Joel Foster's Greatest Hit
"Good evening, everyone. I'm Astrid Channing, host of WOAR Music TV's Music Legends. Earlier this morning in this three-room bungalow in Gullshead Bay, Maine, former rock 'n' roll sensation Joel Foster was found dead of heart failure at the age of fifty-eight. During the turbulent Sixties, Foster, like his friend Beatle John Lennon, was an outspoken proponent of love, equality, freedom and peace. Today, Foster is best remembered for his songs protesting violence, hatred, prejudice and war. But as the Sixties came to an end, so, too, did Joel Foster's career. By 1972, he had completely dropped out of the music scene.
"Over the past thirty years, rock 'n' roll has undergone many changes. New sounds were born, and a succession of young artists took their turn in front of the spotlight. Despite the many changes, rock legends such as Paul McCartney and the Rolling Stones kept up with the times and are still performing to this day. That leads many music aficionados to wonder why a singer, songwriter and musician of Foster's caliber would give up his career at the height of his popularity.
"What intrigues me most is the puzzling question concerning the tragic events that turned Joel Foster, former rock star and teen idol, into a virtual hermit, living in seclusion in this small town on the New England coast. Tonight, I will talk with people who knew Foster back in the Sixties, as well as someone who befriended him here in Maine in the years before his death.
"Join me and our WOAR Music TV news crew as we review in this televised special the life and work of one of rock 'n' roll's forgotten heroes."
"And cut!" Denny Tolleson, the director of Music Legends, shouted, and filming came to an end.
* * *
At this point, he cable television broadcast was interrupted by commercials for Bounty paper towels, Circuit City, Old Navy and the Outback Steakhouse. When Astrid Channing came back on the air, she was no longer standing on a nearly deserted beach in front of Joel Foster's dilapidated bungalow. Rather, she was seated in a chair at the WOAR Music TV studio in front of a live audience.
While waiting for filming to resume, Astrid glanced at her written notes, which contained a series of questions she intended to ask her guests. The hour-long episode was to consist of four fifteen-minute segments, the first two of which would be devoted to Joel Foster’s short-lived music career.
How can I possibly provide an overview of his entire life by interviewing only three guests in thirty minutes—not counting commercial breaks? she wondered and mentally began eliminating several of the questions in the interest of saving time.
Denny Tolleson called for silence, and moments later, the cameras began rolling.
"My first guest tonight is Mr. Frederick M. Walsh, Vice President of MTC Records, Foster's former recording label," Astrid read from the teleprompter and then turned to face the man sitting across from her. "Welcome, Mr. Walsh, and thank you for appearing on our show."
"You're welcome, Astrid. I'm glad to be here," Fred replied.
"Mr. Walsh, you've been with MTC Records in one capacity or another since the early 1960s. When did you first meet Joel Foster?"
"I started working for MTC right out of high school," Walsh answered. "I was seventeen years old at the time and wasn't much more than a gopher in those days: getting lunches and coffee for the musicians, running errands for the executives, delivering the mail at the office—all those menial jobs that no one else wants to do for minimum pay. But I loved it. I got to meet some of the biggest names in rock 'n' roll. Not only did all of MTC's stars record there, but also performers from other labels would often sit in on their friends' recording sessions. I met them all: Lennon, McCartney, Jagger, Clapton and Hendrix. That said, meeting Joel Foster was a unique experience."
"Would you tell our studio audience and those watching at home what Joel Foster was really like?" Astrid prompted.
"He was the nicest, most down-to-earth person I ever had the pleasure of meeting. In fact, I would go so far as to say he was downright humble. Joel never acted like a big rock star. He always treated everyone he met, from the company executives right down to the lowly office boys, the same way. He was always kind, friendly and polite. Joel was the only recording artist I met back then who took the time to learn my name.
With him, it was never, 'Hey kid, go get me some coffee.' It was always, 'Excuse me, Fred, but when you have a minute, would you be kind enough to get me a cup of coffee?' Furthermore, he would always thank me afterward. I guess that's what I remember most about Joel Foster. He had genuine respect for people—all people—and that's pretty rare in this world."
"And when was the last time you saw him?"
"Joel left MTC Records right about the same time The Beatles broke up. By then, I had graduated from being an office boy to working in the sales department. I continued to run into Joel every once in a while in the hallways or in the lobby, and every time I did, he would stop and ask, 'Hi, Fred. How are things with you?' It made me feel proud that he never forgot my name.
Then one day, one of the secretaries came in and told me Joel was leaving MTC. I didn't believe it at first. (I suppose I didn't want to believe it.) Even now, it saddens me that I never had the chance to say goodbye to him."
"Thank you, Mr. Walsh," Astrid said, shaking her guest's hand and tactfully ignoring the tears that welled in his eyes.
Then the host turned her head to read from the teleprompter again.
