Izzy Stradlin & the Ju Ju Hounds - "Take a Look at the Guy"
1992
In December 1987 Ron Wood was at Odegaard Books in Minneapolis signing copies of his memoir Ron Wood by Ron Wood: The Works. I had been living with my parents in Minnetonka post-college for a few months, drove into the city, bought Wood’s book, and stood in line. Of course, the wait was long. I mostly people-watched and listened to the college kids behind me gossip and joke around. Being out of school just months myself, I felt an affinity for these guys and their sense of humor. At some point, an older guy (he may have been in his mid-to-late-thirties) approached the people in front of me and asked: What are you all in line for? “Ron Wood is signing autographs.” Who is that? “He’s in the Rolling Stones.” Who are they? “Uh, they’re a rock band.” The guy nodded, then went on his way. I related this interaction to the guys behind me, we all shook our heads and chuckled, I ended up shooting the breeze with them a bit.
Soon one of Wood’s people announced to the crowd that he would only be signing for fifteen more minutes and after that anybody still in line would be out of luck. I was close enough to the signing table where I could tell I would get in under the wire, Ron was signing and signing and not chatting. A guy approached me and said he was at the back of the line and asked if I could get his acoustic guitar signed. Sure, I said. When I approached Wood, I asked if he could sign my book to “Wyman”, explaining it was my nickname. He glanced at me with a wry smile, then said “I’ll sign my nickname as well,” and signed “Woodman” and drew a little cartoon of himself. Then I asked if he’d sign my friend’s guitar as well. Sure, he said.
I handed the guitar back to its grateful owner. I asked him whether he knew if the Uptown Bar across the street charged cover charge on weeknights. “You’re old enough for bars?” he asked. (A common question back then, I looked like I was sixteen for many years.) He explained he played bass in The Widgets, that they would be playing at a club downtown on Friday, and could put me on the guest list and buy me a beer as thanks for the guitar signature. I gave him my name and headed home.
The club was Graffiti’s, it was in a loft space above Schiek’s, which back then was a fine dining establishment and not yet a gentleman’s club. Being an up-north kid used to bars and not rock clubs, this place was a revelation. Tiny, like it was somebody’s garage or basement. Wow, this is cool, I thought. The bouncer had the guest list written down in a spiral-bound notebook and boom there was my name. Wow, this is cool, I thought. I ordered a Special Export and grabbed a stool at a table. The Urban Guerilla* opened, my new friend bought me a beer and chatted a bit. Soon after, The Widgets played. Wow, this is cool, I thought, I should get out like this more often.
Sometime five or six years later at closing time after watching a band at the Uptown Bar, I was leaving my place up by the stage when I spotted the Widgets dude sitting on top of a booth back. I walked up to him and said: “You get any Ron Wood autographs lately?” Figuring there was maybe a fifty percent chance he remembered me, I was ready to keep walking. He recognized me and immediately started chatting away, introducing me to his friend and told our shared story. He gave me a business card, which I’m pretty sure mentioned some aspect of the local music scene. A record label? Another band? Unfortunately that slips me. But I still have that card somewhere, can’t wait to to stumble across it tucked away in a box of nostalgia or in some book I bought thirty years ago. If I were smart, I’d have used it as a bookmark in my Ron Wood memoir.
*There was a Minneapolis band called The Urban Guerillas who I had seen open at a (natch) notorious Replacements show in East Grand For*ks in ‘84. But on this night it was just one of them playing a guitar and singing, hence the singular moniker.