Read Could It Be Forever? My Story Online
Authors: David Cassidy
Could It Be Forever? My Story (41 page)
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showed up at Capitol Studios. They wanted to know what it was like being back there together. Hal Blaine had a great line. He said, ‘Oh, it’s just like it used to be except we have to nap a lot now.’
The lyrics had more weight for me now that I was much older. I sing them from a different perspective now because I’m a different guy. It was really thrilling to know that there were certain aspects of my voice and personality that I couldn’t recreate because I wasn’t 20 years old any more. In certain aspects, I had so much more to offer because I had lived so much and had worked so much and experienced so much since the original recordings. Emotionally, I was singing from a different place. Just for that experience alone it was worth doing. Trust me. You
can
go home again. It’s just that you ache a little more 25 years later.
When the film was edited, it was difficult for me to watch
some of it. But it’s a biopic. You can’t cover somebody’s whole life in a biopic; you can only depict the highlights, or lowlights, and that’s what we accomplished.
In 1993, Nick at Nite asked me to help them promote
The Partridge Family
, which they were planning to air on their network in the summer. I told them I wanted very much to help them because I had come full circle with it. It’s no longer an obstacle for me. It’s an asset. It is a classic sitcom and for me it now represents all the good times, not the artistic frustrations. I finally got over the hump. I wanted people to hear me and see that I was OK with it. That I, too, loved it for what it was. I do. I’ve embraced it now.
Devoting as much time as I had over the previous ten years or more to work had made me a wealthy man again, but I had cheated myself and my family; my personal relationships had suffered. The people I loved and cared about – my brothers, my few friends, my wife and my son and my estranged daughter – had suffered. So, I stood at the crossroads again in 2000. The exit strategy that I created for myself was a fairly complex one. I needed to find a place where I felt Beau, Sue and I could flourish, but where I could also feed my hunger to create as a writer, a songwriter, an actor, a director, a producer and a performer.
I met with Mike Pick, who owns the booking agency MPI. He told me he felt there was a lot of work out there for me and he wanted to represent me. He began booking concerts for me. I told him that I wanted to work part-time, on weekends. I was no longer willing to devote seven days a week to my profession. I told him I was leaving Las Vegas.
Leaving Las Vegas. It sounds like a great title for a film, doesn’t it?
Sue and Beau and I began seeking refuge. We decided on a quiet little waterway, just off the Atlantic Ocean in south Florida, called Fort Lauderdale. We built a home. We packed our bags and left Las Vegas. Ah, sweet Jesus. What a refuge. Arguably, the most beautiful, peaceful, tranquil and lush little spot we have ever lived in.
Although I was living in Florida, I recorded the
Touch of Blue
album in Hollywood. It is one of my two or three favourite recordings of mine because it was recorded live and in the studio at Capitol. It was as organic as I could possibly make it – live vocals and singing with a live band and different rhythm sections put together for different tracks. I wanted to record the way Sinatra did and at the same studio where all those fabulous Big Band recordings were done for so many years. Nat King Cole. Sinatra. Bobby Darin. Sammy Davis, Jr.
I hadn’t toured for well over ten years. Since 2000 it has been the most satisfying and enjoyable experience for me. I got to go back to Australia, where I hadn’t been for 25 years. I got to go back to the U.K. and I have performed throughout the United States and Canada. I put together a great band and we used the musical arrangements for all those great songs that I hadn’t looked at in well over a decade. Instead of doing eight to ten shows a week, I do five or six shows a month and I get to be home at least half the month. It’s provided me with the balance that I’ve been seeking all these years.
Most of my life, I either worked all the time or I didn’t
work at all. And now, for the first time, my home life is actually normal, although I still travel a lot. It’s so much better every time I hit the stage now. It feels fresh and new. It doesn’t feel like something I’ve been doing for 37 years.
