An infinite number of tracks can each be THE greatest record ever made, as long as they take turns. Today, this is THE GREATEST RECORD EVER MADE!
THE BOBBY FULLER FOUR: I Fought The Law
Written by Sonny Curtis
Produced by Bob Keane
Single, Mustang Records, 1965
In 1966, my brother Art had a red Alfa Romeo. I'm told it was kind of a crappy car, really, and I remember its ignominious final days in his possession: a scarlet husk parked, prone, lying in state beyond the shed at the end of our back yard. Collecting dust, collecting rust. A tow truck ultimately came to whisk this luckless red shell to its final reward.
But my prevailing principle memory of this doomed vehicle is a happy one. The memory involves the consumption of Royal Crown Cola, or possibly a root beer and Teen Burger at the nearby A & W Drive-In. The memory absolutely involves the car's one true immortal virtue: its radio.
That radio? When I was six years old, I may have thought that radio was magic.
I mean, it must have been magic. There were songs I heard on that car's radio that I never seemed to hear anywhere else. But it was a different magic than I imagined; it was Syracuse's 1260 WNDR-AM. Set to 1260, the Alfa Romeo played "I Like It Like That" by the Dave Clark Five, a record that--to me--only existed on the AM dial of Art's star-crossed Alfa Romeo. Even better, it played--often!--another irresistible exclusive: "I Fought The Law" by the Bobby Fuller Four.
In 1966, my brother Art had a red Alfa Romeo. I'm told it was kind of a crappy car, really, and I remember its ignominious final days in his possession: a scarlet husk parked, prone, lying in state beyond the shed at the end of our back yard. Collecting dust, collecting rust. A tow truck ultimately came to whisk this luckless red shell to its final reward.
But my prevailing principle memory of this doomed vehicle is a happy one. The memory involves the consumption of Royal Crown Cola, or possibly a root beer and Teen Burger at the nearby A & W Drive-In. The memory absolutely involves the car's one true immortal virtue: its radio.
That radio? When I was six years old, I may have thought that radio was magic.
I mean, it must have been magic. There were songs I heard on that car's radio that I never seemed to hear anywhere else. But it was a different magic than I imagined; it was Syracuse's 1260 WNDR-AM. Set to 1260, the Alfa Romeo played "I Like It Like That" by the Dave Clark Five, a record that--to me--only existed on the AM dial of Art's star-crossed Alfa Romeo. Even better, it played--often!--another irresistible exclusive: "I Fought The Law" by the Bobby Fuller Four.
My visceral memory of that terrific song is inextricably linked to those moments in my brother's Alfa Romeo, of drums, guitars, and a singer bemoaning his fate of breakin' rocks in the hot sun, all pouring forth from the little car's speakers as my big brother cruised suburban streets with his pesky kid brother on board. It's indelible, and I embrace and cherish its vivid image.
A decade and change passed. In 1978, I was finishing my freshman year in college, and immersing myself in the rockin' pop of the '60s and the then-contemporary sounds of punk, new wave, and power pop. In this joyous crucible of discovery and rediscovery, "I Fought The Law" was ripe to reclaim.
I don't know if it occurred to me that the Bobby Fuller Four might have had more than just one great song. Nor did I know that Bobby Fuller himself was dead, and I didn't know anything at all about the suspicious circumstances surrounding his demise. The opportunity to learn about all of this would not present itself until after I graduated from college in 1980.
A decade and change passed. In 1978, I was finishing my freshman year in college, and immersing myself in the rockin' pop of the '60s and the then-contemporary sounds of punk, new wave, and power pop. In this joyous crucible of discovery and rediscovery, "I Fought The Law" was ripe to reclaim.
I don't know if it occurred to me that the Bobby Fuller Four might have had more than just one great song. Nor did I know that Bobby Fuller himself was dead, and I didn't know anything at all about the suspicious circumstances surrounding his demise. The opportunity to learn about all of this would not present itself until after I graduated from college in 1980.
In 1981, my girlfriend and I were living in an apartment in Brockport. She would graduate that spring, and I'd already leveraged my Bachelor of Arts degree into full-time employment at McDonald's. Success! And rent money, as well as cash for beer and food and beer, and to keep buying music at Main Street Records.
