Tuesday, April 7, 2009


From bobby jameson

This is my brother Bill. In 1969, following Diane Linkletter's death, Bill was living with our father in Radnor Pennsylvania Bill Jameson senior and wife Loiuse. I was in L A with Nancy on Sweetzer, in West Hollywood. My entire life was sinking into some sort of dark forbidden place and I was unable to stop the emotional and psychological demise. I began drinking enormous amounts of alcohol because I could not get hold of any drugs. The death of Diane had gotten to me on a level I had no prior experience with, so I was unable to rationally deal with the aftermath in any constructive way. The Manson Murders, Diane's death and the loss of everything in my career, were coupled up in a destructive atmosphere, which overwhelmed and enveloped me.

Nancy was with me, but was powerless to help pull me out of this destructive state and at some point I knew she was going to be dragged down with me. I began telling her she had to get away from me because I was worthless but she would not go. She had decided somewhere inside herself that where I went, good or bad, she would go with me, even if that meant dying. I was doing just enough yardwork at the building on Sweetzer to maintain the right to the apartment Nancy and I lived in. We didn't eat much and any extra money, of which there was little, was spent on alcohol and small amounts of food. My hope was, and I mean this in the most desperate way, that I would be allowed to join my brother Bill in Penn. and get the hell away from L A.

That did not happen, to the contrary, I was contacted at some point by my mother, I think, and told that the message from my father was, "don't send Bob." This single act was like a hammer in my head. "DON'T SEND BOB!" Once again I felt as though the forces of the world were stacked against me and that I was no match for them. What once had been a proud person who was able to overcome any obstacle in my path, was quickly becoming a person crushed by each new challenge that arose.

1969 turned into 1970 and the darkness of the times came right along with it. Nancy and I wandered through the haze together with little help from anyone other than Joe Steck and his wife, who managed the building where we lived. Fortunately at the time, Joe saw me in a light that was not as negative as the view most others had of me. He was more philosophical about it, which allowed me a place in the building. He understood the pain and misery I was engulfed in from a different vantage point. To him it was a massive learning experience for me rather than the ultimate end to Bobby Jameson.

Conversely, both Joe and Judy, his wife, were concerned, as I was, for Nancy, who was determined not to leave me. I am a bit foggy on a fact here regarding Nancy, and that is, at some point I got her to leave. It was one of the most unselfish things I had ever done. I was more concerned with her well being than my own. The fact that I am having trouble remembering, is whether I managed to get her to leave before or after the next god awful event that came crashing into my life. On a sunny California day in 1970 I was told that my mother was trying to reach me by Joe. I walked south, on Sweetzer, down to Santa Monica Blvd. where there was a Mayfair market and a telephone booth. I called my Mother and asked her what the trouble was and this is what I heard, which I will never forget as long as I live. "I don't know how important this is to you Bob but your father Bill committed suicide."

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