The Founding of the Beach Boys (Part 3 of 4)
The decisions and behavior of a young Brian Wilson.
Using the currently available evidence, the first and second installments of this essay on the Beach Boys’ origins made the case that Murry Wilson (1) was not involved during any of the critical stages of the group’s founding; (2) was likely unaware that his friends and business contacts at Guild Music were engaged in (informal) negotiations with the group of singers that included his three sons; and (3) only became aware after finding the group in the midst of some kind of rehearsal session in the Wilson home during the fall of 1961 (perhaps early fall, on or about Labor Day).
Based on that foundation, Part 2 presented a specific reading of the implications: namely, that the Beach Boys essentially usurped, or appropriated, Murry’s business relationship with Guild Music without his permission. And further, that with respect to one Beach Boy in particular—Brian Wilson—this constituted an implicit act of disobedience, if not outright defiance.
The essay continues below with commentary on the significance of these events to the overall story of Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys. It begins with a look at the particular form through which Brian’s “disobedience” expressed itself.
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When things reach the point where Murry Wilson is conspicuously underinformed about his sons’ dealings with his very own song publishers, the issue turns away from Brian’s overt activity and toward his inaction, whereby he “acts” by not acting. Where the significance of Brian’s behavior is not in what he does, but what he doesn’t do. (Such as tell his father what’s going on.)
And with this, we arrive at the issue of Brian Wilson’s passivity. Not “passive-aggressiveness” in this case, insofar as that term carries an element of malice or intent to injure. Nor is it passivity of the sort that expresses itself through laziness. It is rather a passivity that simply entails doing nothing—refraining from acting—under certain circumstances. Or, how Brian might engage in a combination of both action (active behavior, doing something) and passive action (reacting to a set of circumstances by not acting at all) that results in an outcome to his benefit, or detriment, or perhaps both at the same time, as the case may be.
With respect to the formation of the Beach Boys, Brian’s behavior can be seen as active at certain points and passive at others. He took action in learning to sing, teaching himself the principles of vocal harmony, playing piano, going to school where he met Al Jardine, and maintaining social relationships. When Al invited him up to the Guild studio for the “Rio Grande” session, Brian took action in getting himself there, made the further effort to sing with Al, and then took the critical step of, basically, conceptualizing the vocal sound of the Beach Boys by actively pulling Carl and Mike into the mix. And so on. It might be said that as of the time the boys were writing and practicing “Surfin’,” Brian was already taking action to become leader and producer for what would become the Beach Boys.
But with respect to one challenging hurdle—securing a personal contact enabling his entry into the record business—Brian appears to have remained passive. He didn’t do much of anything to secure that connection. But this was not, as so often assumed, because his father knowingly assumed that task on his behalf. That would have been the case in most other scenarios in which an aspiring performer is lucky enough to have a family connection. But here, the family circumstances were not typical.
This wasn’t a normal, adequately functioning family with a minimally healthy father-son relationship. The relationship had instead been founded on violence, cruelty, fear, lies, master-slave psychology and lack of trust. With a foundation like that, a young man in Brian’s position would not be well-situated to benefit from his father’s useful business connection (at least not as well as might otherwise be assumed), especially when the youth wants to succeed in the very same profession as the father—to, in the broad sense, become the father’s competitor.
Yet Brian did want to get into the music business. As early as high school, he consciously intended to make a career in music; he himself anticipated that music would be his “life’s work.” Still, upon graduation in 1960, it wasn’t an urgent matter. That is, it was unlikely Brian was spending his days and nights feverishly plotting ways to get into the record business and become a producer or recording star.
While it’s true Brian had already auditioned as a performer at age 15 or 16, he had done so only at the behest of his father. At that time, back in 1958, Hite Morgan had notified Murry that local promoter Art Laboe was looking for teenage singers, and Murry had brought Brian to the Guild studio to record a demo or otherwise audition. That little episode is best understood as Murry’s stab at promoting Brian as a pop singer under Murry’s oversight. The audition was not Brian’s idea, and he had no control, and probably very little say in the matter. And the audition didn’t go well. According to Timothy White (who interviewed Brian and Dennis Wilson on multiple occasions), Brian “was flustered and depressed” afterwards, “telling Dennis he had to be more wary of their dad’s urgent schemes.”
Brian’s caution would have been justified. If nothing else, that anecdote suggests Brian was wary of his dad’s interference in his musical life. Or, at a minimum, it suggests Brian wasn’t so obtuse as to assume Murry’s involvement would always redound to his benefit.
