Were you ever nervous to work with any of these artists?
Not nervous. I told them all when I started that I didn't have a contract with them. I had a contract with CBS. I told [Bob] Dylan, [Johnny] Cash, [Leonard] Cohen and [Paul] Simon, "You want to get rid of me? All you have to do is say, 'There's the goddamn door.' You don't have to go through any shit because I don't have a contract with you." I think that took care of it.
Did the record company people come down to sit in on Dylan sessions?
They came down. The first time there was about five people, so I told Dylan, "All of them sons of bitches are in there. We're gonna go to dinner." We all went to dinner and left them for a couple hours, and they left. They came back a couple times, and I'd always turn the lights in the studio off and pretend like nobody was there. [laughter] I was with Dylan in the studio before I even recorded him yet. He and [Albert] Grossman and all the CBS people were there. I said, "Some time you've got to go to Nashville. I built a studio. There are no clocks. I've got everything working down there." He never would answer. "Mmm." He left and they came over to me and they said, "If you ever mention Nashville to Dylan again, you're fired." I said, "Why?" And they said, "We don't want him down there with that bunch of goddamn stupid people. You're doing a good job here." I said, "Whatever you want." I took him to Nashville and did Blonde on Blonde six months later. [laughter] The phones started ringing and I never bothered to answer them.
What was CBS' stance on Dylan going electric? Did you get caught up in the middle of any of that?
Only when I started Highway 61 Revisited. Clive Davis [A&R, later president of CBS/Columbia] and all those people said, "Pretty good, but all those guitars need to come off." We were in a meeting and John Hammond used to rattle a bunch of newspapers, and [Bob] Mercy would sit down there laughing. He ran the A&R department and signed [Barbra] Streisand, [Andy] Williams and [Tony] Bennett — he's the one that hired me. They were just horrible people. If you need a brain operation you go to a brain specialist, you don't go to a septic tank cleaner. All the music people go to people that can't sing, dance, write, perform or play. They can do nothing but steal your money and make bad decisions. That's the only thing those sons of bitches are good at.
Is it true that all the vocals on Blonde on Blonde are recorded live with the band? There are no overdubs on that record?
No overdubs. I had heard about [Dylan], but never met him. I went into the studio with him once with John Hammond. When I walked in and I said, "Bob, I'm Bob Johnston," he said, "Well, I'm Bob Dylan," and he stood up and smiled the sweetest, and I said, "Is that the way it's gonna be?" He said, "Why not?" And I said, "Great. What's this piece of paper?" It was a notebook and it had 22 takes of a song in it. I said, "What's this 22 here?" He said, "That's what we did." I said, "I just wondered why did you do 22 takes?" He said, "The musicians all say we've got to do this and that." I said, "I thought your name was Dylan. I thought you cleared your mind to get other stuff in and once is enough. You don't have to entertain that bunch of goddamn people." I turned around and walked off and he said, "Let's do it." They did a song. We finished and Al Kooper said, "10 or 15 more of those and it'll be great." Dylan said, "That's it." He never did another song twice for me. He blew my mind. He went into the studio about 9 in the morning, and he never came out until about 3 o' clock in the afternoon. He had malts, milkshakes and candy. I thought he was a junkie — I thought he was shooting up. He wasn't. At about 3 o'clock he came around and he said, "Is anybody here?" I said, "They're all here playing ping pong." I woke everybody up, got them down there and said, "One thing you do — you never quit playing. I can overdub you. I can't overdub Dylan." I said, "Whoever stops, go ahead and gather your instrument up and walk out the door." They said, "We've got to hear it." Dylan said, "It's G-C-D. G-C-D like that." The band said, "My God, we don't even know the song." I said, "Pick your instruments up." Dylan started playing and he did "Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands." When he got through with the first verse it was about two minutes. The band was used to doing three-minute records, and they thought that was the ending, so they played real big on the ending of the first thing and came down like that to end it, and Dylan went into the second verse. It was over 11 minutes long, and every time they did that and thought it was gonna end. That's what made that record so good. When they finished he came back and said, "Let's hear it." They played it back and he said, "Let's do the next one." I knew I had him. He never said anything about the sound. Nobody ever said anything about the sound.
