by Nikki Sixx
FRED SAUNDERS: Nikki was always doing shit like that. The bigger Mötley Crüe got, the cockier he got. He would always be dragging his feet and delaying things just because he could. Before the shows the band would have what we called PCPs–pre-concert piddles–and Tommy, Vince and Mick would find a bathroom, but Nikki would just whip out his dick and piss wherever he was, in a corridor or on the side of the stage. He was quite the charmer.
SEPTEMBER 25, 1987 REUNION ARENA, DALLAS, TX
Hotel, Dallas, 1:45 p.m.
Excited for the show tonight and tomorrow. I love Texas. I’m going to be good…maybe go to the gym and write some music. Off to the sound check…see you after the show…I’m not going out.
DALLAS = TROUBLE.
SEPTEMBER 26, 1987 REUNION ARENA, DALLAS, TX
Hotel, 4:30 p.m.
Last night was insane. It was another great show…as always, Dallas kicks ass. We stomped thru the set like a mechanical Godzilla (or Crüezilla). Then off to the best strip clubs in town. We had girls piled on us…blondes, brunettes, redheads. $100 bills were everywhere. I must have spent $5k on my own. I’m sure we dropped $25k last night between us…goddamn fun.
As the night went on and the drinks flowed I sorta lost my memory. I was trying to savor my zombie dust but I think it got the best of me. Mick and Emi went back to their room (of course) but Donna McDaniels came out with all of us. When I woke up there were panties on my lamp and her shoes at the end of the bed. I remember her coming back to my room for a bump but that’s all I remember.
God I hope I didn’t fuck her. Can you imagine if I did the very thing I am busting Mick’s balls for?
CHICKS = TROUBLE.
Off to the show…I’m so hungover…
Backstage, 7:30 p.m.
Everybody is busting my chops, laughing and asking if I fucked Donna. Oh Lord. I saw her and she just gave me a hug, and said she had fun last night. But she didn’t ask for her panties or shoes–what does that mean?
Time to get on the war paint. We’re spending the night in Dallas tonight. I’m coming straight to my room after the show.
11:45 p.m.
I pulled a runner tonight–straight off stage and into the limo then escorted right to my room. I’m watching a documentary on Hitler, Eva Braun and their drug use…OK I get the hint.
SEPTEMBER 27TH, 1987 DAY OFF
Hotel, Dallas, 3:35 a.m.
Just had a knock on the door. I looked thru the peephole and saw two fucking gorgeous blondes. They said, “Hey Nikki!” and I said, “You have the wrong room.” They started laughing and said, “Come on Nikki, open the door, we know it’s you!” I said again, “You have the wrong room,” and one of them said, “Oh no we don’t, we were here last night with you and I left my shoes.”
So I opened the door and said I was sick. They said, “Oh, well we thought you might wanna do a repeat of last night. We had a blast!” I said I did too, gave them the shoes and panties and told them if I wasn’t sick I’d love to hang out. One of them said, “Thanks, but these aren’t my panties…” and her girlfriend said they weren’t hers either. Oh Lord.
2:20 p.m.
Flying out to Denver soon. Robbin Crosby is coming out for a few days to visit then my grandfather is coming to Salt Lake.
Hotel, Denver, 10:45 p.m.
Just got into the hotel. Nice hotel, there’s a full spa downstairs, I’m gonna take advantage of it. I asked Rich to get a doctor out…I need my monthly penicillin shot to ward off any drip that’s brewing.
Robbin gets here tomorrow morning. We have adjoining rooms just like the old days when we were roommates. Fuck, we had fun back then! Ratt was just starting to get going and Mötley was on the way. We nicknamed him King ’cause he’s so big. Nobody could kick his ass but I always tried, ha ha. We used to go to this café right by our house every day ’cause we didn’t have a refrigerator and talk for hours. I love him. He’s been struggling with dope, but he says he’s clean now…just drinking.
TODAY’S PLAYLIST WAS
Aerosmith–Get Your Wings
Aerosmith–Draw The Line
Aerosmith–first album
Aerosmith–Rocks
Goodnight.