In spite of all his personal problems and shortcomings, one thing can be said about Brian Wilson the person: he has never been stupid. (If he was, his life would have been much easier.) If it is true that Brian never asked his dad outright for a little boost into the business, that was the smart move, because only one of two outcomes could result: (1) Murry refuses (with the risk of triggering an explosion), or (2) Murry agrees, but on the implicit condition that he retain control over Brian’s fledgling career (i.e., writing the songs Brian will sing, and generally controlling his every move, as with the 1958 audition), while inevitably treating Brian the same way he had since early childhood. Neither outcome would have been appealing to Brian. It would have been better (and smarter) for him not to share his aspirations with his father-abuser, and instead play it closer to the vest. It was safer.
I have a lot of heroes and villains in my life—a lot of villains, unfortunately. A villain walks in and destroys something. Unfortunately, the same people who are heroes are villains to me. And it’s hard for me, it’s very difficult.
—Brian Wilson, 1992
At 18 or 19 years of age, it was easier for Brian to hang back, hang out with friends, coach youth baseball, and go to El Camino college (where he took some classes in music). And even if Brian was consciously thinking about breaking into the record business in these early post-high school months, it would have been easy—and sensible—not to petition his father for any help, and instead try to maintain a status quo in which Murry remained at arm’s length. To do nothing on that front. And in that respect, to remain passive. To wait.
But what was Brian waiting for? The hand of Providence? If music was going to be his life’s work, at some point he would have to become active and figure out a way to break into the Hollywood record business. Wouldn’t he?
No. As it turned out, Brian never needed to pound the pavement, knock on doors, scuffle, or ask his father to introduce him to the Morgans or anybody else in the business. Because Providence did soon intervene through the figure of Al Jardine. Back in the summer of 1960 Al had knocked on the door of the Wilson home and—for reasons having nothing to do with Brian at the time—secured the connection Brian would later use to make the jump into the business. All that needed to happen was for Al and Brian to meet up at some point, which they did during the summer of 1961. It was simple: Al knew some people who needed help on a demo. It just so happened that it was the folks at Guild Music. Small world. Things evolved very fast, and the legendary group was in formation by the end of summer.
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Murry’s rage upon discovering the band practicing in the music room could have been the result of a combination of factors, including the mess, any squandered cash, and Murry’s default setting as an ornery, aggressive authoritarian who never needed a legitimate reason for an outburst. But together with all that was the realization that he had been (or was then in the process of being) sandbagged. At some point in the fall of 1961 (still probably around Labor Day weekend), he unexpectedly discovered that his authority and control over the lives of his sons—Brian in particular—was weaker than he had assumed.
By the time Murry found out about all this, the momentum was in Brian’s favor. Brian and the boys were becoming a band, and it was too late for Murry to do his thing and make sure Brian stayed in his place. The prospect of commercial success—here defined as getting an actual single recorded and released—was genuine, as the Morgans were waiting on the completion of the new surfing song. With an opportunity like that in the offing, Brian and Mike were going to write the song one way or another. And it was going to find its way to the Morgans. The wheels were in motion, and it was too late for Murry to stop them. The physically violent methods of restraint Murry had used when Brian was younger (e.g., fists, wooden boards, tying to trees) wouldn’t work on a 19-year-old who stood 6’ 3” tall.
Murry had no choice but to fasten himself to the group as the parasite he was, while masquerading as a supportive stage-father. Because Murry was a father whose horrific treatment of his boys remained a secret unknown to the public (and in a sense to the family members themselves), it was easy for him to assume the guise of papa bear, beaming with pride. During the early years of the Beach Boys he would try in various ways to secure total control over the band; to take possession and have his way with it. He would not succeed—at least not entirely, in the short term. Instead, the group would enjoy an improbably sustained run of creative and commercial achievement during the first half of the 1960s. Murry, as dad, would take credit for their success, while trying to undermine it in various ways (playing head games with Brian, obstructing recording sessions, pitting the members of the band against one another, etc.).
Even after his abuse became better known, all it meant was that Murry would be demoted to the status of “complicated man” or “generous bully.” His wanton abuse of the brothers in the home would be reframed as “driving them to success.” The truth was—and remains—far uglier, for it concerns a very unhappy family in which three decent and talented boys had been compelled to adapt to impossible and inhumane circumstances.
Keep reading in “The Founding of the Beach Boys” (Part 4 of 4)
For selected references, see list at the conclusion of Part 4 of this essay.
