to have him know who we were...but this?  There are no words....

     We were not going to overstay our welcome. We gave each other the eye and proceeded to get up. One of us said, "We've taken enough of your time. It's late.  Thank you so much. It was really, really gracious of you to spend some time with us. "

      He never expected that.  And, he didn't seem pleased.  He wanted us to stay...He looked surprised and then he looked up at us and said, 

      " You're leaving already?  You haven't even asked for an autograph!"  

He was not expecting that it would be us, the two young, teens that closed the evening. It was fantastic.  Naturally, we said that of course, we'd love to have his autograph.  We had the clear impression he didn't want us to go.  But we had to....We had to get out of there.  The adrenaline we'd be running on was finished. 

 

     Naturally, we said, " of course. thank you"....and he signed.  And then, the terrified one, the one who wanted to leave before I knocked on that door, opened her mouth and said.....

     " You know...we may be in England this summer taking ballet classes at the Royal Ballet School." What did I just hear?  We had no intention of taking class at the Royal....but she was setting it up.  We were not done with Roger Daltrey...not by a long shot.  

 

     And once again, there it was...

             "Well, if you're ever in England, look me up."

    Oh yes.  That's all we needed.  We walked out of his room.  At first we walked slowly, but that gave way to a run and we both collapsed on the floor of the hallway.  We were done. Shot. Exhausted.  All that energy...all that adrenaline...first seeing The Who...standing in the front row...running up to the hotel, waiting and missing him...and then....even to this day we cannot believe what happened that night.  

     We've been friends for a long time....41 years to be exact.  There have been ups and downs....years went by when we didn't even speak. But there was something about that night.  It was so magical, and so personal to just us two, that on some level it bonded us for life. It  was something we experienced together...We turned that fantasy into OUR reality.  

    Yeah, we got home eventually and did what two 18 year olds would do...woke the parents, screamed, carried on...the whole bit..And then....we got down to business.  We would be graduating high school in a few months...what better graduation present than a trip to England?

 

     So if you think this song is over....think again. 

We're just getting warmed up....stay tuned!  We are The Glow Girls...and we're taking you with us....pure and easy