by Mary Pastorius
The following was written for and excerpted from the upcoming Holiday Park Records 2-CD release “Portrait of Jaco… The Early Years” companion booklet and was written by Mary, Jaco’s first born, back in 1994.
It’s difficult for me to write this. I’ve been procrastinating, despite how much I know I need to do this. You see, the words I am gearing up to write, speak of the most painful events in my life. My initial reaction, when I was approached to write a bit about my father, was enthusiastic. I felt strong and eager to have my reality, my truths, circulating out there alongside the misconceptions and miscellaneous bullshit that have been in existence long before my dad actually died. There are things that need to be said, and I’m not hearing anyone saying them. There are things that I’ve wanted to scream, but I haven’t; so, I felt obligated, and happily so, to write this piece. I hear a lot of “Jaco” stories. Pastorius isn’t a common name, so when my surname is made available, cashing a check or using my library card, there is a chance that I’m going to hear a “Jaco” story. These can be very positive encounters, where the people I meet are caring and sensitive to the fact that the man they are speaking of is dead and the person they are talking to is his daughter. I relish these people. They seem genuinely moved by my father’s music and only want to speak to me for a minute or simply look at me, trying to find the resemblance. I understand this. My father left an indelible mark on this world, and he profoundly affected many people. I would be saddened if nobody recognized my last name, because I am overwhelmingly proud of my father and his contributions to music. Maybe I am biased, but the most beautiful songs I have ever heard, my father wrote. No one can offer me more infectiously beautiful melodies than those singing through Las Olas, Village of the Angels, Portrait of Tracy to name a few. I am amazed by the music, more so now than ever, because growing up with it, it was normal. I thought everyone played like that. (Rude awakening right?) So, I understand completely when people meet me and freak out, because they, too, are still amazed. They just want a chance to express their appreciation, or the impact he had on their lives, and it’s nice to hear those things.
I can’t say I share the same uplifting experiences with all of the “fans” who approach me. I’ve had people tell me the ugliest stories, attempting to prove that they were buddies or they were really close because they spent a couple of days together in NYC. What shocks me is the casual manner in which these stories are told – and retold. The nonchalance. People will actually tell me their “crazy Jaco” stories with a smile on their face, assuming that I am happy to meet someone that “knew” my father. I can’t ingest another one of these stories. They’re not funny to me. They are enormously painful. People just don’t know what was really going on with my dad. We didn’t even know.
Jaco Pastorius was a human being. I am stating the obvious, but sometimes the obvious needs to be re-stated. My father is referred to in the most non-human manner. Object-like. He has become an icon, this Jaco “thing”. Yes, he was a phenomenon, but not a thing. Not a machine. Not a god. The stories surrounding his increasingly erratic behavior, during his later years, have become folklore, almost mythical. But, the reality is that my father was only a man, and at times a very sick man who needed help. No myth in that. Not exciting nor romantic, but the truth nonetheless.
I can recall noticing changes in my dad in the early 80’s, subtle though they were. It is also hard to gauge, because I wasn’t with him on a daily basis due to my parent’s recent divorce. It wasn’t until the fall of ’82 that I spent a concentrated period of time with him. It was during the big band tour in Japan when I knew something was very wrong. Actually, it was evident before we even reached the airport when he picked me up in a white, Silver Cloud Rolls Royce, wearing full Miccosoukee Indian garb from (shaved) head to toe. That entire trip was like being at a theme park in the Twilight Zone. I was barely 12 at the time, so I surely didn’t know what had caused such an incredibly drastic change in his personality. All I knew was that daddy wasn’t daddy anymore. He kind of looked like him, but this guy was weird, irresponsible, untogether, and had a strange look in his eye. My dad was the antithesis of these qualities, so this sudden transformation was especially perplexing. I have yet to witness anything even remotely as strange as his antics during that tour.
My father got away with a lot of outrageous behavior, because he was Jaco. A “regular” person would never have been allowed to be that out of control and still receive the liberties he received. This seemed to work in his favor, but in hindsight, I believe this worked against him. It prevented him from getting help he desperately needed.
