I have a McCalister acoustic guitar that takes pride of place in my home.
It rests in its case, in a spare bedroom. I look in on it from time to time, as I did yesterday and today.
It seemed to be calling to me in recent days.
There’s a tour laminate on the handle from a David Crosby solo tour some years back.
I looked in on it this morning, standing in the doorway, staring at the case on a rainy east coast winter’s day.
It wasn’t David’s guitar, it’s mine, I bought it with money I earned working for Crosby, Stills & Nash.
I was lucky enough to be their road manager - I learned as much about life and music and art as I could have ever dreamed of in those years.
Especially from David himself, as he was never shy about sharing his opinion on all matters.
David reserved a special joy for instruments - he had a t-shirt that read ‘Love One Woman and Many Guitars’ - I always thought that was a decent mantra for any man.
A McCalister is special guitar; David considered them among the finest made today.
He had several custom models, as does Jackson Browne, another aficionado of these fine instruments, hand-built in Gig Harbor, Washington by a man named Roy McCalister, who shared a special bond with Croz.
Shortly after I got the guitar I found myself in Tokyo, at a fancy hotel beginning a Crosby, Stills & Nash tour.
We were at a breakfast table in the lobby.
Croz was always first to rise and a huge breakfast guy, believe it or not.
Jackson happened by our table, as he was starting a tour in Japan as well and they shared management at the time.
I told him I had just gotten a McCalister and looked at Croz and dryly said, “You know David gets a cut every time Roy sells one of those…”.
David let out his signature hearty laugh that anyone fortunate enough to have been in ear shot of, even one time, will never forget.
That and the twinkle in his eye.
Those who have toured with David Crosby can tell you about the breakfasts.
Always honored to be asked, I have some standout memories from Tucson, Paris and one time in Berlin.
It was always a bit surreal to find yourself sitting across from David at some breakfast table in a strange city.
Berlin was the strangest for me. David had requested my company over his normal road manager one morning for breakfast. (I was more often than not Stephen or Graham’s road manager, though what I loved about CSN was that the band and crew legit felt like a family).
After we sat down and ordered, David pulled out a very nice flashlight and gifted it to me.
He presented it as a token of his appreciation and said he only gave them out to crew guys who had ‘stuck around for awhile’. (Flashlights are the only real tool a road manager needs. Hence the gift...).
It meant the world to me, and I took it as a high honor.
I remember a couple years later, after a particularly long but fun tour had ended, he sent all the crew members t-shirts that simply read ’10,000 Hours’.
That was Croz in a nutshell, making Malcolm Gladwell references to roadies he liked and letting them know they were appreciated. He wasn’t always an easy man to work with - I am sure he would be the first to admit that; he cared about his art above all and was obviously quite a complicated man.
He would sit there and regale you with Beatles stories or Joni Mitchell stories that were never about gossip and always about the music.
He knew the folks around him loved music as much as he did - he never lost his passion for it and for sharing his latest discoveries.
He would send out emails to his friends and crew guys with the latest singer or band he was falling in love with musically.
He never tired of sharing music and was the rare legendary musician who went out of his way to encourage and seek out new artists.
He seemed to relish his role as a musical sage and teacher, which I believe he truly was, at least for me in my life and I know many others.
One time years ago we found ourselves staying at the old Sportsmen’s Lodge in Studio City; at the time a popular place for touring bands to stay (because they had room to park buses and good sushi next door).
We had a few days to kill before CSN was to end their summer tour at the Greek Theater.
It so happened that the cast of the ‘Voice’ was staying there too, or at least the preliminary pool of talent that would make up the contestants on TV.
They were young and nervous and many of them would sit around the pool all day strumming guitars and working on their songs.
Enter David Crosby…he would sit down for hours with these young musicians and swap guitars and share stories and inspiration: I can remember to this day the joy on his face as they all sat enraptured at his tales and advice.
He would also tell them that music contest TV shows were bullshit and to focus on the craft over the fame.
Great advice and words that will keep you in love with the process of creating music over a lifetime if you chose to listen.
The producers of ‘The Voice’ got wind of these impromptu master classes after a day or so and abruptly pulled the entire cast out of the hotel and moved to another location.
Which is hilarious, and stupid, and shows that a real-deal iconoclast can still be a threat to corporate B.S. into his 70’s.
David of course grew up in Hollywood with a father who was a legendary cinematographer so he knew his way around the industry and fame and what all of that stuff can do to a person.
He himself was not without his demons, as is well documented, manifesting before my time working with him.
The David Crosby I knew was a family man and someone fiercely aware of making up for lost time, not letting a day go by that he didn’t perform or write new music.
He was always writing new songs on the road, sometimes even borrowing an old Gibson LG that I kept as a hotel guitar.
He would always give it back in a different tuning. Some variant of a dropped D or G tuning that helped him unlock those silky harmonies.
I loved his playing because he loved it so much. He loved the sound of acoustic guitars and most famously, 12 strings.
I would always keep his tunings as long as I could.
My memories of David always involved instruments, kindness and laughter - what better way to remember a man.
