Bob Dylan, Muhammad Ali and Me!

In September 1978, I walked up the steps onto Bob Dylan’s private jet (which I affectionately called ‘Bob Force One’); I thought, how did I get here? I was a 20-year-old Londoner and now Bob Dylan’s official photographer. 1978 was quite a year for me; it was the first time I had visited the USA. So, we left Los Angeles and flew across the US to the East Coast, to Augusta in Maine. It was an eventful flight, and I will write about that on another occasion. After all, this was the first time I had the opportunity to sit down and chat with Bob. Once we arrived in Augusta, we had one day of rehearsals, and then the next day, it was our first gig on the tour.

Before my tour with Bob Dylan, I had been jogging in Santa Monica, California. I say jogging, I was actually speed-walking to the nearest Deli for brunch. As I turned the corner on Lincoln Boulevard and walked down Ocean Boulevard, I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone was behind me.  I saw a large athletic figure with a hoodie approaching me quickly. Then, as he got closer, I saw his face. I thought, oh wow, that’s