NIKKI: Aerosmith was touring the Permanent Vacation album at the same time that we were touring Girls Girls Girls. We would sometimes land at the same airport but we never really saw each other, just each other’s planes. One night Steven and Joe left a note on the window of our plane, like a ticket you get on the window of a car when you park in the red zone. It told us that if we weren’t careful, the way we were going, we would crash and burn the way they did. We all snickered at it, but it’s interesting that I was too ashamed to write it in my diary…because I knew they were right.
P.S. I’ve never known which is funnier—Aerosmith writing “Dude Looks Like a Lady” about Vince, or Dire Straits writing “Money for Nothing (and Chicks for Free)” about Mötley.
SEPTEMBER 28TH, MCNICHOLS ARENA DENVER, CO
Hotel, Denver, noon
King’s here, yeah! He was telling me horror stories about his band. He pretty much hates them. Blotzer is a fucking asshole all the time these days and Percy thinks he’s such a rock star (Dude, you’re in Ratt, you’re not Steven Tyler or Jagger). I guess all bands are the same.
It’s so weird to see King has put on so much weight. He must have gained 50 lbs. I guess he really isn’t doing drugs. Every time I quit drugs, I start to get fat. I always say I’m not sure which is worse–being a drug addict or being fat.
On that note–time to order some food…
SEPTEMBER 29TH, MCNICHOLS ARENA DENVER, CO
Hotel, Denver, 4:45 a.m.
The night’s show was really good. King said he was blown away at how tight we were. There were Denver’s finest girls there (what is it about strippers and rock stars, anyway?) so we brought them back with us to the hotel. We rented another room under the name Justin Case and piled them all in there. Tommy and Vince came over (Tommy brought his blaster, I brought the music) and we had room service bring eight bottles of champagne, two bottles of Jack and a bunch of food. We all hung out, turned up the music, and the girls danced for us, then every one picked their girls and headed back to their rooms. Now the girls are gone…I’m going to bed…fun day.
Safe and sane–three Mötleys and one Ratt.
P.S. King thought Whitesnake was great. He said I’m just a fucking punk and I don’t like them ’cause they can really play. I punched him in the neck and he knocked me against the wall (it fucking hurt) and then we both started laughing.
FRED SAUNDERS: Nikki and Robbin had a special camaraderie. They were both pretty big guys–Robbin was six-foot-four–and when Mötley and Ratt were both starting out they used to work the Hollywood club circuit together. They were also drug buddies and were always sneaking off together. They were competitive but Nikki was a lot stronger-minded and could normally persuade Robbin to do whatever he wanted. Robbin was quite depressive and Nikki thrived on that sort of thing: If he saw a weakness in a person he would sense blood and be all over them like a shark in the water.
NIKKI: I miss Robbin and I often think of him. We did heroin together the first time with King’s friend Smog Vomit from a band called Tex and the Horse heads. When I finally got away from junk, Robbin went even further down than I did. He lost it all and ended up homeless, divorced and bankrupt. Eventually he got AIDS from sharing needles with squatters in LA and I was gonna lose one of my best friends in the world. It wasn’t AIDS that took Robbin from me (or any of us for that matter)–it was heroin. He had changed so much that I had to cut him out of my life.
I let him stay at my house in 1990 with the understanding that there were to be no drugs in my home. I had young children and I was clean and sober. One day when he was out of the house, I went into the guest room and saw he had a crumpled brown paper bag in there. It looked all too familiar to me so I opened it and there were needles and spoons and the usual stuff we use to kill ourselves.
I had to ask him to leave. That was a sad day for both of us. I remember crying as he drove away. I never saw him again.
A few weeks later he called and asked to borrow $10,000 so he could get out of debt and back on his feet. I told him I loved him and he was one of my best friends in the world, but being a former junkie myself, I knew where the money would go and I felt I would be killing him rather than saving him. I told him if he would get ninety days sober, I would give him the money in a heartbeat. He told me to fuck off and hung up on me. It broke my heart because I knew he didn’t mean it. I was so heartbroken I couldn’t even go to his funeral. I still feel guilty to this day, like maybe I could have done more.
