The first chapter of my forthcoming autobiography.

“FROM JOHN WAYNE TO NELSON MANDELA My Dangerous Love Affair With Celebrity”

By Roger Goodman.



Roger is looking for a publisher.



This book is not about dishing the dirt, or hurting people, through exposing them.

That’s not what I’m about, so no telling tales, its about fun times, good times,

Talking about people who do not mind.



Most of all it’s a book about life and what you get thrown at you.



Regards Roger Goodman.



© Words – Roger Goodman The first chapter of my forthcoming autobiography.

They would know your every move (piss them off and your tyres would get slashed daily, they were all from Liverpool and Manchester) and even stay in the same, cheap hotels as us. I would rather be mates than make them enemies. I learned my selling skills in Petticoat Lane Market in the East End of London while growing up selling Bendy Toy seconds (the paint had run) for my Uncle, Lofty Cohen. We sell the official merchandise under license for the band playing, and always with large display boards, inside and outside the venue. I worked for the following ‘on the road merchandising companies like: Arena, Brockum, Bravado, Concessions, Concert Publishing, Winterland and Event merchandising to name a few. These company’s would buy on to a tour based on how many people the band would play to.For instance, The Who ‘It’s Hard ‘tour of America in 1982, which I worked on the previous year for Brockum and their director Peter Lubin. This is a rough guide, not exact figures: 40 Stadium gigs, average of 60,000 people a night equals 2.400.000 people in total. Say the advance for the tour was 50 pence a head, which would work out at £1.200.000 in advance, then anything between 12% and 25% of the Gross on top of that. Depending on how good a negotiator you were, you would see how well you could profit from the deal, plus the fact that the band has the last say on the designs and quality control.I was asked many times why did I not become a merchandiser? Well for one I could not come up with the very large advance monies, Small bands would rely on advances to start their tours off. The only way I could have done it was to make a deal with a band rich enough and worked in-house for them, as was done by Paul Pike and U2.Boy I could show them all the pit falls as a consultant, the scams, the monies ripped off the top, but I didn’t and was having far too much fun touring the world on other peoples expense, to be interested.We were the guys who set up numerous stalls in each venue, from one shop in a venue of 3,000 to 28 stalls and 150 programme sellers for stadiums. The merch was t-shirts, sweat shirts, badges, posters and the like sold in venues across the U.K and Europe normally. Sometimes if you were lucky and well liked amongst the band, crew and management you would be taken around the world. I was one of the lucky ones. I went to America 15 times touring every state in the Union (except Alaska and Hawaii) and every major city many times over, I saw places in America that even Americans had notI discovered along the way that American college football stadiums were HUGE.Between 30 and 55 thousand people capacity. Amazing. I went to Australia (I was all over the press and T.V there for breaking records selling merchandise for Dire Straits, the details of which will be in a later chapter) New Zealand and Japan.Being a merchandiser on the road is not all about selling t-shirts alone. No. You are also the following things: a smuggler (t-shirts placed in flight cases on trucks to avoid taxes in numerous countries), a display artist (making merchandise boards look great), an international banker (changing prices accordingly from country to country), a band liaison (keeping them happy at all times), an accountant / stock controller (stock in-out including bands, comps) and finally a long distance driver after gigs to the next venue.Now I’m not saying we are the hardest workers on the road, they would be the caterers, first up making breakfast then going into the local town and shopping for the day, whilst making food for the band and crew. They are the last to go to bed, after giving out sandwiches to all of the truck and coach drivers.There is a pecking order to the crew. Caterers up around 6/7 A.M, then the riggers who put up safety lines and the trusses for the lighting crew to set up, followed by the sound crew to set some or all of the P.A. Speakers and/or place towers on stage left and right.Then comes the backline crew (who are usually as good as musician as the band are) to set up the instruments on stage and sound check as best they can before the band arrives. Then the truck and coach drivers, band management and finally the band would arrive. Then at around 16.00 hours we set up. If the gig is for 4000 people or under it’s usually one big stand at the entrance. Stadium gigs are far more complex and I will explain that in a later chapter.Now as merchandisers, we are outside the family unit as above. We have paid onto the tour so we have to work that much harder to ingratiate ourselves with the family. So to get into everybody’s good books we would do favours for nearly everyone on the crew. INVOLVING DRUGS? YES……When I first went on the road I was 15, lied about my age and said I was 16. I was brought up in a very liberal Jewish family (We were Jews when it suited us) to be terrified of drugs and the mere word would send me into a cold sweat, Basically I was told by my parents that if I did any drug, I WOULD DIE. End of story.So after careful observation of all the drugs being consumed around me for six years it was not until I was 22 in ‘81 that I dove in to the wide, wide world of drugs. Boy, I was going to read up on every book, about the long term and short-term effects of drugs, and what they can do to you. So I did and came to one conclusion……… try it.Nobody died, in the six years I observed, nobody went mad and nobody tried to kill me. Phew what a reliefSo I was on the road in the French Alps