We Had Fun and Nobody Died

Amy Waldman: The idea to do a book came from Peter after I came to him with a completely different project in mind. It was May of 2020, and the pandemic was raging. Peter started posting old contracts on his Facebook feed, and I was instantly transported back to a night in the ‘90s. I’d had a couple of friends over for dinner, and we discovered that you could throw out any random date and Peter would come back with the name of the act playing his club that night. Between Peter’s ability to remember every date of every show and my experience with digital libraries in grad school, I proposed building him a virtual Shank Hall. He could put it behind a paywall and come through the pandemic with an income stream. Peter mentioned that his lawyer suggested he write a book. My friend was having a bad pandemic, and I could do something to help. So I did.  

Peter Jest: I gave Amy a list of events, and we went from there. We talked about John Prine and Arlo [Guthrie] and Leo [Kottke] and Leon [Redbone], deciding that those were separate chapters, and the rest of the book would be funny stories about Shank Hall, how I started ACG, and the fire [at Shank Hall]. We just threw ideas around.  

AW: I’ve known Peter since roughly 1991 and have been on the sidelines of his life, although I’d never thought of writing about it. But when he suggested it, I was all in. I knew his story was fascinating and I could tell it in a way that would engage readers, because it engaged me. One thing he did that was really helpful was buy a small digital recorder and start talking into it. I transcribed those ramblings (the word Peter used to describe them). Once I knew what I was after in a particular chapter, I would call and ask him about a specific event, orrefer back to those transcripts. After I felt like I had the story where I wanted it to be, I’d send it to him for feedback and to make sure I’d gotten things right. 

There were times when it wasn’t comfortable for me to ask about certain things, because you don’t want to invade somebody’s privacy or make them feel uncomfortable, but when you’re doing it in the service of something bigger, you have to. And Peter was really understanding about it, which was brave and kind.  

PJ: It was fun, because usually I never look back, but obviously with the pandemic, there was nothing to do but look back. It was a good time to relive history and go through the show files and relive some of the memories. As to revealing details and experiences, not really. After John Prine died it was easier to go public about our friendship. We were friends because we were friends, but I never wanted to trade off that relationship when he was alive. I’m open about it now because it’s therapeutic to talk about him, and people know what a great songwriter and performer he was, but not necessarily what a wonderful man he was. It’s the same with Leon Redbone, who died, and Arlo Guthrie who retired from performing.  

I have nothing to gain from talking about these people, I’m not going to get any more dates with them, it’s not about business. It’s the same with Brian Ritchie [of the Violent Femmes]. I think of him as my friend, and that’s the first thing I think, not that he plays for the Femmes. When the Femmes were on hiatus for years and no one knew if they’d ever perform again, we were just Brian and Peter, not a musician and a promoter. After the business is done, it’s fun to talk about the friendships I made.  

PJ: I guess realizing what a fun life I’ve had and how it went by really quickly. When we started working on this book I was 55 years old and didn’t know what was going to be in the future for concerts because of COVID, so it was fun to go back. It’s been a pretty good life, I did have a lot of fun, and I couldn’t picture myself doing anything else. I was honored that Amy took the time to do it, and we’re both honored that the Historical Society wanted to publish it. And maybe it will encourage some parents who have kids with a drive to do something unusual to encourage their kids to pursue that dream.  

As to surprises, it was really nice to see the comments by Arlo, Fiona [Prine], Mitchell [Drosin, Prine’s tour manager], and Leo—not that I didn’t know what they’d say, but it was nice for them to go on the record. There are no shows planned with them and they didn’t have to talk about the book, or me, but they took the time to do it because we were friends. That means a lot.  

AW: There are a lot of rewarding parts about working on this book, but I’m going to single out two. One is the relationship I have with Peter, which is unlike any I’ve ever had and probably ever will have with another person. We built something that wouldn’t exist without each other’s expertise and involvement—I joke that no one should ever read a book that Peter Jest writes and no one should ever come to a show that I promote—but the truth is that we are both really good at what we do and we placed maximum trust in the other’s ability to do what they needed to do. I knew I liked Peter from the first time I met him, and I think he felt the same way about me not long after, but I’m close to him and his wife, Karen, in a way that’s more “beloved brother and sister-in-law” than “local friend.” The other rewarding thing is how affirming it has been to work with such an amazing team of people at WHS Press. The surprise—and it’s been a great one—is the amazing free education I’m getting in how a manuscript becomes a finished book and all the things that happen to make it possible for the book to land in the hands of readers. 

AW: I can’t speak to the ones I haven’t seen, but of the ones I have, it’s the only one that’s written in the third person, and the only one that has a plot and a narrative arc. It’s also the only one where there isn’t a single photo of the promoter grinning with a big thumbs-up while standing next to the act. The biggest difference, though, is that it’s not, at its heart, only a music-related memoir. It’s the story of how a person sets out to do the improbable and succeeds on their own terms. 

PJ: That maybe some kid who doesn’t know what they want to do can read this book and imagine something new. And for the parents of that kid, especially if the kid struggles in the world of academia, they can encourage them to follow their dreams even if it’s an unusual career choice.   

AW: I want them to come away with the same feeling you get when you’ve just spent a few hours at a great party where you met somebody really interesting. And as for carrying the message, when they think about the book a few years down the road, it’s less important that they remember the details, but that they get the warm glow from remembering something that made you feel happy.