Dylan on Dylan

by Jeff Burger

  Fass: I’m sorry, what am I doing to you?

  Dylan: I haven’t come down to apologize for not being Shirley Temple.

  Fass: You want me to introduce you like Mike Wallace?

  Dylan: No, no, no, I wouldn’t.

  Fass: Uh, this is Bob Dylan.

  [After some additional conversation, they take a phone call.]

  Fass: All you hippy-dips from Forest Hills, here’s your chance to call up and talk to Bob Dylan. OK? WBAI. Hello there.

  Caller: Bob Fass?

  Fass: Yeah, this is Bob Fass.

  Caller: Oh, hi. Listen, I’ve just been listening, and I called a couple of times. I was wondering, is it possible to come over and take a couple of pictures?

  Fass: No, it’s not. I’m sorry. It’s all right with me. You can take pictures of me but some other night. Bob Dylan shakes his head no.

  Caller: He shakes his head no?

  Fass: Yeah, the truth is that Bob Dylan isn’t really here—

  Caller: Oh, it’s just a record.

  Fass: —and he’s sold his soul to the devil, and pictures don’t appear. People point cameras at him and push buttons and nothing happens, and there are these blank emulsions.

  Caller: Let me ask you one question, OK? Would you just tell him that it’s my fifteen-year-old infatuated sister-in-law, and it’s not for myself.

  [Laughter.]

  Dylan: Oh, of course, come right over.

  Caller: She didn’t make it to Forest Hills, and she didn’t go to Antioch.

  Dylan: My goodness.

  Caller: You know, and it’s rough all around.

  Dylan: What can I do? What can I do?

  Caller: And I promise a cup of coffee, also.

  Dylan: Oh jeez, you make me feel terrible, I just can’t begin to—

  Caller: To make steps to go with the mustard.

  Dylan: The mustache?

  Caller: The mustard. And I also sent in fifteen dollars, you know, so—

  Dylan: Oh, my goodness.

  Fass: Did you send it to me or to Bob Dylan?

  Caller: No, I sent it to you.

  Fass: Oh, well, see, that doesn’t do any good.

  Caller: And I’m starving. It’s not possible?

  Dylan: Oh, well, all right. We’ll see you again some other time. Thanks for calling.

  Caller: It is possible or it’s not possible?

  Dylan: Huh? Is it possible what?

  Caller: To take a picture or not?

  Dylan: Oh, to take a picture up here?

  Caller: Yeah.

  Dylan: Oh, no, you wouldn’t wanna do that, no, no.

  Caller: I would like to do that!

  Dylan: No, no. You really wouldn’t. You’d be very disappointed.

  * * *

  Caller: May I speak to Mr. Dylan, please?

  [Laughter.]

  Dylan: Is this chick going out over the radio?

  Fass: Yeah.

  Dylan: [Laughs.] Can everybody else hear her voice?

  Caller: Hello?

  Dylan: Who’s this?

  Caller: I don’t know.

  Dylan: [Laughs.] All right.

  Caller: Bob, did you ever share a TV dinner with anyone?

  Dylan: Did I ever share a TV dinner with anyone?

  Caller: Mm-hmm.

  Dylan: Never! Never! No, no.

  Caller: Would you share one with me?

  Dylan: Insult after insult.

  Fass: I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to close the telephone if you people keep making improper suggestions to my guests.

  Caller: I thought it was a free-speech radio station.

  Fass: Yes, but there are bounds of propriety. You can’t shout free-speech dinner in a crowded theatre!

  Caller: Oh, you cannot?

  Dylan: It’s true! God, that’s pretty good! [Laughs.]

  Caller: How about lots of TV dinners?

  Fass: How about what?

  Caller: How about lots of TV dinners?

  Fass: That’s compounding your conspiracy.

  Dylan: Didn’t I see you on Sixth Avenue?

  Caller: I called up NBC concerning what they said about you!

  Fass: What did they say about Mr. Dylan on NBC?

  Caller: They didn’t say anything about him, but they said something about BAI that I didn’t like too much.

  Fass: Uh-huh!

  All: Ohh! Wooooooooh!

  Fass: You know what we say about NBC!

  Dylan: Yeah.

  Fass: TV dinners to NBC.

  Caller: OK. Bob wants two, but overcooked.

  Fass: OK, anything else you want to say?

  Caller: Is he happy?

  Fass: That’s a good question.

  Caller: Are you?

  Dylan: Who, Mr. Brill?