on Dire Straits “Love Over Gold “ tour. On Ronnie’s bus there was this great character, Tag Hall, who swore every other word and was the head of the sound company “Concert Sound” for the band. He gave me my first line of cocaine. Thank you Tag, you changed my life for the betterThe adventure I was about to embark on over the next few years was to be incredible.For all those people who have used cocaine, the first time feels like nothing has happened to you, right? But it has. Apart from running off at the mouth and talking rubbish to people all night, and to continue to do so when all the people around you have gone to sleep is why it is then the next day you have the neck to say ‘nothing happened’ Then asking everyone to let you buy some cocaine. They all refuse abruptly, so as not to go through another boring night like that ever again.So my dear readers the catalyst was born, to my great journey, where it would lead? I never could have imagined how mad and amazing that journey would be.Over the next year or so I had compiled a little black book of all the whorehouses and every drug dealer in every town and city I visited around The World.So here I was on The Police’s “Synchronicity” tour 1983, a full year before they broke up. I thought they would not make it to the end of the week let alone next year after the behaviour I was about to witness with Nancy. We were sitting in the catering room at the end of the gig, (I was lucky this venue was a concession gig, where you count in stock to the venue who sell it for you and take a percentage.) I did not have to do my settlement till at least an hour and a half after the gig had finished.I was buying drugs from a shopping list given me by various members of the entourage. Nancy was a regular dealer at the Ahoy for years and an American Abroad. But even she was not used to what was about to happen next……..Stuart Copeland bursts through the doors making a beeline to the caterers to ask for something. A split second later in bursts Sting, trotting not walking. Snorting and swearing like a frenzied beast. ”FUCK YOU….YOU…..WERE OUT OF TIME”. They then clashed like two bulls fighting over a female punching and screaming at each other until they were rolling around on the floor. It seemed like minutes to us, both the caterers and Nancy and I were taken aback mouths wide open, like babies waiting for the next spoonful.Well that was to come in the shape of Miles Copeland, the manager. He split them apart in a second like two rag dolls, slapping them around their faces like a man controlling his dog’s, screaming at them to “go back to their dressing rooms now”They obeyed like two naughty schoolboys. It was always rumored that Miles was ex C.I.A. and could out kung fu anyone. Nancy and I would be the first to endorse that point, and never want to piss him off. Ever.He left the room we closed our mouths and all present let out a loud sigh of relief and disbelief as to what just happened. Where we all tripping? We pinched ourselves. No. That was real and for fear of offending Miles none of us ever spoke of it during the entire tour.Moving forward a few weeks.It was Saturday 30th December 1983 at Wembley Arena, the night before New Years Eve (which we would be seeing in with The Police) when the rumour started circulating that Jack Nicholson was coming to the gig tonight. He would have two seats, front row in the special enclosure (stage right). I was like a giddy schoolchild with a crush on some girl (was I gay…. No) I just loved the man I had been on the road for 8 years and had taken and sold drugs to dozens of pop stars, film stars, sportsmen and celebrities so why butterfly’s now?I wanted to say something cool to Jack.Maybe sell him some cocaine.Becomes his best friend over night after a long session at his hotel?Talk rubbish in the toilet over a few lines before getting thrown out?I didn’t honestly know what to do, so I waited at the back of the special enclosure for him to arrive and he did. With just a driver, no bodyguard, a beautiful young lady by his side, wearing tan leather flying jacket, a long beige scarf and his signature tinted Ray-Ban’s. Here was my new best pal I would get him when he went to the Gents.In the special enclosure area there are only two toilets for men and two or women. All four are cubicles; all four are disabled toilets, which are generally larger for wheel chair access. These open out facing each other.He had sat in his seat and had two drinks in front of him and was smoking. Just then one of my friends came over to see me to ask me for a line. Great A witness±Murray and I waited for ages for Jack to go to the toilet.This is exactly what happened.After about 35 minutes, 7 cigarettes, and two drinks he got up. ‘This is it’ I thought As he got up he was 12 rows below us and we were at the exit already. We went to the toilet and stepped into cubicle one first. And waited. While we were waiting I did not see why we couldn’t have a sneaky corner of our tour passes of Coke. So we did and as soon as we had finished we heard someone get into the next cubicle.Was it Jack?Then, totally unprompted, came the unmistakable voice of the man in the next cubicle………..Jack Nicholson.I leave you all to make your own minds up about what was going on in the next cubicle.Loud sniff (shouting) “Oh Yeah…Do It To Me…Do It To Me…Yeah”We put our hands to our mouths to stop laughing…………………………..Loud Sniff (shouting louder) “ That Hit’s the Spot…. Yes…Yes…Yes ”We are in tears. I’m chewing my cheeks to stop myself laughing………………He flushes, we flush clear our throats, and open the doors at the same time and I am there, face to face, with Jack Nicholson, in his green tinted Ray-Ban’s.I’m that close and what wonderful line do I come out with?“HI HOW ARE YOU?”To which Jack Replied“EXTREMELY”Murray and I both fell on the floor crying with laughter. What did Jack do? Why, he walked over us and back to his seat.No friend forever, no lines of cocaine to share, just a moment with Jack and a perfect moment at that.