"Mr. Lloyd Dixon, my next guest, was the lead guitarist and keyboard artist for Tyrannosaurus Rex, Joel Foster's original backup band. Lloyd recorded, performed and toured with Joel throughout most of the singer's early career."
Astrid then faced the man who had taken the seat recently vacated by the previous guest, Frederick Walsh. After welcoming Dixon to the show and thanking him for his time, she proceeded with her first question.
"Lloyd, what kind of man was Joel Foster to work with?"
"I've toured with quite a few bands and solo artists in the past four decades, but I never met anyone quite like Joel Foster," Dixon laughingly declared. "That man ate, slept, drank and dreamed music twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If he wasn't playing the guitar or singing songs, he was writing them. It's no secret that most performers like to unwind after a concert. More often than not, they like to party hard, but not Joel. It was weird, man! The guy had no vices of any kind, not drugs or booze. Hell, not even women!
"Wherever we went, whatever city we played, there were always dozens of chicks hanging around, coming on to the guys in the band, especially Joel, but he was never interested. Don't get me wrong. He wasn't gay or anything like that. It's just that music was his whole life, and he didn't need, want or have time for anything else."
"And what about his political activism, Lloyd?" Astrid inquired. "When did it start, and how did Joel find time to fit in his efforts to promote peace and protest the war in Vietnam while maintaining his busy recording and touring schedule?"
"Man, you got it all wrong. Joel Foster was no activist. He never attended a single rally, a sit-in, a protest march or any other kind of anti-war demonstration. He left that up to John and Yoko. And as far as politics go, he never gave a damn about them. I know for a fact that Joel didn't trust politicians. Republicans, Democrats, Communists, Socialists—they were all the same to Joel. I don't think he ever even voted."
Astrid's face conveyed her astonishment.
"So you're saying his reputation of being dedicated to world peace, love and brotherhood was undeserved."
"Hell, no! That's not what I meant at all. Joel not only believed in all those high ideals, but he practiced them religiously. That was why his music was so important to him. He wasn't in it for the money, the fame or the excitement like most of us were. Joel believed music could really make a difference in the world. He used to have an old quote framed and hung up on his wall, which read MUSIC HAS CHARMS TO SOOTHE A SAVAGE BREAST, TO SOFTEN ROCKS OR BEND A KNOTTED OAK. You see, he was trying to change the world the only way he knew how: through his music. It was like he was a holy man, preaching his beliefs through his songs."
"I don't understand. If Joel Foster's music was so important to him, why did he give it all up at such a young age?"
"It's funny, Astrid, but I never could figure that out myself. Joel Foster had made it to the top, and he just threw it all away. When I asked him why he wanted to quit performing and go live in some jerkwater town in New England, do you know what he told me? He said, 'I've got to find the right song. And when I do, you'll hear from me again, Lloyd.' But I never did."
"Thank you, Mr. Dixon, for sharing your memories of Joel Foster with us."
Turning to the teleprompter once again, Astrid announced, "When we come back after a brief word from our sponsors, we'll talk with the woman who is believed to be the last person to have spoken with Joel Foster."
During the commercial break, which featured advertisements for Burger King, Budweiser beer, Kibbles 'n Bits dog food and Arrid Extra Dry deodorant, Lloyd Dixon left the stage, and an attractive, middle-aged woman took the guest's seat at Astrid's right.
"Ladies and gentlemen, my next guest is Mrs. Dawn Summers, who met Joel Foster shortly after he had retired from music and moved to Gullshead Bay, where he lived the life of a recluse for more than thirty years."
The cameraman briefly zoomed in on the guest before returning to the show's host.
"Mrs. Summers," Astrid addressed the woman, "what was the basis of your long friendship with Joel Foster?"
"I lived in the bungalow next door to the one he bought. At the time Joel moved in, I was having a sort of personal crisis in my life. My husband had been killed in Vietnam three years earlier, and I was still taking it very hard. I tried on more than one occasion to kill myself, but thankfully, I never succeeded. At that point, I was drinking too much and taking drugs—I tried anything to get me through the day. My life couldn't go on the way it had for too much longer. I was almost broke. I had no family, no friends, no job and no hope.
"Then Joel moved in next door. I admit that when he told me who he was, I didn't believe him. Why would a famous musician move into such a dump? But when I heard him sing one day, there was no longer any doubt in my mind that he was who he claimed to be."
"And your being neighbors led to a close friendship; did it not?"
"Yes, it did. I guess, at first, Joel just felt sorry for me. He offered me a job cleaning his place, cooking his meals, running errands for him and odd jobs like that. Sometimes when he took a break from his songwriting, we would sit and talk. He really cared about people—about me—not in a romantic or sexual way but as one human being to another. We talked about things I never discussed with anyone else: life, death, religion, heaven, hell and the very reason for our being on earth. For the first time since my husband had died, I felt like I was alive and that my life had a purpose. Joel Foster restored my faith in myself and in the future."
"Excuse me, Mrs. Summers, but a moment ago you mentioned Joel taking a break from his songwriting. Do you mean he was planning on eventually returning to music?"
