I've got a Bob story. When he played at the Palace Theatre in 1980, I went to the show both nights it was in town. This was when he did his “Saved” album, and there were a lot of people in the crowd holding Bibles. They gave out tickets at the local church, because they were worried there wouldn't be anyone in the theater.
After the show, I heard he was staying down in the Best Western, near the bus station. I walked in, about midnight, but I didn't see anybody. Then the elevator opens up and Spooner Oldham [Dylan's keyboard player] walks out. So I followed him into the bar, sat down next to him, offered to buy him a beer. We're just chatting. I didn't mention Dylan. Then the whole band comes in and sits at a booth. I'm thinking, Oh, he must be here. I went over to them and said, “I'm a Dylan fan, I'm a photographer. What's it like for you guys to be touring with Dylan?” They ignored me. They wouldn't say a word, like I wasn't there. Then I said, “I saw the shows the last two nights and they were great. Is the tour going well?” Nothing. I said “Can I buy you guys a drink?” No. They wouldn't talk to me. Then I said, “I snuck a camera in last night, and I've got some good shots,” and the bass player turns to me and goes, “You've got pictures?” “Yeah,” I said. “Of us, on stage with Dylan?” “Yeah.” And he goes, “Can we see ‘em?!” I went to my car and got the pictures. I came in, and they were flipped out to have pictures of themselves with Dylan. I said, “Here, you can have this one. You're in this one, you can have it.” After a while they said, “We have to leave now, we're going to pick up Bob,” and I said, “Oh? Where are you picking up Bob?” and one of the guys says, “We're not allowed to tell you, but, do you know the Wellington Hotel? We're going to be there in about 10 minutes.”
So I go up and park outside the Wellington. It's 3 in the morning, it's pouring rain, and I sit there for 20 minutes or so, and there's no bus, no nothing. I think, well, they ran me on a wild goose chase. I'm just about ready to leave when the bus pulls up. I get out, I have my Leica and a flash. A week before, he'd punched a photographer in Los Angeles. I figure, well, maybe I'll get punched by Bob Dylan.
I'm waiting outside under the awning. The bus driver goes in, and then Bob comes out with a bodyguard. I go, “You don't mind if I take a picture of you, do you?” and I picked up the camera and took the picture.
He turned his head, then I heard his voice. “What do you want a picture of me for, anyway?” I walked behind him and said, “Well, I was at the concert the last two nights. You were really great, and I wanted to get a picture of you.” He stops and turns around. “You liked the concert?” “Yeah,” I said. “I thought it was great. I love the new stuff, and the band's great.” “I'm really glad you liked the concerts,” he said. “You know, I've got a picture of you here you probably would like,” I said. “Can I show it to you?” “Okay, let me see it,” he said. I showed it to him and he said, “That's a really good picture.” “Okay,” I said, “you can have it.” “I'd love to have it,” he said.
Then I said, “I'm from West Saugerties,” and he goes, “West Saugerties? How's everybody down in West Saugerties?” I was like flippin' out. And he says, “Well, thank you. Thank you. I'll keep the picture.” “Can I take a portrait of you?” I asked, and he says, “Sure, where do you want it?” “Right here's good,” and I start to pick up the camera and he says, “Wait, let me turn around so you can get the tour bus in the picture.”
I took the dumbest picture of him, which I love. I didn't know what to do. I could have done something, open flash, something hotter. But actually, it's nice. Because it's just what it is. It's Bob. When you take the print and put a light behind it, you see his eyes, clear as day.