Bob Dylan Tour U.S.A. 1986.


To Joey 


A letter from Carole, my friend from 81 Tour, received at the end of April 86, informs me that Dylan will make a tour in the USA in early June. After successful tours in Japan, Australia, New Zealand, he decides to continue with Tom Petty and the “Heatbreakers”. I see this an opportunity to go again for a crazy trip and open a little more the doors of Dylan’s perception.

After my adventures in Paris and  Blackbushe 78, California 79, Europe, Canada and USA 81, this new adventure does not scare me.  I know I need organization, money, a lot of courage, and a faith to move up mountains.
I think I have all these elements and I'm starting to get organized. Fortunately this is the low season and I can get a plane ticket cheaper. My visa brings some problems quickly resolved after a jump in the Paris embassy. I take this opportunity to visit the Louvre and fly to New York.  Eight hours of flight ... New York, New York BIG APPLE here I am! I hold my breath posing my feet on American soil. 5 years have passed since my last visit. I cross the city to catch a  flight to San Francisco at Newark Airport.
The tour begins on the West Coast:

June 9th San Diego CA, 11th Reno NV, 12th Sacramento CA, 13th & 14th Berkeley CA
16th & 17th Costa Mesa CA, 18th Phoenix AR, 20th Houston TX, 21st Austin TX, 22th Dallas TX, 24th Indianapolis IN, 26th Minneapolis MN, 27th Milwaukee WI, 29th Chicago IL, 30th Detroit MI, July 1st Detroit MI, 2nd Akron OH, 4th Buffalo NY, 6th & 7th Washington DC, 8th & 9th Boston MA, 11th Hartford CT, 13th Saratoga Springs NY, 15th & 16th & 17th New York NY, 19th & 20th Philadelphia PA, 21st E. Rutherford NY, 22nd Boston MA, 24th Kansas City O, 26th & 27th Denver CO, 29th Portland OR, 31st Tacoma WA, 1st August Vancouver BC Canada, 3rd Bay Area  CA, 5th & 6th L.A. , CA.

My return ticket is for July 23rd in New York. I have a Greyhound pass for 30 days. I know this means of traveling cheap across the U.S.: air conditioning, seat wide enough to sleep. This will be my room for many nights.
After an hour's stopover in Baltimore and a few additional hours of flight I landed in SF. I realize that Carole is not at home. I fall asleep on her home’s steps. She returned at 3 a.m. and we fall asleep. Carole and her brother Bruce decide to join in for the four shows after the one in San Diego. They will travel by car. So I joined them.
We arrive in Reno in the afternoon. It's a miracle that the concert is not ‘sold out’. We go to the hall. We force a bit but we are rejected. We spy around: some limos arrive and depart. We wonder if Bob has decided to travel in luxury. After several hours of waiting we go without seeing the Boss. I know that Bob Meyers is again the road manager and I have nothing to expect from him. Our seats are very poorly placed at the top of the hill and the sound is bad.
Dylan begins with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and then the Heartbreakers themselves. Dylan on acoustic guitar for three songs, Petty joined him. Petty alone four songs and the final set. Three encore songs and the show's over.
Dylan is correct but the show is short and a little classical, little change compared to 81 or 84 except for a few pieces from the last album Empire Burlesque. Some old songs like "A Song to Woody " some new "Clean cut kid" and the famous "Ballad Of A Thin Man," "Like a Rolling Stone," "Masters of War" ... a "Positively 4th Street" aggressive and a fabulous "Rainy Day Women 12 & 35.”

Petty is not my style and I think we see him too much.
We find the Dylan hotel after a little confusion because Dylan and Petty are not in the same hotel. A red hotel bus was parked in front of the "airport plaza" an ordinary airport hotel. We wait for hours and hours browsing around the patio. Nothing. It is very hot. The bus driver told us politely that they will not leave until three in the afternoon.
3 p.m. in the afternoon;  everyone is on the bus or around the bus, back vocal singers  and others waiting patiently for Meyers. He is nervous and does not seem to recognize us. 
After a long time a minivan comes from behind the hotel and stops near the bus. Carole yells
-“Here HE is!”
We run all three pursued by Meyers. Poor Bob ! he's tired or drunk. He scribbles his autograph for Bruce without a glance and jumped into his bus.
We have a strange feeling. Carole thinks he is loaded, but with what? He seemed so fragile and thin. He did not know us. We begin a mad dash, following the red bus from Reno to Sacramento. The race ends nowhere. They go straight to the parking lot. No hotel. We know they will not stay sleeping in Sacramento but will go straight to Berkeley. We will have to follow again if we want to know where they will stay.


The concert is outdoors and there are no chairs. With great daring and a bit of luck we glide to the forefront. It is 7 p.m. and the concert starts at 7.30. The sound is not great but at least we are in front. We can observe the translucent skin of the guy. As soon as the end points we crash in the wings but they are already gone. We're off to San Francisco.
After a good night's sleep, Bruce spotted the hotel (a specialty for someone who hunts autographs).
At three in the afternoon we're inside a splendid palace in Berkeley: a fairy tale castle. The waiting begins, comfortable but nervous. We meet guys from the band: Howie bassist of the Heartbreakers, three of the four singers. Only Joey the bus driver is nice and modest. Others seem proud. We feel uncomfortable. Displaced.

After several hours we see a disheveled figure. He is dressed all in black. Carole freezes. I take a step and ask for an autograph on one of my drawings. He signs, reserved, without comment. Carole found her voice and explains who we are. "You remember us, 81? I am the dancer in San Francisco.
-« Do you need a dancer for your next video clip?
- "I will not do anymore clip",
-"can we get tickets for tonight?"
-“Yes, what is your name?",
-" … "
He points to a weird guy ; Garry Shnaffer and says
-"two under the name of …"
 And off he goes.

Thank you to Carol for having the guts to ask him for tickets. We are still all amazed. We can not say that the approach was friendly but at least he has not thrown us away. He did not seem angry as much as you can guess. It was probably the best he could be at this time. I have my autograph and we have two tickets from the man himself. I'm satisfied. He did not recognize us but why blame him? That is 5 years ago.
When we entered the Greek Theater we realize that the seats are not very well placed and that belong to a group of 200 VIPs. We move surreptitiously to the side to get out as quickly as possible and reach the hotel before the group.
The sound is better. The songs are almost all identical with a lovely acoustic "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carol". Some songs I do not recognize. We know that the last is "knocking on heaven's door" and just before the end, we will run out. Carole drive fast and we are rapidly at the Clairmont. Half an hour after arrival Tom Petty and his band, then the business men, whatever their role. I wonder why so many. Meyers arrives followed by Bob. A girl jumps on him and asks if she can kiss him. Bob smiled,
-"No, no!"
And goes on a bit  surprised but surely flattered. He suddenly turned around and went to the bathroom ....
Immediately, the guards are standing guard in front of the doors. (They have not stopped the girl!). He leaves to head immediately towards the bar. He has not changed! He wears his black leather pants, black boots, a black leather jacket, finger less gloves. He must roughly transpired. We dare not follow him at the bar. We wait in the lobby. It must be around midnight and the bar closes at 2 in the morning. Music comes out. Dylan comes in and goes to the toilet .... he marks a pause before the doors, without glasses he should not see the difference :MEN WOMEN??! We giggle at our stupidity. When he comes out he glances at us. He heads to the bar, and again turned around to look at us from the corner of his eye. Did he notice that we did not enter the bar? In the lobby a dozen fans are circling like animals in cage. The bodyguards and security are nervous. But this time Dylan went to the bathroom ALL alone. Good boy!
We resume our wait more and more tired.
Fifteen minutes after 2 a.m., he leaves. Carole spoke to him and again asked him for tickets for tomorrow.
How many? Four? ",
-" No, only three for the three of us, thank you. " 
He was agape as if he had not realized that we had expected him but not too drunk, nor too arrogant. As nice as he could be if he doesn’t know the people approaching him.
 "Thank you Bobby!
Good night. "
 We return to the stop the next day at 4 p.m. Petty comes back from the sound check. This does not seem to concern Dylan. He does not come out before 7 p.m. We are leaving. We must find a place to park and check that we have our tickets. We know from experience that between the Boss talk and his employees there is a gap and that the instructions are lost. If Dylan is generous we have a doubt regarding Meyers. But we have these tickets and we can proudly say that we are Dylan guests.
We are in the same seats as yesterday. The concert is the same. Fairly short. When we start to warm up, it's the end. Dylan is not Springsteen.
We return to the castle and wait until 1a.m. Joey is nice to tell us that the Boss flew to L.A. Bye! Bye! see ya !
For Carole and Bruce that’s the end of the adventure. For me, it begins in solitude, "freewheeling". Armed with my Greyhound pass, my bag of clothes, a few pennies in my pocket and a heart full of hope.


