The Road Warrior - extracts with many thanks from an article written by Vince Lovegrove (Bon's former band mate in The Valentines).
East Dulwich, London, February 19th 1980: In the early hours of a frosty English morning after drinking hard liquor at a Camden club known as the Music Machine, the asthmatic AC/DC lead singer passes out alone in a friends car. His body is found the next day slumped in the front seat and the news sweeps around the world. Ronald Belford Scott, one of the greatest frontmen of all time is dead at 33. For 26 years, the myths about the singer's death have been regurgitated ad nauseum, but for the record the coroner's report stated "death by misadventure due to liver failure". He drank himself to death. There were no drugs in his bloodstream.
The one time bagpiper who left his Scottish birth town, Kirriemuir, as a six year-old and was then transplanted to Fremantle WA was to live his lyrics. It was a long way to the top, and no one knew this better than he. At the time of his death, Bon had been on the road for more than 13 years - four with teen band The Valentines, three with Fraternity and the last six with AC/DC. Heavy rock was his spiritual home. In his open denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off, his tattoos glistening, and skin tight jeans bulging, he was the classic rock star. Divorced and childless, he knew no other world; though his friends say he had started to suspect there was more to life.
Growing up in the knockabout working class suburb of North Fremantle, Bon has become more famous in death than in life, pulling rank on most of his boy hood rock heroes as his global popularity has gathered pace with each new generation.
Graham "Buzz" Bidstrup - The Angels, GANGgajang, The Party Boys and concert organiser.
I first met Bon in the early 70's when he was a recorder playing hippie singing with a serious progressive band called Fraternity in Adelaide. He was also writing very funny country songs at the time and singing with what would be now known as an alt country collective called The Mount Lofty Rangers. It was his wicked sense of humour and his wonderful way with words that would stamp him as a totally unique song writing talent years later in AC/DC. One of my fun side projects, "The Stetsons" recorded one of Bon's songs from this period called "Up in the hills too long".
When I was living in London in 1976, AC/DC arrived on their first tour of England and a few of us went to the Red Cow in Hammersmith and watched AC/DC blitz a small crowd of serious London music types. At the end of the gig we met up again and spent some time together whenever he was in London. It was Bon that told me that rock had begun to make a reappearance in Australia and was slowly engulfing the disco mania that had taken over the live scene a year earlier.
As fate would have it, I arrived home and was invited to join "The Angels", a band originally from Adelaide who were now based in Sydney. They were being produced by Harry Vanda and George Young and were signed to Alberts music, the same label as AC/DC. One of the first people I ran into at Alberts studio was Bon and I had the privilege to witness many AC/DC recording sessions and spend many happy hours with Bon. As with Rose Tattoo, Bon was the only person to have ever been invited to sing with The Angels in our heyday and this wonderful event took place at Selinas at the Coogee Bay Hotel Sydney.
Ian Mahoney - childhood friend from Fremantle days.
Ron (Scott's real name) and I knew each other from about ten years old, but we became good mates in high school in North Fremantle. He left school at 15 and started an apprenticeship, learning how to make scales. When he was about 16, we talked about going and working on farms, so he pulled his apprenticeship and I remember his boss said to him, "Ron you are going to the bottom. You will never amount to anything". That's always stuck in my mind, especially now that he has become this legend.
Angry Anderson - lead singer of Rose Tattoo.
There was a lot of love and respect between Bon and me. We didn't socialize a lot, but I had the greatest of respect for him. He was the only singer I ever invited to get up and sing with Rose Tattoo. There was also a lot of affection there too. I remember we were talking about lyrics and songs and singers, and he said that what set us apart was that we wrote street poetry. It was modern poetry. And he said that, as lyric writers, it was our duty to make a contribution. He had a huge romantic streak and the night we spoke about poetry we also laughed and giggled like schoolboys about our fantasies about pirates ... as a look and an attitude.
Ross Wilson - lead singer of Daddy Cool and later Mondo Rock.
In 1967, The Valentines were hanging around in St Kilda, where my band would rehearse in an enormous room in one of the rundown mansions in Jackson Street, and my first memory of Bon in person was his impish face grinning in the aftermath of a (speed) methedrine-fuelled roof-jumping incident out the back of that place (see Dave Tice quote). He and I saw each other many times during the next decade or so. The last time I saw Bon was around 13 years later, around the start of 1980. I was walking down Greville Street, Melbourne, and he was coming out of the Station Hotel. He was in mufti, one of his dapper non-denim outfits, and meandered across the street towards me through the hot, dry, Melbourne summer day. "Hi man," I said, but he just smiled softly and blankly at me and continued on his way. Something seemed to be on his mind. When I thought about it later, I reckon it's probable that Bon was back in town checking out earlier haunts where it all began for him, touching base with the friends and places of earlier years, before he left this plane. "See ya, man," I said. Except I didn't. Two months later, I read about his death in London. I wasn't surprised, though no less sad about it.
Dave Tice - singer of Sydney 70's band Buffalo.
