Tales of a Barooga Bandit
Daniel O’Connell’s Journeys in the Rock ’n’ Roll Unknown: A fifth in a series of interviews with Detroit’s lost rockers
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In the myth and mystery of Jim Morrison and the Doors, Arthur Pendragon, the Phantom of Detroit, serves as footnote in their history. In the context of the Doors, some Doors fans would even say that the Phantom was a “divine joke” in the annals of the Aldous Huxley-inspired name sake.
The truth of the Doors history: The Doors needed a frontman uninhibited by playing a guitar or keyboard. They desperately needed a singer who utilized their body as an instrument; who utilized the microphone as a fifth limb — like Morrison. In the pages of The Ghosts of Jim Morrison, the Phantom of Detroit, and the Fates of Rock ’n’ Roll, the book investigates the auditions and abortive Doors reinventions with British-blues vocalists Terry Reid, Kevin Coyne, Jess Rodin, and Howard Werth. It is even speculated and rumored by Doorsphiles that Doug Yule was in the running — which is discussed at length in the pages of Tales from a Wizard: The Oral History of Walpurgis, through the insights of the world’s definitive Doors’ biographer, Jim Cherry, and Italy-based Doors tribute vocalist, Alex Raga.
Prior to the Phantom’s involvement with the Doors, the two widely documented attempts to reconstitute the band occurred with Iggy Pop — and Terry Reid.
Unknown to American audiences, Terry Reid was a respected British blues singer and songwriter who turned down the lead vocalist position in two of the earliest and biggest hard-rock bands of the early Seventies. First, Reid rebuffed Jimmy Page’s New Yardbirds — a job that went to Robert Plant as the band morphed into Led Zeppelin. Reid then rejected an offer of replacing Rod Evans in Deep Purple (Evans provided the lead vocals on their first hit, “Hush”) — the job went to Ian Gillan and Deep Purple ruled the charts with “Smoke on the Water” and “Highway Star.”
The respect afforded Terry Reid in England came as result of his band, the Jaywalkers, opening for the Rolling Stones at Royal Albert Hall in 1966. Reid eventually toured as a solo artist across the U.S as an opening act for Cream in 1968 and the Rolling Stones in 1969, along with an appearance at 1969’s Miami Pop Festival in the United States.
The considerations of Terry Reid and Iggy Pop as Morrison’s replacement appear in James Riordan’s Break on Through: The Life and Death of Jim Morrison. In fact, Riordan’s book states that, in addition to Pop and Reid, the Doors courted “others.” Although Riordan failed to expand on who the “others” were — one of those courted singers was the Phantom.
While the first Jim-less album by the Doors, Other Voices (1971), reached the American Top Thirty, and its accompanying single, “Tightrope Ride,” reached the upper-seventies on the singles chart, their second album, Full Circle (1972), fared worse. The album barely scraped the American Top Seventy, while the album’s lead single, “The Mosquito,” stalled in the lower regions of the Top One Hundred singles chart. Obviously, fans were intolerant of Manzarek and Krieger as lead vocalists, so the Doors headed to England in 1973 to audition replacements, working with two neo-folk/progressive-rock vocalists: Kevin Coyne of Siren and Jess Roden of Bronco.
However, prior to extending a job offer to Terry Reid, and prior to Jim Morrison’s death, Internet-based Doorsphiles insist Manzarek and company first extended a job offer to Michael J. Stull, the frontman for California’s the Wackers. Also managed by Bill Siddons and signed to Elektra Records, the Wackers, critically compared to the Hollies and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, issued 1971’s Wackering Heights and 1972’s Hot Wacks. The rumors state that shortly after Jim Morrison’s 1971 move to Paris, Siddons and the band feared Morrison would not return to record a follow-up to L.A Woman and “hired” Stull. Be it fact or rumor, the plans for Stull to front the Doors failed, resulting in Manzarek and Krieger sharing lead vocals on 1971’s Other Voices, their first post-Morrison effort.
