Copyright 2019 by Louis Kemp
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the website below.
WestRose Press
Los Angeles, CA
www.dylanandme.com
Dylan & Me: 50 Years of Adventures is a trademark of the author and is used by the publisher with permission.
All photos, including those with credits, constitute an extension of this copyright page.
Lyrics to the song Some Get the Chair, by Larry Kegan and Gene LaFond, which appear on page 22, are reprinted with permission of Gene LaFond.
Printed in the United States of America and Canada.
ISBN: | 978-1-733012-1-2 (hardcover) |
978-1-7330012-0-5 (paperback) |
978-1-7330012-2-9 (e-book) |
978-1-7330012-3-6 (signed hardcover & bookmark) |
First Edition
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Cover and interior design:
Redwood Publishing & Albertine Book Design
DEDICATION
To my parents,
Abe and Frieda Kemp,
of blessed memory,
To all my ancestors
upon whose shoulders I stand, who have made it possible
for me to be here,
To my seed and my seeds seed
in all the generations to come.
CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
SPECIAL THANKS TO
Larry Kegan, of blessed memory
Cantor Braverman, of blessed memory, who prepared me for my Bar Mitzvah and for life
Tzvi Small, of blessed memory, who insisted that I write this book
Gary Shafner
my sister, Sharon Kemp
my daughter, Rachel, and her husband, Daniel, who recently got married (Mazel tov!)
Harold Shapiro, of blessed memory
Nachman Noam, I keep my deals.
Rabbi and Rebetzin Zushe and Zissi Cunin of Chabad of Pacific Palisades, who took the seeds I planted and grew them into an orchid
Rabbi Noah Wineberg, of blessed memory, founder of Aish HaTorah, who allowed me to be his founding partner in Aishs Discovery Program
Kinky, for his help and for being Kinky
Zohar Kantorwriter, editor, sea captain
Laura Ross, my great editor and book mentor
Sara Stratton, my VERY special publishing concierge
Larry David, for having been a good next-door neighbor with whom I exchanged keys, and who told me, You cant move! You are the best neighbor I have ever hadeven better than Kramer!
Herzl Camp, where Bobby and I spent five glorious summers and where our adventures started
and, of course, Bobby. And G-D.
FOREWORD
W hy is this book different from all other Bob Dylan books?
The answer is quite simple. It is because these stories are told by the only other guy who was there. His name is Louie Kemp and he and Bobby Zimmerman met at summer camp when he was eleven years old. For the next fifty years, the two amigos maintained a heroic friendship. Thats a lot longer than most marriages last, or relationships, cars, refrigerators, fish, claims to fame, or anything else I can think of.
The two friends proceeded to travel the world, gaining renown in their respective fields and becomingbeyond doubtthe two most successful dropouts in the history of the University of Minnesota. Yet, they continually came back together to share epic adventures, most of which have never been written about until now, and certainly not from this close up.
When I first heard some of Louies stories, I thought, This is what happens when your best friend from childhood becomes a superstar. As I heard more of his tales, I began to feel the tug of something much bigger and just as credible.
In Dylan & Me, Louie has faithfully and unselfconsciously written nothing less than a historical work, a modern-day version of Tom Sawyers adventures with Huckleberry Finn. Bobby Zimmerman from Hibbing, Minnesota, is Tom, of coursethe ringleader and dreamer. Louie Kemp from Duluth, Minnesota, though he sees himself as his friends protector, is the more nave and innocent of the two. Their uniquely American escapades, both before and after Bobby became Bob, make for fun, entertaining, and very enlightening readingespecially the way Louie tells them.
Congratulations on wrestling this big, uniquely American story to the ground and squeezing it between the covers of a book. Or, as Bob might say (and often did), Good work, Louie.
Kinky Friedman
Echo Hill Ranch, Texas
ONE
Bobby on the Roof
I t was at summer camp in northern Wisconsin in 1953 that I first met Bobby Zimmerman from Hibbing. He was twelve years old and he had a guitar. He would go around telling everybody that he was going to be a rock-and-roll star. I was eleven and I believed him.
Even at that tender age, I could see that most of the other kids werent really buying it. None of them would say so to his face, but I could hear them making comments and laughing behind his back, and it bugged me. Why didnt they see what I saw? Maybe I was the most gullible kid at Herzl Camp, or maybe it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Maybe a little bit of both.
Ultimately, of course, it didnt matter whether the other kids bought into Bobbys dream, or whether I did. The only thing that mattered was that Bobby believed in it. And thats why it came true.
Dont get me wrong. Bobby was very popular with the other kids, especially the girls. This was due in part to his natural charm, but also to his talent. He was not just the kid with the guitar; he could play the thing. He was a maverick and a freethinker, always fun to be with, challenging, and sometimes very disruptive.
When the counselors came up with a good idea for an activity, Bobby came up with a better one. He was a prankster who liked to stir things up. Add to that a hip, edgy sense of humor and a surprisingly well-honed ability to be provocative, and that was Bobby. He always knew when a dose of sarcasm was called for, or when a little bit of ruckus was neededand I was down with all of it. Bobby was my kind of guy!
Bobby and I teamed up with a third kid in our cabin, Larry Kegan, who, like Bobby, was talented and deeply into music. He was also a natural-born hell-raiser. Larry was fun and passionate, but, as the boxing champ at Herzl, I was the protector of our little band.
Id been well prepared for the role by my father, Abe, an old Golden Glover who handed me my first pair of gloves in our backyard when I was nine, and said, Put these on. Im going to teach you to box.
When Id done as I was told, he said, OK, now put your hands up. Ready?
Yes I said, and thenBOOMhe hit me in the kisser so hard he knocked me down.
Whyd you do that? I whined, looking up at him.