On the street with Lynyrd Skynyrd and the Atlanta Rhythm Part: a narrative of weapons and homicidal bass gamers


How I ended up behind a automobile being pushed by Lynyrd Skynyrd’s drunken bassist Leon Wilkeson, sat subsequent to 2 speed-crazed bikers, one wielding a gun, eludes me even at this time. 

It was October 1976 and my third encounter with these hell-raising southern rockers. Right here I used to be in some low-rent bar in Harmony, California, looking for solace in Leon’s firm. The truth that the larger-than-life bass participant at all times sported eccentric headgear, wore bikers’ patches and both had his face buried in a mound of narcotics or was suckling a bottle of bourbon, didn’t ring any warning bells. 

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