Read Online Stairway To Heaven by Richard Cole - Free Book Online Page B

Keith said. “I didn’t hear that anybody asked for their money back.”
    Despite the noticeable stress upon Jimmy, I watched him emerge as the consummate professional—the same qualities he later demonstrated throughout the reign of Led Zeppelin. Even near the final hours of the Yardbirds, Pagey would sometimes spend much of the afternoon carefully coiffing his hair and selecting stylish attire, highlighted by ruffled shirts, antique scarves, and velvet jackets. While the rest of the band was wearing jeans, beads, and caftans, Jimmy had the look of an eighteenth-century British gentleman. He felt the fans deserved something special, even if he was the only Yardbird who did.
    There was another factor at work besides Jimmy’s professional pride. He also hoped to do something with the name “Yardbirds” down the road. He still believed there was some luster associated with the Yardbirds name, and at one point he approached Relf and McCarty:
    â€œIf you’re not going to carry on, I’d still like to. I’m thinking of forming a new band and would like the rights to use the name.”
    Relf laughed. “Is there actually something left that’s worth anything?” Without hesitating, he added, “It’s all yours. I don’t want anything to do with that fuckin’ name anymore!”
    They signed some legal documents, and Jimmy assumed ownership of the “Yardbirds.”
    The last Yardbirds concert in America was on June 5, 1968, at an auto raceway on the outskirts of Montgomery, Alabama. That morning, we were sitting by the pool of our hotel while a nearby radio blared a series of news bulletins:
    â€œSenator Robert Kennedy, who was shot last night at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, is lying near death in a hospital.”
    I was mortified. I felt the country was coming apart before my eyes.
    For that final concert, the Yardbirds performed on a makeshift stage consisting of two thirty-five-foot flatbed trailers. The fans—spanning the dirt racetrack to the edges of the stage—were remarkably enthusiastic. Just before Jimmy went onstage, he said to me, “It’s sad, isn’t it? This band could have gone on for years if the enthusiasm were there. I hate to see a great band die.”
    But that night, it did. As a single spotlight lit up Relf, then Page, then Dreja and McCarty, they played as the Yardbirds for the last time in America: “Heart Full of Soul”…“Over Under Sideways Down”…“Shapes of Things.” When the last chords of “For Your Love” faded into the night, any nostalgia that I felt was overshadowed by a sense of relief that it was finally over. Jimmy was wonderful to work with, but the tension within the band was almost unbearable at times.

8
A NEW START
    I n the wake of the Yardbirds’ demise, Jimmy Page had started planning his future. Emotionally, he was exhausted from the strain of presiding over the group’s death sentence and, for a time, even considered taking a hiatus.
    â€œMaybe I need a break,” he told a friend. “I’m not sure I have the stamina right now to start all over again with a new band.”
    But it wasn’t in Jimmy’s nature to sit still. He loved making music too much. He would get high from the sounds he could elicit from his guitar. Even during the times when Jimmy was using drugs, no pill or other substance could make him as euphoric, as intoxicated as music. As with any powerful, addicting drug, he was driven back to his instrument for another fix, another hit of the compelling stimulant.
    There were some practical considerations as well—in particular, contractual agreements that needed to be honored. Even though the Yardbirds had disbanded, they left some unmet concert commitments in their wake—most immediately, a Scandinavian tour. That meant forming a band—the name New Yardbirds kept spinning in Jimmy’s