Everything about pipes and tobacco


Catch a Wave

Excerptsings had been a Wilson family tradition
dating back to Kansas and beyond, as an
The following is an excerpt from the bookeighty-seven-year-old Charles Wilson (an
Catch  a  Waveby  Peter  Ames  Carlinuncle to Brian, Dennis, and Carl) would tell
Timothy White, describing nights on the
Published by Rodale; July 2006;$25.95USKansas plains when "we'd have shows on
$34.95CAN;  1-59486-320-2Saturday nights, with three of the oldest
brothers on guitars and mandolins. This was
Copyright  Â©  2006  Peter  Ames  Carlinat home, with the windows open to the street,
and  people  would  stop  and  listen."
Chapter  1
Even Buddy, a man with no discernible
Brian Wilson, the Beach Boys' originalinstincts toward paternal tenderness, loved
songwriter, producer, and visionary, is into sing with his kids. He'd long since come
his sixties now, a man of age and wealth andto admire the sound of his own tenor voice
almost no discernible interest in the worldanchoring the family blend. But even more
as it existed before him, particularly withimportant, weaving his voice together with
regard to his family and their own journeythose of his wife and kids was as close as
across the continent to the golden coastBuddy could get to actual emotional intimacy
where he was born. "We never talked aboutwith his family. And perhaps this was why
that stuff," Brian says. It is the spring ofMurry, the son who had come to be the
2004, and he's in one of his favoritefamily's last line of defense against their
restaurants, a bustling hillside deli in adrunk, vicious father, came to love music so
mall down the street from his home on thevery much. He taught himself to play guitar,
crest of Beverly Hills. "That's the one thingtoo, and he picked up piano from his big
they never did, never talked about oursister. And when the living room radio picked
ancestors at all." Now, it's hard to know ifup broadcasts from the elegant nightclubs of
Brian is saying this because it's true orHollywood or downtown Los Angeles, Murry sat
because he just doesn't remember any suchin front of the speaker and soaked it in, his
conversations. Or, more likely, he justface glowing happily. What he was hearing was
doesn't want to address the issue. He's anan entirely new vision of the world. Here,
intimidating man, both for all he's achievedlife was filled with luxury and ease; a place
in his life and for all he's suffered alongwhere careers could be made and fortunes
the way. And given the remove of hisearned, all by the grace of a clever new
celebrity and his psychic torment, it's hardsong. Sitting in front of the radio, aloft on
to separate the humor from the horror in histhe arc of a pretty melody, Murry Wilson had
eyes when he does recall something his fathercome to realize something: More than anything
did  like  to  say.else in the world, he wanted to be a
songwriter.
"Kick some ass!" Brian is smiling now, in his
silly, sad way. "Exactly, that's what my dadBut if Murry could be just as dreamy as the
said.  Kick  ass!  Kick  ass!"next aspiring pop star, he was also a realist
who had grown up knowing exactly how
Murry Wilson was a big guy with a bigimportant-and difficult-it could be to buy
personality and even bigger dreams of glory.the bare essentials of day-to-day life. He
That he would attain them through the work ofwas a mediocre student at George Washington
his sons was a source of great pride andHigh School, but the rock-jawed youngster
outrage from the old man. "My relationshipleft school in 1935 armed with a steely
with my dad was very unique," Brian says. "Inresolve to find work. And though the rest of
some ways I was very afraid of him. In otherthe nation was still mired in the teeth of
ways I loved him because he knew where it wasthe Depression, Murry landed a job as a clerk
at. He had that competitive spirit whichwith the Southern California Gas Company. He
really  blew  my  mind."was still employed there when he met and, in
1938, married Audree Korthof, the
"Don't be afraid to try the greatest sportsweet-natured daughter of a stern,
around." That's the story of Brian's life.hard-working baker who had moved his family
But also the story of his brothers, hiswest from Minnesota when Audree was a
cousin and friends, and all of the ancestorsschoolgirl. Murry and his new wife settled in
whose ambitions, fears, hopes, andsouthern Los Angeles, reveling for a time in
determination delivered them to this landMurry's ascendance from the gas company
beneath the unyielding sun. California, hereoffice trenches to a junior administrative
we come. Right back where they started from.post. When Audree became pregnant in the fall
"Catch a wave and you're sitting on top ofof 1941, Murry's determination to succeed and
the  world."to outdo the sad, bitter legacy of his father
only grew more intense. The couple's first
As described by Timothy White in hisson, Brian Douglas Wilson, was born on June
intricately researched The Nearest Faraway20, 1942, bearing the same blue eyes, dark
Place, the story of the Wilsons in Americahair, and prominent brow that had followed
begins in the late eighteenth century, whenthe  family  across  the  generations.
