Product Description

CHRIS O'DELL WASN'T FAMOUS. SHE WASN'T EVEN ALMOST FAMOUS. BUT SHE WAS THERE.

She was in the studio when the Beatles recorded The White Album, Abbey Road, and Let It Be, and when Paul recorded "Hey Jude," she sang in the chorus.

She was at Ringo's kitchen table when George Harrison said, "You know, Ringo, I'm in love with your wife." And Ringo replied, "Better you than someone we don't know."

She typed the lyrics to George Harrison's All Things Must Pass. She lived with George and Pattie Boyd at Friar Park, developed a crush on Eric Clapton, and unwittingly got involved in the famous love story between Eric and Pattie.

She's the subject of Leon Russell's "Pisces Apple Lady," a song he wrote to woo her. Other rock legends with whom she was intimate include Ringo, Mick Jagger, and Bob Dylan.

She worked with the Rolling Stones as their personal assistant on their infamous 1972 tour and did a drug run for Keith Richards.

She's "the woman down the hall" in Joni Mitchell's song "Coyote" about a love triangle on Bob Dylan's Rolling Thunder Revue tour. She's the "mystery woman" pictured on the back of the Rolling Stones album Exile on Main Street. She's the "Miss O'Dell" of George Harrison's song about her.

Miss O'Dell is the remarkable story of an ordinary woman who lived the dream of millions -- to be part of rock royalty's trusted inner circle. Illustrated with private photographs and jam-packed with intimate anecdotes, Miss O'Dell is a backstage pass to some of the most momentous events in rock history.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #24234 in Books
• Published on: 2009-10-06
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Hardcover
• 416 pages

Features

• ISBN13: 9781416590934
• Condition: NEW
• Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
• Click here to view our Condition Guide and Shipping Prices

Review
"A riveting, honest, and brave account of life with the most famous names in rock and roll history...hard work, tough love, huge loss, pain and gain. I couldn't put the book down. I just loved it." -- Pattie Boyd, author of Wonderful Tonight

"Chris O'Dell knew all the greatest names in sixties and seventies pop, from the Beatles and the Rolling Stones to Eric Clapton and Bob Dylan. Nicknamed 'the Pisces Apple Lady,' she was the ultimate insider, a uniquely trusted employee and friend in a world where betrayal and backstabbing are the norm. Now at last she tells her story, in devastating detail yet without envy or malice...a rockin' good read." -- Philip Norman, author of Shout! The Beatles in Their Generation and John Lennon: The Life

"I enjoyed reading it very much. It is an astonishing look into the backstage of rock and roll."-- Leon Russell

About the Author
From 1968 to 1984, Chris O'Dell worked in the music world as an assistant and tour manager for the most influential musicians of that era.  She has appeared on television, radio, and print media relating to her stories of her years with The Beatles and The Stones.  She appears in a number of books written about the various groups she worked for including I, Me Mine by George Harrison; Rolling Thunder Logbook by Sam Shepard; Wonderful Tonight by Patti Boyd, and Clapton by Eric Clapton.  Currently, she is a Licensed Professional Counselor and Licensed Substance Abuse Counselor.  She has a twenty-two year old son and lives in Tucson, Arizona.

Katherine Ketcham is the coauthor of 13 books, including the New York Times bestseller Broken: My Story of Addiction and Redemption by William Moyers and the bestselling classics Under the Influence with James Milam and The Spirituality of Imperfection with Ernest Kurtz.  More than 1.4 million copies of her books are in print, and her books have been translated into 13 languages.  She has three adult children and lives in Walla Walla, Washington with her husband.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

1

Derek Taylor

February-March 1968

I was sprawled out on the sofa in my Hollywood apartment, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, watching a game show on the black-and-white, thirteen-inch TV, smoking a joint, and getting really annoyed. My date was almost two hours late. I was alone in the apartment because my roommates, both high school friends from Tucson, were out partying. Where the hell was he?

When the phone finally rang around 10:00 p.m., I didn't try to hide the fact that I was upset.

"Chris! It's Allan." He sounded a little out of breath, and from the background noise I guessed he was in a restaurant somewhere.

"Allan, where have you been?" I said. "You said you'd be here two hours ago."

"I know, I'm sorry, but look, I'm at the La Brea Inn with some friends and there's someone here you have to meet." Allan was talking fast. "His name is Derek Taylor, he used to work for the Beatles, he's doing publicity for A&M Records, and, Chris, you just have to come down here and meet him."

"I don't want to go out. I thought you were coming over here." I was still annoyed with Allan, and I didn't believe that this guy Derek knew the Beatles. The Beatles! Who knew anyone who worked for the Beatles? He was probably just one of those people hanging out on the periphery who once met someone who once knew someone who claimed they were once best friends with someone who worked for the Beatles.

"Chris, you'll really like him." Allan sounded pretty excited, actually. He was almost pleading with me. "Just jump in your car and come over. Come on!"

