Touching from a Distance Read online

  ‘When they were playing the Rainbow with the Stranglers we all went down to the Moonlight and Ian collapsed. When you’re in the middle of all that you really can feel that the myth that Wilson wanted was almost there. I just think that there were only two records made and it was all very small-time for it to be the kind of myth that Wilson wanted.’

  Paul Morley

  ‘I saw three attacks and it was always two-thirds of the way through a set. And it came to a point where in the last year, you’d watch the group and suddenly you’d feel Ian may be dancing great and suddenly he’s dancing really great. Hooky and Barney would be looking nervously at the stage and you could see what was going through their minds. So I always presumed that it wasn’t because he wasn’t taking the tablets, but that he wasn’t taking enough. For something was happening within a set, doing what he did, that actually took him to that point, that actually overcame the drugs and made him have the attack.’

  Tony Wilson

  Tony Wilson was fortunate to be able to make that kind of observation. I don’t remember ever seeing Ian have a fit while on stage. It was only after his death that I found out how frequently this happened or that it even happened at all. I still feel that it was only by eliminating my presence that he had the freedom to work himself up into giving such a public display of his illness. It was allowed to become an expected part of Joy Division’s act and the more sick he became, the more the band’s popularity grew.

  Terry Mason saw that Ian was suffering painful embarrassment at what was happening to him. The fit at the Moonlight was particularly violent, but even so the kids in the audience thought it was an integral part of the set. Later Ian sat slumped on the bottom of the staircase that led from the dressing room to the stage. Apparently his embarrassment was compounded when Annik was there.

  ‘That one at the Moonlight … he was crushed and she didn’t want to know … he was gutted that night.’

  Terry Mason

  The rest of the band came home for Easter, but Ian stayed in London with Annik, returning on 7 April, Easter Monday. I had believed the story about staying down there to work on another project outside his Joy Division commitments and was slightly suspicious when he came home with his tail so obviously between his legs. We didn’t argue – I found his helplessness infuriating. He seemed able to surrender control of his life as if it was nothing to do with him at all.

  That evening he came up to bed and announced that he had taken an overdose of Phenobarbitone. I called an ambulance and he was taken to hospital to have his stomach pumped. Again, I didn’t tell my family because I was afraid he would leave me for good. I decided that the best person to tell was Rob Gretton. I didn’t know how ill he had been over Easter and had no idea what prompted his suicide attempt. Whether it was a threat or a cry for help, I didn’t know how to help him. I thought maybe Rob could cancel some gigs and force Ian to stay at home and rest. He had left a suicide note. It said that there was ‘no need to fight now’ and to ‘give his love to Annik’.

  Tony Wilson, his then wife Lindsay Reade and Alan Erasmus came to the house the next morning. Lindsay stayed to look after Natalie. I was too ignorant of the situation to be as distraught as I should have been. Lindsay says she noticed my strength at that time. I feel my detachment and state of shock was mistaken for stoicism, giving me an air of being too practical to comprehend the kind of suffering Ian was feeling. No one realized that, being left out in the cold, I was also very much in the dark. I hadn’t been allowed to gigs, so I hadn’t heard any of the songs written since Unknown Pleasures – neither had I delved into Ian’s lyric sheets nor even been able to listen to a cassette tape. They may have pitied me for what I was going through, but they had no idea how it felt to suffer something and not know what it was.

  Tony asked me if there was anything to drink. I thought it a strange request, but when Lindsay poured a small whisky it was handed to me. I felt too agitated to drink it, nobody seemed to be saying anything and although Tony took command, he seemed uneasy with the role. I watched him read Ian’s suicide note and put it in his pocket – perhaps for Annik, perhaps in order to remove any evidence.

  Eventually Tony and Alan took me to the hospital to see Ian. I sat in the car with them while Tony explained to me that musicians were renowned for having a multitude of simultaneous relationships and it was something I would have to come to terms with. Tony even suggested that I look for someone else myself. I never understood why I was given that little lecture – it hadn’t been me who had just taken an overdose and as I discovered later it was Annik who Ian had been having problems with. I suppose Tony was guessing at events and reasons and trying to equate Ian’s problems with his own life. I thought that if I kept my head down and tried not to pressurize Ian he would come running back to me and our marriage. I hoped that what I thought was a deep friendship could revert to normal. Unwittingly, I was aiding the perpetuation of the myth that our marriage had been long over before the destructive policies of ‘the band’ began to erode and eat away into our relationship. The music business makes a jealous mistress and although Joy Division slipped easily into the role of family and friend, unfortunately for Ian none of the band could be his wife. Ian’s choice of Annik as concubine was disastrous as she was unable or unwilling to give him comfort after he’d had an epileptic fit. Her embarrassed rebuffs hurt him deeply.

