This story was originally published in the April 3, 2003 issue of ““Rolling Stone.”
Jack Russell may have put on a few pounds, but by the winter of 2003, when he was 25, his blues-rock band Great White was a smash hit. Guitarist Mark Kendall had quit drinking – which had nearly killed him – and returned to the band. Russell had given up alcohol and cocaine and had also come to terms with the death of his father John in 2001. He had started gardening in his new home in the California desert. The newly formed band was, Russell said, “the strongest line-up Great White had ever had.”
The Play On 2003 tour kicked off in January. The tour was scheduled to take Great White to thirty clubs, followed by a few European dates in April and shows with fellow 80s metal heavyweights Warrant and Slaughter in May. “The bands are getting along now,” says Erik Turner, Warrant’s guitarist. “Our egos are all deflated. We’re not walking around like gods anymore. We’re just out there trying to make a living together.”
And it’s a good living. Popular bands like Great White collect $3,500 to $5,000 for a club concert and up to $15,000 for a gig on a tour with bigger bands. “They make a lot of money,” says Nancy Sayle, a spokesperson for metal bands and tours. Most of Great White’s concerts were sold out. Founders Russell and Kendall, sources say, took a larger share of the revenue than hired mercenaries like the late guitarist Ty Longley, who earned between $200 and $500 per concert.
Great White were never a hair metal band in the strictest sense. Their makeup wasn’t quite as elaborate, their music not as theatrical. Great White were more of a boogie band, a party band with a secret weapon – a sweet-voiced singer who sounded like Robert Plant. “Jack won the genetic lottery,” says a friend. “He was blessed with a remarkable voice.” Great White released an album of Led Zeppelin covers in 1999, and Plant/Page songs were a highlight of their live shows. And while other metal musicians were working day jobs, Great White were always on the road.
Russell embodied the devotion of metal. At fourteen, he was arrested for the first time for having sex on the roof of his high school. His rap sheet grew to 53 entries, according to promotional materials, including an arrest for shooting his drug dealer’s housekeeper and for misbehavior in hotel rooms and airplanes. He hung out with porn stars, which is this metal musician’s birthright. The singer became known by the nickname Mista Bone.
“Everyone likes Jack, and everyone likes the band because they’re kind of the people’s band,” says Jimmy D., a Los Angeles-based metal promoter. “There are a bunch of idiot bands out there like Quiet Riot, who are the biggest idiots in the world. For them, I had to go shopping to buy low-calorie mayonnaise and low-calorie yogurt, certain brands. They didn’t do meet-and-greets or signings, and they annoyed people.”
Great White long ago shed the diva tendencies they developed when they performed in front of 60,000 people in 1990. Russell visited tattoo parlors along the tour to get new body art. He recently sang the national anthem at a New York Islanders hockey game. He answered questions on morning radio and signed autographs at bookstores. The same modesty was evident backstage. Great White’s post-show duties: nine “Subway-style” sandwiches, two large pizzas and a large bag of potato chips. No alcohol, not even beer.
As generous as Russell was to his fans, he could be a miser with Great White and his small entourage that traveled on the tour bus. They stayed at Red Roofs and Quality Inns. At restaurants, Russell insisted on separate bills. “I think there was one meal the band paid for in 10 weeks of touring,” says former guitar tech Erick Kirkland, who toured with Great White in 1996. “They tried to keep costs as low as possible.” To make them last longer, bass strings, which cost $35 a pack, were boiled, a common practice among musicians on a budget.
Money became an issue in other ways, too. “I worked for free most of the year,” complained drummer Audie Desbrow after he was fired from Great White in 2000 after 15 years. “I’m separated from my wife and son because my wife was sick of watching me take advantage of others.” Desbrow portrayed Russell as greedy – except in certain circumstances: “Jack might give you a piece of his triple serving of Hostess cupcakes at 3 a.m.”
Guitarist Ty Longley, who died in the Station fire, played with Russell on and off for the past three years, supplementing his income by playing in a Journey tribute band, giving guitar lessons and doing office work for a porn company in the San Fernando Valley. “Ty wasn’t a flashy guitar player, but he was a solid player,” says Nick Menza, a former drummer for Megadeth. “Reliable, which is a big plus. It’s hard to find people in LA, anywhere, who aren’t unreliable.” Longley’s friend, hard-rock drummer Anthony Biuso, says, “Ty had no ego at all. He had none of the entitlement attitudes that some people have.” Longley often answered fan emails on Great White’s website.
Longley wanted to expand his musical universe, but in the winter of 2003 he found opportunities limited. “It was a secure living, and he had nothing else to do at the time,” says the guitarist’s pregnant girlfriend, Heidi Peralta, who lives near Chicago.
The entire Play On 2003 tour with Longley on board almost never happened. Russell disbanded Great White on January 1, 2001. After a “farewell performance” in Santa Ana, California, the singer vowed never to sing “Once Bitten Twice Shy,” Great White’s biggest hit, again. Jack Russell was officially a solo artist. “Jack said, ‘I want to make a pop record, not a Great White record,'” recalls Bob Kulick, who played guitar on and co-produced Russell’s solo album. For you. “He wanted to be accepted as something other than the singer of Great White.” It was not to be. Great White fans apparently lived for the band, not for their cheerful singer. For you sold poorly.
Soon Russell was playing with Kendall again. Last November, a band called Jack Russell’s Great White went on tour with some new musicians on board. As before, it was Russell and Kendall, playing the same clubs, playing the same songs and promoting a newly released Great White live album. The band celebrated its 25th anniversary this year.
Although he wrote the lyrics for many Great White songs, Russell never seemed to show much passion for the craft. “Sometimes I think people try to be too hip lyrically, and in doing so, they go beyond what other people can understand,” he once said. “I think it’s important that we keep telling ourselves the same stories in our own way.”
Those stories, told Great White’s way, still resonated. And the band appreciated that. On this tour, the band members hung out with their fans as they always did. “They came before the show, they came after the show,” recalls one fan. “Jack Russell was there with his fans for two hours after a show I saw on the East Coast until they closed the club. They never hid in their bus until it was time to come on stage.” For the last time, that tour bus pulled into the parking lot of the station in West Warwick, Rhode Island, on the afternoon of February 20, 2003.
