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We repair to The Landmark Inn laden down with food and drink and many exotic potions with which to celebrate our good fortune. Cass cooks one of her specialties: Duck a l'orange and after fulsome amounts of whiskey, and brandy and wine and grass and, in a few cases, Seconals - we're all just lying around vegging out watching TV and discussing names for the group. "The New Journeymen" was not a handle that was going to hang on this outfit. John was pushing for "The Magic Cyrcle". Eech, but none of us could come up with anything better, then we switch the channel and, hey, it's the Hell's Angels on this talk show . . .
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And the first thing we hear is: "Now hold on there, Hoss. Some people call our women cheap, but we just call them our Mamas." Cass jumped up: "Yeah ! I want to be a Mama." And Michelle is going: "We're the Mamas! We're the Mamas!" OK. I look at John. He's looking at me going : "The Papas ?" Problem solved. A toast ! To The Mamas and The Papas.
Well, after many, many toasts Cass and John are passed out. And Michelle and I slip out unto the balcony for a little air and we're in an instant embrace and I lean on the door to the empty apartment next door. It falls open . . . and we fall . . . inside. Very slippery stone.
Got A Feeling
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John and I wrote Got A Feeling just after we arrived on the coast. It was the "B" side of California Dreamin'.
By then we were all living communally in a little house on Flores Street in Hollywood. Flower power on Flower Street.
Michelle & John and Cass had rooms on the second floor. I chose the luxury of a mattress on the back porch where I
had the pleasure of hearing John coming downstairs one morning mumbling, "What's wrong with me, have I got the clap or
something?" Michelle was having nothing to do with him and way too much to do with me. The joke was on all of us.
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We'd just signed the big deal with Dunhill Records. Wonderful company. They took care of recording, publishing and
management, all under one roof. "Don't worry kids, these contracts cover everything." Did they ever. Our lawyer was
their law, la.. lo.. lia - attorney. "To this day I don't know how many records we sold."
(Remember the river ? Slimmy stone.)
But, we didn't care: about our deal, or the time bomb called Denny and Michelle that was ticking in our midst.
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We're making records! John and Lou are in the booth mixing up a storm and becoming best friends. We're in the
studio doubling and tripling the vocals. Me and my gals. John keeps adding layers to the music. Always pushing.
John was just looking for - the perfect take. But there was a trade off. Cass started bringing in material she
wanted to cover - Beatles songs, Brill Building standards, Motown stuff. We were trying everything we could think
of to make it sound really great. But the pressure was building up - on a whole bunch of levels. So, one weekend we
all pile into Harold The Bleak and . . .
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