ROSS HALFIN: Robbin wasn’t as mentally strong as Nikki and couldn’t handle smack like Nikki did. I remember once walking down the street in LA and Robbin was literally sitting on the street begging. It was boiling hot but he was sheet white and his feet were all blue and blistered. Robbin eventually caught HIV from needles and died of AIDS.
11:40 a.m.
Just got off the phone with Doug. I told him Doc is on his last legs with the band. He told me I’m overreacting and we got into a bit of a fight. Doug is such a nuts-and-bolts manager, the day-to-day guy, but Doc holds us all back (including Doug). He never follows up on any of our ideas or visions. He’s here to massage the label and get our ideas to become real but he’s so busy bragging, spending money and playing golf that he can’t see the future. Well I can see the future very clearly and it doesn’t involve him. I give him six months…if that. I need a manager who is into technology and marketing…maybe one doesn’t exist? I want more from a manager.
People think I’m a control freak but I just want the best for us. I want us to be the biggest band in the world and to break all the rules. I feel if I don’t push we won’t ever do anything different from every other fucking band.
OK. Enough from me…gonna go jump on King’s bed and wake his lazy ass up (and then run…)
ALLEN KOVAC: I first met Nikki in 1985 when he was dating Lita Ford and he was an angry punk who didn’t care what anybody’s opinion was. But I liked him–underneath it all was a person whose eyes and smile showed he had character and who wanted to understand the business side as well as grow as an artist. I wanted to manage Mötley Crüe–which I eventually did–largely because both Nikki and Tommy had a real exuberance and wanted to learn.
SEPTEMBER 30TH,, 1987–SALT PALACE, SALT LAKE CITY, UT
On the jet, 2:30 a.m.
King just looked at me and said, Wow, this doesn’t suck…ha ha…I had the waitress bring him a line on a silver platter with his own bottle of champagne. Fresh tacos and chips for everyone except Vince, who had his usual tuna sandwich. The show was cool tonight but the altitude just kills you here. It doesn’t matter how good shape you’re in. Mick asked King to jam with us in Salt Lake…that will be fun. Tom’s coming in tomorrow…we should be there in about an hour. Today I’m happy.
Hotel, Salt Lake City, 12:30 p.m.
Tom is coming in today to hang. I’ll have my grandfather and King with me. Sorta like the dad and brother I never had. The girls in Salt Lake are so beautiful. This is a town of suppressed people raised with a religious iron fist and sexual repression. So need I tell you, Diary, of the fucking debauchery that comes from the mixture of Mötley Crüe and Mormon girls?
After the show I’m flying back to LA on the Mötley jet and I don’t know why. I need a girlfriend–a nice normal girl…where is she? Maybe I’ll find her tonight…
OCTOBER 1987
DRUGS MAKE IT BETTER-DRUGS MAKE IT WORSE
OCTOBER 1ST, 1987 DAY OFF
Van Nuys, noon
Home sweet home…just woke up. Flew in from Salt Lake last night…Robbin flew with us and Tom stayed then drove back home. The flight was smooth and the sky so gorgeous. Our pilot would tip the plane to the left and you could see the stars so clear that we even saw a shooting star. Then he would tip to the right and you could see the arc of the Earth with spotted lights from little suburbs as we were getting close to LA. It feels like an electric tomb…I sometimes wonder if I will ever get out of here alive…
Karen has gone to stay with a friend while I’m back home–says she feels weird being here while I’m here as well but I wish she would stick around. It might stop me from going crazy.
1:30 p.m.
Abdul has a friend who sells rock. I had an oz cooked up and brought over–it will be here in a while.
I’m depressed, and I don’t know why. I can’t get outta this place in my head. I can’t shake it off. Drugs make it better–drugs make it worse. Every time I’m gonna stop I get the itch…
3:45 p.m.
Oh my God–as soon as I got the rock and hit the pipe I thought my heart was gonna jump outta my chest. The whole house started shaking, rolling and shit was falling off the walls. It threw me on the ground and I realized we were having a fucking earthquake.
I didn’t know what to do so I ran outside, pipe in hand, and the door locked itself behind me. I was naked and had to run around the back of the house and break the window to get in. Then the alarm went off, and the security company called. Days like this I wish I didn’t get out of bed…
5 p.m.
