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minds that we never even got to go on stage, it was so inept. So I was so let down by the disrespecttowards the music—and the musicians—not just because it was us, but any musician. Look at Hendrix, going on at 6 a.m. at Woodstock. Are you shitting me? Who would do that to Jimi Hendrix? I’ll tell you who would do that: an uncaring, an inconsiderate, soulless, piece-of-shit, stoned fuck, that’s who would do that. So I was invited to Woodstock, and I go, yeah, it’ll cost you $2,500, just send the check here, and if the check shows up, we’ll show up, and if not, fuck you. So I would refuse to do those things and get stiffed anymore. You know, we still had to buy our speakers and buy our guitar strings, we still had to eat, we still had to get gas and fucking tires and oil for the vehicles. What do think—it’s a donation from us to you? Fuck you.
    Patti Quatro ( Pleasure Seekers, Cradle, guitarist ): My sister Nancy was dating Ted for a long time. My dad had a car chase with him one time. Nancy snuck out of the house to go out with Ted, and they’re tooling around, and my dad gets in his car and follows him, and they had a chase all over town. He never caught him. Ted got real pissy when she dumped him. She just didn’t want to date him anymore; she was over him.
    K. J. Knight: Everyone fell in love with Nancy. She was beautiful. I had a big crush on Nancy, and we kinda dated for a couple of weeks.
    Suzi Quatro ( Pleasure Seekers, solo, bassist, vocalist ): Nancy and I went to New York at one point to find a girl drummer, and Jerry Nolan showed up. He looked like a girl anyway, with the long hair and the makeup, so we said okay. He came to Detroit and stayed at my folks’ house. But he fell in love with Nancy, and we said, “Well, okay, you gotta go.”
    Pete Cavanaugh: Ted Nugent and Mitch Ryder had the most fearsome road crews of anyone. They were mostly bikers and ex-criminals who had a lot of experience beating the fuck out of people, some of whom had spent some time away for beating the fuck out of people. I had Ted at one show, and it was getting late, and some guy came up to the front—the stage at Sherwood Forest allowed people to get six feet away from the band—and started giving Ted shit. And there was a big roadie behind the amps, but this guy couldn’t see him. Ted knew he was there, though, and he starts to yell back at the guy and invites him up on stage to kick his ass. The guy made the mistake of getting up there, and it was like watching the spider and the fly. The roadie came out and threw this guy ten feet into the crowd. Brutal.
    Ted Nugent: I got thrown in jail one time because I looked like a hippy. We were playing in Traverse City, what I think was the Cherry Festival, and we were getting ready to go on stage. At that time I wore a loin cloth, a belt knife, and moccasins, headband, and a fur vest—dressed up like an Indian. Because a lot of my songs were starting to reflect my hunting lifestyle and I started shooting a bow and arrow on stage back then, so I dressed like an Indian. Because I looked like the ultimate hippy, and there was a broken knife on my belt that was perfectly visible, this one hot-dog, corrupt cop, power-abusing, punk cop, arrested me for a concealed weapon, a felony. My stage outfit had the knife on a belt. If it was concealed, how could he see it? I was literally walking up the steps to get on stage, with my guitar on, and he stopped me on the steps and handcuffed me and put me in jail for two days, in a drunk tank with a bunch of migrant workers that I had to beat up to get toilet paper. I got my life savings—I think it was a couple grand—to bail out, and they finally dropped all the charges because the photos taken of me prove that nothing was concealed. All that, and the knife didn’t even have a blade.
    K. J. Knight: There was a point that I kinda thought that, you know, Ted’s career was