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by Rich Wiseman
A star rock guitarist like
Fleetwood Mac's Lindsey Buckingham is forever being told
by worshipful players that they learned everything by
listening to him. John Stewart said just that -- and was
astonished, he beams, when "Lindsey told me he had
learned to play guitar off my records."
The works in question
include quiet classics like Reverend Mr. Black, Greenback
Dollar and Where Have All the Flowers Gone?, which
Stewart sand with the Fleetwood of folk, the Kingston
Trio. "It was," says the 39-year-old Stewart,
"as if Lindsey and I had been talking to each other
for years without knowing it."
The communication across
the generation gap was more direct - and mutually
reverential - when Lindsey, 29, spent 50 hours helping
John produce his current "last ditch" album.
Since the Trio died in 1967, John had released eight solo
LPs but was "cold as a mackerel" and suffering
from deep depression. Three records labels had dropped
him, and a fourth was threatening to if this new one
failed. Stewart whimsically titled it Bombs Away Dream
Babies.
No way will it be a bomb.
Its big single, Gold, bears not only Lindsey's ringing
guitar but also the ever-sexy backup voice of his
Fleetwood colleague Stevie Nicks. Unsurprisingly, Gold is
already a Top-20 smash on its way to gold and possibly
platinum. Bombs Away is ticking in the same direction.
"Great relief has
swept over my body" sighs Stewart. "This is a
new breath of life. Lindsey's a genius and there's no
price tag to put on that kind of support," he says
graciously, adding: "I find it hard to deal with the
fact that what I've worked so hard for the last 11 years
has finally happened."
Stewart, a horse trainer's
son, began to impersonating Elvis as a high schooler back
in Pomona, Calif., did local gigs with the Furies, then
embraced the late-'50s folk boom with the Cumberland
Trio. When Dave Guard quit the Kingston Trio in 1961,
Stewart stepped in at 21. He got a $500 weekly salary and
was hardly wealthy when the Trio split six years later.
But he recalls, "I lived a good life. I bought an
Austin-Healey, married my high school sweetheart, had
three kids and wasn't into drugs." Yet Stewart still
had not chased his self-doubts. "I felt I had
dropped into a good thing."
Even rags-to-rhinestones
cowboy - ex-Trio accompanist - Glen Campbell coldly
concurred. Stewart says Glen once snapped at him:
"You won't get any help from me - you haven't paid
your dues." Indeed, John was soon paying something
more painful: alimony and child support. (Ex-wife Julie
and three teenage kids live in Northern California). To
add to his mid-'70s problems, he had developed severe jaw
misalignment that cause the grinding down of his teeth.
They had to be periodically recapped and left him in
constant pain. Along the way Stewart passed up a chance
to team with "a kid from Texas who used to hang out
backstage with the Trio, telling everybody what a big
star he'd be someday - John Denver." Stewart had
only one commercial success as a songwriter (the single
Daydream Believer for the Monkees) and one critically
admired LP. California Bloodlines, that wouldn't sell.
"I was low," admits Stewart. "Suicide is
too strong a word - I didn't have the pills at bedside -
but I didn't know what to do."
The turnaround came in
1977 after Stewart, rather shrewdly, asked his cult fans
at an L.A. club to write in requesting that RSO Records
President Al Coury sign him. His first record died, and
John had to go $9,000 in personal hock to put out Bombs.
Now John and second wife,
a singer Buffy Ford, live modestly in a two-bedroom
Malibu cottage shared with a dog and two cats. (Of the
Kingston boys, the Stewarts see predecessor Dave Guard,
now a San Francisco songwriter, who sang backup on one
cut of Bombs. They also are in touch with Nick Reynolds, an Oregon rancher. Bob Shane is again touring with a new
Kingston Trio group). A teetotaler at home, John keeps
his 6'2" frame lean on yogurt, juices, light foods
and jogging. John met Buffy when she was singing at a Bay
Area club. They cut a duet LP in 1968 and married in
1976. "We don't put a great deal of stock in
tomorrows," he says. "We live for the today's .
. . but not in a hedonistic way."
To say the least. After
learning the necessary dental skills, Stewart
meticulously - and painfully - recapped his own
ground-down teeth monthly for the past year to avoid
costly dental bills. But Gold royalties last month
allowed him corrective oral surgery. Through he plans to
buy "a car that works" to replace a '72 junker,
the Malibu tennis scene is still out. "It's too
expensive around here," says Stewart, who has a
different personal measure for success. "It's the
Rocky syndrome," he says. "I want to prove that
I can go the distance."
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