D.L. Moore

This book--well, the original from 1895, was an extremely interesting read, with many different essays by different individuals. I enjoyed all of them--I'm a history geek anyway, and I found this particular book in the archives of a local history museum (of which I was the manager at the time), in Alexandria Bay.

I remember when "Damn the Torpedoes" first came out. I was in the habit of putting my newest acquisition at the front of the stack leaned against my turntable, and it took the place of honor the day I bought it. My mom came in and said "What the HELL? Who's THAT guy? Why is HE out front? Put that other one there--the one with those two cute guys on the motorcycles!" She was, of course, referring to "Cheap Trick: In Color & Black & White," which held the place of honor the week previously. Yeah, okay. So maybe Robin Zander and Tom Petersson WERE "cute guys," but Tom Petty didn't have to be "cute." He was TOM PETTY. The book was an enjoyable read. In fact, I received it on Friday morning and was 1/2 way through it by the time the seller contacted me to tell me he received delivery confirmation. The author, Warren Zanes, is a literate person. By that, I mean, either he or his editor understands the use of the Oxford Comma, as well as putting the damn punctuation INSIDE the damn quotation marks. Yeah, so I'm one of THOSE people. It's distracting when something isn't written correctly. I breezed through this--page after page, and was deeply bummed when it ended. Kind of like the end of a carnival ride you really like. I learned a lot about the intricacies of Petty's life; his struggle with his marriage (SPOILER ALERT: Stevie Nicks was NOT YOUR FRIEND, Tom! She was an enabler!!!), the squabbles within the band line-up, and how damn hard everyone worked. We've lost a lot of great musicians the past few years, but Petty's death is the only one that truly saddened me, because for me, this was personal. Since 1976, his voice was in the background of every road trip I've taken...every time I cleaned the house...every time I painted a wall, or worked on my car. I can hear "American Girl," and I am immediately back in my 1962 Chevy Impala, cruising down the highway. I can actually smell the mold from the leaky back window. Petty's music was THAT good. Petty was a poet, a gentleman, and one hell of a performer. This biography gives his life the respect HE deserved. Oh, and I hope there is a special spot in Hell for Aunt Pearl.