By early June 1973, “Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown” had sold more than half a million copies, and “You Don’t Mess Around with Jim” had gone gold. Although Jim’s concert price had risen to $10,000 per night, and he was playing constantly to packed houses, Jim was told that the money he was earning was still being used to pay back his expenses. So Jim and I lived with the promise that royalties would soon be coming in and hoped we didn’t have to wait too long.
One June night, Jim called me. “I want us to move to California.” “Really?” I asked, surprised. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking Ing. San Diego is a great town. And it would be easier on all of us to live on the West Coast. And Just think, Ing…no winter.” “Sounds perfect to me”.
Once we decided to move to California, I came to San Diego with Adrian James to join Jim and find a home. We stayed at a hotel on Mission Bay. And Jim was having difficulty wrapping his head around the responsibility of yet another child on the way. He had only been home occasionally during Adrian’s first couple of years and he felt guilty, angry and exhausted from the road.
Even more so, Jim felt like a failure. We had no money to show for all his hard work. And, though he hated to admit it, he was standing at a crossroad.
“I’m under a lot of pressure Ingrid, I’ve got two days to write a song for the new album and another one for a movie soundtrack”.
While Jim sat at the desk with his cassette player, taping a song, I started to unpack Jim’s suitcase and a small wrapped gift, fell out onto the floor. Jim pushed pause on the tape recorder and turned around to look at me holding the tiny box. “What’s this I said.” “Um, it’s an “S”. he stammered…A surprise Ing. Open it.”
I opened it and my heart was heavy. Jim had always been in tune with my taste and this was a gold-link necklace, that I knew wasn’t mine. Then I spotted a similarly wrapped gift on the other side of the suitcase and I asked, “and what’s this?” “It’s another “S” for you.” This necklace was earthy, made of ceramic disks and I knew this one was mine. “This one looks more like me” …I said offhandedly. And put it on. Jim said, “I don’t need your sarcasm, a simple thank you will do.” I walked into the bathroom and started to cry. I ran a bath and got in. I was six months pregnant, and felt fat and ugly. Through the door I heard Jim working on the new song… ”Lovers Cross”.