Seven and a half hours drive before reaching L.A.
6 in the morning and no bus to Costa Mesa.
The closest point is Hutingon Beach the stronghold of the Hippies in the 60s: good, good vibrations) and the first bus leaves at 12:55.
I walk the streets of Downtown L.A. ; one of the point the most 'hot' in the U.S.A., the most polluted too. I have the feeling of losing a lot of time but I take this opportunity to keep a diary that I update between the moments of hyper activity. Sometimes I'd rather have a car but the country is so vast that it is impossible to keep this pace of travel by driving alone. The bus provides the possibility to rest between two points.
An hour and a half drive and again I change buses. This place is in the middle of nowhere! I wonder how I'm going back to L.A. and how to reach Phoenix? There is no break between the two and Phoenix is very remote.
But for now I'm back at the Artists’ door. There is a ramp that leads directly into the theater. No chance to see the Boss unless he takes one of his whims. I am therefore in line to enter. To my surprise, the display is not that of Sacramento: they have chairs in front of the stage and I found myself on the lawn, very far from the forefront. The audience I am disappointed with, very preppy of 'yuppies' of the L.A. upper class, and L.A. upper class IS upper. I'd prefer the old 'hippies' from Berkeley.
It is 7h30.It is the show time but only half of the seats are filled. There is a constant stream of arrivals. Difficult to concentrate on what is happening on stage. The sound is good. The songs are the same and Bobby is so small down on the stage! The public is stoic.
I walk to the back stage door, I have nothing better to do for tonight I’ll sleep outside, too little money for a hotel room. I have to calculate the sum of all concert tickets, and it's huge.
Three fans are waiting  too. We begin to talk. They know which hotel Dylan is in and offer me to join them. I jump in the car, ‘bound for glory!’.
A mad chase begins at 1 a.m. They know the name of the hotel but not the address. We must follow the car were Dylan engulfed. The cars drive fast: it's crazy!
The guy who leads the pursuit is called Bryan, a fan of early dylanmania. He is the first editor of the Dylan fan magazine called "zimmerman blues”. Bob said he did not like the name:
-"zimmerman belongs to the past."
Bryan said OK and called his magazine "Changing". The magazine no longer exists.
-"I'm retired,"
said Bryan
-"I did what I could for Dylan. I have done my duty. "
 He is nice and fun. The other two are not fans but want to have fun.
We found the hotel ; a very famous "Four Seasons." Both guys are amazed by the luxury, but Bryan and I have seen others (‘Meurise hotel’ on Rivoli street is not bad either! And the Clairmont in Berkeley!). Bryan starts to get excited and want to know what room will Dylan sleep.
We reach the 20th floor and floor to floor, we play the detectives.
We try to hear a familiar voice, a guitar sound. We hear laughter and voices in chambre1111 Bryan wants to know what is happening. A doorman is looking for Howie Epstein. Bryan says spontaneously that Howie is the room 1111. The porter knocks on the door that opens and Bryan rushes inside. But no Dylan.
For my part I just want to know if Stanley Golden is there. I thought I saw him on the scene. He should remember me, the  year 81. He was the confidant / bodyguard / doctor for Bob. We saw each other again in 84 in Nantes and he seemed nice. The porter gave me his phone number, but Stan says he does not remember me. It was 2 a.m. and he was probably sleeping. He asks me to call the next day. But it’s today! We know anyway that Dylan is in this hotel. But where? At three o'clock in the morning, we give up.
At 4 o'clock I fall into Bryan's apartment, and I sleep, I sleep.


The following day. I return to the hotel and ask for Stanley.
-"I can not talk now but we'll see each other at the concert."

By going to the concert we have a flat tire, as Bryan is not supposed to drive he starts panicking.  I decide to hitchhike. I ask for Stanley Golden backstage but they response that there is no Stanley Golden?! I think Stan avoids me, he does not want to get involved. – but I never knew really ! -
This audience is there for Tom Petty. Some hysterical blonde but the rest of the public is rather cold.
Bryan eventually joined me at the stage door and invites me to his studio in Santa Monica. He shows me his "souvenirs": a plane ticket for Bardanes on behalf of Dylan, a birthday card for a little Dylan signed "love dad", a paper full of "Robert" for a passport renewal - he should write his full name The writing is smaller and sharper than the autographs. I remember that he signs with the left hand when he is perfectly right handed. He tries to thwart graphology? More interesting is the collection of video. I spend the night watching the tapes: "Concert for Bangla Desh", "Johnny Cash session", some TV shows: one or two songs with Earl Scruggs backstage somewhere, three songs from the album "next morning", Dylan is alone on acoustic guitar. I do not know why he did it but he is cute with his round face, young, with stubble, and clear blue eyes that break the screen. At that time he did not look hard like today rather the appearance of a cherub.
Bryan has a rare piece: the entire "Peace Sunday" concert in duet with Joan Baez at the Rose Bowl Pasadena 82. Four songs in total. Here again he had not lost his cherub cheeks and was wrapped in a tight suit.
A magical moment. And finally I had a blast with two hours of "Renaldo and Clara”.  I forward to each image Dylan does appear. I'm running a few juicy scenes: the trio Dylan, Sara, Baez. This film was a flop but it was not a Hollywood movie rather a kind Dali-Bunuel: collage, surreal view of Dylan's career and personality. The kind :  cutting Dylan into pieces and clue up the pieces in disorder, like all the faces of a diamond.


Bryan is someone! He is what I call a good parasite (parasite Weberman being bad), a Dylanologist. Bryan lived in N.Y. when he heard that Bob had moved to L.A. and he had a studio in Santa Monica.  Bryan moved to Santa Monica, just in front of the studio. For numerous years until the studio closed in 83 he observed the comings and goings of Dylan. The studio being constructed of glass, he could see Dylan opens his mail or answers the phone. So much that one day he asked Bob if he did not mind.
he replied
-"if I want to talk to you I do, if  not I don’t,"
-"fine with me,"
said Bryan. Bryan was content to listen to the sounds coming from the studio and delve into the trash. It was through him that fans learned one day that his friend Howard Alk was found dead at the studio.
Bryan was invited (or invited himself) to the Bar Mitzvah of Jacob in 84 (one year after the Bar Mitzvah of his brother Jesse at the Wall in Jerusalem). So, paradoxically, the eldest Dylan boy would have had his Bar Mitzvah at 17 years old. At the request of his grandmother he had an Orthodox celebration at the Western Wall with an ultra-Orthodox father (in appearance). Jesse was 13 in 79 when Bob had become a ‘Christian’!
1983 being the end of the Gospel period.

Bryan told me that Dylan can dance the Hora correctly. He happened to be every year for Yom Kippur in the synagogue in Santa Monica and saw Bob regularly. He also had the habit of regularly passing by Sarah's house in Beverly Hills and see the famous red Cadillac with a white top, parked in front. He said once or twice a year he could meet Dylan at the wheel of either one of his cars. He showed me Bob's favorite restaurant, an Italian named Bruno's. He often sent one of his employees to get dishes.
I really appreciate the company of Bryan who was the most decent fan-collector ever met. But I must go.


At 6 o'clock in the morning without having slept I'm at the Greyhound bus station .. I sleep, I eat, I let myself go in this air conditioner box: I'm in cotton.
It is 7.55 p.m. when I reach Phoenix, five minutes before the concert.  I jump into a taxi. The driver is smart and avoids traffic. Immediately on my arrival I’m offered a ticket at 10$. The seat is not great but I am on time. During the delivery of Petty I approach the scene. I left my bag under a seat and move to the front from empty seat to empty seat. I play hide and seek with security. In the end I'm just in front and sit up on a chair.  Bob has never been so close. He looks old and tired. He does not wear glasses, I deduce that he does not even see the first row of spectators. I stand for the last three encores and after « Knocking on heave's door » I know it's over.
It was a very good concert with a responsive audience. The best gig so far this Tour. But my position might allows me to be objective because being so close gives the impression of being part of the group. The first rows are the best but unfortunately are not always reserved to the best fans but often to the richer. The impression, however, are the best from the forefront more than from the back of a huge hall.
I go to the back. It is a parking lot. Security plays its role and disperses the curious. I just have time to see Bob goes inside a van with the singers and a few guys in the entourage. They move away. Two ‘nuts’ run after the van and missed getting crushed.

Now I must find a place to sleep. I am speaking to a girl who stands there like me. She says she has met Bob the first time in 74. She had the chance to shake his hand and it has impressed her. She comes from Denver to see the concert. She invites me to share her hotel room but had to go at six in the morning. That leaves us three hours of sleep.
I walk the streets of Phoenix in search of the red bus, but nothing. It is hot. My feet and my head hurt. At the bus station I hear it takes 32 hours to reach Houston. I phone the airport. There is a flight that arrives at 12.40 living at 8.30 a.m. for $ 115. I do not have much choice. I wonder what flight Bob is going to take. First class of course. In retrospect, after the events of the tour, I think he left right after the concert. The plane leaves at 8.30 a.m.without Dylan. Two hours later, one breakfast and two hours of time change ... it is 12:40. I take the bus to the city. Walking the streets, what is my surprise to see the red bus and another 'freak' bus named "Buffalo Springfield". I wonder if it belongs to a musician who would join him on stage. They are parked in front of an impressive hotel. I did not hesitate and get in. I ask the receptionist the best way to go to the concert. He is nice and gives me instructions. I swallow a burger and fries at a Mc Donald's corner and will resume my position before the door. I'm waiting several hours in the storm. Meyers get out. Joey salutes me. The luggage piled in the bus under the direction of Meyers. So they leave the city immediately after the concert. The bodyguard calls me
-"what are you waiting for?"
-Dylan ","
-"don’t stop him, do not talk to him, we're late. "

He guides me at the door. 5 hours waiting for nothing!

I hide in a corner and wait. A young woman flanked by a big dog gets into the 'Buffalo Springfield'. I assumed later that it was Anna Dylan(or Britta). Dylan comes wearing his sunglasses and stares at me but I do not flinch. He proceeds to the back of the bus. Then returns and talks to the driver, looking up waving at me. Thanks Bob, I feel alive again.
I take a bus to the amphitheater It is located within an amusement park. It is not complete but I get a standing seat. It is like in Costa Mesa, on the lawn and far. The concerts in Europe was better prepared. Patiently waiting for several hours it was possible to be at the forefront, but here, no luck and the security is 'heavy'. The tickets are expensive, up to $ 20.
The concert was good but nothing new and nothing very exciting for an audience that is constantly chewing on hot dogs and drinking beers, coming and going constantly and not very interested in what happens on stage. I wonder why they pay 20 € to come eat hot dogs and drink beer. We are far from the concerts of the 60's where one could hear a pin drops when Dylan stopped blowing into his harmonica. What respect then!
The first rows nowadays is not a luxury!
No way to find the stage door. I just hope the park does not close to give me a chance to sleep there. But we are in the U.S., they close at midnight and everyone must leave. I find myself in a parking lot of Holiday Inn and go to bed under the bumper of a truck. I sleep about two hours, it is not cold but I am eaten by ants. At 6 a.m. I take a quick lunch at the cafeteria of the Inn and jump into a bus to the Greyhound station. En route to Austin. I doze during three hours.