the first Wilson to venture to the New World
settled in New York. The first American-bornMurry and Audree welcomed two more boys into
family member, named Henry Wilson, was borntheir family in the next four years-the
in 1804 and eventually moved west to Meigsfair-haired Dennis Carl Wilson coming in late
County, Ohio, where he worked as a1944 and Carl Dean Wilson, another
stonemason. His son, named George Washingtondark-featured boy, at the end of 1946. Moving
Wilson in the spirit of the times, was bornhis family to a modern, if cozy, two-bedroom
in 1820, and he and his family farmed a plotranch house on West 119th Street in the
of rich, river-fed land in Meigs County forblue-collar suburb of Hawthorne, Murry rolled
more than six decades until his own son,his sleeves up over his bulky forearms and
William Henry Wilson, decided to pursueset to scratching out his own slice of the
fortune west to the wide-open plains ofpostwar economic boom. He'd already made some
Hutchinson, Kansas. So west they went, withprogress, jumping to a junior administration
patriarch George in tow, settling onto ajob at the Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company
large, if relatively arid, farm that Williamjust after Brian's birth and then, just as
Henry soon abandoned in order to go into thethe war ended, to a foreman's position in the
industrial plumbing business. Contracts tomanufacturing plant of AiResearch, an
work on the state's new reformatory system,aeronautics company that made parts for
along with the many opportunities afforded bySeattle-based Boeing Aircraft's growing line
the modernizing world around them, provided aof  civilian  and  military  airplanes.
decent working-class living and a solidly
built clapboard bungalow on one ofBy the end of World War II, the South Bay
Hutchinson's nice residential streets. As therevolved around the thriving aerospace
nineteenth century gave way to the twentieth,industry. Borne up by the dual demands of a
William Henry began to think again of chasingrapidly expanding civilian airline market and
fortune  into  the  western  horizon.the just-as-rapidly-growing tension with the
Soviet Union, aeronautics presented
California! At the dawn of the new century,opportunities for hardworking men that were
this was the setting of every ambitious man'sseemingly as limitless as their own
dreams. The real estate flyers papering theaspirations. But while Murry's timing was
town painted in the details, describing thespot-on, and he was a tireless worker with a
valley soil as every bit as rich and fertilepenchant for big ideas, nothing came easily
as the sun was warm and the breezes gentle.for him. A gruesome accident at Goodyear cost
Thus inspired, William Henry scraped togetherhim his left eye, and that twist of fate only
the cash to buy, sight unseen, ten acres ofemphasized an aggressive-to-bellicose
prime farmland in the southern Californiapersonality that tended to alienate him from
village of Escondido. William Henry loaded upco-workers and superiors alike. Stalled on
his wife, kids, and even histhe lower rungs of management and
eighty-five-year-old father into the familyincreasingly frustrated with his flat career
jalopy; they arrived in 1904 and spent thearc, Murry descended into dark moods all too
year laboring on their new vineyard. Andreminiscent of his own father's. Still,
though the sun did indeed shine, and theunwilling to resign himself entirely to the
water flowed as promised, and the vines didold man's fate, he scraped together as much
erupt with fat, juicy fruit, the farming wascash as he could and opened his own business,
every bit as hard as it had been back inan industrial equipment rental outfit he
Kansas, and the money not nearly as vast ascalled A.B.L.E. (Always Better Lasting
previously anticipated. By 1905, William andEquipment) Machinery. From that point on,
family were back in the plumbing business inMurry Wilson would be his own boss. The
Kansas. Still, memories of the California sunarrangement  suited  him  just  fine.
and the dreams of ease and fortune that had
once stirred William Henry's soul came toSo in the mornings Murry would dress in his
rest in the imagination of his teenaged son,pressed white shirts and skinny tie knotted
William Coral "Buddy" Wilson. As the boyjust so, his horn-rimmed glasses perched on
grew, so too did his visions of the goldenhis thick, bulldog's face, his suit jacket
future  that awaited him in the Golden State.straining against the prominent belly and
muscular shoulders that testified both to his
Dark-eyed, heavy-browed, and thick-featured,appetite for work and for the rewards
Buddy Wilson took off for California in 1914.awaiting a man at the end of his day.
Then in his early twenties, the youngSteering his Ford down the quiet, sun-washed
man-already married to Edith Shtole and thestreets of mid-1950s Hawthorne, he'd see a
father of a child or two-fairly seethed withhundred houses just like the one he shared
ambition. Surely, he imagined, a man with hiswith Audree and his three boys: small but
drive and appetite could find an untappedneat, with a lush lawn and a wide driveway
stream of gold somewhere in that rich, openfor the late-model Ford, Buick, or Chevy, its
economic frontier. Leaving his family back intail fins gleaming in the cool morning light.