  Caller: Bob!

  Fass: That’s my name. I’m Bob.

  Caller: Are you happy?

  Fass: No, his friends call him Bobby.

  Caller: Well, who said I was his friend? Am I your friend? Am I?

  Fass: Who are you talking to?

  Caller: All of you.

  Fass: All of us?

  Dylan: True, everybody’s your friend.

  Fass: That’s a very personal, individual question.

  Dylan: It’s not personal. No, it’s just dumb.

  Caller: Why is it dumb? Of course, I couldn’t possibly be your friend, because you don’t even know who I am.

  Dylan: Oh, come on. I do, too!

  Caller: You do not!

  Dylan: Come on! I saw you the other day!

  Caller: You did, huh?

  Dylan: I did, yeah, and you know I did!

  Caller: It’s funny, ’cause I’ve never seen you.

  Dylan: Well, nobody ever sees me.

  Caller: Except on album covers. I’d like to, though, because I bet you’re very nice.

  Dylan: Well, that’s fortunate. Most people don’t even see those . . . huh?

  Caller: —underneath it all.

  Dylan: Underneath it all?

  Caller: Um-hmm.

  Fass: That sounds like a song.

  Dylan: [Sings.] Underneath it all . . .

  Caller: Would you make a record called “Underneath It All”? I bet you could.

  Dylan: Would I make a record “Underneath It All”?

  Caller: Yeah.

  Fass: You have a peculiar love/hate relationship with your fans, I’m beginning to realize, like something out of [French novelist Jean] Genet.

  Dylan: Oh, come on, all my fans have a sense of humor.

  Fass: OK. Unless you can say something besides “TV dinner,” we’re gonna have to go on to another call.

  Caller: Well, what can I say? Why don’t you answer a question that I haven’t asked? Something that you want to tell everybody but nobody asks you.

  Dylan: I was waiting for somebody to ask me that!

  Caller: Well, would you?

  Dylan: Well, no, I won’t.

  * * *

  Fass: Who’s calling, please?

  Caller: Hello, my name is Frankenstein.

  Fass: Yes?

  Dylan: Yes? I don’t believe him.

  Caller: Can I speak to Bob Fass, please?

  Fass: Yeah, I’m speaking, Mr. Stein.

  Dylan: Are you gonna get any tea?

  Caller: Hello. Yeah, oh, Frankenstein—that’s my second name.

  Fass: Do you want some tea with lemon? I wish someone would try to get some tea with lemon.

  Caller: Hello.

  Dylan: Yeah, OK, Mr. Frankenstein.

  Caller: Yeah, well, I don’t want to speak to Mr. Dylan.

  Fass: You want to speak to me, right?

  Caller: No, I wanna . . .

  Fass: Yeah? Are you having trouble talking, sir?

  Caller: Well . . .

  Dylan: Say, Frankenstein, come on!

  Caller: Can you get her phone number?

  Fass: Can we what?

  Caller: Can you get her phone number?
/>   Fass: Whose phone number?

  Caller: You see, I’m pretty hungry.

  Fass: Uh-huh.

  Dylan: No, no. Don’t turn him off. He’s hungry! Tell me, are you as hungry as a man in drag?

  Caller: Yeah.

  Dylan: Huh?

  Caller: Yeah, well, she got a TV dinner there.

  Dylan: Hey, hey, hey, come on now. Oh, you can’t get an answer. How hungry are you?

  Caller: Oh, I’m starvin’.

  Fass: Oh?

  Dylan: How hungry? About as hungry as a raccoon? A piece of flypaper that’s balancing on a pair of earplugs—

  Caller: Yeah—

  Dylan: —out in Allen Ginsberg’s kitchen? Are you that hungry?

  Caller: I’m down outside your studio now.

  Dylan: Huh?

  Caller: I’m down outside your studio now. I’m waiting to throw snowballs at you, but I’m so hungry, I’m sort of eating them.

  Dylan: You’re waiting to throw snowballs, huh? Well, this is all a joke here now. You just come up a little closer to that door, and you see what’s gonna happen. If you come up just a little closer, you throw one at that door. We’re not down there, but you just go ahead and do it!

  Caller: I got a mob with me, too.

  Dylan: Oh, groovy! [Laughs.]

  Caller: And a small Irishman called Quill.

  Dylan: Oh ho-ho! Very scary, very scary indeed but I’m not hungry.

  Caller: Yeah, yeah, you wanna see us but—

  Fass: So long, bye-bye.