One of the things I love about Blonde on Blonde is the fact that there are mistakes on that record. Was that ever discussed during playback?
No, nothing was ever discussed by me. The first lesson I got — I was running a publishing company of a guy named Clyde Otis. He didn't have a pair of shoes until he was 16 — black guy from Memphis. He drove a cab. Four white guys got in his cab one day and started singing. He said, "I've got a demo room. Do y'all want to put it down?" They went over and put down "The Stroll" by The Diamonds. Mercury [Records] took it. Then he did Clyde McPhatter, Dinah Washington and found a girl named Timi Yuro. Dinah was [in the studio] and she said, "I need $50,000 dollars or I'll kill myself." Clyde went and got her a check. They started this thing, "What a Diff'rence a Day Makes." At the end of it, they all came in the studio and the arranger said, "That's the best it'll ever be done." Everybody agreed and Clyde said, "Would you do one more for me?" They said, "Why?" Dinah said, "I need another 50." He called over and got her 50 grand. They kicked it off and about halfway through Clyde walked out the door and kicked a chair over, "Clunk!" You can hear it. He came back in and sat down and nobody knew what to do. When they finished Dinah said, "Why in God's name did you do that?" Clyde said, "It ain't perfect now, is it?" [laughter] That's what they released. I thought, "Fuck, that's crazy. I'm not going to tell them I don't like that song, or I do, or you can't do this or somebody flubbed up. No." The musicians never said a word. I'd get rid of them.
You were a staff producer for CBS. You didn't get points on any of the records you recorded? You just got a salary?
When I signed up I did Highway 61 Revisited, [Simon & Garfunkel's] Sounds of Silence, [Dylan's] Blonde on Blonde and then [Simon & Garfunkel's] Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme, and they [CBS] sent me $3000. I sent it back to them and they sent me $5000. I put that in the bank, quit and they said that would be the end of me. Then they went to see the four artists that I had — Dylan, Simon, Cash and Cohen. They told Johnny Cash, "We have to have somebody else come in because Johnston's leaving. We need another producer." Cash told them to keep their goddamn hands off of me. Leonard said, "I haven't slept for a while. Can I use your couch?" He went over on the couch and when they left he left. Simon walked out of the room. He didn't say anything. When they asked Dylan, he said, "I don't care what you do. Use anybody you want to." He walked over and opened the door and he turned around and Dylan said, "But I don't think I want to record for four or five years." He shut the door. They couldn't do a goddamn thing to me.
How did you end up running the CBS branch in Nashville?
Nashville was supposed to be taken over by somebody else after 20 years, and I told them I wanted Nashville. I went down to Nashville, got Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs and worked on the Bonnie and Clyde [soundtrack]. Johnny Cash came to me when they opened the CBS office. He said, "I've got an idea. I want to go to a prison and record an album. I was five years with Sun Records, and Sam Phillips told me it was a horrible idea." In '60 he signed with CBS, and they told him the same thing for seven years. I picked up the phone and called Folsom and San Quentin [Prisons]. I got through to Folsom first and I got the warden. I said, "[Warden Clinton T.] Duffy, Cash is coming up and doing a concert for you guys." He said, "My God when?" I handed the phone to Johnny and I left. About a week later, Cash called me and he said, "Everything's off." I said, "What's the matter?" He said, "CBS called me and said they'd fire you, close the office, drop me and I'd never get to record again." I thought for a second and I said, "I got a great idea. If I were you, I would go out and buy the biggest goddamn suitcase I could find. About a month later he called me and said, "When are we going?" I said, "About two weeks." [...at Folsom Prison] sold 7 million [records] and they did the same thing to him with San Quentin. Dick Asher said, "We'll drop you and fire you and he won't get to record anymore." I said, "That last one was an accident. I didn't have anything to do with that." I took him to San Quentin, and that sold 9 million [Johnny Cash at San Quentin]. [The song] "A Boy Named Sue" knocked the [Rolling] Stones' "Honky Tonk Woman" out of No. 1. That blew my mind with Cash. I never dreamed he would do that. When he did ...at Folsom Prison, they had a guy that would get up and introduce him. "Ladies and gentlemen..." — there weren't any ladies and gentlemen. There was a bunch of goddamn thugs and killers sitting there. I said, "Bullshit. All you gotta do is walk out there. They're not even finished sitting down yet. Jerk your head around and say, 'Hello, I'm Johnny Cash,'" He did and they went wild.