This has been my life for the past several years now. I’m a very fortunate man. I work when I choose, where I choose and I do exactly as I choose. I take none of this for granted. I realise that I have been dealt a great hand. I realise now that I am one of the fortunate few. Most people in their lives go to work and struggle, and don’t love what they do. They never have the luxury of being able to say the things I’ve just said. I go to bed at night knowing that there are people out there I have touched and inspired and reached. I have been blessed with many gifts that I am eternally grateful for. Not my talent, necessarily, but the love and support of many people, some of whom have never met me, but have cared enough about me to buy my records, watch my television shows, see my performances. And to those people, I will forever be indebted.
Over the past few years, I’ve realised that in my 20s and 30s I missed out on so much. I was unable to connect with most people and the various cultures throughout the world. I savour every moment now, every day is a gift. I’ve never enjoyed playing and performing as much as I do now. I guess the old adage is true: you never appreciate things in your 20s as much as you do in your 50s. Now I am in my 50s, when I strap my guitar around my neck and go out and sing the songs I sang when I was 20, in many ways I feel younger than I did then.
I have searched for and found happiness in so many ways, in so many people, in so many places. But, most importantly, I found it within myself. I wake up with a smile on my face every day. I’m proud of the things that I’ve accomplished. I don’t dwell on the mistakes I’ve made. I invest my time in people whom I know appreciate and reciprocate. And I have been able to pursue my other passion – breeding horses.
When I was a little boy, I used to read the sports pages every day and I was fascinated with horse racing. From as far back as I can remember I had photographs of horses on my bedroom walls. Why? I have no idea. No one in my family has any connection with horses. I used to love to ride. I can remember going riding every weekend with my buddies when I was a teenager in Los Angeles.
Shaun Cassidy:
His real passion is horses and horse racing. That is indicative of his gambler’s spirit, which applies to everything he does. He throws the dice a lot. He’s done it in his work and his personal life. His heart and his soul are in horse racing. We own miniature donkeys and we live in an equestrian community. David came out here and was talking to the donkeys like a horse whisperer. He goes into a very calm, serene place when he’s around horses or the track. He needs that. That is uniquely him. I don’t know where that came from him in his life. I don’t think our father ever took him to the race track. It may have come from his grandfather. David’s had a love for horses his whole life.
Sue Shifrin Cassidy:
The only thing that brings David true joy and happiness is his horses. You never hear about this. David’s
life is his horse business. He spends 90 per cent of his life working on his horses. It’s all he thinks about, all he talks about, all he cares about (except, maybe, major league baseball). He has control in that world. Show business is something that you have very little control over. It kind of happens to you; it chews you up and spits you out. You’re the flavour of the month, then you’re out. It’s horrible on the ego, especially if you’re a sensitive person.
The first thing David ever responded to as a baby was a horse. He had horse pictures all around his room. And he had a horse. He loved them. As a kid, he and his mother used to go riding on weekends. David went to see the legendary racehorse Secretariat when he first began running and that was when David started to fall in love with horses as a business and bought his first horse. Today he does everything. He handicaps, he breeds, he races, he buys and sells. He is one of the world’s experts on pedigrees. He can tell you anything about any horse’s pedigree and about what their distances are, their times. He is an aficionado on the thoroughbred industry. He’s very respected. He’s had a lot of success, as well as some huge disappointments. But he calls the shots. That’s what he loves about it. And the people in the horse business are his true friends. Those are the people he wants to be with, the people he wants to know.
Ryan Cassidy:
Horses give David a freedom; he doesn’t have to feel like he has to be ‘on’. Horses are these beautiful, magnificent animals that he loves and they don’t judge him. They don’t tell him what to do. They don’t want an autograph. They can be stars themselves and not care about what people
think. I think, deep down inside, he wants to escape from his profession and not always be David Cassidy. He wants to enjoy his family and his homes and his horses.