I was torn -- should I go or stay? I remember staring at the lamp on the side table, almost as if I thought it might tell me what to do. Allan seemed sincere about wanting me to join him, and whoever Derek was, he had certainly impressed Allan. I'd never seen him act this way about anyone before. Oh, what the heck, whatever happened, it would be better than sitting in my apartment all alone feeling sorry for myself.

"Okay," I said. "I'll be there in half an hour or so."

"Hurry. I'll be watching for you," he said.

I changed into my yellow-striped bell-bottom jeans and white top with puffy sleeves (Cher in her "Sonny and" days was my fashion idol), touched up my makeup, and drove to the La Brea Inn on Sunset Boulevard and North La Brea Avenue. I loved my new beige Mustang, which I'd bought in Tucson for two thousand dollars. My father cosigned the loan. I'll never forget that feeling of driving off the lot in my new car, the windows down, the hot desert air blowing through my hair. Oh, that indescribable feeling of total freedom!

The drive took about fifteen minutes. The streetlights on Sunset Boulevard were so bright it might as well have been day, and under their glare I began to feel exposed and insecure. Maybe I should have stayed home. Really, all I'd wanted to do that night was hang out with Allan in my apartment, two friends talking, no pressure, no stress. I liked it that way. I always tried to take things lightly, not to invest too much, although I have to admit that even at twenty I fantasized a lot about finding the right guy and a relationship that would last a lifetime. Maybe this is the one, I'd think when I first became interested in someone. But when the relationship ended, even though it would hurt like hell, I moved on pretty quickly. I went with the flow -- one of my great strengths that would also prove, at times in my life, to be a significant weakness.

I parked my car in the crowded lot and took a few deep breaths, trying to force the anxious thoughts out of my mind and put a confident smile on my face. I was always uncomfortable walking into a room where the party was going strong and everyone else seemed to know one another. Never knowing what to expect, I feared I wouldn't fit in, that no one would talk to me, and if they did, I'd say something stupid or inappropriate. So I had learned to put on a "face," smiling confidently, walking with a firm stride, my back straight and head held high while my insides were trembling, whether from fear or excitement I never quite knew.

The restaurant was dimly lit, and a massive two-sided fireplace in the center of the room separated the bar from the dining area. A thin fog of cigarette smoke drifted toward the high ceiling, a pleasant hum of conversation filled the room, and the crackling fire put a pleasant glow over everything. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw Allan waving to me from a table by the fireplace.

"Hey, Chris, glad you made it," he said, giving me a hug and introducing me, first, to the two women at the table -- a writer named Eve and her friend, whose name I immediately forgot. I wasn't paying attention to them anyway because I couldn't take my eyes off the handsome man who had pushed back his chair, waiting for Allan to introduce us. He was so -- well -- so English, dressed in a navy blazer with a silk scarf tied loosely around his neck and tucked into an open-collared shirt, a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. A well-groomed mustache lined his upper lip, his long hair, layered to look somewhat unkempt, curled up at the ends, and his eyes drooped in a gentle, lazy way. Just like Paul McCartney's eyes, I thought.

"Chris O'Dell, meet Derek Taylor," Allan said.

"Lovely to meet you, Chris," Derek said, standing up and taking my hand in his, all the while looking deep into my eyes. At that moment I felt like the most important person in the world, as if no one else in the room mattered to him. Dashing -- that was the word for him. He reminded me of the romantic, swashbuckling Errol Flynn.

I sat down next to Allan and tried not to look like I felt -- out of my element. This was clearly the "in" crowd. Eve was talking about her latest writing project, and from the sound of it, she was one of those almost-famous people who really did know a lot of famous people. Dressed in jeans and a flowing silk blouse, with rings on almost every finger and a huge gaudy necklace that was probably worth a fortune, she held her head back at a steep angle, eyes slightly narrowed, looking down the steep cliff of her cheek at me. I'm sure she sensed my insecurity and perhaps that raised the angle of her chin a bit higher.

"What's your sign?" she asked me, her eyes intent and unsmiling.

"Sign?" I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Astrological," she said, raising her chin a little higher.

I smiled, trying to be friendly. "Pisces," I said. And with that, she turned away and didn't speak another word to me for the rest of the evening. Like everyone else, she focused her attention on Derek, and who could blame her? I loved the way his eyebrow lifted in an amused sort of way and how his undulating, often indecipherable English accent cloaked what I would come to know as a Liverpudlian wit, which says one thing and means another, poking fun without being blatantly cruel about it. Derek would tell his stories, spinning his magic with perfectly chosen words, drawing you into his spell, and making you feel as if there were no better place to be in all the world than sitting right next to him. We drank and talked, and after three or four glasses of wine, I was feeling much better about everything, especially when Eve and her friend stood up to leave.

"Deadlines," Eve explained, with a wink at Derek.