"Return? Joel never left music. What he ran away from was the commercialism that had been destroying his creativity. He told me he spent way too much time singing his old songs and not enough time writing new ones. He also felt that people weren't really listening to his lyrics. He would attract sell-out crowds of screaming fans everywhere he went. They'd know all his songs word for word, but they never learned anything from them.
Joel told me that for nearly ten years, he tried to reach the world, but nothing had changed. A war ended here; another one began somewhere else. People stopped hating one race and began to hate another. So, he retreated to Gullshead Bay, far away from the crowds and the noise, where the sounds of the gulls and the surf could soothe his soul. He went there to write a song, and he spent almost thirty years working on it."
"Thirty years writing one song?" Astrid echoed with disbelief.
"Well, it wasn't just any song. It was to be the ultimate musical expression of his most cherished beliefs. Every word of its lyrics came straight from his heart, and every note of the melody came from his soul. When I first met him, he would play the same notes over and over again, changing the tempo or the lyric slightly each time, slowly and painstakingly trying to reach a level of perfection only he was capable of achieving. But it was taking him too long. He could see that the state of the world was getting worse. Violence and hatred were spreading. Even the children weren't immune to it. High schools were becoming war zones. Teenagers were no longer carrying radios to school; instead, they were toting guns and bombs and killing each other in the hallways and classrooms.
"One day, the two of us were watching MTV, and Joel was horrified by the lyrics to some of the songs we heard. The peace and love of the Sixties were replaced with violence and hatred. Joel turned to me with tears in his eyes and asked, 'What kind of message are today's musicians sending to the young people of the world? Don't they care that they're destroying the innocence of a generation? Don't they realize the terrible price we all must pay for their fleeting success? Is the money really worth the hearts and minds of a generation of children?'
"Soon after that, Joel started to work longer hours, sometimes going for days without eating or sleeping. It was like he was in a desperate race against time. This may sound bizarre, but I think he saw something coming, and he wanted to be sure his song was finished in time."
"Maybe what Joel saw was his own death," the host suggested.
"I don't think so," her guest concluded after several moments of consideration. "I think what Joel saw was the apocalypse, and he hoped that his song could prevent it."
Dawn then lowered her head in sadness and wiped a tear from her eye with the back of her hand.
"Thank you, Mrs. Summers. Our hearts go out to you," Astrid said and then looked directly at the camera to deliver what she believed would be the final line for the close of the segment.
"Unfortunately, like Mozart's Requiem, the last song of Joel Foster will never be finished."
"Oh, but you're wrong, Miss Channing!" Dawn interrupted, taking Astrid by surprise. "Joel finished his song the day before he died."
Dawn reached into her purse, took out a cassette and handed it to the astonished host.
"Joel recorded a master tape and gave it to me, asking that I have copies made and distributed," the late singer's neighbor explained. "He signed a legal document giving me all rights to the music and lyrics with the stipulation that no money would ever change hands. There are to be no fees charged or royalties of any kind paid. Joel Foster's magnum opus is to be free for the enjoyment and edification of all the people in the world."
"May we hear the tape, Mrs. Summers?" Astrid asked excitedly.
"Oh, yes. Joel would want you and all your viewers to hear it. That's why I'm here today."
Astrid was delighted by the unexpected turn of events. Foster's final song would debut on her show. What a feather in her cap that would be!
A stagehand took the tape and handed it to the sound engineer, who hooked up a microphone to an old Sony cassette player that was stored in the prop room. When the sound engineer pressed the PLAY button, there emanated from that ordinary, old-fashioned cassette tape the most extraordinarily sublime blend of words and music ever known to man.
Just as a serpent is mesmerized by the music of a snake charmer's flute, so, too, were the entire crew and studio audience of Astrid Channing's television show spellbound by Joel Foster's masterpiece. The reaction was the same from every man, woman and child present: a look of rapt wonder appeared on each face. Joel's message was so simple, so logical and so indisputable. Why had it taken mankind so long to finally understand it?
* * *
As the song was played and replayed on television, radio and the internet and covered by live performers in bars, nightclubs, school talent shows, parades and sporting events, Joel Foster's message spread from person to person, town to town, state to state and nation to nation. The power of that magnificent composition spread through humanity like a wildfire engulfing dry timberland. Soon, hate gave way to love, prejudice succumbed to tolerance and peace triumphed over war.
Joel Foster, a modern Pied Piper leading a weary world to a new beginning and a brighter future, had never lived to see his dream of love and peace become a glorious reality. From his dilapidated bungalow in the small New England town of Gullshead Bay, Maine, the nearly forgotten rock star had conducted a one-man revolution. His weapons had been his lyrics and his melody.
In the end, the revolution was successful. Sadly, however, Joel Foster emerged not only as the victor but also as the battle's only casualty.
Salem was a hippie in the '60s. He was a real flower power meower.
