When I wrote this totally honest tome 17 years ago, I had no idea that life as I knew it was about to change. I didn’t realize that I would be one of the first females since Anaïs Nin to reveal her sexual desires and escapades with such unbridled joy and fearless lack of guilt. People expected me to be full of remorse, asking me if I had any “regrets” about a rock ’n’ roll life lived to the fullest. I told these folks that I didn’t believe in regrets and always tried to live my life smack dab in the moment, a place where there is no room for such a pallid thing as regret.
This is a story of a young girl stepping into the brave new world of the free-loving, freewheeling ’60s—an era where anything could happen and it always did. I grew up in the frigid but slowly thawing ’50s, watching my mom take care of my daddy, so it was only natural that I wanted to take care of a rock star. You can blame Elvis for that. My first 45 was “Don’t Be Cruel,” backed by “Treat Me Nice.” The Pelvis trampled on my baby girl heart, insisting, “If you want my lovin’, take my advice, treat me nice . . .” Or it could have stemmed from the fact that my big ol’ daddy was like a rock star to me, disappearing for long periods of time, digging for gold way down in exotic Mexico. His nickname back in Kentucky had been “Hollywood” because he was so damn mysterious and hunky.
Despite putting O. C. Miller up on a pedestal of my own design, I still considered myself a true feminist in the early days of women’s rights because I was doing exactly what I wanted to do. I loved music and the men who made it. The twang of an electric guitar and the sexy thump of the deep dark bass opened me up and wreaked sensual havoc with my teenage hormones. I wanted to be close with the men who made me feel so damn good, and nothing was going to stop me. I wanted to treat a rock star . . . nice.
Magically, I was in the right place, Los Angeles, at exactly the right time, the halcyon ’60s, and when I knocked on backstage doors, they opened wide for me. I befriended and adored the men who made the music that changed the world. It was a time, I knew for certain, that would never come again. I was in the middle of the musical revolution and my soul was spinning. The Beatles chanted “All you need is love,” and I proceeded to prove them right.
I was unprepared, however, for the reaction to I’m with the Band when it was initially published. When uptight women on talk shows chided me for being too free-spirited and sexually open, I told them I was sorry they missed out on the good times and didn’t get to sleep with Mick Jagger. It caused an outrage, but I had a ball shaking things up once again.
I don’t believe this book is just a sexy tell-all. It’s the story of a young girl coming of age in the best of all possible worlds. It was a time of religious and sexual confusion, drugs, danger, and ecstasy. As my hero Bob Dylan announced, the times they were a-changin’, and I wanted to herald those impending changes, help bust down the doors. I consider myself an American sexual pioneer, and I still have a ball on a daily basis!
I hope you enjoy my young life well lived, and I hope it takes you back to a time when the world was alive with enthusiasm and joyous expectation. I’m honored to have spent time with some of the finest and brightest that rock ’n’ roll had to offer. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.