I think a lot of people wrote my dad off, throwing him into the “self-destructive genius/jazz musician who can’t handle fame or his own creativity, so he turns to alcohol, drugs, and eventually drives himself insane, etc., etc.” category. These elements definitely factor into the equation, but they don’t solve it. I don’t subscribe to the theory of the doomed jazz musician. That was not daddy, despite how overtly and superficially he seems to fit the description.
The truth is that my father was mentally ill. He was suffering from a severe chemical imbalance, manic depressive illness. He didn’t do anything to catch it or cause it, although he definitely aggravated it with many things. His warped perceptions of reality and all of the bizarre behaviors that went along with them can be attributed to manic episodes that sometimes reached psychotic heights. Some people can’t or don’t want to believe this. Some people have put him on a pedestal and can’t accept him being “flawed”. Some people, on the other hand, think my father was a fuckup who couldn’t get his shit together, thus birthing the manic-depressive “excuse” to tidy up some messy memories.
Well, I promise you, this illness is legit. It is severe, and I know this first hand. You see, in addition to inheriting my dad’s long arms, huge lips, and flair for fashion, I also inherited his chemical imbalance. Since he can’t give his own account, I would like to expose you to manic-depression through my own personal experiences. I want to write this, especially for the people who are out there suffering through it alone, because I’ve been there, and I know how validating it was for me to identify with someone else who has gone through it and lived to tell.
The first time, it struck out of the blue, without warning. All I knew was that I wasn’t me anymore. I was completely detached from myself. Disconnected. Nothing seemed real, except for the very real presence of something new and foreign within my being that didn’t belong. I’d heard the term “manic-depression” tossed around a couple of times when my dad was alive, but I didn’t know what it meant. It was never discussed. He certainly never mentioned it, so no connection was made.
Unlike my father, my initiation into the world of mood disorders was clinical depression – not mania. There are no words nor language to accurately convey the madness, loss, and empty terror that is clinical depression. I think of it as a place. It’s the place you are left to wander, aimlessly, after everything you are has been stripped from you, and your soul has been seized by invisible marauders. I vividly remember when I realized that this must have been the place where daddy lived. This only intensified my ever-present, ever-growing terror.
I had no clue as to why this torture had befallen me. I wasn’t functioning at all. Work and school weren’t even in the realm of possibility. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I would wander about the house crying, sobbing until the day came when I couldn’t even cry anymore. I sat, paralyzed, as everything else in the world kept right on going without me. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I was terrified 24-7, consumed with a fear of unknown origin. I was afraid to leave the house. I was afraid that someone would look into my eyes, see the insanity, and lock me away (remember Frances?). I had no feelings. I was a zombie. I was nothing. I could faintly remember that I used to be someone that existed. I had the pictures, the clothing, and the notebooks to prove it – but she was gone. She left in a hurry and forgot her stuff.
The illness seems to feed on itself, taking on a life of its own (or rather, usurping the host’s) the longer you are in it. After two solid months in hell, my psychotic breaks were the norm. I could no longer distinguish between dreaming and reality. After that, I decided that I must be dead. How else could I have kept existing in a completely lifeless state? Ironically, I think these twisted thoughts helped keep me alive, because if I were already dead, I couldn’t kill myself. I was consumed with death. Something was trying to kill me from the inside and I couldn’t fathom ever being alive again.
Fortunately, after some traumatic experiences with some inept doctors, my mom called the doctor that treated my dad in Bellevue, and he referred me to a doctor in Miami. It was November, 1988, when I was admitted to the Neuroscience Center at St. Francis Hospital, where I was officially diagnosed – bipolar affective disorder. I wasn’t magically cured, but at least now I knew what was wrong with me – and that there was a treatment.
I was given lithium and anti-depressants. These little pills saved my life. But, even with medicine and a newfound knowledge on my side, it still took a long time to recover. It’s hard to shake that sick feeling. I have been taking lithium ever since. I would love to stop taking the meds and see how I function without them, but I can’t take the risk of getting sick again without a safety net. I know what this illness is capable of. I know what it did to me. I saw what it did to my father.
I’ve had two more episodes since the original, despite what a good girl I am. I take my lithium every day, I don’t drink, smoke, do drugs – I don’t even drink coffee! And I still get sick. Granted, not nearly as bad, but it still happens; and, even though I’d already been through it, the second time and again the third, it still kicked my ass. Each time I thought I’d never get better. It’s the nature of the illness and intellect can be futile.
