Table of Contents
Penguin BooksFIVE AGAINST ONE
For ten years Kim Neely covered hard rock and alternative music for Rolling Stone. Currently a freelance writer, she lives in New York City.
for my beautiful mom, Linda, whose strength and
generosity of spiritand utterly sick and twisted sense of
humorhave always made her the brightest star in my sky ...
and for my true love, Mark, who walked into my life just
after I began writing this book, got a glimpse of what
he was going to be in for, and stayed anyway.
Acknowledgments
For the significant roles they played in making this book a reality, my heartfelt thanks go out to the following individuals:
Mark Im Not Worried Kelley, my fearless agent, devoted massive quantities of blood, sweat, and tears to this project. From the beginning, Mark cared about this story as much as I did, and throughout its passage into printa process that was lengthier and more fraught with complications than either of us ever could have imaginedhe remained a tireless advocate, a trusted advisor, and, above all else, a true friend. This book is as much his accomplishment as it is mine. (Special thank yous directly from Mark go out to Rita and Roger Kelley and Karen Reilly.)
David Stanford at Viking Penguin emerged as a knight in shining armor at a crucial point in the life of this book, and has proven himself to be a true writers editornot to mention a very cool guyever since. Im very fortunate to have had someone like David in my corner.
Rolling Stone has provided me with pages to fill for nearly a decade, and Im grateful to a number of current and former staffers for their advice and support, among them Bob Love, Mary MacDonald, Jodi Peckman, Fred Goodman, Karen Sioris, Barbara ODair, Bob Wallace, and Jann Wenner. Id especially like to thank former RS music editor (and current Rock & Roll Hall of Fame curator) Jim Henke, under whose tutelage I did some of my best work at the magazineand without whose insistence that I fly to Seattle to interview a new band called Pearl Jam in 1991.... Thanks, Jim.
My beloved kincamps Neely, Martinez, Cunningham, and Abeneand the ultra-classy Mikal Gilmore, Henry Rollins, David Weber, Leslie Tucker, and Del James, dragged me kicking and screaming over the Great Wall of I-Cant-Do-This. Two of my most cherished family members assumed guardian angel duty before the book was finished. Paul Fats Barclay and Samson: R.I.P.
My thanks to Dave Abbruzzese and Sheri Fineman for their generosity, hospitality, and the weeks upon end they spent letting me plumb the depths of their memories. Alex Protzel sniffed out virtually every existing bootleg and fanzine in Jamdom. Richard Price and Associates in Salt Lake City, genealogists extraordinaire, embarked upon the Search for Great Grandma Pearl with astonishing zeal. Peter and Rose Mueller provided me with reams of documents and letters, hours of their time, and carte blanche with their family photo album, all of which were a god-send when it came to piecing together the puzzle of Eddies early years. Chris Cuffaro, who was there in the beginning and looks back on those days with as much fondness as I do, not only broke rank to speak with me for the book, but let me say so. Thanks, Chris.
Dozens of writers in recent years have attempted to document the sprawling, confusing genesis of the Seattle scene, and many times as I inched my way through the Pearl Jam saga, I found myself referring to their work. Id especially like to thank Clark Humphrey, whose meticulously detailed 1995 book, Loser: the Real Seattle Music Story, was an enormous help when it came to pinning down names, dates, and places in the pre-Grunge Northwest; Jo-Ann Greene, whose voluminous August 1993 thesis in Goldmine, Intrigue and Incest: Pearl Jam and the Secret History of Seattle, was similarly valuable in helping me trace the gnarled, twisted branches of the Seattle family tree; and Michael Azerrad, who, with his profiles in Rolling Stone and his fine 1993 Nirvana biography, Come As You Are, provided a wealth of insight into the Aberdeen set. Jeff Gilbert, Richard T. White, Katherine Turman, Allan Jones, Steve Hochman, and Robert Hilburn have also done some wonderful reporting on Pearl Jam over the years. Im grateful to all of these writers, whose stories on the band were a tremendous resource.
For always making me feel welcome during the time Ive spent with them over the years in and out of Seattle, Im indebted to Susan Silver, Chris Cornell, Kim Thayil, Ben Shepherd, Matt Cameron, D. C. Parmet, Randy and Lisa Biro, Cameron Crowe, Eric Johnson, Kelly and Peggy Curtis, Beth Liebling, Tim Skully Quinlan, Keith Wismar, Lance Mercer, Ellyn Solis, and Michael Goldstone.
Finally, for their openness and generosity in the early days, and a body of work that has never failed to inspire me, my sincere thanks to Pearl Jam: Jeff Ament, Stone Gossard, Jack Irons, Mike McCready, and Eddie Vedder.
K.N.
January, 1998
New York City
Prelude
San francisco, June 24, 1995
There was a sudden, awkward silenceDid he say what I think he just said?and then came that sound, the low, buzzing hum that is the single most dread of every performer who has heard it even once: the sound made by fifty thousand people when they turn their attention away from the stage and start talking to their friends.
Stone and Jeffs eyes met ever so briefly, worry passing between them in the sort of mute, telepathic exchange thats second nature to two musicians whove worked together for a decade. Up until now, it had seemed as if they just might pull it off. Saturday had broken warm and sunny in San Francisco, not a single cloud marring the brilliant blue sky over Golden Gate Park. Fans had been lined up since six in the morning, and by eleven, Monkey Wrench Radio, the pirate station from which Eddie and a few pals had been broadcasting punk songs and commentary at recent Pearl Jam shows, had crackled to life from a white tent on Polo Field. The crowd had been good-natured and enthusiastic, even gracing opening act Bad Religion with a semirespectable mosh pit. Better yet, Neil Young had rumbled through the gates on his Harley a few hours ago, to enjoy the day and, more important, to sit in with Pearl Jam for a few songs from Mirror Ball, the album theyd just recorded together.
Eddies status had been iffy this morning. Stuck with what appeared to be a nasty stomach flu (later it would be diagnosed as food poisoning, contracted from a room service tuna sandwich), hed been in the emergency room at three A.M., and this afternoon when Young had arrived, thered been Eddie, looking distinctly green, lying facedown on the floor of the bands dressing room. Still, by the time two oclock rolled around and it was time for Pearl Jam to go on, Eddie had been convinced hed make it through the set. It might not be the
