Charlie Watts, drummer of the Rolling Stones, sadly and unexpectedly died on August 24.
I thought I'd take this opportunity to share my Charlie Watts story:
As I have probably already mentioned on this blog--or maybe not--I became a casual Stones fan in the mid '80s when I bought, at the local Woolworth store, K-Tel's cheapo two-volume Story of the Stones cassettes. (If I hadn't been such a spend thrift at the time, I'd have saved my lawnmowing and babysitting money and bought the Hot Rocks compilations, but I was too shortsighted to do that). By the time I got to college, I became more immersed in the Stones and, upon discovering the existence of used record stores, grabbed as many Stones albums as I could. This is when I acquired Out of Our Heads, Aftermath, Some Girls, and several others.
By 1992, I was firmly established as a fairly big Rolling Stones fan. That year, I'd forked over what was then a significant amount of money for The Singles Collection: The London Years. It was this collection that introduced me to Stones songs I had never heard before, like "Child of the Moon", "Who's Driving Your Plane?", "Long Long While", "Gotta Get Away", and their brilliant cover of Stevie Wonder's "I Don't Know Why." So, I was deeply immersed in the Rolling Stones.
In '92, I worked at Schuler Books and one of my responsibilities was shelving the reference section. One day, I found a celebrity address book in the reference section and, for whatever reason, I decided to browse through it. Much to my amazement, I found Charlie Watts listed. I believe the address was for his house in Devon. His ACTUAL RESIDENCE! Not some publicist or agent's address. I jotted down the address on a piece of paper and on a whim, thought "What the hell?" and wrote a fan letter to Charlie. I can't remember the contents of my letter, but I am sure it was glowing and complimentary without being fawning (at least not overly fawning). I slapped enough postage to cover the expense of the letter's trip to England, and sort of forgot about it. I really didn't expect a reply.
Fast forward a few months to November 1992. It was a Monday--one of my days off from the bookstore--and I'd gone to see the movie Malcolm X at the theater for an afternoon matinee. When I returned home and checked my mailbox, I found a small envelope that was clearly sent from overseas because of its "Par Avion" label. Who could possibly be writing to me from overseas? There was only one person I could think of, but the handwriting on the envelope didn't match. I sliced open the envelope and pulled out a folded square of paper: "Dear Mark, Thank you for letter and all the things you said, Yours, [squiggly indecipherable signature]--and below the signature--"C R Watts" written in neat block letters.
Holy fucking shit!
Charlie Watts actually replied to my fan letter!
It is something I will never forget, and I have kept that letter (and the envelope) safely inside a hardcover book about the Stones. I know exactly where it is and will never part with the letter (or the book).
Two years after receiving my note from Charlie, the Rolling Stones played at Michigan State's Spartan Stadium--a concert that I of course attended. (The only time I have seen the Stones in concert). I like to think that me, this little Stones fan in Lansing, Michigan, was responsible for getting the Stones to play in the Lansing area. Now, I don't REALLY think I had anything to do with the Stones playing at Spartan Stadium, but in my fantasies, I do.