Austin: all scattered. It takes me an hour to reach the down town area and buy a ticket. Even on a bad seat at the top. This is a closed theater. The stage door is accessible. Some fans are waiting for an autograph. I explain the ritual Petty comes around five for a sound check with his Heartbreakers, then at 7 p.m. the red bus with the singers and staff and not far the 'Buffalo Springfield' with Dylan himself. We are ready. Everything happens as planned. Bob heads to the door without acknowledging his Fans. Nobody moves. Then he turns around and returns to the bus. He calls for his dog. At that moment three girls ask him to sign an autograph, he obliges with kindness.
He looks at me
-"You want an autograph?",
-"Thank you, I had one in Berkeley"
-"ah yes I saw you already,"
-you'll whisked away straight to Dallas?'
- Hm, Hm,
-"I’ll see you there ".
He asks the girls if they have a ticket.
He looks at me
-"you have one?"
And disappears.
I whisper
-"yes, I bought one. Thanks anyway”.
His remark did not sound like a question but more like an affirmation: I HAD to have a ticket.
What he wants most is that people go to his concerts. Autographs are only the icing on the cake. Does he really remember me? From 81?
I take a position very far, almost behind the stage.

At 8:15 p.m.the room is full at 1 / 5 th. He enters at 8:30 p.m. and the crowd is still flowing. I try to approach in the delivery of Petty, but the soul is not there. The public is very cold. I did not like this concert: too far, the public bad and nothing new on stage.
I'm heading back. Some people wait. The dog (a bull mastiff by the name of Brutus) is waiting in the bus. They drive the buses close to the doors and drive away the curious. No chance to see Bob. He got into his bus. I'm moving to a grid where the bus must mark a stop / Bob is in front and I waved. Bye! Bye! my love!
I stay on the parking lot until two in the morning.  I begin to panic as the trucks leave one by one. There is hardly anyone around and the ants are too fond of my chair for me to sleep on the lawn. I ask a guy who gets into his truck if he could drive me to the Greyhound station. I tell him my story. This impressed him and he invites me to his place. Bo and Janet are angels. She washes my clothes, gives me sheets to settle on the couch,  prepare a little breakfast at morning. That night Bob is on TV.HBO at 4 in the morning. I hear "A hard rain's a gonna fall" in my dreams, unable to open my eyes.
Bo, who works behind the scenes tells me that Willy Nelson was there but he didn’t appear on stage.
8 a.m. Janet drives me to the bus station. I'm going to Dallas.
Dallas. It's Sunday and everything is closed except the McDonalds where I get a hamburger, fries and coke. I walk but the 'Buffalo Springfield' does not materialize. I go to the theater. I wait four hours before seeing the van spinning in front of me with Dylan on board. The next concert in Indianapolis. It's too far for the 'Buffalo Springfield' and the group will likely take the plane this evening.
My seat is again very far. No way to move with such security. The capacity is around 20,000 seats as in Austin, but the public is much better.
Dylan sings for the first time "One too many mornings" and its full acoustic set with "To Ramona" and "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carol". I feel better because they are some of my favorite songs. Petty takes it upon himself to make the public sing with Bob but he is already struggling to remember the lyrics and he is destabilized. He lost control of the scene. This will never happen again.
They leave half an hour after the end and probably run away to the airport. A car pursuing.
I have 23 hours on the bus before reaching Indianapolis. I sleep most of the time. Carole would like to join me in Washington DC with a camper that needs repair.
For the moment nothing extraordinary happened. I still have not approached Bob.


Indianapolis 12.30.
I await the sunrise and go out in the streets. What do I see? The roadies bus outside a hotel. I phone and ask for Meyers. Bingo! it is the hotel.
I walk around in the city before returning to the hotel. I see the guards and go away. Brutus is out with Anna (?) and another boy who is obviously a Dylan. I thought Jesse. They walk the dog and return. The theater is not far from the hotel so I decide to wait for the Boss. At five I go for a coffee at the bar and I see Meyers at six in the lobby very nervous. The Boss should be out soon. I am a little too close to the doors and the guards inform the hotel security. I have to go out and wait outside in the cold. At 7 p.m. Brutus and Anna (?) get into a van. The young Dylan is down the street camera in hands. Dylan finally gets out pursued by three girls who ask for an autograph. Bob must stop to sign and remarks me. He asks me again if I want an autograph but recognizes me. I give him my gift.
It is still a closed theater and I am very far. The room is not full but the front row, yes. He has problems with his guitar and finalizes "Like a rolling stone" on piano. He seems satisfied with the public and launches his harmonica to a very enthusiastic guy. I know the show by heart and have fun to recognize the songs right from the intro. Some surprises slip « So long, good luck and goodbye »  will eventually be replaced by" Shake your hands " by Ray Charles.
"Positively 4th Street" disappears for "All along the watchtower", "Clean cut kid" more rhythm and blues version than the album, "Lenny Bruce" will be replaced by "Shot of Love" or "Emotionally yours", " You and me We Had It All "or" lucky old sun "Masters of War" I and I ".
 Petty takes the stage for four songs. Dylan returns with three acoustic "A song to Woody" (the first two concerts) replaced by "Ramona" (he will never do it properly: he forgets the lyrics or mix them all) "The girl from the north country" that he will do only in L.A. I believe that Echo Elstrom lives in L.A. I saw her on a Bryan’s video when he made a party with friends. In its place it will be "One Too Many Mornings," "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carol" twice replaced by "It ain’t me babe" or "A hard rain's a gonna fall".
In duet with Petty "I forgot more Than you'll ever know" on Self Portrait "Band of the hand" or "Union sundown" "When the Night Comes Falling From the Sky" and after this comment, --"Ricky Nelson sang many of my songs I will make one of him "
”Lonesome Town," followed by "Ballad Of A Thin Man" or "I'll remember you."

Petty for four songs. Dylan returns for  'Rainy day women 12 and 35 "shortened and remixed," Real you at last', 'just Across The Borderline ", a song by Willie Nelson?
"Like a Rolling Stone", "in the garden. The encore with Petty "Blowing in the wind", "Rock me baby" a Chuck Berry? "Unchain my heart" by Ray Charles or "Money money." Twice "Just like a woman" "Trust Yourself", "House Of The Rising Sun" once "Lay Lady Lay," "I Want You" and the Final "knocking on heaven's door" just before "Like a Rolling Stone".
Dylan presents the musicians and says ironically
-"Of course, I have my own Heartbreakers”
The four singers Carole Dennis, Madeline Quebec, Queen Esther Marrow, Louise Bethune. On keyboard Benmont Tench joined in Costa Mesa by All Kooper for "Like a Rolling Stone" (see again in New Jersey). Electric guitar Mike Campbell joined in New York by Ron Wood, Stan Lynch on drums, bassist Howie Epstein and guitar sharing the microphone Tom Petty.

The group is well. As Dylan himself said
-"it's like talking to one man."
Better than the group of 84.
I regret THE BAND that was the real band. The group of 78 was not bad in its own way. A bit sophisticated with violin and saxophone. This one is more Rock and Roll and even sweet songs like "Clean cut kid", “In the garden " are transformed into aggressive rock. More Rock More Blues More Rhythm and Blues even more rockabilly with "money money". Reminds me of Bill Haley & the comets a kind of Tutti Frutti. A selection of songs by Ray Charles and Budy Holly. This is probably why he chose Tom Petty who gave us a "Johnny be good" or "So You Want to Be a Rock and roll star” a song by Roger Mc Guinn.
Dylan quiet the rhythm with a brake of acoustic sound, a set of folk songs and some country music of Willie Nelson and others. The highlight was "Like a Rolling Stone" and "Rainy Day Women 12 and 35" which makes the audience hysterical.
In short, a program that covers his 25-year career. From  "A song to Woody" on his first album until several pieces of "Empire Burlesque".
I go straight to Minneapolis through Chicago. Then I can spend the rest of the night in the bus.