Derek, Allan, and I drew our chairs closer together, ordered more drinks, and stayed until the restaurant closed. Something clicked that night between Derek and me. He told me later that he was attracted to the fact that I seemed so unaffected by the Hollywood scene and so innocent about the world. I'm not sure how innocent I was -- I'd been in LA for almost two years, and I'd already had several disastrous love affairs, I was drinking too much, smoking too much pot, and discovering the joys of amphetamines. But perhaps it was a sort of youthful naïveté that endeared me to Derek, and later to the Beatles, the Stones, and all the other rock stars, along with my willingness to withdraw into the shadows and let others take center stage.

I was always the listener, the eager helper who wanted more than anything to be liked and accepted, the friend who was content to do what she could to make other people happy. Ever since I was a little girl growing up in Keota, Oklahoma, I'd learned how to put other people's needs above my own. The memories are so strong that I can still picture myself, a six-year-old girl with wavy blond hair and blue eyes who wore plaid dresses with white collars and patent leather Mary Janes with anklets. I'd skip down the sidewalk of the main street, past the sheriff's office, past the winos sitting on the bench in front of Burris's grocery story, past the tiny houses where I waved at people sitting on their porches or working in their yards until I came to my favorite spot, an old oak tree with spreading limbs and acres of grass all around.

Sitting under the leafy branches, my legs splayed out in front of me, I spent hours searching for four-leaf clovers. I had a lot of time after school to explore because my younger sister, Vicki, was sick again with chronic pneumonia -- eventually the doctors would remove part of her right lung -- and my mother was staying with her in the closest hospital, thirty miles away, across the Oklahoma border in Fort Smith, Arkansas. My father was always busy at school, teaching or coaching, and I had afternoons to myself. I was used to being alone. Loneliness was part of me, as familiar as taking a breath. The message I had internalized was to take care of myself, do the best I could, and no matter what the circumstances, keep a big smile on my face.

I also learned early on that I was not the center of the universe, but that knowledge did not stop me from pursuing my dreams. I never stopped looking for the four-leaf clover that would change my life. It was waiting out there for me, and when I couldn't find it in the shade of the massive oak, I skipped along the dirt road and looked for it elsewhere. I never stopped dreaming that I would discover something precious and ...

Customer Reviews

A rock 'n' roll memoir with heart
Given all the rock memoirs that have emerged over the past twenty years or so, it's hard to pick up another without thinking wearily, "Now what?" After all, Chris O'Dell was not a star herself, but a friend, employee, helper, and lover of a few you might have heard of. It's easy to be cynical, but I fell in love with this twenty pages in. Guilelessly, like Alice down the rabbit hole, Miss O'Dell stumbled upon a life even she could not have dreamed. Looking back, she paints a living portrait of the Beatles, the Stones, her friend Patti Boyd Harrison Clapton, and many others. At the same time, however, she manages to tell an engaging tale of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll with a loving, caring eye and a warm, forgiving heart. After all, she reminds us, even the highest (literally or figuratively) among them had also stumbled onto that 60s Mount Olympus unprepared for what fame, money, and position could do for--or against--friendship, love, artistry, and happiness. An unusually insightful and loving account of an amazing time.

This delicious page turner will not disappoint!
This book, once picked up, is difficult to put down. I have read almost every book on the Beatles, and there were first hand accounts of stories just hinted in other books. Great insights into the Beatles and the women in their lives, and the goings on at Apple. Interesting accounts of how musicians feel about their peers. There were loads of surprises too.
Miss O'Dell's voice is instantly likable. her honest and wide-eyed approach is refreshing. She is practically sitting on the couch with you telling you about all her mostly wonderful adventures. I simply did not want the book to end. I hope there are more stories she hasn't shared yet......Can I pre-order her next one?

Buy this book
Miss O'Dell: My Hard Days and Long Nights with The Beatles, The Stones, Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, and the Women They Loved

Many of us grew up not just listening to the Beatles, but LOVING them...feeling something different...maybe female, no..no...it transcended that, but definitely stronger than admiration...it felt intimate. It felt as if you were family...well, okay, distant family, but still a like a cousin who couldn't wait to see and hear the updates about each step in their music and lives...waiting for the post cards. Rather than from your mother, however, you got your updates from the radio, t.v., Rolling Stone and Circus and 16 and Tiger Beat...or the drum beats of friends.

Because every single thing you wanted to learn and emulate and remember about this amazing, reverberating time in your life seem to somehow generate directly from these four magical men, you also came to greatly admire their insiders...the wives, the friends, the staff, the scruffs. They seemed like they were family too. Their lives were so appealing since they experienced the magic firsthand. I remember distinctly wanting to know more about Chris O'Dell...I had seen her photo on albums, and there she was on the rooftop for Let It Be! And, just why did George Harrison write a song about her? I thought she must be someone very special. Chris O'Dell was just exactly where I wanted to be. And, as it turns out, she was not only there, but everywhere and led an even more amazing life than any of us could ever imagine.

Whether you shared that kind of experience or not, this is the book that music fans have been waiting to read since the 60's. Clearly it is not a repeat of any other biographer or insider's account. It is a true, fresh view...an extraordinary account by Chris O'Dell, who was there...who can truly say she was family. Bravo, Chris and thank you.