I’m trying to convey the strength of this disease. Once it’s back out, it’s in control, and it’s a battle to take that control back. You can fight the symptoms, but I personally believe that all you can really do is wait for the episode to run its course, and try to keep yourself alive in the meantime. But, during that meantime, medicine is definitely the first line of defense.
I can’t express the gravity of manic depressive illness enough. But, as serious as it is, I must stress that it is not necessarily a permanent condition. Episodes are cycled in and out of, according to individual chemistry. There are people that respond so well to lithium their episodes cease entirely. Others need a combination of therapies. There is no one formula. There are many successful treatments available. So, whether you’re sky high or in the depths of hell, you can even out.
There is no doubt in my mind that my father would have gotten better. It would have taken a long time for him to recover after the chemical warfare that wreaked havoc on his brain for so many years, but he didn’t even get that chance. He should have had a lifetime to heal and learn. Yes, my father kept making mistakes – everyone does. Unfortunately, if you are living in the throes of manic-depressive illness, your mistakes are going to be on a much grander scale and with far greater consequences.
However, manic-depression did not kill my father. This, too, I cannot stress enough. My father was murdered by a man who beat the life out of him, using his bare hands. There is absolutely no justification for the savage beating my father received, and yet his killer served only four months in jail. We live in a society that condemns the mentally ill and condones violence towards them. It’s disgusting. I can’t help but to wonder how many sick people, my people, are murdered in the streets and nobody ever hears about them because they aren’t famous.
I’m sure my father was perceived as just a bum by his killer. It probably never crossed his mind that he might be killing a brilliant man. A father. A brother. A son. There are so many of us that lost so much, and this man has never expressed any remorse, apologies, or attempted to help my family in any way. Two of my three brothers will never get to know their own father. My grandparents had to watch their firstborn son be put into the ground after a mere 35 years of life. Someday, I’ll get married, but, I won’t walk down the aisle proudly on the arm of my father. Someday, I’ll have kids, and they’ll never know their grandpa.
But, despite the loss, the pain, and the tragedy, I still have my beautiful memories of daddy – full of life and laughter. Climbing trees, stealing mangos, frisbee on the beach, my first plane trip, cookies on the way to Central Park, listening to Stevie Wonder, weekend softball games, swimming and ping-pong at Grandma’s, postcards from all over the world, hiding from the tickle monster, listening to him play the piano, listening to him play the drums, listening to him play anything, all the food backstage at Weather Report concerts, watching Star Trek, cutting my fingernails, cleaning my ears, Burger King Friday, teaching me how to sing into a mic, bringing home a doggy, buying pina colada, a solo performance to my 4th grade class for career day, holding him tight when he picked me up from school on the motorcycle, kissing me good night.
These are some of my memories and no one can take them away from me. These are what I’ll give to my kids, so they WILL know him, through me – and the music.
I love you daddy.
This article has been featured in the NAMI (The National Alliance for the Mentally ill) national magazine (Summer 2001).
So, so, so beautiful. Thank you.
Thank you for sharing such a beautiful story….a daughter’s love for her daddy is so very special.
Mary,your father was a great man who touched and influenced so many of us. We are out here and we thank you for sharing your courageous article. You share your father’s qualities.
Mary, thank you for this touching story. Your father was a brilliant musician, but most importantly, a good father. Through your memories that you will share with your children, they will be proud of the grandfather they never knew.
mary, full of grace
So true…..
A great way to remember your father and my hat of to you for making others aware of mental illnesses. God bless you!
Thanks for writing this. Very touching! All the best to you…
This is so well written…Thank you for sharing your heart. 🙂
Thank you so much Mary, so beautifully written from the heart. Glad you’re coping with your own issues, reading this reminded me of issues I have and what I need to do to address them. Thank you for sharing with us fans who love and adore your father for his music the gift he left the world to continue to enjoy day in day out.. God bless you Mary, and your family so happy you and your family are doing your own thing with music and will continue to follow..
What a great write up Mary!! Love having more insight from a different perspective.