Chicago 2 a.m. I do not want to stay there because the atmosphere does not reassure me.
I arrive in Minneapolis around 5.30 p.m.. I take a room at the Y.M.C.A. There is no concert tonight. I need a shower, a comfortable bed, and a laundry before hitting the road again for a month. I'll have to buy all my tickets. The meeting face to face with Dylan was an illusion "just a dream, a vacuum, a scheme Babe!".
Looking for the bus for a while but the city is large. I give up. I do my laundry in the sink, made my hair blow dry and go into the arms of Morpheus.
At 6 a.m. the doors begin to slam. Because the Y.M.C.A. is a cheap hotel, a diverse form of wildlife is living there. The "Subterraneans" of American society, those who are not entitled to wealth. I am seeking the concert hall. I never know in advance where it is and I try to get information from the newspapers. I never have ticket in advance either. But the Tour announced the 'hottest' of summer is not so hot, the concerts are never ‘sold out’. Nobody is fighting for a ticket. The year 74 is very far.
The room called the Metrodome, a baseball field with a capacity of 80,000 people. There will be 5500 this evening. Tonight is announced ‘The Grateful Dead’ and Bob Dylan and the Heartbreakers. I know the Grateful Dead. I saw the group in San Francisco in 81 or 82 and Jerry Garcia in a club. This group is a phenomenon formed at the beginnings of the 60s, they were the leader of the Hippy. They have not changed much, just older and still play the same kind of music, mainly psychedelic. So they have their own kitchen with a particular itinerant cook. The extraordinary thing is that they have a lot of groupies: 3000-4000 'followers' in the country.
I knew but I was expecting some old bearded hippies with long hair and white beard. Imagining they were 15 years in the 60s they must be for the younger 36 years old and the majority about 40 years. what a surprise to see around the Metrodome youth dressed as hippies: long dresses, pants or shorts bleached, dyed T-Shirts, long hair and bare feet. Young and very young; 14,15,16 years: the children of hippies, none seem out of the 60s. I am confused because I thought that the old hippies lived in the hills of Santa Cruz, dreaming of the good old days, slowly disappearing or trying to reintegrate into the society of consuming. Where are all these 'freaks' coming from? They're called the 'dead heads', which suits them well. They are lying on the lawns or sell dyed T-shirt for 10, 20 to $ 30, or a dollar stickers "grateful dead," "love and peace '... woodstock's back!
They are everywhere: cars, couriers, buses, all colors, all shapes, most rusty, smoking and blowing lots of bric-setter: mattresses, blankets, clothes, pots, coolers , beer cans (empty or full), food, radios, cassettes, piled in and out of their vehicle.

I found a ticket and wait. I wonder where are the Dylan fans. It starts raining and the idiots took the opportunity to take a shower.
I know Dylan owns a farm nearby. I looked in vain for a way to access it. I wonder if he is with his mother and his children or if he is still in its sordid hotel room. Journalists announced that Bob’s brother, David has booked all 200 seats for the concert tonight. Waiting at the stage door to see what vehicle will come. The 'Grateful Dead' starts at 6 p.m.
It is 7 p.m., nothing happens and I enter the hall. The Show has begun, and what a show! On stage, but especially outside of the scene.  The stadium is huge, but they had the bad idea to put chairs in the pit. The 'dead heads' do not like it at all. There are all up dancing. Security is overwhelmed and trying to contain with force. I slipped into my seat. I am standing as the others but the music leaves me cold. I recognize one or two songs from blues-rock but they are lost in the tide of psychedelia. One should probably take substances to appreciate this kind of music. It seems that it's more the substances than the music that make them move. Two kids under ten years are standing on chairs dancing and singing, well brain-washed! When they stop it is already 7 p.m..  It takes one hour to change the instruments. When Dylan appears it is already 10 p.m. The Hippies are disappearing or at least calm down. The new public seems more civilized. I approach the scene without difficulty. Security has been exhausted by the "dead". It's my turn to sing and dance. Dylan mumbles something about Minnesota, his country of birth, something on First Avenue where he used to play in bars. He mentioned that his mother is somewhere in the audience
-"somewhere up there, if not gone already."

It is very good, the best concert of all time. Is it because his family is there? He is happy. For the encore I am at the fifth row. Madness takes me: I put myself standing on a chair and sing. What up!
I go watch the parking lot. No bus. Already gone? I walk to the station of greyhound but I get lost on the way. A nice guy accompany me and we find the door closed. I ask to recover my bag from a security guy and he invites me to sleep at his apartment. He is a "dead head" and a photographer. The first bus to Milwaukee is at 7 a.m. tomorrow morning. He puts his alarm clock for 6 a.m., smokes and sleeps ... I wake up at 6:30. The radio is blasting, he sleeps ... I rush to the station happy to remember the way and it is not very far. I jump on the bus and sleep for eight hours.


I am happy to have arrived in Minnesota. Although I have not had time to visit Duluth or Hibbing. I 'feel' the birthplace of Dylan and capture some of that wind. I realize at that moment the meaning of "Girl from the north country." 'The wind hits heavy on the borderline is not a poetic phrase, it's reality. The winds blow REALLY hard at the border. If the summer is nice I guess the winters bitterly cold and the people living inside. I can imagine that there was no place for a teenager who wanted to become as big that of Elvis. Bob listened to the radio broadcasts of blues rock late at night. These were his first heroes (except for Hank Williams)  ; starts from the Rock and Blues. His first band was a rock band, loud and wild. Woody Guthry, Jimmy Rogers, the world of folk came later as a way for Bob to speak intelligently with words more consistent than the 'wailing' Blues.
And we know that Dylan changed everything. Its electrical performance in New Port in 65 was not a betrayal, it was a natural evolution for someone who was influenced by Chuck Berry, Buddie Holly, Fats Domino, Ledbelly ... and Presley. The young Zimmerman, who came to Greenwich Village in '61 was smart enough to realize that this was not the time for Rock and Roll, but he adapted to the Folk atmosphere (with Woody’s help?) Until he decided he was strong enough to take the turn and return to his first love: the world of Rock and Roll. Thanks to his humor and his unending need for change.
I know that the concert tonight is not in Milwaukee, but far in the country, a place called "Alpine Valley". The bus does not go, the coach does not go, there is no train. I just pray ... and hitchhike. I'm stuck in the middle of "six crooked highways" ("Oh, Where Have You Been my blue-eyed son"). I wait half an hour and a guy picked me. I explained the situation and he brings me nicely to the concert. An hour drive in the middle of cornfields. I do not know what a concert hall is doing so far from life. Do cows like the Rock?
The place is like in Costa Mesa: half covered, half outdoors. Covered for the lucky, open to the unfortunate. I am one of those. Stanley is somewhere around. The sound is rotten. I know the repertoire by heart, except for a new one, a sort of rockabilly, rock twist, a Dylanesque Tutti-Frutti probably called "money, money" or "do not step on my black leather boots."
The public is half to Petty, becoming wild on “like a refugee”. Dylan seems happy, he launched his harmonica in the public, the fourth since the start of the Tour. He must have a stock of those low price harmonicas that never works. The one he used for "Knocking on heaven's door" promptly disappears into his pocket. It reminds me of Elvis and his scarves. The parking is huge. I am unable to see a bus. I ask for a return to Milwaukee. Four young guys take me. They were all about 20 years and are all brothers in a family of eight. They let me sleep in the bed of the youngest who is not there. We eat pizza, talk a little and go to bed. In the morning I take a shower and relax a little. There is no concert tonight. Dylan must be in Chicago. Chicago is too big to look for him up in the streets. I decide not to leave until the next day at 8:30. I can spend day and night in this big house for me. I put my notes up to date. I wonder why these young guys are not fans of Petty but Dylan. They are Christians. The Bob 'conversion' has not disturbed them. John is studying to become an English teacher, he loves the Bob Dylan poetry.  


Chicago June 29th, Sunday.
The streets are deserted except for a few drunkards and color people. The concert is not in Chicago but about 75km away, a place called "Poplar Creek". They toss me from one place to another to finally indicate me the train. The closest stop is Schaumberg then ... an hour by train and then the middle of nowhere, a car park. I ask my way to a wealthy bourgeois in Cadillac. He takes pity and drives me to the next intersection. I want to open the door but ... "the vandals Took the handle”. He manipulates a button and the door opens. Thank you! The Cadillac is almost as large as the caravan in which I live. I come back to reality by being propelled in the middle of a fine traffic. I 'inch'. Three cars and a few kilometers later I arrive at 'Poplar Creek, 2:30 p.m.. They sold me a ticket to the pit as in Costa Mesa, as in Houston, as in Alpine Valley. The lowest price is $ 12.50 for lawn. I talk with girls. One is the mother of three daughters (one under the name of Sarah). She has the air of a middle-aged hippy. The other is younger. A little hit. She is proud to be from Minnesota. The Hippy wants to marry Dylan. Good luck!
I go to the stage door. Another parking lot. The two buses arrived but two girls who hang there say that nobody has yet emerged. Waiting. A red limo arrives on the side with Dylan, Madeline Quebec and some of the entourage. Stanley runs to get the bodyguard. Dylan gets out. I do not understand because there's nobody around, no danger. The Limo is inside the park surrounded by fence. Why did he need a bodyguard? He boards the bus for a few minutes and then walks, dressed in black. I have seen neither dog nor child.
I'm on the lawn with the girls, very far from the stage. Security is worse than ever: four guards for each wing checking ticket numbers. I'm beginning to think that Dylan's manager, requested such security to prevent panic on the front of the stage. I have never seen such a restriction. But I doubt that Dylan's entourage is very concerned: the first bodyguard simply monitor the first rank and Stanley is too busy with his girlfriends. Meyers did not show up. He is only the 'luggage man’ and tickets 'holder'? He must have fun counting the notes of the recipe.


