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By Root 1320 0

a bunch of speed. I walked up to the door and I was saying, "You motherfuckers! God, how I hate you!" I pounded on the door with my hammer. There was a light on in the house, but there was no answer. I pounded again. Then I heard Suzy. That was my little dog! Remo had everything! My wife, my house, my dog! He had all these things, and he wasn't content with that! Now he was going to take my daughter, even in name! I hammered again. Suzy and I had really loved each other. She would always leap on me and jump up and down, and I think she knew who it was and she was leaping at the door. I could hear her as I pounded. No one was there. Suzy kept on yowling and whining. I started crying. I said, "Little Suzy." I felt so miserable and so lost and so alone. I walked out on the front lawn and took the hammer and threw it at the house. I got back into the car, and I cried and cried and cried, and Diane drove us back to Glendale.

After we got married I got a job playing at the Blackhawk in San Francisco with my own group. I guess this was in 1957. The Blackhawk was a big jazz club at the time. We drove to San Francisco in this old Pontiac, which was another whole scene-it was a fantastic trip. And we stayed in a hotel which was right down the street from the club.

I think Diane thought if we got married I might straighten up. It was just a prayer she had. But I was still using, and we kept arguing about that. I told her I just couldn't stop and as long as I'm taking care of business and doing my job please don't bug me. Maybe if I'd been madly in love with her, maybe I would have been able to do something, but I doubt that. When I was with Patti I was using, so certainly I wasn't going to stop for Diane. We were having these arguments, and Diane was getting outrageous, and I went to play this session at the Blackhawk.

I'm in there playing and there's this guy Brew Moore, who plays tenor saxophone, plays very well; his old lady, Diane got to know her, and so here comes Diane into the club with this chick. We had had an especially bad fight before I went to work. I saw her come in and I hoped she'd be cool, but I noticed she was drinking pretty heavy and all of a sudden-I'm at the mike just before the intermission, introducing the guys in the band-and she starts shouting, "Hey, big man! Yeah, there's the big man, big Art Pepper, the great jazz musician, big man, big shot!" I say to the people, "Pardon the interruption. I'm sure that that table will maybe do us a favor and leave before the next set and go to a bar that's more befitting their character-down in the Bowery, where all the rest of the drunks are." She really flipped out then: "Son-of-a-bitch! Bastard!" I said, "It's intermission. We'll be back in fifteen minutes."

I walked over to the table and grabbed her. I told her, "Come on, let's get out of here! This is my job! Save this shit for the room, you fuckin' asshole!" I got her out the door. This club was right on the corner. It was a Sunday afternoon and it was a nice day, so people were looking out their windows and we really attracted attention. Diane just kept coming on and coming on. I wanted to get away from her. I told Brew Moore's wife, "Why don't you take her someplace? Take her to your house. I've got a job to do." I said, "We'll argue later all you want. Please give me a break now." But she wouldn't stop. She kept cussing me out and suddenly she grabbed my right hand: she got my two fingers and bent them back and said, "I'll stop you from playing, you bastard! You son-of-a-bitch!" She bent me down to the ground. Later I had to go to an emergency hospital, where they put a splint on my fingers. I flipped out and grabbed this thing she had around her neck and pulled her; the necklace broke and stuff started rolling down the street. I slapped her and told this chick to get her out of there before I killed her. She's calling me every name- "Bastard! Dopefiend! Motherfucker!" I walked away while she screamed after me, and when I came back she wasn't around.

When I finished the gig I went back to the hotel. The key