In my early days touring with him I once found him in a parking lot in North Carolina before a show, where he had come across a luthier who had two guitars he built in his hatchback - and there was Croz in the parking lot taking them out and strumming them.
No roadies or security around, just David and some fans.
The guy and his wife were sitting there stunned.
Only Croz would do something like that - after I got him safely backstage I went out and negotiated the purchase of the guitars on behalf of the band.
After a few years on the road, I had amassed a decent amount of pretty nice finds when it came to instruments. They all tied in with stories and memories of time spent with legends I so admired. I bought them as such, keepsakes, heirlooms.
The instruments that remind me of David always mattered the most.
Once he called my room in Lyon, France and said he had found an old guitar store down by the river. Meet him in the lobby in 10 minutes.
We walked into a dusty old store, walls covered in vintage instruments, lutes, mandolins, stuff that was hundreds of years old.
The guy had everything, even giant singing bowls of which David was a collector. He was like a kid in a candy store.
He bought a huge singing bowl made out of crystal and made arrangements to have it shipped back to California. The thing was the size of a timpani drum.
I bought a combination dulcimer and bouzouki which was completely bizarre and still hangs in my studio.
I used to bring them to soundcheck and show them off: after I scored a particularly nice ’79 Sunburst Strat in Austin, Texas that was being given the once over by his guitar tech, Crosby wandered over and said, “Ok, you guys hold him and I’ll kill him and take the guitar”.
If he liked you he was always threatening to kill you.
Obviously in that joking way, with the twinkle in his eye and that laugh.
High praise again but really just aimed to make me feel good about what I had scored - that was the man’s charm - he made others feel good about who they were and what they had.
Maybe it was how he, as a music legend, disarmed people and allowed them to be comfortable and close.
It worked, was effective and garnered him friends across a whole spectrum of the arts and life. He could talk about an endless variety of subjects particularly science fiction, sailing, astronomy, politics, environmental issues - the man knew his stuff and he knew a lot of it.
He was also a caring friend, a very knowledgeable and compassionate guy to be around if you got sick on the road.
He had his own struggles with his health and its something he took seriously. I relapsed on smoking cigarettes late into my time with CSN; every time he saw me with a cigarette in my mouth he would come over and give me shit for it. “I thought you were a smart guy Noel…,” followed by that Crosby scowl that made you feel like you were letting him down.
Happy to say I quit smoking years ago - David being the guy to give me the most grief about it always made me feel like he cared.
Another time I got sick on a tour in winter, I was in bed (on days off) with a cold for days - it was Croz who had someone bring me to the doctor’s office somewhere in Iowa, made sure I got and took antibiotics, called my room to check on me.
David was the guy who would bring you chicken soup if you got sick on the road.
Most folks most likely don’t know him that way and you might not hear about that side of him as the tributes pour in for a true musical giant and legend.
As they should, they focus on primarily on the music.
I always felt that who David was as a person was part of the reason his music resonated with so many.
Besides the obviously amazing music he made with the Byrds, CSNY and his various solo bands, who he always filled with musicians he truly loved.
He meant something to people in a way few do, the last of the real 60’s rebels and a true iconoclast who stayed relevant and current and potent as a force in American culture his entire life.
How many can make that claim?
But above all he was a caring person, deeply loved by his family, friends, bandmates and crew.
He wasn’t always easy, he once cursed me out within ear shot of the Dali Lama - who he called a friend.
He had complicated relationships with those closer to him than I would ever be but together they made a beautiful sound that will last the ages.
I could sit here and write all night about David Crosby, sharing memories and laughs I was lucky enough to have with the man. I know there are many others just like me, if you were lucky enough to work with or know the man he made a lasting impression. His legacy will live on in the lives and music he inspired.
There’s only ever gonna be one David Crosby, I mean they truly broke the mold when they made that man.
I will share one last memory - after the show at the Greek in Hollywood - David was driving himself, sitting alone behind the wheel of his car after inspiring thousands of fans yet again with that voice that came from a place so deep inside that most of us couldn’t reach but David did for us…there was something so visceral and powerful in his voice with that air of grace.
He will forever be known as an architect of so much music, but here he was alone sitting behind the wheel of a car driving down the backstage parking lot.
He saw me walking towards one of the tour buses and rolled down his window.
The show was over and he was in a bit of a pensive mode - he confided to me that he wasn’t sure what to do next now that the tour was over.
I replied, “You should go home David, and rest, you deserve it.”
Rest Easy, Croz
Thank you for generously sharing your memories of David with all of us. These personal stories are really interesting. Your words put the reader in that moment and that's powerful. He was complicated. Most great artists are. But I'm sure he thought a lot of you too, Noel. He certainly would have loved the kind words you've written for him. ✌️❤️
Please continue your forceful, inciteful comments on the evils of the present GOP. IT IS frightening and people power is the only answer. I live in Ontario, Canadá, and because people didn't vote during the last election (mostly because they were too busy trying to survive) we're stuck with the Canadian version of Trump. (A little more subtle but same goals).