Dylan is in a hurry. He goes one song after another without stopping, like a robot. No surprise. He does "The band of the hand”. I keep myself moving to see something. The people circulate with Pop Corn, Beer, Hot Dogs. I do not know why they pay $ 20 for a seat when they are never seated. I do not understand why they sell beer inside the stadium. Some are already 'gone' before the concert began, others do not stop to shout loudly 'Lay Lady Lay' and 'Maggie's Farm'. I slip through the guards and reach the 20th row. It's the end of the concert, the last chords, and they ask the ticket stub!
I ran outside just to see the bus leaves. I make a sign to JPY, whom responds by honking. Bye !Bye ! He was in a hurry, the concert lasted only two hours.
I caught my breath and look for a way to return to Chicago. This is not simple. It seems they all go in the opposite direction. Two girls stop and ask me what country I am. France. I tell my new adventure. They invite me to spend the night in the apartment of one of them. The other will leave the next morning with me to the bus station. We go to dinner, spaghetti for me. Thank you. I fall asleep at three in the morning in warm sheets. At 4a.m. the rain wakes me up. It falls cats and dogs! The concert in Detroit is open! At 6 o'clock the rain has not abated. We cover ourselves with plastic garbage bag to protect us. I snooze during the 7 hours trip. I question the sky. Very grey.
DETROIT: Like all big American cities, large, dirty, polluted. Obviously nobody knows where "Pine knob” is. No train, no bus. Someone shows me the way to "highway 75" (I’d liked "highway 61"). I raise my thumb. Three cars and 75km later, I am there. This reminds me of something - "Seems like I've been down this way before"-. A 'con man' gives me a ticket for $ 20. I take it. I'm tired of lawns and at least I could see the scene.
The concert starts as usual "So long, goodbye and good luck" new Dylan?, Very nervous. "Positively 4th Street" " you and me had it all"  " Masters of War". Tom Petty received a beautiful ovation. 
Dylan's acoustic "To Ramona" "One Too Many Mornings "A hard rain's a-gonna fall" "Band of hand" "I and I" (not "eye and eye 'as I saw written by a stupid critic) "When the Night Comes Falling From the Sky" "I'll remember you". Petty again for four songs.

Everyone stands for 'like a refugee', and Dylan has to come back strong. He forgets most of the lyrics and says" everybody must .... Everybody must … everybody must get stooooooned”. Everybody must ... everybody must get stooooooned." The crowd is hysterical. He goes to the piano and whispers something to Tench Benmont. He starts a song that nobody seems to know, a sort of Broadway blues. This is not really the place for this kind of song and the reaction is not what you expect. But Dylan does not care. He's tired of the routine and tonight it is his night. The public is rather ‘yuppy’ as in Chicago as in Milwaukee. Ironically young enough.. They are here for Petty.
For this reason Dylan chose a well known repertoire "Like a rolling stone" "Ballad Of A Thin "" It ain't babe" and songs from the new album (before" Knocked out loaded ")" Empire Burlesque ". Dylan is bored.
So am I.
Yesterday he whispered into the microphone
-"what time is it? Someone knows what time it is? "
He announced suddenly,
-" it is the anniversary of Susie now, we are going to sing her happy birthday."

 He ran on stage
-"where is the cake?".
The musicians are in a state of panic and the troops behind the stage in revolution. Dylan looks for Susie. He waits. Someone finally understands who is Susie and leads her to the front of the stage.
Dylan is thrilled
-"Here she is, here she is. She is a good person who knows how to show love. "
I do not know who is Susie, the public neither, for that matter.
Without doubt the person who brings drinks backstage when Dylan paused. He continues with "Ballad Of A Thin Man" “Lonesome Town "" Like a Rolling Stone "" Across the Borderline "" In The Garden "(the only reference to his gospel period). To recall "Blowing in the Wind" in duet with Petty "Enchained my heart" and the finale "Knowing on heaven's door". Bob Seeger shows his nose in the back of the stage. Bob turns and they embrace. Seeger claps his hands and someone gives him a tambourine. The three scoundrels sing in unison "Knocking on heaven's door". Dylan is closer to the first rank. The crowd turns hysterical. He points to some fans. Picks a rose from the left to give to the right. He shrugs in all directions like a madman. I wonder if he has not drunk too much before the concert! He gets close to Mike Campbell and I realize how small and fragile he is. Without his boots and his hair he reaches just Campbell's shoulder and should be the third of its width. I turn back to the 20,000 people near delirium. All this for such a little guy! What world? And what danger! I can not help but make the connection with another little guy, much less peaceful. But no, there it is Dylan. Thank you my God! Dylan takes a look at his audience, makes a hello with the head and runs backstage where Stanley was waiting with a towel that he throws on his shoulders. The fight is over. The public is 'KO'.


I go out. Not too pleased with myself. The concert was fantastic, but with three performances in the middle of nowhere I have no way of knowing where he is, no way of approach. I spend my time on the road, a bus station to another bus station, a concert hall to another hall. However, I had the chance to see all the concerts so far. I realize that’s a lot. I see the buses away flanked by two policemen.
There will be another concert tomorrow at the same place and I am going to sleep somewhere around on the lawn. Fortunately the rain stopped.
A young guy came up to me very blond and tanned. He speaks of the Peace March that began March 15. It brings together 600 people who walk 35 km every day. By the way they collect signatures for a total nuclear disarmament. It will end on November 15 in Washington DC Approximately nine months walking across the U.S.. What courage! I thought there was no pacifist (except Madonna). Marc is open, intelligent, handsome and he who does not claim Hippy, has the spirit of the 60s. He invites me to the house of his brother. He will return to the concert tomorrow. He, his two brothers and cousin live in a big house. Three musicians are trying to do shows in clubs in the region. They start and are already realizing that if they want to make money they will have to compromise, become commercial. They think that then (when they become famous) they can do what they want. I think that unfortunately it does not work that way and they may be trapped by their image.
I spend my day doing my laundry, cooking, update my notes and listen to ... Bob Dylan. I realize how lucky I am to see him so often, even if only on stage because this man is a legend, a myth. He means so much to so many people. And even if I go alone (as Carole told me that finally she could not come to Washington) I would go through. As long as I could, I would go see him. Even if he's not the one that I hope he is and will remain a legend, and now a living legend.
We start at 6:30.p.m. The concert starts at 7:30. I know that we are already late. But the boys are back at work and need to rest and get in condition (with joint). They stop to stock up on whiskey and beer and soda. For them to go see Dylan is like going to a party. He picks up another guy and put themselves in condition in the truck. I wonder if we'll get there in one piece!
25km from "Pine Knob" the old truck starts smoking. They slow down.  At 2km from the destination. The smoke becomes too intense and he stops at a station for pouring water on the engine which suddenly flooded. It is 8:15 p.m. when we hit the road. Time to park and buy tickets and we missed the first two songs. I am a bit pissed off but fortunately we have good seats. The security is horrible. I'm moving from left to right to get closer. The concert was good and also the public. For the first time "The Times They Are a-changing." Dylan made me lye because I assured that he does not do this one. Petty has also changed a few songs. To the encore I slipped in the front row on an empty chair. I tremble with emotion because since the start of the Tour I've never found myself that close..
Bob does not wear his glasses, so he sees nothing. He looks old and angry. But with Bobby, I sing and dance "blowing in the wind" rock baby ... "knocking on heaven's door". If only I could be as close every night. What fun! I feel very good, a sort of euphoria we call happiness.
I join with the guys on the parking. They are all excited. This is the first time they have so much fun. Slip between the guards, it is a challenge. They also liked the music. They want me to come back with them for the next tour. They start a party on the parking: whiskey and joints. For me the party is not over. I need a car to reach the bus station. Gotta keep your head on your shoulders: no alcohol, no drugs.  The parking lot is empty. I'm staying with Mark ; pacifist walker. Two people accept to drive us. The driver drives a little faster and forced to stop suddenly struck by a car behind us. Nobody was injured but the police involved. Fortunately they seek neither alcohol nor drugs, and let us go. All ends well but I will have the neck blocked for two days. Another bad news: the next bus to leave for Akron is tomorrow morning at 6 o'clock. We spend the night sitting on chairs. I'm tired. With Mark, we sleep four hours in the bus and then we change to Cleveland.


AKRON 1 p.m..
With two "dead heads" we share a taxi to the stadium. This is again a concert with the "grateful dead”. The "dead heads" are already there: cars, buses, tents, barbecues ... I buy a ticket and get in the queue with a burger-fries-Cola they ask me to eat outside! They open at 3 a.m. for a concert at 5 a.m.. I hope starting with Dylan. They open doors and to my surprise there are no chairs on the front of the stage. I run in front, I've never run so fast. I cling to the fence in front of the microphone. Two hours of waiting. The Dylan equipment is on stage. ! Stanley hellos me by my first name!
It starts at 5:30. p.m. "Shake Your Hands," "Positively 4th Street", "Shot of Love", "Clean cut kid". Petty. “To Ramona”, “It ain't me babe”, “A hard rain's a-gonna fall”,”Band of the hand” “I and I”, “Ballad of a thin man” “When the night comes falling from the sky”. Nothing new. Dylan wears a colorful patchwork jacket, style HIPPY, in the spirit tonight.
He began to change his clothes two or three times a night. He changed his hippie jacket for a red silk shirt, then a red shirt and white T-shirt and a black leather jacket. Always his black leather pants, his black boots, black finger less gloves, a scarf around his neck as well as a necklace with two medals, I do not know the meaning, and in left ear earring which has toured the world. I can watch him carefully. He looks at the audience but do not see. He plays for an invisible audience, an imaginary audience. His grimaces are  marking his face. His bushy hair turns grey. But he is shaved and his skin is translucent. He often looks at Petty who feels compelled to respond with a smile, the same for the singers. He seems a lost kid asking for affection. When he sings "I need a shot of love", I believe him. He grunts
-"thank you for coming to the festival.
He must address the thousands of fans of "The grateful dead”. A street Woodstock. Him who said about Woodstock
-"it was a colorful T-shirt fair."
Tonight gives him right.