Flushed the coke in case there is another quake. I don’t think my heart can take it. I took a few pills and I’m starting to get tired. We have a show in San Diego and I don’t want any chance to get more coke. I’m gonna go play my guitar and lay in bed till I fall out.
IAN GITTINS: The Los Angeles earthquake of October 1, 1987, measured 5.9 on the Richter scale. It killed eight people, injured scores more, and left 2,200 people homeless and more than 10,000 buildings badly damaged. However, Nikki Sixx was by far the most infamous Los Angeleno to react to the quake by running out of his house butt-naked and waving a crack pipe.
OCTOBER 2ND, 1987 SPORTS ARENA, SAN DIEGO, CA
Van Nuys, 10 a.m.
Wow I just woke up. I slept 16 hours straight. I’m starving, I don’t think I ate yesterday at all. I’m gonna jump on my bike and go grab some Mexican food down the street before I have to leave for San Diego.
I had a dream I was a kid laughing and playing with my father. I was so happy and then he just faded away right before my eyes. I was alone in the middle of the street looking for him frantically…that’s the feeling I feel inside a lot.
12:30 p.m.
I’m gonna drive down to San Diego with Robbin. He’s on his way over now. After being in his Ferrari I’m thinking about getting one…not that I’ll ever be home to drive it.
OCTOBER 3RD, 1987 DAY OFF
Van Nuys, 1:10 p.m.
I have the next few days off. Had a pretty good show in San Diego, a lot of people from LA came down. It’s easier to say hi and hang out in San Diego rather than LA…the Forum is always a zoo. Someone said the record company was there but the band didn’t want to talk to them. Fuck them.
Gonna go to a movie with Bob. I need a normal night out…I’m over being me. Even writing in this diary is boring me ’cause it’s all about me.
OCTOBER 4TH, 1987 DAY OFF
Van Nuys, 10:30 a.m.
Went to a movie last night with Bob and came home and played guitar til about 1 a.m. No visitors, no phone calls, perfect night…wrote some really cool songs…
Noon
Gonna go get the car and jeep washed. It’s so pretty outside, I might lie in the sun. Riki might come over, and Pete…spoke to Slash, he’s as excited as I am to have Guns tour with us.
* * *
THE STRUGGLE FOR NORMALITY NORMALLY ISN’T SUCH A STRUGGLE.
POWER TO THE MUSIC
Who said music's dead in the streets? Don’t know what they’re talking about They gotta put a bullet in my head If they want to keep me down.
* * *
OCTOBER 6TH 1987 GRAND WESTERN FORUM, LOS ANGELS, CA
10:15 a.m.
Sitting outside drinking coffee and playing guitar…what a nice day here in LA. Today I’m ha
ppy. Days like today, I reflect a lot…it seems like a lifetime ago when this was just a dream. Yesterday was another safe and sane day. My problem is when I’m not doing drugs and drinking I’m actually happier til the boredom kicks in. Then there’s this lil demon in my head that says, Come on, just one, and I lose all control…
This road has an end. I just don’t know where it is.
2 p.m.
I’m gonna ride my Harley to the Forum. I’m gonna go early and go up by the beach. It doesn’t get much better than riding your bike up the coast to the first of two sold-out hometown shows. I’ve got Memory Motel by the Stones running thru my mind, over and over…
3:30 p.m.
I’m sitting here on the side of the road looking out over the ocean. I’m glad I brought my diary along. It’s too beautiful not to stop and take it all in and even try to write it down.
I know she’s out there, my soul mate. Of course, they say that if you’re looking, you’ll never find whatever it is you’re looking for. For now, I’m just looking out over these rolling waves and being reminded how small I am.
Better go or I’ll miss my own show…ha ha…
7:30 p.m.
Backstage…I just got out of the back of a cop car. I was riding my bike and as soon as I pull up to the show this cop pulled me over. I told him I was playing a show and he said he didn’t care, I was speeding and he wanted to see my license. I told him I don’t have one and he said I was going to jail. I said if I wasn’t onstage in about an hour there would be a riot and he said again he didn’t care. So I told him to fuck off and he arrested me…
