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been. But the point is, he really did have a marvelous run for his money. He went through Algeria, he fell out with Eldridge Cleaver . . . Didn’t Eldridge Cleaver put him in prison? It’ll be interesting to see what happens when they finally catch Eldridge Cleaver. He’s going to have to come back because Algeria is absolutely fed up with him. Where can he go?

Bob [Colacello, editor of Interview]: He can go to any African country or any Communist country. Cuba would be delighted to have him.

Andy: Well, then why wouldn’t Cuba take Tim Leary?

Truman: Well, he applied there. The Algerian government very much wants Cleaver out of there, I understand. They consider him a terrific troublemaker. On top of which—you know that plane they hijacked and sent to Algeria, and they got the $750,000 ransom. It was all done for Eldridge Cleaver.

Andy: Oh.

133

Andy: You’re going to the gorilla? Oh, we’re going to the deer.

Truman: The yak’s right along in here—somewhere . . .

Andy: The hippie look is really gone. Everybody’s gone back to beautiful clothes. Isn’t it great? . . . Did you ever want someone to call you Daddy?

Truman: Call me Daddy?

Andy: Yes.

Truman: No. Nor the other way around, either.

Andy: You mean you don’t want to call somebody Daddy.

Truman: Oh, no.

Andy: But isn’t “Daddy” nice? “Daddy” . . . “Dad” . . . It sounds so nice . . .

Truman: I’ve always been a highly independent person. Strictly on my own.

154

Truman: You said something to me that really startled me when you came to the house today.

Andy: What?

Truman: You said that my mother telephoned you. I was absolutely startled. Really startled.

Andy: You were? Why?

Truman: Because my mother really was an alcoholic —

Andy: But I met your mother.

Truman: I know you met my mother. But my mother was very ill woman, and a total alcoholic.

Andy: Really? When I met her, she wasn’t —

Truman: Yes, she was an alcoholic when you met her. She had been an alcoholic since I was sixteen, so she was an alcoholic when you met her . . .

Andy: I never knew that.

Truman: You didn’t realize it?

Andy: No. She was really sweet.

Truman: Well, she had this sort of sweet thing, and then suddenly she’d—Well, you know, she committed suicide.

Andy: She did? Oh, I didn’t know that. I thought she just got sick.

Truman: No, no, no, no. She committed suicide. She had this extraordinary sweet quality, but then she was one of those people who would have two drinks . . .

Andy: I guess you have to be different to be able to be something else.

Truman: One thing I’ll say about Mick Jagger. He’s fascinating in the sense that he’s one of the most total actors that I’ve ever seen. He has this remarkable quality of being absolutely able to be totally extroverted. Very few people can be entirely, absolutely, altogether extroverted. It’s a rare, delicate, strange thing. Just to pull yourself out and go—Whamm! This he can do to a remarkable degree. But what makes it more remarkable is that the moment it’s done, it’s over. And he reverts to quite a private, sensible, and a more emotionally mature person than most actors and intellectuals are capable of being. He’s one of the few people I’ve seen who’s able to do that extrovert thing, and then revert into another person almost instantly. And so, in that sense, he’s really an extraordinary actor. And that’s exactly what he is because: (a) he can’t sing; (b) he can’t dance; (c) he doesn’t know a damn thing about music. But he does know about coming on and being a great showman. And putting on a fantastic act, of which the vital element is energy. Don’t you think?

Tell me what you think. You think he can sing?

Bob: Who are you talking about?

Truman: Mick Jagger. Well, he can’t sing compared to, say, Billie Holiday. He can’t sing compared to Lee Wiley. He can’t sing compared to . . .

Andy: Al Green.

Truman: He can’t compared to Frank Sinatra. I know you think we’re talking about things in separate categories, but we’re not. You know? It’s not that it’s . . . Sound