Regardless of Terry Reid’s work with the Jaywalkers and his connections to the Rolling Stones and the Doors, and touring as an opening act in America during the late sixties with Cream and the Rolling Stones, his solo career never achieved a foothold in America. Only the most discerning Doors, Rolling Stones, or hard-core British blues-rock fans knew of Reid’s existence.
Then along came a Hollywood movie that included a new band just breaking in America — on the film’s soundtrack. While the movie bombed in theatres, it found a new life through a perpetual rotation on a nascent U.S ’80s cable movie network known as HBO — Home Box Office. It was through those repeated movie viewings that teenaged audiences not only discovered that band, but also the writer of the song appearing on the soundtrack.
It was through this film soundtrack that Terry Reid received his most wide-spread recognition on American shores — courtesy of Cheap Trick. The Rockford, Illinois, rock outfit covered Reid’s best-known song, “Speak Now (Or Forever Hold Your Peace),” on their 1977 debut album, a tune immortalized to many a rock flick fans as the opening theme song to Matt Dillon’s film debut: 1979’s teen rebellion classic, Over the Edge.
And this Terry Reid back story brings us to the subject of this article. Yet another posthumous Arthur Pendragon introduction, it was to this writer’s great joy that Daniel O’Connell turned out to be the same Daniel O’Connell who worked as the bassist in the Detroit bands the Wha? and Barooga Bandit.
Becoming friends with Russ Gibb, the operator of the soon-to-open Grande Ballroom — by passing out posters at the Northland Mall for another Gibb promotion — the Wha? became the first band to appear on The Grande stage. The catalyst for their October 7, 1966, appearance at The Grande: The MC5’s original opening act, the Chosen Few, broke up and Russ put the call into the Wha?. As result of that well-received opening gig, the Wha? became the go-to band to warm up audiences for Grande shows. The Wha? went onto share stages with the Yardbirds and the Velvet Underground, along with Detroit locals SRC, the Rationals, the Underdogs, and the Woolies.
While many may not have heard O’Connell’s next band, the early-Eighties pop-rock outfit, Barooga Bandit, they’ve read about them in career biographies regarding Bob Seger and the Irish rock band, U2.
Under the direction of Seger’s long-time manager, Punch Andrews, Barooga Bandit issued two albums on Capitol — Come Softly (1979) and Running Alone (1980). Silver Bullet band members Drew Abbott (ex-Third Power), Charlie Martin, and Alto Reed each make appearances on Come Softly; Reed co-produced the album with Punch Andrews.
The “cheeky” album cover of Come Softly, which features a young woman’s derriere poking out of a pair of demin cutoff shorts and a ribbon tied around her finger caressing her bottom, was originally intended as the cover of Bob Seger’s six million-selling album, 1976’s Night Moves.
The indirect “Terry Reid connection” between the Phantom and Barooga Bandit — with Terry Reid rumored as the earliest and first considered replacement of Jim Morrison in the Doors, and Barooga Bandit doing a rousing, post-Cheap Trick, more-faithful-to-the-original-version cover of Reid’s “Speak Now (Or Forever Hold Your Peace)” — got this writer and Daniel O’Connell to talking, with great stories you won’t read in any other Detroit rock tome.
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome Daniel O’Connell to the stage. . . .
Daniel O’Connell: [As far as Terry Reid is concerned], when [Barooga Bandit] set out on the Dire Straits tour, I had already given the band my six months’ notice, so I was an “open agent” on the road. When Terry Reid came up to our dressing room one night [at the Roxy in L.A.] he complemented the band and he and I chatted a bit. I gave him my card and told him, “If you need a bassist, give me a call.” Terry was taken aback just a bit because I did it in front of my band members; but they didn’t blink and I explained the situation to him.
Fast forward to the following Spring of 1981: By coincidence I was moving to L.A. [to escape the Detroit depression and make money], and by chance I got a call from “Terry Reid” saying he’d like to consider me for bass; more of [him saying], “I want you to play bass for me.” I brought up “money” and he said since I was moving to L.A., we could talk up details when I got [there]. So, when I moved to Los Angeles, I gave [Terry] a call and he said they had a place to rehearse and gave me the address. I drove out to Pasadena and the address was a vacant lot!