I snapped up Rhino Records' Best Of The Bobby Fuller Four compilation. By then, I knew two of its songs, "I Fought The Law" and "Let Her Dance." It was high time to know more: "Only When I Dream," "Don't Let Me Know," Buddy Holly's "Love's Made A Fool Of You," the Eddie Cochran ripof..er, tribute "Saturday Night," and a trifecta of absolute gems--"Another Sad And Lonely Night," "Fool Of Love," and "Never To Be Forgotten"--that could rival "Let Her Dance" and "I Fought The Law" as surefire radio-ready triumphs. How in the name of all that's percolatin' could the Bobby Fuller Four have wound up as mere one-hit wonders...?!
I was 21 years old in 1981. I lived inside my pop music. I was also living in the (overrated) real world for the first time, trying to reconcile the frequently conflicting promise of art and the demands of responsibility, adulthood. It can be a difficult line to tread, an ongoing balancing act between the dreams we dream and the clocks we punch. Doing what we have to keeps things going; doing what we want to keeps us going.
Bobby Fuller wasn't much older than that when he died in the summer of '66, a pop star three months shy of his twenty-fourth birthday, a West Texas kid who hit the big time, a rising star with a Billboard smash on his résumé and the world at his feet. The liner notes to Best Of The Bobby Fuller Four offered my first hint of his tragic story. Bobby had talent. Bobby had good looks. Bobby had a string of pretty young things on his arm. And on July 18th, 1966, Bobby's body was found slumped in his car outside his apartment in Hollywood. He had been beaten. He had been doused with gasoline. The authorities ruled his death a suicide (later amended to "accidental").
Right.
The record business is big and brutal. And where there's money, there is often organized crime. Ask Tommy James. Or ask Miriam Linna, co-author (with Bobby's brother Randell Fuller) of the book I Fought The Law: The Life And Strange Death Of Bobby Fuller. The book suggests that Bobby Fuller was killed by the mob. Sound crazy? Really, crazier than suicide by beating oneself and bathing in gasoline? I'm not one for conspiracy theories. Elvis is dead. Paul is alive. Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. 9/11 was a terrorist attack. Oswald may well have acted alone. I find tinfoil hats unbecoming.
And I also believe that the mob killed Bobby Fuller, whether over business (likely) or for revenge on Bobby for dallying with an attractive woman whose dallying allegiance was presumed to already belong exclusively to an underworld boss. Whatever actually happened to Fuller, it's a safe bet it wasn't self-inflicted.
The sordid tale of Fuller's end, as sad and frustrating as it remains, can't dilute the prevailing appeal of his music. Listening to Best Of The Bobby Fuller Four was my first real evidence that there could be more--much more--to an act that show biz writes off as a one-hit wonder.
The sordid tale of Fuller's end, as sad and frustrating as it remains, can't dilute the prevailing appeal of his music. Listening to Best Of The Bobby Fuller Four was my first real evidence that there could be more--much more--to an act that show biz writes off as a one-hit wonder.
I no longer own my copy of that LP; it was replaced many years ago by a CD that contained even more great Bobby Fuller tracks, and that CD was replaced by the five discs of Bobby Fuller material that now sit proudly on my shelf at home. Fool of love. Another sad and lonely night. Let her dance all night long. Never to be forgotten.
My road to appreciating the bounty of the Bobby Fuller Four began in earnest with Best Of The Bobby Fuller Four in 1981. But the road truly began on the road, literally, back in '66: when the magic radio in my brother's unreliable but intrepid red Alfa Romeo played a song I could never hear anywhere else. The law didn't win this one, I fear. I needed money 'cause I had none. No time off for good behavior, no chance for parole. I guess my race is run. Only a record on the radio could set us free.
My road to appreciating the bounty of the Bobby Fuller Four began in earnest with Best Of The Bobby Fuller Four in 1981. But the road truly began on the road, literally, back in '66: when the magic radio in my brother's unreliable but intrepid red Alfa Romeo played a song I could never hear anywhere else. The law didn't win this one, I fear. I needed money 'cause I had none. No time off for good behavior, no chance for parole. I guess my race is run. Only a record on the radio could set us free.
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Carl's new book Gabba Gabba Hey! A Conversation With The Ramones is now available, courtesy of the good folks at Rare Bird Books. Gabba Gabba YAY!! https://rarebirdlit.com/gabba-gabba-hey-a-conversation-with-the-ramones-by-carl-cafarelli/
If it's true that one book leads to another, my next book will be The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1). Stay tuned. Your turn is coming.
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