I hold my breath and throw myself between the arms and legs. I climb on top of the 'bowl' to observe the 3500 spectators. I fall asleep in my chair. Fatigue is here after one month on the road. I listen to two songs from the Dead and I'm leaving. The crowd of freaks do not inspire me.
I found my eternal burger-fries-Coke, me  usually a vegetarian, I'm sure to be sick but I hope it will be after the Tour. I am so tired that I lose my judgement: twice I’m boarded by ‘nuts’. I must take a bus back to the concert. I found three guys I've seen before. We chat a little bit. When it starts raining I hide in their Cadillac. We eat somewhere and I fall asleep in the Cadillac. At 5 a.m. we finally take a hotel room, the four of us. Two follow the ‘grateful dead’, one follows Dylan and one both. 
Rob, the Dylan fan is a collector. He records the concert and says that Dylan has made two songs with the Dead "It's all over now baby blue" and "Don't think twice it's alright." But neither the video nor the newspapers tell me that I missed something big. Dylan is not at his best.
Rob has followed part of 74, 75, 76, 78, 79, 80 and 81 Tour. What he has raised: a harmonica, a guitar pick, a dedicated song , a few words. It reassures me. He is far from being stupid, he is preparing a PhD on the history of music. He teaches the history of pop music. An educated Canadian. Besides talking about Dylan, we discuss the lives in the United States. They are all three Canadians and regret as well as myself, the lack of American culture, violence, corruption, the pursuit of individual or collective power.


I slept four hours in the bus.  At the bus station the 'Dead Heads' are still there. We share a taxi that brings us to the concert. I saw the buses in front of the Hilton. But the stadium is far as Akron: the first there will be in top position. I have a choice between seeing Bob few seconds very closely or to see him close throughout the concert. I choose the latter option, thinking that this is the one that HE would like me to take.
From 7 p.m. the queue started to form. It is very cold. I do not have time to eat just go to the toilet. Doors should open at noon and the concert started at 2 p.m. I fall asleep on myself a few minutes. The guards are still idiots, they ask us to walk and not run. In vain. It is a real marathon, a madness of which I am one. I manage not to reach the microphone, but not far. Two hours wait. Unfortunately the Grateful Dead material is on stage. They start at 2h23 p.m. for 45 minutes, take a half hour brake and again for 45 minutes. I do not understand it and fall asleep on the fence. The sun is now burning. Stanley hellos me from the scene. Dylan finally appears. It is ... 6.30. p.m. Twelve hours of waiting. I'm really mad! But when I see him trotting to the microphone my fatigue, my hunger, my anger fly away. Suddenly it seems that even the temperature is cooler. I cheer as if I had just gotten up and I had a good meal. He wears his red shirt and silk scarf around his neck. The temperature should be 35°C (95° F!)!
He starts as usual. A frisbee landed on the scene. Bob returns it. Another touches his hair. He dives to avoid it. A girl feinted in front. He observes. He does not say much between songs. He hurries up. So much that the concert is two hours log instead of two and a half. When he left the stage I feel that he points at me and says something. What my dear? Did he recognize me? I doubt because he does not have his glasses on. Lenses? I also doubt.
I go to see the bus and Bob disappearing into the night. To Washington D.C. or the airport?
I jump into a bus bringing me back home: the Greyhound bus station. I run at the Hilton. They are gone. I would leave the city at 3:40 in the morning. Another very long night. I ate the usual. I have 12 concerts and three weeks to try an approach. A talk? A smile?


WASHINGTON, D.C. The station is in the black neighborhood. I was hoping to see everything in white! Tonight there is no concert. I would like a hotel room but hotels are full. Yesterday was July 4th, the celebration of the statue. After two hours of search I find a Quaker home : a bed in the living room! take a shower, make my laundry, grab a drink and fall asleep at one o'clock in the morning. At 8 a.m. : breakfast. I leave my bag and walked to the R.F.K. stadium, fortunately very close. The place is transformed into a campsite. The few shops and restaurants flooded. The neighbors do not panic, from their daily routine, stoic. I am in front of the microphone and collapse. The thermometer shows 35°C degrees (95°F). I believe it. The public is similar to that of Akron and Buffalo. Half must be the same as the "dead heads" follow. I'm getting used to. We are one big family.
2h30. p.m. Dylan starts.
Black leather pants, boots, blue shirt and black leather calico. He must be hot. Sweat drips from his face. After the first song his shirt is soaked. He wears sunglasses with the sign of "hell's angels”. No way to know where he looks, and I am at his feet. His skin is translucent but still he seems younger tonight. In the middle of the concert security sends us water. Phew! Bob grimaces :
-"Water is precious, it's a shame to spoil it.
It does not seem to be hot? I love the heat”.
No kidding! Where I stand it must be 40 °C (104°F).

People melt behind me. Stanley has fun to sprinkling the audience. There is a macho attitude there. (Freud believed that a garden hose is a symbol of the phallus). Now that I'm wet I feel better. Bob himself does not seem happy. Even when he removes his glasses he does not see me. When he left the stage again he points the finger at someone. I go out. I leave my place to a 'Dead Head'. I'm happy. The concert was very good. I was at my favorite spot : at the feet of my idol. It's another feeling. It's like being part of the show, probably because I know every song by heart.
I go out and wait beside the "Buffalo Springfield". No parking inside. A girl wants an autograph, another wants to give him a book and a cassette. We wait 45 minutes and suddenly a van pulls up near the bus. When we move it is too late, Bob is inside. The girl gives the book and cassette to Stanley who passed it to Bob. The bus leaves. Bye sweety!
I'll sleep outside. I walked to a parking lot turned into camping site. I talk with two guys (Dead Head) and we spend an hour looking for beer. The bars are closed. We go to sleep with the sky as a canopy.


Monday, July 7 8 a.m.
I buy a large cup of coffee, fruit, cookies for my breakfast and the wait begins again. The concert today is rumored to start at 4 p.m. and with “Greateful Dead” dead first. They try to follow a certain logic. First ‘The Dead’ in Minneapolis, Dylan Akron, the ‘Dead’ Buffalo, Dylan yesterday, the “Dead” today, nothing is certain. I know that Dylan should play in Boston tomorrow. Boston is far and Dylan is the priority. I think he is the one to start. I would do it if I were him because I'd have to leave early towards Boston.
So I get in line early. I try to exchange my ticket because mine is a sited seat and here this is not the best place. The security is so tough it will not let me get close with this ticket. I exchange with a ‘Dead Head’. I ran as fast as my little legs can carry me and find myself in front as yesterday with the same girl next to me.
The temperature is around 40 degrees (104F), we bake. In addition to the heat and thirst, I have a headache. Yesterday we were 60,000, now over 40,000. Security takes all the batteries and film cameras and some substances ...
I guessed right: Dylan begins at 2:30 p.m.. Still a half hour late. He changed his shirt for a sleeveless, its calico is red. He sweats like crazy. He plays "Just like a woman" instead of "It ain't me babe". The only change. He must have known that the public is virtually the same as yesterday evening. A good half for the "greateful Dead”, a quarter for Petty and a quarter for Dylan. Dylan fans are not the most enthusiastic, lost between the hysterical screams of Petty’s fans and the 'disturbed Deads’. He cares less. He does his show. It's so hot. Security tried watering but Dylan approach the guys and makes them sign to stop. No water today. He did not appreciate the diversion of attention!
On the side of the stage I spot two young boys, one is the one I saw walking the dog in Indianapolis. Tonight he films Dylan. The other is similar but is thinner. I think these are two Dylans.
I release myself a path among the beer cans and boxes of Pop Corn. Waiting near the “Buffalo Springfield”. A few people around: the young Dylans, roadies, security ... I say hello to Stanley who seems (suddenly!) unfriendly. He takes out a bottle of whiskey from the bus. The driver gets impatient. I hear a voice coming from the stage "It's all over now baby blue", presumably the voice of Bob. He sings with the “Dead”. And ironically (since this is my favorite song) "Desolation Row". 15 minutes after the last guitar stroke , a group of people dash out from the door of artists. Dylan among them. To the surprise of all he does not move toward the bus, but to the lawn below, and sat down. He talks to a guy who is part of the tour. Everybody panics. The security stops fans who are trying to move towards Bob. I sit on the lawn few meters away. Bob motioned to his son Samuel to bring him the dog Brutus. The boy obeyed and returned with his brother. The two there have little regard for fans. A girl who tries in vain to approach Bob goes around the gate and calls out behind the fence. A guard immediately moves :
-"is that girl bothering  you?"
-"not yet".
A conversation is established. Bob asks Stanley to find him something.
Stanley literally runs and brings a box full of T-shirt. Dylan displaces the T-Shirts available on the lawn one after the other and selects three he launches to the girl. It's like a movie except that Bob is there, for real. Stanley scribbles something on a piece paper and passes it to the girl.  In all this had taken half-hour. A half-hour tension for security, a half-hour of emotion for me: so near and yet so far!
The break is over, he heads for the bus. I get up and approach him. I whisper that I too would like a T-shirt but he doesn’t hear and moves on. Safety beckons me to go away. I watch through the window. The young Dylan starts a video in the bus. Bob never stops moving. At one moment he points a finger at me.
The girl is always close to the grid. I want to know what has so captured the attention of Dylan. She’s nice. She is still under the influence of emotion. She speaks of her work: leather crafts. Bob asked if she made the earrings he wore. The T shirts were specially designed and she should use them to make some art-craft. I ask if Bob gave an address or phone number. She says no. I pick up the glass in which Bob has been drinking. I still have it. It smells like whiskey. I still wonder why he has ‘uncovered’ to drink a glass of whiskey with his friend with so many fans around?


I get my bag at the Quakers home and hitchhiked to the bus station. Ten-hour drive to Boston. I'm sick. The heat from Washington killed me. The concerts are not in Boston. Nobody knows where Mansfield is located. They take me back and forth to North Station to South Station. A train leaves at 2.30. It is noon. I drink coca to wake me up.
Mansfield is a small cute town. I eat a pizza. I go to the theater. A nice guy picks me and guides me. This is my chance because it's very far. For the first time the cash computer sorts out for me a very good ticket, someone has cancelled his reservation. Looking of course for the stage door. Indoor parking. I still pray that Bob is at the front of the bus so that  I can see him. A guy also is waiting. Usually they are girls. But he is a poet and he wants to give his poetry to Bob. I explain that the situation is not the best. But who knows? One must have faith. The red bus arrives.
 I signal to Joey. He returns my hello and Meyers and the bodyguard who drives a camper that I've seen in Washington D.C., rented in Texas. The “Buffalo Springfield” is there but only the young Dylan is in front.