Hutchinson, Buddy would spend months at a
time searching for his place in the sun,These were the cars of men who were
looking increasingly in the oil fields of thedetermined to get somewhere in their lives.
southern coast. Guys could make a fortune ifLike Murry, many of Hawthorne's men were
they latched onto the right rig, and so Buddyeither born in the Midwest or were the
used his plumbing skills as his entr?e,children of men and women who had made the
working as a steamfitter on the pipes thatwestward trek sometime in the first few
channeled the gushers out of the ground anddecades of the twentieth century. "It was
into the pockets of the rich men whoselike a little Midwestern town that just got
example  he  was  desperate  to  follow.moved right there to eighty acres of land,"
recalls Robin Hood, who grew up a few blocks
But Buddy would never join them in the gildedfrom the Wilsons. "There were a lot of
halls of the powerful. Moody and scattered,farmers from Kansas and Missouri, a lot of
plagued by searing headaches and aDust Bowl-era folks who settled in with their
self-destructive thirst for whiskey, Buddybig, extended families. Nobody was rich, but
wandered from job to job to long stretches ofwe  didn't  know  it."
unemployment, which he passed grumbling into
a glass in a dim barroom. When Edith and theBut their parents certainly did. And if one
kids finally joined him in 1921, taking thebelief held the community together, it was
train to the elegant-sounding village ofthe one about the transformative potential of
Cardiff-by-the-Sea, he couldn't afford tohard work. No matter where you came from, no
lease an apartment in town. Instead, thematter what your people used to be or what
family spent their first two months living inanyone expected you to become, in a
a snug eight-by-eight-foot tent with all theworking-class West Coast town like
other  squatters  on  the  beach.Hawthorne-which had been a stretch of empty
coastal flats and swamp a generation ago-you
Edith took a job pressing clothes for acould work your way into being anything or
garment manufacturer, and eventually theanyone you felt like being. This belief is
family moved to a small home on an unpavedliberating, of course, but it's also evidence
road in Inglewood where the eight Wilson kidsof internal currents that can give the
attended school, worked weekend jobs, andpursuit an undertone of desperation. As Joan
marched the thin line dictated by their sourDidion would write, the California of this
father and stern, demanding mother. Escape,era was a place "in which a boom mentality
such as it was, came in the occasionaland a sense of Chekhovian loss meet in uneasy
afternoon bike rides to the open, breezysuspension; in which the mind is troubled by
expanse  of  Hermosa  Beach.some buried but ineradicable suspicion that
things had better work here, because here,
Escape was a necessity for Buddy Wilson'sbeneath that immense bleached sky, is where
kids. Buddy, now in middle age and resignedwe  run  out  of  continent."
to his life of small prospects and severely
limited horizons, had long felt his ambitionEventually the Baby Boom generation would
curdle into resentment. Often awash inturn the very edge of the continent into its
alcohol and self-pity, Buddy's bile regularlyown proving ground. But the impulse that
boiled over into violence, directed mostpropelled them there, that restless need for
often at Edith. But he could also turn hisdeliverance and the intuitive belief that it
fists on his children, once beating thecould be divined by your own hands somewhere
school-aged Charles so savagely (forout past the wild fringe of the western
mistakenly shattering his glasses) thathorizon, was the same one that had dragged
Murry, then a teenager, had to come to histheir families across the American frontier
brother's rescue, shoving the old man out ofand into the dreamy, bustling, sun-glazed
the house until he sobered up. And thiscities they had built for themselves. And
wasn't the only time Murry had come to blowsthis was where Murry's sons, Brian, Dennis,
with his father. Increasingly, the family'sand Carl, came to understand their father's
second-oldest boy found himself thrust intoneed for them to kick the world in the ass.
the role of his mother's protector, raisingHe wanted so much for them. He wanted so much
his own fists against the father he loved butfor himself. In the worst possible way, you
who seemed unable to love him or anyone elsemight  say.
in  the  family.
Reprinted from: Catch a Wave: The Rise, Fall,
As in most abusive families, the physical andand Redemption of the Beach Boys' Brian
psychic violence that ruled their home becameWilson by Peter Ames Carlin © 2006 Rodale
an unacknowledged presence, a force that bothInc. Permission granted by Rodale, Inc.,
dominated their lives and forced them intoEmmaus, PA 18098. Available wherever books
silence. But if they couldn't talk aboutare sold or directly from the publisher by
their problems, the Wilsons could always singcalling (800) 848-4735.
their way to a kind of amity. Indeed, group



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