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Pardon my asking, Brett, but you claim to have toured with "Spartacus", your high school band and claim that you were "treated like royalty". You also provide a list of what you claim are the "backstage demands" of your band. This list spans two pages, and you assure us that Spartacus was a "top line" rock and roll band and was treated like, if not better than, bands such as the Rolling Stones and Guns 'n Roses. However, you
also claim that you lost your hearing in your left ear and sustained other injuries after being struck by a truck while collecting for your paper route… Why would a leading member of a "top-line" rock and roll band have a paper route? I would enjoy hearing
your explanation for this. Thank you for your guidance and inspiration.
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Gerald J. Rivera -- v2rocket1944@yahoo.com
BRETT SAYS...
Thanks for your email, Gerry. I did in fact tour with my band “Spartacus” in the early 1980’s.
However, I never claimed that Spartacus had a “long” career or even a “successful” career, but we
did have a career – and that’s a lot more than you can say for most bands. Our tour rider – which was
actually closer to 7 pages, although I only posted 2 to make my point – is greatly relevant since
it was one of the first to be so detailed:
The Spartacus Tour rider - excerpt
. We did it as a goof, actually. The fact that the promoters during our short tour took it serious
is beyond me. As a journalist and a somewhat marketing genius I knew that if we had a detailed
“backstage rider” with “crazy requests” we would get publicity. In addition, since we were such
a young band we were often compared to “Def Leppard” – another genius marketing move. However,
our band fell short of stardom after my accident. I never claimed that we were like the “Stones” or
"Guns n Roses,” so that part of your email is just silly. As for why I had a paper route…
Dude, I started my paper route several years before the band formed. A paper route is more than a quick cash fix for kids - It helps a young person build true character and learn responsibility. Other famous rockers and celebrities had paper routes when they were my age, including: Gregg Allman, Jeffery Katzenberg, Fred Durst, Steven Tyler and Tommy Lee. I was clearing $80 bucks a week on my route so Lance and I had a great idea: What if together we had, like, 4 paper routes? Of course we didn’t have time to do the routes AND practice AND tour so Lance came up with a plan – why don’t we get some little kids to help us. I don’t know how Lance “persuaded” all those kids to help for free, nor do I know why they all has black eyes (lol, folks) Seriously, you didn’t question the methods used by Lance “Tricky” Holmes – however I was way against his “Jerk it or Work it” threat. In the end, we had four paper routes going at once and all we did was collect the money – nearly $350 per week. The kids didn’t seem to mind working for free. One kid complained he was tired and Lance beat him pretty bad. We felt bad later when we found out the kid actually had the flu and was telling the truth. That’s all water under the bridge now.
The only problem I had was with Lance’s “late night” collecting methods. See a paper route is something you do on an honor system. Basically, you give the papers free up front and the people pay you once a week. Well we had several hundred names on our list. Lance used sometimes visit people at 10:00 pm at night and “collect” their cash and buy pot or a six-pack of beers. Of course I wouldn’t see the cash and the people would tell me: “I paid Lance last night!” Fed up, I made a deal with lance: I would do all the collecting and we would split the money 50/50. All he had to do was keep the kids “in line.” The only two times I’d take Lance with me collecting was when we visited: a) Mrs. Price, the hot MILF with the drinking problem and the loose robe (lol, folks), and, b) Richard Belz, a 40 year old male who lived alone. He would often invite kids in his house to watch movies and listen to music. He often had sleepovers and stuff with small groups of kids. Sometimes Lance and I would go there and he’d invite us in. We smoked pot with him and even drank some of his “Belz Brew” – which tasted like beer mixed with Nyquil. He also had a tombstone in his living room with his birthday on it. He said he wanted to be “prepared for anything!” What I wasn’t prepared for was “Wrestling Move Night” the last night Lance and I visited Belz…
It was a Friday night around 9:30pm. Belz had been ditching us for weeks so his collection debt was a cool $20 bucks. Lance and I wanted that money. We knocked on his door, but there was no answer. We could hear Pat Travers' “Boom Boom, Out Go The Lights” blaring from inside. Belz loved playing that song when kids were over. He’d make us all scream “Boom Boom” and he’d scream “Out Goes The Lights!” – and then he’d turn off the lights and chose a special “tickle” partner. He rarely picked me. Looking back now, the whole thing seemed weird. I mean, who really liked the Pat Travers’ Band that much? Anyways, after Lance pounded on the door for like 10 minutes, Belz finally opened. He was drunk and wearing blue flip-flops, no shirt and a tight black bathing suit. He was also about 250 pounds with thick, coarse body hair. He had recently got a really bad wig. We were told not to look at it. He was actually happy to see us and invited us inside. I just wanted the money, but it was Friday night and we were pretty much done so Lance convinced me to hangout and have a few beers with Belz…
Lance and I were drinking beers and watching “The Best of Seka” on Belz’ VCR – He was one of the first people on the block to own one. Suddenly Belz burst in the room wearing a cape. He announced that it was “Wrestling Move Night!” and that he was gonna “teach Lance and I some cool moves.” Without warning he grabbed Lance’s right hand and twisted it behind Lance’s back. Lance’s Rheingold beer fell to the ground and rolled toward the wall, leaving a trail of foamy beer in the already pungent carpet. Belz quickly picked Lance up and had him in a “Suplex” on the floor. His cape was twisted and matted with sweat as he squeezed Lance tightly. He wanted to make sure we understood the power of the move so he held lance for 15 minutes. Lance was crying and clearly in pain. I tried to help, but when I stood to get up I fell back on the couch like I was dizzy or something. I passed out and when I awoke sometime later Belz was helping me down the hall. He had “drawn a bath” for me so that I would feel better. I asked where Lance was and he motioned toward the bedroom. I was feeling uneasy. In the bathroom there were framed hand-drawn pictures of clowns with exaggerated erections up on the walls. Belz tested the water to see if it was too warm. He said it was time to “clean the dirty little boy.” I started to remove my pants when suddenly Lance enters the room and sneaks up behind Belz, who is now wearing a Zorro mask and holding butter. Lance was naked and crying. Blood was dripping down the back of his legs. Maybe he fell on his beer bottle and cut himself, I though. Before Belz even knew it, Lance raised a 20 pound steel barbell above his head smashed it down on the back of Belz’ skull. Belz fell to the ground like a sack of sweaty potatoes. Lance instructed me to get dressed and leave – we were never to speak about that incidence ever. As I was leaving the house lance stopped me in the living room. He handed me a bloody twenty-dollar bill and said: “Consider the Belz account paid in full.” Lance then returned upstairs alone as I left…
Lance didn’t come around for few weeks after that. We never spoke a word about what
happened inside that house. As for Belz, apparently he was so embarrassed about his new
wig that he must have left town. The police said they had no trace of his whereabouts. Belz had
no family so his house went to shit. A few years later there were a bunch of drug dealers selling
rock cocaine out of the house. The neighborhood went to shit. I caught Lance standing outside of
the house one night, crying. The next morning the house was burned down to the ground. Lance and
I went by as the cops and firemen went through the smoldering ruins. There was nothing left – well,
nothing except for a large soot-covered stone. It was Belz’ tombstone – sad and alone.
I guess Belz’ was ironically “prepared for everything.” As Lance and I walked away
I heard him mumble quietly: “Out go the lights, indeed, you sad motherfucker…”
I hope this filled all your demands! ;=)
Peace out - Brett
CLICK HERE TO ASK BRETT A QUESTION - You can also send an email to brettmeisner@hotmail.com. Be sure to include some personal information about yourself to share with Brett and his fans. (Due to the high-volume of questions, we cannot answer all emails.)
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