R.D Francis: So did Terry flake on you or was it a prank?
Daniel O’Connell: Two things went through my mind: One: Terry Reid was a weirdo, not being able to say, “We changed our mind.” Two: Someone in California [got a hold of that business card I gave Terry] and pulled a prank on me and the offer was fake — including the “Terry Reid” at the other end of the telephone. I called back the number and no one ever picked up the line/number. To this day I wonder [what] was the deal?
R.D Francis: Besides Terry Reid, did you get any other offers being an “open agent?”
Daniel O’Connell: Two years before Reid, Drew Abbott of the Silver Bullet Band got me an audition with Rick Springfield. [The short of it,] I failed the audition miserably; I think deep down I didn’t want to play “that kind” of music. [Rick’s] personal manager picked me up at airport in a TR6 Triumph, with him, me, and my bass barely fitting. He was on coke or speed or something and drove like a maniac — continuously screaming about how L.A. is “laid back.” Then there was the Weird Al gig.
R.D Francis: You toured with Weird Al?
Daniel O’Connell: No, but I got a “legit” call from Weird Al’s manager for a try out. I knew I didn’t want to play parody music, as I feel you kind of insult the muses. I didn’t tell [the manager] what I was thinking, but [I] did say thanks, but I wasn’t interested in getting in a band. [My other “rock star” crossing] was when I moved to San Francisco in September of 1981: I played with a fast-pitch softball team, the Brunos. Fee Waybill of the Tubes was on the team. Nice guy, but a “distant” one.
R.D Francis: I know Barooga Bandit toured extensively as Bob Seger’s opening act, but you also opened for Van Halen?
Daniel O’Connell: Yes. [First, I have to mention that] in Chicago on the Dire Straits tour, Sammy Hagar and [bassist] Bill Church came to our hotel with the Capitol people [and hung out]. Nice guys, Sammy and Bill.
After the Dire Straits tour, [Barooga Bandit] did two shows with Van Halen. The brothers didn’t show and neither did [David Lee] Roth, but the bassist [Michael Anthony] chatted us up for a long time. He was livin’ large and not a care in the world; we were broke and on the bottom rung.
I had been an apprentice plumber and got my Michigan license back in 1975, so I was viewing all these guys we’d meet with an “eye” that my uncles would have [in construction]; it was kind of surreal in that sense. But the Van Halen concerts freaked me out. All the crowd up front were 13-to-15-year-old boys all geeked out about being “at [their first] concert.” I thought of Pinocchio; seriously, I felt like I was on the donkey part of the Disney film.
R.D Francis: What was the deal you had with Punch and Hideout? I ask because I know that Arthur Pendragon, during the Walpurgis years, signed a production contract with Punch, and Punch was “signed” to Capitol. Grand Funk Railroad had the same type of “production deal” with Terry Knight Productions and Capitol.
Daniel O’Connell: Yes. Punch signed us to a “production deal” contract. He gave each of the band members advances to keep us on the road.
R.D Francis: And ultimately, even with the Seger, Dire Straits, and Van Halen shows, you decided to leave the band?
Daniel O’Connell: Yeah, I was disappointed in Capitol [Records]. It was a big deal for me because Tennessee Ernie Ford was on the label when I was a kid. Also, when I was like 4 or 5 years old, Capitol came out with their own 45-rpm record player for kids with Bozo [the Clown; a children’s television show in America] and other cuts. I was “geeked” we were on Capitol, [but] we barely saw a rep on the entire tour. At Club Shamoo, in the hinterlands of Connecticut, some old rummy Capitol guy shows up, and blew the entire night about “the good old days” of the Beatles when everything was dripping with money and perks . . . and he didn’t ask a single question about [Barooga Bandit]. In fact, he asked me if I’d get him a drink!