You pitched a third prison record to Johnny towards the end of his life, right?
Yeah. He got sick and I went to him. He was with Willie [Nelson] and some people. I said, "Johnny, you ready to do the third in the historical prison series albums? We're going to Sing Sing." He said, "Bob, there's nothing in the world I would like to do better, but I can't. I'm too ill." I thought, "There goes a great album, success and money," and then I thought, "That's Johnny Cash." [laughter] I just went over and gave him a hug and left. He died about six months later, and they had his funeral in Nashville. I didn't go because he always told me, "If they put me in a box, I'll break out of it." I didn't want to see him in a box. He told me when he did ...at Folsom Prison, "That's the most amphetamines I ever took in my life." I said, "That's the last you'll take them with me, 'cause I don't want to be around a junkie. It's too degrading for me to see you like that." He quit cold turkey. He never had another thing until I left him four or five years later. Nothing.
What was that story you were telling me the other day about when Johnny asked you to buy him some pills?
I walked in the studio the first time before we ever recorded and he said, "Bob, you want to do me a favor?" I said, "Yeah." He said, "Here's $300. Will you go get me some reds and some blues — little pills? Go down to that guy down there." I said, "Sure Johnny." I took his money. I went over to my briefcase and I got $500 out. I said, "Johnny, here's $500. Will you get me some black beauties while I'm gone to get your pills?" He said, "I'm not a goddamn pill dealer. I don't deal pills." I said, "Neither do I, you son of a bitch. I make records. Get your own pills." He never came to me after that.
What's the story about the Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash sessions that you recorded in 1969? One song made it onto Dylan's Nashville Skyline.
Yeah, "Girl from the North Country" was the one song that Dylan wanted on there. CBS won't release it. They've got 32 songs with Dylan and Cash laughing. The band had left for lunch, Dylan was in the studio and Cash came by. Dylan said, "What are you doing here?" Cash said, "I'm going to record here next." Dylan said, "I just finished." Cash said, "Let's go to dinner. Come on, Bob." I said, "No, I want to stay here." While they were gone I built a bar and had their microphones and guitars out. They got back and looked around and saw their guitars and a bar. They didn't say a word, got their guitars, started playing and singing together and we started requesting songs. About two hours later Dylan said, "We're finished." A couple of years ago I went to see the president and the vice president of CBS and I said, "I want to try one more time to get this Cash/Dylan thing out." They said, "We know about that." I said, "Let me play you one thing." I played one song and the guy said, "See? That's why it's not out." I said, "What do you mean? I don't understand." He said, "Cash sings, 'Give me my .45,' and Dylan sings, 'Won't you give me my .45?'" and I said, "The thing that I'm most grateful about is I can leave you sons of bitches now." I left. One day some guy will come in and go, "Wow, look at this — Cash and Dylan." It will be double platinum like it should have been in '69.
Johnny Cash said, "Bob Johnston is a producer that is an artist's dream. Bob likes to sit back and watch an artist produce himself, and then he puts it together. Bob is smart enough to know when he gets an artist who believes in himself, to let him run with it."*
Anything Dylan, Cohen, Cash or any of those people ever wanted to do — I never said a word. Whatever they wanted to do was fine. All I did was improvise and try to change ideas. I'd come over to 'em, "Do you want A, B or C?" They'd go, "We want B." They were the same thing. I would make a mix and go up to Dylan's place and play it. When I came in, Dylan hugged me, sat down, and for two hours he played the record and told me, "On that song, go to the third verse and the word 'about' and bring the bass up a dB." I thought, "I'm not gonna mess with it. I'll do what he wants." We didn't have automation, so I took pictures of the board with cameras so I knew where to go to every time. I did that with him, with everybody. Whatever they wanted to do. I thought that they knew more than I did. I told everybody, "Don't look to me. Don't look to those people. Don't ever ask anybody. Whatever you need I'll help you with, but I'll bring you ideas that I've got." That's what happened with everything. I never had a cross word with Dylan.
Dylan was infamous for being a quick songwriter. Was this also reflected in the way he worked in the studio?