We enter. My seat is perfect. No guard at the stage. I can also see the backstage. Bob is behind a black curtain. He drinks in a paper cup. He speaks to a roadie. Boxes of equipment in the back do not suit him. They move them. Usually when Petty's on stage with Heartbreakers Dylan is hidden behind a black tent they mount directly on the scene. He sits and drinks and talks with his singers. Here there is no tent. Does he hide behind the boxes?
The sound is loud. It starts as usual but the sound becomes wild. He exaggerates his playing, almost a caricature: Dylan imitating Dylan. He is drunk? What was in his paper cup? The audience loves it. People likes ridicule. He begins "Rainy day women 12 and 35" on harmonica, without guitar, followed by drums. "Like a Rolling Stone" and everyone is standing, rushing to the stage. I find myself in front of the stage, so close I can touch his boots. Bob returns to the encore, fans closer, almost ON the stage.

The lights are on and Bob scowls, he recoils. We're TOO close.
He is afraid and remains on the defensive. He's right. Two fans jump on the stage. Another by me attempts to do the same. I stop her. Bob is embarrassed, I'm just under his nose. He has to see me but do not seem to watch. He could have given me his harmonica. So near and yet so far!
I run behind to see the buses leave. The poet is already there. He's out before (or never came in?). He is angry because he could not give his book. He wanted Bob to use it as inspiration. I've seen many like him, usually musicians who want to spare their composition. I show him some of my drawings. He wants to introduce me to his father who is an artist. I spend part of the night and part of the day discussing painting with Mr. Bernstein. He is intelligent, open, with a broad culture. It also has a lot of talent. It is one of those Americans that I would like to meet more often.
I sleep a few hours on the couch, grab a quick lunch, take a shower, and the poet brings me back to the stadium. I'm sure tonight there will be no one so close to the stage.
I do not feel the soul of being close to the scene. The situation seems ridiculous. But is not that the whole thing is ridiculous?  I move. As I thought security hampers the approach of the scene. They clean the hallways. Or at least try. I'm close enough to enjoy all the benefits. I sing and dance. I leave before the last notes of  "Knocking on heaven's door." Five minutes later the bus escapes by moving dust. Nothing to see. Bye ! Bye Bobby! Joey honking. 


HARTFORD July 10th.
No concert tonight. The city is clean and pretty. I leave my bag in a locker for having my hands free. I walk in the streets. The two buses are at a luxury hotel. Here they Are!
It is a strange place, the parking and entrance are at street level but there is another entrance to the rooms and the restaurant, one level above.

On both sides of the hotel at this level there is a bridge overlooking the street. I walk over to one of these bridges and look at the main entrance. I see, at that moment, Bob coming out with the dog Brutus for his 6 p.m. walk.
I run, but they are gone. Going back again I see them on the other side of the road. When I get down I have to walk a few meters in his direction. I walk slowly so that he has time to recognize me. He wears his corrective sunglasses allowing him to recognize me. He signs an autograph for a taxi driver when I approach him. He looks at me and smiles.
-"How did you find the concert?"
-“Good ".
 I hand him a book I just bought "Bringing it all back home".
-"I've read it. It’s a good one. Did you read it as well? ".
I hand him a pen
-"would you like to sign it for me?".
 He takes the pen from his left hand and writes
 "Bob Dylan 11/07/1989 Hartford Connecticut.”
 Today is the 10th. I wonder if he did it on purpose because tomorrow is the day of the concert. I whisper a thank you and I feel that I should leave but I am still there.
I'm shy and Dylan also, but I ask him what he thinks of the tour.
"It’s ok"
"Are you going to tour Europe?"
-May be ".

He sits on his dog, ordering him to sit. The Bull Mastiff does not flinch. I caress the dog and take a look at the master's clothes. He wears a sort of long shirt, a little dirty, a calico and a green shirt tied around the waist, black jeans, boots, gloves without fingers. He is not shaved. Suddenly he says
- "I prefer 81".

The situation becomes embarrassing when Jakob arrives.
He takes the dog and the father by hand and they cross the street. Dylan turns and shouts -"see you in a while "
and disappears at the corner of the street. A bodyguard has materialized behind me and asks where is Bob?? I tell him that he walks his dog and the guy starts asking me questions: Where I am from, what I do, who gave the address of the hotel. It bothers me and I reply that it is difficult not to see the buses parked in front of luxury hotels. He insists on knowing ho gives me the info and I reply person. The guy is an idiot. Anyone with a car can follow the buses and find them. I ask myself why Bob has mentioned the year 81. Was this a way to tell me he remembered me from 81? I lost in my thoughts when Jakob returns flanked by the dog, Bob following at distance.

I stay where I am, at the corner of the street. Bob turns around three times to watch me. The fourth time I hello him, he does the same with the wooden stick he carries to play with his dog. Does he want to talk to me?
Is he surprised that I'm still here? Is he impressed that I did not follow? I'll never know.
Bobby can you tell me today?

I return to the bridge and look down. Bob and his guard are there. Bob looks up and smiles at me. That smile that I love: soft and warm. I feel him embarrassed, but I remain. He looks again and smiles again. I feel like in a dream. But he is increasingly embarrassed and eventually escapes. A few minutes later I see Bob, two sons and a guard in a limo. It is about 7:00 p.m. I'm thrilled. He was happy, not at all angry at me to see me in his way. Shy and sweet. So sweet! I found nothing intelligent to say. But there was nothing to say, just to enjoy some moments of pure happiness side by side, away from the limelight, away from the glitter and fireworks. A legend returned man.
I spend a good part of the night outside. I go back to his hotel the next day at 6 p.m.. Bob is out with Jakob, takes his guitar from the bus and a bag of dirty laundry (!) and goes with Brutus in a van. Three people also get in and all depart. I stay behind. Bob sees me, but from afar.
I walk to the “Civic Center” near by. Behind me Meyers and the young Dylans. I change my sidewalk.

At the stadium I met five people that I have already crossed over on the road for Dylan. Marilyn is a woman of about forty years from Minnesota who went to the same school as Bob and who knows him personally(!?).
She is traveling with four young people including three children of her own, the fourth is a cousin. They are all very Jewish. When I ask if Bob is back to Judaism they say in unison,
- "Yes, of course."
They were in California for the start of the tour and they have taken up in Minnesota. They rented a Cadillac and as often stayed in the same hotel as Dylan. They saw Bob often to ask him for tickets he never refused. She says that the two boys with Bob are Jakob and Samuel, and that Jesse lives in New York.

I'm behind the stage, really behind. I see Bob climbing up the stairs leading to the scene, supporting his guitar and go! When Petty makes his show Bob is behind the black tent. Jakob and Samuel are there too. Womack, the bodyguard, makes his rounds.
Bob tries to recall a "Lay Lady Lay" which does not seem to have been rehearsed. The singers are lost. Dylan directs them by finger. It's a bit messy but fun. "Knocking on heaven's door". It's over. I run to the hotel. The buses and camper left. To Saratoga Springs.
I find two guys who claim to have seen me in Washington D.C. They invite me to their camp. It is an hour away. I sleep in the car. It's raining in the morning. I am glad not to be outside. We leave at noon for a quick lunch. What follows is a journey that never ends. I collapse on a sofa when we arrive in Long Island. 8 a.m. I wake to take a bus to New York then to Saratoga Springs.


I eat a sandwich and an ice-cream and walk to the amphitheater. It is not far. I spot the Tom Petty bus in front of a hotel but no “Buffalo Springfield”. It is still one of those amphitheaters! I am on the lawn. It's raining! it's raining! the poor are wet. The concert is not the best, probably because of the weather. The public is doubly cold. Dylan plays "The Times They Are a-changing" and surprise, an incredible version of "The House Of The Rising Sun". I left a few minutes before the end. I'm sure that the buses will dart outside. The Petty bus goes first but “BS” is still there. Security plays the game: "They are all gone." But I know more than that. We are only four fans to wait, but yet they ask us to move. Bob is in no hurry. I'm leaving because I have my bus at 0.30.
NEW YORK CITY: the big apple! 5 p.m.
I have an address where to stay. Carole 's Friend has a store where I can sleep. I phone at 7 a.m.
-"I do not get up before 9 am"
is the answer.

I lie on the ground at the Greyhound station. At 9, I leave my bag at Mark’s and head to “Greenwich Village”. My first stop is at 92/94 Mc Dougal Street. There is no indication that he still lives here.

I walk on the path of the 'good old days', "the bitter end," the kettle of fish "," the speakeasy” are still active on Mc Dougal and Bleeker Street. I drink a cappuccino in the " café Figaro” . The "Bitter end" hosts Mimi Farina (Joan Baez's sister) on July 27th. The "speak easy" presents the 6th contest of the imitators of Bob Dylan on July 17th. The choice of the date on July 17th questions me : the real Dylan will play at Madison Square Garden.
There is no concert tonight and the newspapers report "the Fabulous Thunderbirds" at Felt Forum. A group of blues that Dylan likes. I am almost sure he will be there.
After some shopping on  Broadway I return to the “Felt Forum”. I thought it was a small cafe but it is a dance club.  Even though if Bob is in I’d not be able to see him. Three groups of Rock open before the "Fabulous Thunderbirds". It is midnight when I go out and I do not know if Mark is still awake to open the door. He is angry and wants me to always be home before 11 p.m.. Could not. I sleep on the floor. I'll see tomorrow. In the morning I'm back in the Village. Nothing happens.  The "subterreneans" are asleep. No Dylan. The year 75 was... 11 years ago.
I'm sure to see him on stage tonight.
I am very far. The sound is bad. He does not change his habit. He mentions that we're in New York and points to the press. Ron Wood joined on stage. The concert ends at 11:30. For me it was the worst, I was too far.
It's too late to go to Mark’s. I phone other Carol’s friend who lives in Soho. I get lost in the N.Y. metro I fall asleep at 1a.m.