Wonderful Mary. I just finished reading his biography. You have expressed my thoughts the whole time I was reading and listening to all the music. I couldn’t fathom why of all those famous people no one could really help him or there weren’t more to try. Yes a very special human being as you are also. Peace dr Harv simon
Very nice article, and very touching.I knew Jaco and I was very Happy when I ask him to let me record him playing and he told me ok , but he joke and also tell me that I have to give some money. Thanks a lot Mary for this article. A big hug for you.
your father was a genious
God Bless Pastorius…
Mary, I want to thank you for your courage and empathy. You are so correct about how we view and treat people with mental illnesses in this country. Your story is very moving, and very heartfelt. You are hitting all the right notes on this. I truly wish you the best fortune, and the best life. People like you are too rare. Thank you so much for telling the truth.
Studied music in. Boston my dads. Cuz dave bargeron played with. Word of mouth band. Jaco will. Be. Missed. Best. Player. Ever. I. Live. In. Delray near deerfield bch
Iam moved by what you had to say and wish I could talk to you in person I met your father a couple of times when I was young he blew into St Augustine Florida in about 86 and my dad had a music store and he’s was playing in a bar called The White Lion downtown and I would ride my bike and stare at him through the window but even at my age I knew he needed help and to this day i think back to it feel if I was only older maybe I could of helped I hope you understand that
God bless you. Your father’s music has touched and inspired me. And your article opened me up.
WOW. I’m sat in tears. Thanks for such a lovely personal tale about someone who was after all a frail mortal. That’s all we ALL are. All of us could be just THAT close to the problems your Dad had. I know I have been nearly there myself but luckily had a friend..
And thanks for your Dad.. 🙂
I am really touched by your posts and the intimate nature of your memory. I also knew your Dad in the early years as I was lead singer of the Las Olas Brass and became a life long friend of his, as with other Life changes, he remained in Music and I went into Medicine. I did see him during the period you reference where his lifestyle was becoming drug induced and extreme. It concerned me but he was not receptive to any advice. I bless you and your family as you live your lives and cherish his memory and also remain mindful of the genetic inheritance of mental disorders. My Best to you…
I am crying after that….
Wow, I have now read this several times, and I am touched deeply by your words. Your father was a genius, and his music lives on, not only in the recordings left behind, but in his legacy in you. Thank you for such a candid, honest, and moving piece. I wish you health, happiness, and love.
Very touching and brave, thank you.
Very touching and brave, thank you.
thank you for sharing your intimate, tragic, beautiful and hopeful story, mary. we love jaco through his music which lives on forever.
My God, Mary. That is beautiful. You were so lucky to have these great memories and begin to understand your Dad’s illness in adulthood. Thank you so much for sharing the true story of Jaco who we all loved but misunderstood. He’ll be waiting for you, there, in heaven.
I can’t wait to see the new movie
So beautiful …. A truly remarkable life and legacy. Mary you have much to be proud of, live your life, have those babies, continue the cycle of life in your dads honor… Preserve those loving memories
You can rest assured Jaco was a great human being, including being a father to you, seems you are a wonderful person with great perspective,he did a great job. I can only remember my feelings of anger & rage when I heard of his death through a beating by a bouncer, can’t fathom how the whole episode played out to your entire family. You have fond memories of “daddy” that will always be with you,as a lot of us have stories & feelings about your father that touched us in our hearts. He was a great human being! Your story also bought a tear to my eye. LOVE !!!!
Thank you for sharing your memories and your heart.
Thank you for sharing your memories and your heart.
Thank you for your memories. God bless you on your journey. Your father was an incredible person and his music made magic in my heart.
Thank you Mary for sharing. Until now-I thought I was the only one with a parent that also suffered this disease, died in a similar violent way. Huggs to you- Emm
There is apparently no end to talent in the Pastorius family. That’s some excellent writing, ma’am. My best wishes, and I sincerely hope that you have been able to tell your children all about your father.
From a mediocre bass player and lawyer who listened to your father’s recordings since first learning about him in 1983. I am always elated to introduce his recordings to the unnitiated. There is divine inspiration in his sound that still causes tingling in my spine. God bless.