Dylan was like an eternal spring. He would have 20 songs and be writing and performing. It got to be real quick with him because of the way we did it. He came to Nashville and did Nashville Skyline, which was a huge album. I got all the papers and put them out on the floor in the control room. He said, "What do you think about doing bass, drums and guitar?" I said, "That's great, but there ought to be a steel too." I got Pete Drake, who's about the best steel player, and we started in. About midnight Dylan said, "Let's do another one." I said, "You're finished." He said, "You're kidding!" And I said, "No." We did it in one day, Nashville Skyline. [Records show that there was more than one day involved, but not much more! -ed.]
What was it like to record the drummer, Kenny Buttrey? He played on [Neil Young's] Harvest and on Blonde on Blonde.
He was a wonderful guy, young and he got down. When we did, "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35," Dylan said, "Listen, I got one here," and he played it on the piano and I said, "That sounds like a Salvation Army band." He said, "Can you get one?" I said, "Not at 3:00 in the morning, but I can get a halfway one." So [Charlie] McCoy, the bandleader, called up a guy that played trombone [Wayne Butler]. Charlie played trumpet. I got the big bass drum hanging around Kenny's neck and we marched around the studio. I never heard Dylan belly laugh except in that song. He was belly laughing and they were all marching around the studio. We took it up to New York at a singles meeting and they said, "That's not coming out. Nothing about drugs will ever come out on CBS." I never said anything, I went and mastered it, had it released and got about 50 grand and flew around ten cities and busted the record and came back. I think it came on No. 60 the first week it was on Billboard. They had some kind of a conference, came back and said, "Let's look at Billboard here. What've we got?" One guy said, "You've got 'Rainy Day Women...'" and he said, "What do you mean? That's not coming out on this record label." And he said, "It's number 60 with a bullet." He said, "Who did that?" John Hammond was doing his newspapers and Mercy was laughing. I just never said anything. When I had Paul Simon in the studio and I went and played "Homeward Bound," they said, "That's great, except the drums have to come off — it doesn't need any drums." I said, "You're right." Hammond was used to me arguing with him and he couldn't figure it out. I went back to the studio, made a copy without any drums and played it, and all of his clones applauded and he applauded. I went back, put the drums on the song, it came out like that and they didn't know the difference.
Audience Member: I read that it was your idea to do the cowbell on Dylan's "Lay Lady Lay."
It was. I told Kenny Buttrey to get the cowbell. He said, "Cowbell is ass. What do you want a cowbell for?" I said, "You're gonna hit it against your head. It's a perfect sound." He said, "I'm not hitting that against my head." I said, "Use your stick." He got a stick and put the cowbell on and Bob goes, "I thought that was crazy when you said that, but it all worked out." I'm not a damn genius — I didn't know whether that would work or not. I might have said, "Get that cowbell out of there." That's my whole life, just listening at the spur of the moment. I wanted everything to be better than everything else was with everybody on all they did.
How long did the earlier Dylan records take?
Highway 61 Revisited took about two weeks or a week and a half. Blonde on Blonde took about two weeks. I got Al Kooper, [Rick] Danko and Robbie Robertson down there. They said, "We can't play with those Nashville people." I said, "Well, go back to Canada." They said, "We'll play with them," and they did and they all fell in love with each other.
Did you guys do pre-production in those days?
No. They wouldn't even learn the [songs].
What records were you listening to back then?
I had a secretary. She went out and got 130 records for me every Monday and I went into the studio and listened to them. I took the best of the best and tried to use that in my head for what I did. But every Monday I would listen to the top 130 records — not all the way through, just what were gonna be and what was big.
The Simon & Garfunkel records seem to be a lot more produced.
Endless. Paul Simon was a genius. He had all the money in the world. He had nothing to do but play in the studio, so we hit Coke bottles together for two or three days. He was going through trying to find that Coke sound. That's the way that he did it, and I didn't care because I had the biggest audience in the world. I loved everything that he did. Art [Garfunkel] never did anything except twist his hair. He was a mathematical genius, so he would do his parts by math. I used to tell Paul, "Why don't you do that? You sound better than him." Paul would go, "Oh man, I've been with him since high school."
Did they do their vocals together?
No. Paul did his vocal and then Art did his vocal. Art would take all night. [moaning]
