The Smiley Smile Message Board

Includes this passage:
Read more: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,943874,00.html#ixzz1W51hI4fA

Some of the article doesn't square with our knowledge of Surf's Up: the journalist seems to have been duped into believing that Surf's Up 1971 was Brian's idea and had his support.

Jack Rieley confirmed it years ago on PSML, and in fact, every message Jack Rieley ever posted to PSML was posted here -- do a search for it.

We need more Jack Rieley. Somebody talk to that boy and get him to write some more!

Ooh...here's the direct link (beware -- you'll get so deep into it that you won't realize that two months had passed since you started reading!)

http://smileysmile.net/board/index.php?action=printpage;topic=9651.0

Wow, I wonder what Brian was on then. Drifting into sleep while on the phone unable to leave his room? How much of Brian's eccentricity is a put-on, this I suspect we will wonder to our dying days.

I've read it before.

Wasn't it left with him promising to return with some huge revelation about SMiLE, and then he never returned?

I remember the article very well. As I excitedly read it over and over again, there was a certain sinking feeling that the Brian we all knew in the 60's was gone and in the midst of a scary mindf%ck. Said article is sandwiched in the scrapbook. :violin

Funny Brian described it as "virile", as he's often said he didn't like his voice on the released version because it was too feminine. A put-on, as ghost said?

This is GREAT stuff.

Jack Reiley was brilliant. How cool would it be if he became Brian's manager now?

Subject: The grave digger
From: Jack Rieley
To: 'Beach Boys list' (pet-sounds@lists.primenet.com)
Date: Oct 26 1996 - 7:48pm

With Brian, Dennis and Carl Wilson cheering me on, I had just gone
into hock for much too much in order to acquire a classic 1954
Bentley R type, previously owned by the British charges d'affaires in
L.A. The wooden picnic tables, the foot pedal which greased the car
and its solid ride thrilled me, even if the right-hand drive was
difficult to cope with.

Brian came out to my place in Topanga Canyon and insisted upon acting
as my driver for an afternoon. He even brought and wore a chauffeur's
cap. We visited all the spots -- a Piggly Wiggly, some smorgasbord
place in the Valley, the dry cleaner and a wine shop where I picked
up an expensive Medoc. My driver was in a particularly happy mood --
we spent the day laughing a lot.

Late the following afternoon my phone rang. Marilyn was hysterical.
"Come quick! ... It's awful!! .... Please hurry!" There were no
explanations, not that I sought any: Brian was in big trouble.

The Bentley performed more than adequately, getting me from Topanga
to Bel Air in no-time-flat. When I pressed the button next to the
gates at Bellagio, Marilyn shrieked with worry. "At last! Please,
drive thru! Hurry!" The gates swung open, I drove the final bit and
rushed into an open front door.

Mar was in the kitchen, looking through the big window that
overlooked their enormous Belair pool and garden. Her tears would not
stop flowing. "He's there," she managed, pointing to a spot far back
in the yard.

I looked, could not believe what I saw, then thought carefully how to
deal with the situation as I walked slowly out to the spot where
Brian Wilson stood. He was gripping a big shovel and he was
concentrating mightily on digging a hole. It was more than 6 feet
long, a couple of feet wide and it was getting deep. Was Brian aware
that I had walked out to him and was indeed but a few feet away? I
believe he was but shall never know for certain. In any event, he
continued digging away.

Shuffling methods of dealing with the crisis in my mind, I said
nothing for a long moment, and he did not acknowlege my presence.

Finally I mustered a cheery "Hi Brian! How ya doin?"

He turned to me, smiled fleetingly as one does upon seeing a friend,
then -- with a good deal of drama -- he threw that shovel to the
ground. "I'm pissed off!" he declared. Silence. And then: "I've been
diggin this grave for hours, tryin to get it just right. But you know
what? f*ckin Mar refuses to cover me up with dirt when I get in!" His
tone was angry.

I stared at him, began to open my mouth, but words did not come to
me.

Our eyes now met, my dumb stare meeting his frustrated, angry glare.

After a few seconds Brian Wilson suddenly broke into peals of loud
guffawing laughter. He continued to laugh, eventually I joined in
with him. The joke was over. The prank was complete. The comedian's
bit had reached its punch line.

He came up to me, still reeling with his own loud laughter, put a
hand on my shoulder, and we walked back toward the house. Soon
Marilyn, who had apparently watched it all through her kitchen
window, came outside and joined us, she now laughing too with that
fog-horn laugh of hers that I loved to imitate.

We never spoke of the incident again. Never. Today, nearly 25 years
later, I still haven't got a clue whether Brian Wilson was on this
side or that side of the line on the afternoon he dug his own grave.

- Jack

About that time Brian began talking in detail about a massage parlour
in West Hollywood and one of the girls who worked there. At first he
spoke only of going there for massages. Some days later he began
going on and on about the masseuse who he said was turning him on. He
was hot for Marcella. One day I arrived at Bellagio to find him
showing off a dildo. He needed the dildo, he said, to impress
Marcella. His dick was too small, he protested, so he needed the
dildo to show off. It was not the first nor the last time that Brian
devoted hours to discussing his sexual insecurities. The fact that he
had given birth to two girls was, he said, proof that Murry was
right: Brian wasn't a real man. Murry fathered three boys, Carl had
one and another was on the way, Dennis had fathered boys. But he,
Brian, could only father girls. The conversations went on for hours
at a time. Then there came the day I was in his living room with
Carnie and Wendy when Brian strode in, a huge dildo protruding from
beneath his jeans. I was repulsed as Brian caused Carnie to come over
to him while he talked about the dildo. When I chided Brian, he
reacted by telling his daughters, "Carnie, Wendy... I'm not your
father." Soon I evacuated the kids to the garden.

On the night we finished the mix, Love came by to give it a listen.
He stood in the corner of the control booth behind the mixing counsel
as the tape rolled. Rather than really listening to the music we had
created, Love began rehearsing his stage moves. He acted out "One arm
over my shoulder" by placing his right arm over his left shoulder.
"Sandals dance at my feet" had him pointing the index fingers of both
hands to downward. "Eyes that'll knock you right over" found him
sailing his hands from the side of his head on a downlward arc. And
on "Ooh Marcella so sweet" he cradled his crossed arms and rocked
them a bit. I nearly got ill.

YES!!!!

Based on some anecdotes from Jack I think Crispin Glover would be perfect to play Brian Wilson in quite a few eras. He grows a similarly full beard to Brian and has similar eyes. He could easily capture Brian's detached thousand mile stare in film. Only such a good actor could capture the nuances of Brian.

(http://www.sfmedics.com/Adventures/Bundy%20and%20Crispin%20Glover.jpg)

Crispin playing an early Brian Wilson at the piano.

"The fact that he had given birth to two girls"

This would explain Brian's weight gain.

:lol

oh my gaaaaah crispin glover would be perfect for a young brian