Absolutely stunning and beautiful..huge fan of your father..passing of a loved one is a horrible thing..thank so much for sharing..did my heart good..peace and love to you Mary
Your father and his music has made a great impact on me as a person and musician. I never attempted to fully learn all his songs note-for-note on the bass because I am not a genius as he was, but the vibe he gave off everytime he played, the hauntingly beautiful melodies & the indestructible groove are more than enough inspiration. Thank you for sharing this piece on your father. I sincerely hope you and your family find peace & healing.
I never knew your father personally but that he was a brilliant man is of no question. And that he would feel YOU are his greatest creation is also of no question. Thank you for sharing, Mary.
I never knew your father personally but that he was a brilliant man is of no question. And that he would feel YOU are his greatest creation is also of no question. Thank you for sharing, Mary.
Hey Mary, I want to tell you, my father is bi-polar. These changes you experienced at 12 years old, “the look in his eye, irratic behavior, etc…) I went through that and saw it too. I even experienced a violent and uncertain childhood myself, because of it… But I know it was out of his control. Every couple of years, I have to put him in a state institution for a few months, for him to level out. I know that one day, I will be telling your story, that you had to see and live with your father. Our society opresses the mentally ill. Even these cats that claimed they knew your Father were clueless and opressing him. The mentally ill are the most discriminated group of people in this country! I was indeed a big fan of your father, and as a performing and published artist, (harmonica player), myself, your Father was the biggest musical inspiration ever to me. I always felt his life in his music! from the beginning of his career to the manic end! I’m so so sorry for your loss and I feel your pain. I really do… I’m just waiting, doing whatever my Dad will allow! I don’t even know where he is half of the time. If you read this, I would really like to talk to you. You can message me privately and I will give you my phone number… Ironically, it was my “crazy” Father that turned me on to your Father. But I embrased his presence through his music, differently than most… “87” was a defining year for me… It was the year I started playing the harmonica, the year I bought my first harmonica. I went from beginner/starter to intantly very good on the instrument… Literally over night! It was the year That Jaco’s energy went somewhere else when he passed and it was the year Butterfield’s energy went somewhere else, when he died… You may not believe this kind of stuff, but there were a couple people who died and entered my soul… their energy came into me – Your Father and Paul Butterfield. I’m kind of a ressurrection of their music!
This story never gets old. I do my best not to judge someone no matter how fucked up they may be acting at any particular moment. We’ve all been up and we’ve all been down. Like many musicians before and after, Jaco show all of us music from a different perspective. His view. The best part of this story is that he was a loving father. Wherever you may be, thank you Mary for sharing your father with us. You rock for opening up and letting us view a defining piece of your journey. Stay well.
thank you for sharing your important story and reminding us of the whole person your father was
I hope, Mary, that in the 14 years since you wrote this article, life has been rich and full for you.
Perfectly said. I hope you are doing well Mary.
Beautiful.
THANK YOU MARY FOR SHARING THIS WONDERFUL MEMORIES, AND THE ACCURATE POINT OF GETTING THE TREATMENT ON TIME BY RECOGNIZING THIS INVISIBLE ILLNESS. yOU, YOUR FAMILY, AND YOUR DAD ARE IN OUR THOUGHTS. aRTURO AND LAX VAZQUEZ. VIVA JACO, VIVA MARY, VIVA FELIX. LOVE YOU.
Well written Mary,
This past weekend i watched the DVD on the life of your father Jaco & loved it! remember the 3 times i saw him in concert & will forever stick in my mind what a great musican he was & will always be. Very insightful documentry & encourage everyone to see it.
couldn’t hold tears, we feel you Mary
What a great story about your father and you. I only knew him in his music and a Joni Michell concert, that I think of often. Joni, Bobbie Hall and your dad. What a special night that was!!
God bless you.
Peace, Lawrence Charles Hartman…;-)
Thank you dearest. Both testomonies are priceless. I feel closer to your family this way, altough I am very little in the world, it helps to feel connected. All my love to you, and the happiest 2016 possible. From France, an admirer of your daddy’s art.
So very well written and told straight from the heart. Your father will always be an inspiration to myself and every bass player whether they are a novice or professional. For so long bass players were regarded as just one of the guys in the band. Your father changed all that and had people take notice which I consider a huge accomplishment.I will always be a Jaco fan and always will remain so. Thank you for writing this.
this made me cry. So very sorry for what you have been through personally. I am in shock now that I know the true meaning of manic depression.