I have devoted many years to educating myself about breeding thoroughbreds. I continue to run my thoroughbred business, with the hopes of some day breeding a classic winner. I have a small business, but it is a fairly successful one. I can afford to do it on my own terms. It has to make financial sense, as any business should, but, in a sense, for me, it fulfils a dream. I love to go to the farms. I buy and sell and breed and race in my home state of New York mostly. I’m extremely concerned about the future of thoroughbred racing in North America and around the world. For the racing in New York to be considered the best in the world, it needs to change. I’m an advocate for the State of New York and its thoroughbred breeding business. It needs to be run by people who appreciate the history, its legacy and its significance in our culture.
I plan on spending a good part of the next few years investing more of my time and energy towards securing New York as a leader in the breeding of thoroughbreds. I hope some day to assist the franchise, whatever that franchise is, in becoming the finest racing circuit in the world. I have no interest in financially benefiting from it. I do, however, have an interest in preserving its legacy and, in some ways, I suppose, my own.
With that thought in mind, I believe that if you dare to do something, do it well. Whatever you do. Never dream
of mediocrity. Strive to be the best. I know now that I will never own the New York Yankees, which is what I used to dream about as a kid, so, by owning my own horses, I own my own sports franchise in New York. It’s just not baseball. I draft my own players (the jockeys). I hire my own manager (or trainer). And we work together at being the best, in whatever capacity we are capable of, with whatever financial means we have.
I currently have a relationship with a trainer, Gary Contessa, who’s become my friend. We have had quite a bit of success together. And over the past seven or eight years, we have flourished. As a breeder and owner, he has assisted me. We have bought some wonderful horses together. He has become the leading trainer in New York. I have made a small contribution to his success, and he has made a large contribution to mine. I’m eternally grateful for his friendship, his support and the dream that we have shared.
The thoroughbred business has afforded me an opportunity to meet people from so many different walks of life. It’s a great melting pot, where kings and princes mix with riders, grooms, gamblers, businessmen, dreamers, schemers, winners and losers. It’s a great equaliser and leveller. The little guy can still succeed, dream, even find the brass ring. I love that.
Keeping and racing my horses in New York has allowed me to meet and work with some of the finest people I’ve ever known. I have cultivated friendships in this business that have been very significant for me. I lost a dear friend of mine last year, Robert Scanlon. He lived in Florida with
his family. I knew him for many years. We went to Ireland together; he took me to the Irish Derby. He became a kind of godfather to my son. I wept like a baby at his funeral. I gave the eulogy, then fell apart. I admired his courage, his instincts, his humour, his work ethic. His wife, Connie, and his son, David, are still dear friends of mine.
My friends Jerry and Darlene Bilinski and their daughter, Annie, have become very close with my family. We are partners in a few horses. I board my horses at their farm. We share the same dreams and passions, and much of the same philosophies. Jerry is a man of great integrity who appreciates his life as much as I appreciate mine.
Jerry Bilinski:
David’s got a love for horses and feels a deep connection with them. When he comes out and sees his horses on the farm, he’s in a different world. I’m amazed at how much he knows about pedigrees, bloodlines and the race history of famous horses. We work well together because we both know the ups and downs of the horse business.
David has what he calls ‘the golden chair’. When my horses do well he’ll say, ‘You’re in the golden chair.’ When his horses do well I’ll jokingly say, ‘We’ve got room on the golden chair for you.’ We joke about that all the time.
David has a horse called Mayan King that was in a stakes race in Kentucky. Late in the afternoon on the day of one of David’s shows at a casino in Connecticut, I watched the race and the horse didn’t do well. A couple of hours later, David performed. Knowing how discouraging it is when your horse doesn’t run well, I was impressed by how he was able to perform.
I could feel his pain but he went up on that stage with a big smile and sang his heart out. I wouldn’t have been able to do that.
I’m an equine veterinarian and I sent David a picture of me doing a rectal exam on a mare with a note saying, ‘I’ve looked everywhere for the right Christmas gift and I think I may have found it.’ He called me a month later and said, ‘Whenever I get depressed over work, I look at your picture and say to myself, “I could be doing
that
.”’
Besides his family, I think David’s passion for horses is the most important thing in his life.