Good evening. My name is Jack, and I’m a Johnkie. I finally decided to get help one month ago after my wife threw me out of the house. “Why,” you might ask, would she toss me out? First let me say this, after a month here in rehab at Martyn House, after a month of therapy, after a month of sitting in circles with other Johnkies running their stories, telling me how they kicked their JM habits, I now see that the little lady was correct in throwing me out. Yeah, it was tough love, but what else was she to do? With no new CD since Church With One Bell, and with Glasgow Walker on hold, I was mainlining JM five times a day: in my Walkman on the way to work, on my lunch break, on the way back home, all evening long, and finally, while making love to her with May You Never, Couldn’t Love You More, and Big Muff on a tape loop.

Then instead of going to work, I started wandering the city, stopping in all the record stores I could find, searching for Glasgow Walker. I’m ashamed to say it, but at night I wouldn’t let the kids, Angeline & Sapphire, use the computer as I was logging on to JM websites every 20 minutes praying that the release date of March 6, 2000 for Glasgow Walker was a typo. And if nothing else, hoping that there would be a new JM song on the web that I could download. You’ve got to understand, I was sick, kicking, I just needed a taste, a wet cotton.

Finally, Annie snapped and threw me out when she went to put on her Best of Yanni CD and found that our 15 disc CD player had 15 John Martyn CD’s in it. So I’m watching her eyes and Annie says, “that’s it, I’m climbing the walls, take your Jack the Lad ass over the rainbow ’cause these are some mad dog days, don’t send me one line, don’t call me, I’ll call you, listen John Wayne, unless you go for the cure I’m gonna fill your butt with rock, salt, and nails because now you’ve gone one step too far.” I had hit the proverbial bottom. I was homeless, living on the corner of Broadway and 45th street, outside the Virgin Megastore, knowing deep in my soul that John would indeed cook up some of that Scottish Stew before March 6, 2000. All day, all night, I hung on the corner waiting for, perhaps, who knows, it could of happened, a pre-release copy Glasgow Walker to arrive. But arrive it did not, so I came here to kick my JM habit. If it were not for Martyn House, for all the good people who know and understand what it means to be Martynized, instead of being here tonight with 30 Clean Martyn Days behind me, right about now I’d be in Scotland, wearing a kilt, playing bag pipes, a glorious fool hoping to be John Martyn’s apprentice.

Glenn Frantz

About Glenn Frantz

Glenn was born in Brooklyn, New York USA on April 2, 1949.  His mother died when he was 13 years old and his teen years were in the ’60’s when he got into drugs, sex and rock ‘n roll, and also some college! Glenn had some dark times but beat the drugs and joined Synanon, a therupeutic community, in 1977, out in California.

He was a Mets fan, loved hockey, loved music and loved John Martyn ‘s music since becoming a fan in 1970.  He also loved reading and writing, all kinds of art and Rumi poems.  Many of Glenn’s short stories and poems have been published and he had recently written a book. Glenn had Christmas lights up in his apartment all year long….one of life’s great characters and a truly compassionate man.

Glenn died in Encinitas, California on July 1, 2003 aged  54 years. A great loss to his friends, family and the world at large.