R.D Francis: Many of the Detroit scenesters I speak with mention Micheal Bailey often. He worked for Punch Andrews at Hideout Productions and was a Capitol rep in Detroit for a while.
Daniel O’Connell: I knew of Michael, but didn’t know him. From 1977 to 1981, when I was involved in [Punch’s] Hideout offices, Punch had an all-female office staff. During the time of the Dire Straits tour, Craig Lambert was our Detroit regional guy.
R.D Francis: I realize the Detroit local scene was extensive with a lot of venues and an even wider variety of bands, so it’s not possible for everyone to know everyone — or play on bills with everyone.
Barooga Bandit, as well as Arthur’s band, Pendragon, played the same venues, such as Jagger’s in Waterford, Harpos off the I-94, and Bentley’s in Royal Oak. Did you ever cross paths with Pendragon?
Daniel O’Connell: I knew of Arthur and of the band, but didn’t know him. I do recall that he and the band had a good reputation as a solid outfit. We never shared any bills with them. [During the recording of Come Softly by Barooga Bandit] I recall Punch [Andrews] talking about how pissed he was that the Phantom gave away his identity instead of milking the “Is that Jim Morrison?” game going on with [the album].
R.D Francis: From what you’ve told me, it seems you left Barooga Bandit before their infamous headlining Boston gig at The Paradise Theatre on December 13, 1980, where the opening act was some unknown band from Ireland, U2.
Daniel O’Connell: Yes. That all went down after I left the band, but I heard all about it. It was awful. But [U2 guitarist] Dave “The Edge” Evans remembered the band in their biography.
R.D Francis: From what I have read, The Paradise show was U2’s second gig in the states. They had only been in the states for a week and played their first show on December 6 at the Ritz in New York City.
Daniel O’Connell: The story goes is that U2 got a really great reaction from the crowd opening the show. When U2 came back after their set to check out Barooga Bandit, everyone had left; they were there to see U2.
R.D Francis: Right. What happened is that the long-dominate rock station in Boston, WBCN, had been playing a CBS-import copy of U2’s debut, Boy, even before it came out in the states on Island. And now that I think of it, WBCN did the same thing with the Japanese-import of Cheap Trick’s Live at Budokan, which was never intended for stateside release. Anyway, my understanding is that the airplay and the live response U2 received in Boston is what broke them in America.
Daniel O’Connell: Yeah, that’s the breaks. That’s rock ’n’ roll.
Daniel just took this rock journalist’s words right out of his mouth. The “breaks.” What creates those “breaks?” Is it luck? Good management? Is it sucking up to the right radio people?
What causes a rock not to roll, but land with a thud in the marketplace? Is it lazy, cheesy A&R guys more interested in the sex and drugs prefixes of the rock ’n’ roll industry? Is it the empty promises of record executives that promise fame and fortune and carelessly toss musicians as dice on their personal Monopoly boards, gambling with the life and futures of people who choose to make their mark in this world through the joy of sharing music?
This is what drives this writer in his journalistic quest — a foolish Don Quixote on a never ending, windmill-battling quest to give the unknown and forgotten musicians their well-deserved recognition.
That is why, so many years after the fact, for musicians such as Arthur Pendragon and Daniel O’Connell — and Ron Course, Frank Mielke, Jerry Zubal, and Joe Memmer, spoken of in this writer’s previous articles — that I speak now and give the unheralded musician peace.
END
— R.D Francis is the writer of The Ghosts of Jim Morrison, the Phantom of Detroit, and the Fates of Rock ’n’ Roll and Tales from a Wizard: The Oral History of Walpurgis, both which explore the life and times of the musician responsible for the mysterious 1974 Jim Morrison “solo album,” Phantom’s Divine Comedy: Part 1 — and came to replace Jim Morrison in the Doors.
About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies and publishes on Medium.
Photo and Video Section
All songs are courtesy of You Tube and uploaded by others. I am not responsible for the uploads or those accounts.