  Dylan: Why don’t you say goodbye nicely to him and . . .

  Fass: Goodbye nicely, sir.

  Caller: Well, so long.

  Fass: Nicely. WBAI.

  * * *

  Caller: Hello, is this Dial-a-Prayer?

  Fass: [Laughs.] Yes, this is Dial-a-Prayer.

  Dylan: Diaphragm?

  Fass: Dial-a-Prayer!

  Dylan: Oh.

  Fass: That’s where you sing from.

  Dylan: Oh.

  Fass: Yeah, hello. You’ll have to turn your radio down, sir.

  Dylan: I thought they were those things that chicks get. [Laughs.]

  Fass: Hello? Hello? So long! WBAI.

  Caller: Hello . . . Mr. Dylan, please.

  Fass: Yes, the voice of sanity!

  Dylan: Switch her right over here. This sounds very good.

  Caller: Hello.

  Dylan: Who is this?

  Caller: Hello, who is this?

  Dylan: Well, who is this?

  Caller: This is Ann.

  Dylan: Well, you have to say who it is because they have to all be marked down in a little book that has to go into the YMCA files.

  Caller: Yeah, all right.

  Dylan: So who is this, please?

  Caller: This is Ann Wilkinson, sort of from Buffalo.

  Dylan: Who?

  Caller: Ann Wilkinson, sort of from Buffalo. I sort of met you there.

  Dylan: [Jokingly.] Ann Wilkinson from Buffalo—oh, yes, of course.

  Caller: I sort of burst in on one of your concerts at Kleinhans [Music Hall, in Buffalo, New York].

  Dylan:. Was that you? One of the people who was beating on the window out there?

  Caller: No, no, not there. I saw it from the sky.

  Voice: A go-go dancer!

  Caller: I wanted to wish you Merry Christmas.

  Dylan: Well, thank you very much! How’s your toe? [Laughs.]

  Caller: I’m a bit late. I also wanted to know when “Visions of Johanna” is coming out.

  Dylan: Oh, you heard that song?

  Caller: Yeah, Al Kooper played it for me.

  [Laughter].

  Dylan: Oh, yeah, it’s good, huh? [Laughs.]

  * * *

  Fass: WBAI.

  Caller: Good evening. I’d like to talk to Bob Dylan.

  Fass: Why don’t you?

  Dylan: You have to give your name.

  Caller: My name’s Steve.

  Dylan: Steve what?

  Caller: It’s Gitlin.

  Dylan: Steve Dylan?

  Caller: Gitlin.

  Dylan: That was almost my name! [Laughs.]

  Fass: What was it before it was Gitlin?

  Caller: What was it before it was Gitlin? Gitlin!

  Dylan: What do you have to say, Dylan?

  Caller: Bob?

  Dylan: [Laughs.] Come on. What else have you got to say?

  Caller: Bob, I wish it were Dylan. To start off with, what do you think of the Byrds?

  Dylan: The Fugs?

  Caller: The Byrds!

  Dylan: The Byrds! Oh, come on! Don’t ask me these kinda questions. I like the Byrds, man. I like everybody! Come on, whaddaya mean?

  Fass: Can somebody bring some water in here, please?

  Dylan: Well, what do I think of Rosemary Clooney or Judy Garland’s daughter? Rosa [Actually Liza. —Ed.] Minnelli?

  Caller: What? What do you think about boys who have long hair? Do you think—

  Dylan: Oh, you’re Rosa Minnelli’s boyfriend, I know who you are.

  Fass: Boys with long hair, huh?

  Caller: Do you think they should be made to be cut?

  Dylan: Oh, what do you think?

  Caller: Not really.

  Dylan: Oh, well then, there you have it in a nutshell.

  Fass: That’s up to you.

  Dylan: It’s up to you. It’s in your hands, man. Whatever you think, you tell your principal that.

  Caller: Yeah, and if they flunk me out of school?

  Dylan: Well, I don’t know . . .

  Fass: You don’t wanna go to a school like that, do you?

  Dylan: That depends what you wanna do, man. If you wanna go to school or if you don’t wanna go to school. If you don’t wanna go, you can try to help the school. But if you wanna go to school, you just better take your place and be quiet.

  Caller: Uh-huh. Have you got a new album out?

  Dylan: No, it won’t be out . . . in about February.

  Caller: Uh-huh. Where do you get your ideas for songs?

  Dylan: No, no, this is over the limit.