It was beautiful to read your story, we have so much to learn about mental illnesses. Your dad’s music always makes me happy, his tragic end always makes me sad like I lost a person of my family
Wow, very poignant and honest. I grew up listening to your dad and didn’t realize until recently how important he was in my development as a musician and writer. I went through something similar but I survived. I can’t listen to the bass the same way after studying your dads music. No one plays like him. He had an impact on the music world that will last an eternity.
What a wonderful story, make´s my heart week , thank you
Bello !!
Beautiful Mary , thanks!
Muchas gracias por tu testimonio… tu padre es maravilloso , el vive en su musica , veo sus actuaciones y me llena de felicidad … gracias jacob y gracias a ti .
Thank you for you’re beatifull testimony
So well said
Brought tears to my eyes. I’ve spent the last couple days learning more about Jaco. I’ve enjoyed listening to his music and have been enlightened by all that I have learned but nothing touched my soul as much as your story did. Although he was taken from you much too soon, his love is yours to keep.
WOW
Jaco was one of the big heros off my teenage years and he still is!!
Beautiful! Thank you!
I never knew who your father was, until last night. Flipping thru Netflix, I landed on “Jaco, the Movie”, produced by Robert Trujillo of Metallica. I had to watch. It was a beautifully told story by musicians who had performed with him. My heart goes out to you and your siblings. Losing your father at such a young age must be devastating. I have a child who suffers from mental illness, so I understand what you go thru. Thank you for sharing your story. I am now a fan of your dad’s. God bless you.
You are a courageous woman. “Nothing seemed real, except for the very real presence of something new and foreign within my being that didn’t belong” is very perceptive. That is how it has been for me off and on. Without warning I find myself between normalcy and a place that I instantly recognize, that is seductively familiar, and horribly frightening.
I went to high school with your daddy. Although we barely exchanged words I do remember admiring him. Ir at least what I thought of him, popular, friendly to anyone and sometimes distant like he had something on his mind. I lost my dad at 10. That pain ripped me apart. Even as I wright that tears come 54 year laters. I’m so hurt for you and the loss of your daddy. God bless you. Art Fowler, class of 69.
Mary…. I been needing to hear your words for a long time. I did not know they existed for some time. None the less more important today as when they were written.
So beautiful and truthful. Thank you for clarifying what I already believed to be the true Jaco❤️
Deep peace, Mary.
Hermoso, honesto y conmovedor. Gracias por compartir!
Bravo, Mary…I have read of the insanity that Mental Illness brought upon Patty Duke and one other actress whose career was nearly lost because she didn’t understand the disconnect with the person she knew. It seems to me that mental illness is getting more attention because of those of who suffer and live the greater part of their lives in the public eye. I think that losing my mother to cancer when I was 15 helps me understand the loss that you live with after losing a parent, even if the illness is not the same.
I don’t know what you do for fun and profit, but if anyone is uniquely qualified to write a biography about your dad, his early years, life, song and battles, it should be you. Be proud of your dad and his musical influence on the world, and carry your last name with peace, so that you can look forward to creating your legacy. At the undeserved expense of his life, your dad gave you a head start on your own.
I’m sorry for your pain, Mary. I just watched a documentary on your father
. there were many pictures of you with him. I could tell he loved you very much.
beautiful Mary – truth and heart. the thing that makes your dad so special to me is not just his incredible musical genious but his humanity and, sadly, the tragedy of his end. We all wish it had been different for him which would have made it different for you. I am glad you have found a way to cope with that terrible illness – stay strong.
I stumbled across your Dad’s documentry on Netflix, I had never heard of him before but asked around to the few people I know who make music and they considered your Dad their personal hero. I am so darn sorry for the heartache you embrace. What a beatiful testament you’ve written. I hope many blessings come your way.
I stumbled across your Dad’s documentry on Netflix, I had never heard of him before but asked around to the few people I know who make music and they considered your Dad their personal hero. I am so darn sorry for the heartache you embrace. What a beatiful testament you’ve written. I hope many blessings come your way.