At 4 a.m. I emerge from the fog in a concert of honking and bins noise. I remember that I'm in N.Y. I still do not know where the Dylan lives. I was hoping to see Bob in the Village. The Big Apple is Big!
I go to the Metropolitan Museum.
At 6 p.m. I join with Marilyn and her children in front of  the “Madison Square Garden”. She sells me a ticket to $ 10. She tells me that Bob is at the “Plaza Hotel”.
I'm just behind the stage, much better than yesterday. Marilyn has a seat in the forefront. She paid a lot. The scammers are the worst in N.Y.
Dylan is here. He starts strong with "Shake Your Hands", "Clean cut kid," aggressively "All Along the Watch Tower", “Emotionally yours "," Shot of Love ",” Lucky old sun", "Masters of War" "I forgot more Than you'll ever know" a song by Cecil A. Null which included Dylan on Self Portrait, "Band Of The Hand", "When the Night Comes Falling From the Sky," "Lonesome Town", "The ballad of a Thin Man," "Rainy Day Women 12 and 35".
He changed his shirt for a leather calico and Ron Wood joined him. " Seeing the real you at last '," Across the Borderline. "
At this moment someone is still looking for his seat. A security guy asks him to leave. While singing Dylan says
-"let him here, it’s ok."
But the guard pushes him. "I and I". Two guys jump on the stage behind.
Womack is fighting to make them leave. Bob has seen nothing. He continues with "Like a Rolling Stone" and turns the Garden into hell. 30,000 people rose to a hysterical ovation.
"In The Garden" (the only reference to the biblical period) calms the atmosphere. They return for "Blowing in the wind," The house of the rising sun ", and the eternal" Knocking on heaven's door ".
I do not wait for the end. I rush outside. Stop a taxi and rush to the Plaza. I wait half an hour but do not see anyone. On leaving in another cab I see a second entrance. Did they enter or are they gone to party?
The next day in N.Y., I'm at the Guggenheim museum.
Second night at “Madison Square Garden”.
« So long, good luck and good bye », "Positively 4th street », « Clean cut kid, « Shot of love », « You and me we had it all », « Union sundown ».
A new one (?) "My echo, my shadow and me", "Mr. Tambourine Man," "One Too Many Mornings" in acoustic, a surprising "I Want You", "Band Of The Hand", "When the Night Comes falling from The Sky, "" Lonesome Town "," The ballad of a thin man, "" "Rainy Day Women 12 and 35" "Seeing the real you at last", "Across the Borderline," "Like a rollin' stone", "I and I", "In The Garden", "Blowing in the wind," "Shake Your Hands", "the House Of The Rising Sun "(revisited).
He goes to the back of the stage and talks to someone
-"we would like to do another but we do not have time."

Ron Wood presents an ecstatic Dylan ;
-“Bob introduces everyone but no-one presents Bob Dylan, then here: BOB DYLAN "
and everyone to become hysterical for over five minutes.

I take the subway to the Village and get lost. I'm walking in N.Y., at night, for 20 'blocks'. I arrive at the Speak Easy when the contest ends. I spot at the door a big man, dressed like Dylan, wearing Dylan glasses, the Dylan earing… Completely disgusted I go to bed.  


I go to Philadelphia the next morning. I know there's no concert today, but I heard they were already gone from the Plaza. They must already be in Philadelphia. The Y.M.C.A. is full so I will take a nap at the Greyhound station.
I go early to the Spectrum to buy two tickets from the ‘scammers’. I see again the girl who gave Bob the book and the cassette in Washington D.C. This time she wants to give raspberries (?). The buses arrive at 5:30 (which makes me think they were still in N.Y.C.). I run to the parking ramp. The first bus down. The “Buffalo Springfield "stops. I acknowledge Jakob, Samuel, Jesse and Anna(?) out with Brutus. A few minutes later Meyers next to Bob also descends. They walk toward the stage door. None of these 10 fans around do a movement. I head to bob.
-« Bobby ? »
- "Oh you're still here?"
- "Good luck".
He disappears. I can’t believe my ears! He knew me?

I see Marilyn and her children. I listen to a cassette of "Knocked out loaded" on the new album. I don’t really go for this song.
We enter. My seat is not the best. I'm moving around Marilyn.  I see Jesse trying to find a place for his grandmother and her husband (she remarried after the death of the Bob’s father). I see Jakob and Sam.
"Shake your hands”. Bob is very good. He moves a lot on his legs draped in black leather. He mixes the words of " It ain't me babe". He plays long solos of electric guitar. He is happy and also the public. This is one of the best concert I've ever seen.
I rush outside. The buses are ready to go. The Raspberry girl is still there with her boyfriend. They think of following the bus. I climb into the car with them and the pursuit begins. They arrive in a street of hotels and pause before a modest hotel. I go out just in time to see Jesse, Brutus, Sam, Anna and Jakob left. Then Meyers and Bob. He wears a red shirt open. He looks at me and makes a motion to close his shirt (?). Jakob awaits his father. I do not move. The girl still wants to find him raspberries. The two scoundrels are trying a whole bunch of stuff to get into the hotel. They are being real ‘nuts’. I wait because I think Bob is going out. Meyers, Joey, Womack all go. But not Dylan. He must be with his children. At 3 a.m. I leave and go to sleep at the Greyhound station.
The next day at 6:30. I take a quick lunch at the cafeteria.
At 5.30 p.m. I'm wandering and finds Jesse and Jakob in a bookstore. Outside the hotel the red bus and “Buffalo Springfield "await. Jesse gets on the bus with Brutus. Then quickly Bob surrounded by Sam and Jakob. He seems angry. I do not move or say anything. He focuses his eyes on the shoes of the son before him. Anna runs after him and another young woman. A rumor speaks of Carole Childs. I thought Maria.
I take the metro to the Spectrum and join Marilyn and children.
During the Petty show I approach the stage. Dylan Boys are stacked on the side. Jakob seems most concerned.
The bus takes off after the concert for New Jersey or New York.


An hour of sleep and I'm leaving for New York at 8 a.m. I take a nap in the afternoon and take a bus to Rutherford, New Jersey. This is my last concert. I wait at my usual spot. One guy passes me, he seems familiar. He looks at me (sited on the ground) and hellos me. It's nice because nobody would pay any attention to me. I cook in the sun, am half asleep. He was Al Kooper who was going to play the keyboard with Benmont Tench. He was in Costa Mesa. Buses enter directly into the parking lot. Bob does not want to see his fans today. I see Meyers that promised to give me the address of the Bob studio in New York: a post office box. I phone Meyers in the afternoon to see if I could have an interview with Dylan for the eventual publication of my book. Meyers rejects me :
-"Dylan does not give interviews “
-" but I am not a journalist "
-" you want to write a book .. ".
 So too bad for the permission.
I pay $ 30 for my ticket. I want a good seat. Bob talks a lot
-"this is the country of the  BOSS (Bruce Springsteen).
 The audience boo.
-"This is the land of the BOSS".
-"There are a lot of bosses here."

A few minutes later he sees some fans standing on the side
-"these people may take those seats right there"
and points to four empty seats in the front row.
 The security stops them.
Dylan, angry stops singing
- "I will not sing as long as these seats are not occupied; Rich people buy an entire row and do not mind what they can see."
I warmly applause.
He begins to sing then halt
- "I must say something, I must say something ; tomorrow you will read in the newspapers about what you're doing tonight. There are always people who want free tickets, the critics.». You paid for your tickets, you should write in the newspapers. "
Thank you Bobby.

He sings a little and then again
- "you know what time it is, anyone knows what time it is? Do not look at your watches because they do not give you the time, these are just numbers. I'll tell you what time it is. "
And starts "Band of the hands". It's something he does often; request the time.
And also pointing to his right and say ;
- "it's the best audience, they are the best."
And the right to shout.

But yesterday it did not work because on his right there was ... nobody. The seats were not sold.
He has another song
-“ It is a song for people wrongfully imprisoned, I am not talking about people who have committed a crime.
.. I mean people who do good and who are imprisoned for that. "
I can not remember the song, perhaps "I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine" a copy of "I Dreamed I Saw Joe Hill." The speech is not finished ;
- "It is the anniversary of someone”,
(the third on this tour).
And everybody upfront "Happy birthday" to Howie Epstein. A roadie brought a birthday cake and Howie blows out the candles. They go on with "Like a rolling stone”.
If someone in the audience had never seen Dylan before he could say "This guy talks
a lot" and he would never have the back of his image. Words today there have been many. Words of truth. A real SHOW, and my last.
I go to see the bus one last time. I wait half an hour. A girl here, ‘nuts’, really wants to see Dylan. She says she was a girlfriend of Bob. But which one?
Meyers gets out. Jesse gets out. A photographer pursues and asks for an autograph in place of his father
 - "I can not do this."
Anna goes.

And now the Buffalo Springfield with Jakob in front. I wave him goodbye. He replies.
Thank you! bye! and take care of yourself.
Bye Bobby, to the next Tour!