In the early 70's Buffalo were doing a series of shows in Melbourne and found ourselves staying at the same motel as AC/DC. After doing a show one night we returned to the motel, The Freeway Gardens, and were settling in to rest at about 3am when we were disturbed by the sounds of some noisy altercation. On investigation we discovered that Bon had come back from his gig with AC/DC with a young nubile in tow. Unfortunately the father of this frail had gone looking for his daughter and found out that she'd left the gig with Bon. Somehow he'd found out where Bon was staying and had arrived at Bon's door with a shot-gun. Bon of course did the only sensible thing and jumped out the window, a risky proposition as his room was on the 4th floor. Luckily for him his room was directly above the swimming pool and he landed safely in the water. I don't know what happened after that but Bon was conspicuous by his absence over the next couple of days, he was no fool.
Michael Chugg - rock promoter.
I was helping out the Valentines in Ballarat around 1967. The band usually attracted a largely female audience but for some reason there were many more males at the gig this night. All the girls were up front perving on Bon and Vince and all the guys were jealous and sneering at the band. Vince and Bon were known to antagonise audiences under these circumstances and this night was no exception. After a while the guys yelled out too many remarks and Bon challenged every bloke there and an almighty fight ensued. We had to fight our way out of the hall, microphone stands in hand, dragging equipment and bundling ourselves into the van. We were chased out of town by about 20 carloads of guys, all wanting to kill us, Bon at the head of the retreat!
Billy Thorpe - lead singer of Billy Thorpe and The Aztecs.
Bon loved tough, loud hard rock and blues and was a huge fan of The Aztecs. Many nights I'd see him head banging in the wings or backstage grinning through the archway on to the stage at the Melbourne disco Berties. Bon's rock voice was different to the pop voice he used in The Valentines and he wanted to sing hard rock more than anything in the world. He drove me nuts about getting up and singing with The Aztecs. We finally let him up one night, and he sounded somewhere between a Banchee scream, fire truck siren and fingernails down a blackboard. But it was unique. He said to me afterwards, in that spitfire Scots way, "Thorpie, that was f...in great. I love you f...in guys. I'm gonna be in a f...in band that rocks like you f...in do one f...in day".
Chrissie Amphlett - lead singer of Divinyls.
When I was struggling for my own identity in music, I saw AC/DC in a Melbourne pub and was inspired by Bon. I know industry people in Australia ostracized them for being a basic riff rock band, but Bon had an extraordinary voice with a generous, funny, likeable personality. He had a working-class spirit and energy and I loved watching him because he used to step back and do this little spin at the back of the stage, and always pointed to other members of the band. He knew how to work with everyone else in the band and contain it all. He was unique and tough, but there was something really nice about him that I could sense. As a performer, he was pure. He would take you out of your comfort zone and that really inspired me. When I saw the band in Sydney after he died, there is no doubt his spirit was there, permeating the entire event.
Mary Renshaw - fashion designer and friend.
I had just turned 18 when I met Bon. It was in 1967 at a club in Melbourne called 10th Avenue, where the Valentines were playing. He was admiring a top I was wearing, or so he said, and wandered over to chat to me about it. I offered to make him something similar, and that was the start of our lifelong friendship. I saw him go through all his fashion phases; first with his poppy cloths in The Valentines, tattoos well hidden; then wild-haired and living in the Adelaide hills; then later bare-chested, proudly showing off his tattoos to the world, not afraid of them any more. He liked fashion and I used to love making things for him and dressing him up. My friend Bon was loyal, gentle, and would tell you how much he loved his mother. He was also exciting, funny and, let's put it bluntly, downright dirty. He was no bore. I still miss his incredible wild cackle.
Arnaud Durieux - his biography on AC/DC is released in November.
Above all comes his voice and lyrics. That alone would have already secured him a place as a rock legend after his death. But unlike anyone who knew him or met him, people reading about him today can only be drawn to his persona, which makes him this mythical figure. In recent years, AC/DC has started to release more of his material. Rock radio in the States still plays as much Bon-era AC/DC material as they play Back in Black. Most people discovering the band today with Back In Black inevitably go back to the earlier albums with Scott singing.
John Darcy - roadie and friend.
I first met Bon in Melbourne when I went for the job as roadie for The Valentines in 1967. I was an ex-boxer with a working-class ethic like Bon. We shared a passion for the underdog. Bon was game for anything. If he had to jump up in the air and do a somersault, he'd do it, except heid do three somersaults. Heid give it a nudge. I remember Bon rode over from Adelaide on his new motorbike one Friday, straight through to Melbourne, just because he wanted to see us and show off the new bike. When he rode back on the Sunday, in just a singlet and jeans and his shoulder bag, he stopped just out of Melbourne, pulled over on the side of the road for a rest and fell asleep. He woke up wet from rain, sun burned and bitten all over by bull ants. He'd always chase up me and Gabby. Never knocked at the front door, always tap, tap, tap at the bedroom window. I'm glad he's getting all the accolades he deserves, but I just wish he was still here.
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