In His Own Words
In April 1999, Teen People Magazine featured an article on
John;s life. This wasn't like all the other Goo articles; John
himself aided in writing it. I thought it was a very touching
story and I wanted all of you to have the chance to read it.
Geez, John, what else are you going to do to make me love you
even MORE?
THIS DOLL'S LIFE
(by John Rzeznik with Jennifer Graham)
First off, I would like to apologize for the
oversaturation of "Iris" last year. Although it
wasn't the Goo Goo Dolls' first hit - "Name" was, in
1995 - it did bring us a giant slice of fame that
we never imagined possible.
Recently, my band mates, Robby Takac and Mike Malinin,
and I performed at the American Music Awards and found
out that we're up for three Grammys. That's insane to
me. When I think back on the first half of my 33
years on Earth, sometimes I can't believe that I've
made it here intact. I don't want to sound like
I'm bitching about my upbringing.
Now I understand it was brilliant in many ways. My
sisters (Phyllis, 41; Fran, 39; Glad, 36; and Kate, 35 )
and I are so close today because of the tumult at
home, in our tight - knit working - class
neighborhood in Buffalo.
For as long as I can remember, my dad, Joe, divided
his time between his clerk job at the post office
and local bars like Three Deuces. When he did come
home, drunk and depressed, he'd pass out in his
chair --- or wouldn't even make it that far.
Once, when I was about 12, my sister Kate and I had
to drag him inside, take off his clothes and put
him to bed. Anyone who doesn't realize that alcoholism
is an actual illness - not just some character
flaw - never met my father. During my childhood,
he had three heart attacks. A man in
his fifties, he was overweight, diabetic and he
smoked and drank whiskey. (To this day, if I smell
whiskey on somebody, it sends shivers down my spine.)
He just couldn't stop. I hated him for a long time.
But I loved my mom, Edith. She played the flute and
got us well on your way to reading and writing before
the first grade. She took a job as a teacher at my
Catholic grade school, Corpus Christi, so we could
go there tuition free. When I was about seven
years old, she turned me on to music - first,
accordion lessons, than a few years later, the electric
guitar. My mom was hard on my dad, and there was a
serious violent phase in their marriage. He would
come home drunk when we were kids,
and they would start fighting. Once when I was 14,
he hit her, and I punched him so hard in the face
that he fell on the floor. But my mother turned on
me, hitting me for not respecting my father.
Like I said: It was insane.
I had more than my share to rebel against, so I
became a troublemaker. I'd get back at my dad
through vandalism (once, in my early teens, I
smeared blacktop fluid all over a funeral
parlor) and by stealing money from his wallet.
When I became a sophomore at Buffalo's McKinley
High School, my already shaky home life completely
shattered. At 55, my dad got pneumonia, fell into
a diabetic coma and died. My sisters were
upset, but I was too angry to grieve. That emotion
set in more than a year later, but by then it
wasn't for him. As my family was struggling to
recover from my dad's death, my mom (who was
also overweight and a smoker) died suddenly of
a heart attack, at age 53.
It was the most horrifying experience. I remember
thinking, "What am I going to do? Where am I
going to go?" I had my sisters, but they were
just kids too. We had no other family.
My sister Phyliss became my legal guardian and
found an apartment for me in the neighborhood
around Buffalo State College. Glad kept the house;
the other two moved in together elsewhere in town.
So, at 17, I was on my own. With
a small monthly Social Security check from my
deceased parents, I budgeted my rent, my grocery
bills, my clothes. I was totally self - reliant,
but I was also a total wreck - and it showed.
Friends to the rescue
Throughout high school, I was a punk; I even
showed up to gym period in combat boots so I wouldn't
have to participate.
I was always skipping school - who did I have to
answer to? And three or four nights a week, I would
drink beer until I blacked out. I was too young to
have learned from my father's mistakes.
But this isn't a story of doom and gloom. What happened
next is the basis for why I believe in God - or at
least, a greater being than myself. Just as things
started to get really dark, somebody was sent into
my life to help me. In retrospect, I
see there was a plan. You don't make it through a
nightmare like mine and end up with this kind of
success without figuring that out.
During my sophomore year, Joey O' Grady became my best
friend and introduced me to people who were into the
same kind of music that I was, punk bands like the
Clash, The Damned, The Sex Pistols. I started playing
with them in garage bands, and for the first time
in my life, I had something I really cared
about: songwriting and playing music.
After I graduated from high school, my girlfriend,
Laurie Kwasnik, helped me apply to and get into
Buffalo State College. Academia didn't stick -
I dropped out after freshman year -
but that's when I met another student musician
Robby Takac (who's now 34). When we were about
19, we formed the Goo Goo Dolls (along with then
- drummer George Tutuska), taking our
name from an advertisement in a magazine.
Coming to terms
By the time I was 20, we had a deal with
Celluloid, a small label. I wish I could tell young
musicians that a record deal equals success, but
I can't. The Goo Goo Dolls didn't have a hit for
nine years (by then we were with Warner Brothers ).
We put out five records, went on brutal van tours
and did everything we could to keep going. In 1990,
I met Laurie Farinacci; she became my wife in 1993.
With the double - platinum success of our fifth album,
1995's A Boy Named Goo, we quit our day jobs. After
hearing our hit "Name," the music director for the
movie City of Angels asked us to write a song,
which became "Iris." Then, last September,
we released our sixth album, Dizzy Up The Girl.
Every day I'm reminded of my dad and his alcoholism,
and my struggle iwth his legacy. In every city
we play, there's a party. Radio programmers, record
executives, friends - everybody wants to buy you
a beer. When I was in my teens, I could have drunk
them under the table. But I'm ever conscious
of what happened to my dad. When you realize the
amount of destruction it can cause to not only
yourself but the people
around you, it's like, why bother?
A few years ago, I visited my dad's sisters,
Frances and Irene, in San Diego. They told me
something I never knew about my
father. They explained that their dad - the
grandfather I never knew - died when mine was
just nine. He'd owned a bar, and my
dad had looked forward to taking over the business.
But while my father was in the Navy, my grandmother
sold the bar, robbing my dad of his dream. They
said he was never quite the same
after that.
The other night, I dreamed that my dad was sitting
in his chair, and I whispered in his ear, "I got
enough money to buy the bar back." He started
laughing. When I woke up, I realized that it
was the best closure I could ask for.
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