  Fass: We’ve got to go to another call. Thanks a lot.

  Dylan: Goodbye now.

  Fass: Bye-bye. WBAI.

  Caller: Can I have Bob Dylan, please?

  Fass: Can you what? Can you have him? No. Nobody can have him.

  Dylan: You have to give your name. I’m sorry, sir.

  Caller: Melvin Margoulis.

  Dylan: Melvin Margoulis. I’ve seen you before.

  Caller: I’m really Bob Dylan.

  Dylan: Ha, ha. I know you are.

  Caller: How do you know?

  Dylan: I know everything.

  Caller: Well, get that imposter off the radio then.

  Dylan: Well, what can I do, man? He’s sitting right here now . . .

  Caller: No, but I’m really Dylan, by the way.

  Fass: I think you have a very advanced case of schizophrenia. I’ll go on to the next call.

  * * *

  Fass: WBAI.

  Caller: Good morning.

  Fass: Good morning.

  Caller: First of all, Bob, I really like your program a whole lot. I usually call you up about this time some evenings to tell you that I’m doing a paper. And Mr. Dylan? I think your writing is real great, and you play the kazoo and guitar real great but it would be real greater if you could just kinda sing a little bit better.

  Dylan: Huh? Well, I appreciate that! [Laughs.] I’m always looking for good, crisp, solid, good, solid, rock-bottom foundational criticism. And that just sinks it right in.

  Caller: But I think your songs are really great.

  Fass: You know, not everybody has the courage to tell Bob the truth.

  Dylan: Not everybody has the courage to sing like I do! [Laughs.]

  Caller: OK, thank you.

  * * *

  Caller: I’m not asking you to be a Phil Ochs. But like “God on Our Side.” Or “Masters of War.”
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  Dylan: Oh, God, man. “With God on Your Side” is contained in like two lines of something like “Desolation Row.”

  Caller: Yeah, right.

  Dylan: If you can’t pick it out, that’s not my problem.

  Caller: Yeah, yeah, right. But what I’m saying is it’s a lot more subtle there. I think it is.

  Fass: Wait a minute, which one do you think is more subtle?

  Caller: Something like “Desolation Row.”

  Dylan: It’s not more subtle. It’s just more to the point. It doesn’t spare you any time to string anything together. It is all together. It doesn’t pretend like it has to do anything, that’s all.

  Caller: Yeah, well—

  Dylan: Hey, I don’t know. I can’t talk about what I do. I’m not going to—

  Caller: Well, no, no, no. Well, take, like, the Forest Hills concert.

  Dylan: I don’t do that. That’s all.

  Caller: You’re not doing something now about it.

  Dylan: About what?

  Caller: Well, OK, yeah, there’s very little anybody can do about—like, let’s say, take the war. OK? There’s very little anybody can do about it.

  Dylan: So what can anybody do about it? It’s a war.

  Caller: Yeah, yeah, but you know, something.

  Dylan: Hey, war has been around for a long time. What makes you think this is anything special?

  Caller: Yeah, yeah. But, you know, guys are dying now.

  Dylan: Of course they’re dying. Guys have always died.

  Caller: And it just seems like, a couple years back—

  Dylan: No, no, it’s none of my doings. I really do other things. I’m not like you.

  Caller: Yeah, yeah. Well, I know, but—

  Dylan: I’m very tied up in a lot of other daily exercises. And my mind just does not work—

  Caller: Well, I realize that, but—

  Dylan: —thinking about the troubles of the world. I mean, who am I to carry the world on my shoulders? Huh?

  Caller: Like, when you were writing these more obvious protest—

  Dylan: Yeah, well, all the stuff that I’m writing now . . . I just never wrote as songs, that’s all.

  Caller: Like, “Pawn in Their Game”—

  Dylan: Yeah, well, I did it because that was the thing. There’s no big hoax or any kind secret thing happening or any kind of plan from the beginning. I just did what was happening. I played rock and roll music when I was fifteen years old!

  Caller: No, no, I’m not puttin’ down your rock ’n’ roll.

  Dylan: Well, I quit doin’ it, because I couldn’t make it. It’s just too hard. The music field is different now than it used to be. People who make money in it now are not necessarily old people where they used to be. They used to be just old people that smoked cigars and hung around in certain bars uptown, around Tin Pan Alley. That used to be the music thing. But it’s not that anymore. I mean, no, don’t put down rock and roll. I mean, I don’t even know what it is. I don’t play rock and roll, first of all, if you think I do.