  Ian was seen by a psychiatrist during his overnight stay and was judged not to be suicidal. Lindsay drew a picture for Ian as he sat in the visiting room. Beneath it she quoted the words of David Hare: ‘There is no comfort. Our lives dismay us. We have dreams of leaving and it is the same for everyone I know.’

  I’m sure we all have dreams of leaving at some time in our lives, but when we reach the bottom, most of us go running home. Where else is there when we need help? Yet Ian didn’t run to his friends or his family. At this stage, even his parents had no idea of his misery. I don’t possess enough fingers to count the number of hurt people who believe they could have helped if only he had approached them. He must have felt an acute sense of loneliness, a disabling inability to communicate and surrender to treatment. How unhappy does one have to be before living seems worse than dying? It might have been useful if I had known that suicide was five times more common among epilepsy sufferers.

  Tony insisted on speaking to Ian alone. I don’t know what was said, but Ian came home only to collect his clothes. He told me that the doctor had suggested he stay somewhere quiet, where there were no children. Although Ian’s medical records show him as being discharged to go home, he was taken to Tony’s cottage in Charlesworth, near Glossop. I was instructed by someone at Factory not to telephone him as he needed rest. That was easily done – I had not been given a contact number. My husband, my child’s father, had effectively been removed from our lives and we had no way of getting in touch with him.

  Ian told Peter Hook about the overdose: ‘I was fucking pissed, just fucking around.’

  ‘An uncle of Iris’s is a copper and he said that they were passing round Ian’s case history as a perfect example of a schizoid depressive, to teach coppers that this is how a schizophrenic … If it was that much of a classic case, you’d think they could have sussed it out and put you right.’

  Peter Hook

  There was no respite from touring. Ian went straight from his suicide attempt to a gig at Derby Hall, Bury, on 8 April 1980. Rob Gretton insisted that the gig went ahead even without Ian, who stood in the wings unable to sing. He told Lindsay Reade that he had a sensation of looking down on the gig and the band, and that it was all carrying on without him, which it was.

  The band were torn between going on stage and calling the gig off, but a decision had to be made quickly. I doubt whether the outcome would have been any different if they had just packed up and sneaked out of the back door – although it might have alleviated the stress Ian was feeling.

  ‘Rob said there was no point in doing the gig and we ended up with a complete
riot. At the time, doing the gig probably seemed more important than it was. Ian and Rob wanted to do the gig, but I didn’t. I thought that if there was something wrong, doing the gig wasn’t going to sort it out. That was terrible, but I remember thinking at the time that he would probably do it again and that’s why I thought we should sort it out.’

  Steve Morris

  The fury of the audience began to build up as Factory performed in a sort of rota, swapping around band members, and Ian sang only two numbers. Disgruntled fans began throwing things at the elaborate glass ceiling lights. The fragments rained down on the band so they went off stage, leaving the road-crew to try to protect the equipment. After two pint pots hit the stage, Rob Gretton launched himself into the crowd. Five people needed hospital treatment, including Twinny, Joy Division’s roadie, who was smashed over the head with a castellated pot while attempting to rescue Rob Gretton. Ironically, Factory Records had paid Harry Demac to make a four-track recording of the whole sorry pageant. When the shouting was over, Tony Wilson found Ian sitting upstairs in the side bar, crying. Tony consoled him by reminding him of the riot at the Free Trade Hall, Manchester, when Lou Reed had refused to do an encore.

  ‘I said, “I went to a gig where there was a riot, the best gig I’ve ever been to – the Lou Reed gig at the Free Trade Hall.” And he looked up … his eyes … he says, “The fucking riot!” I said, “Exactly, man, it was wild.” There it was – he was a fan of Lou Reed.’

  Tony Wilson

  Sadly, Tony Wilson was still oblivious to the depth and nature of Ian’s depression. The only way to cheer Ian up momentarily was to equate him with one of his heroes. Ian was living in fairyland and in our own way we all helped him to stay there.

  Tony didn’t spend much time at home during that week, but before he left for work he placed pieces of blue paper in a volume of W. B. Yeats, so that Ian could refer to certain poems. It was Lindsay who had the unenviable task of looking after Ian. He ate mechanically and paid little attention to anything until she began to tell him of her interest in hypnotism. He responded to this idea and wanted to try it. He went under very easily, but unfortunately Lindsay had not had any instruction as to what to do once he was in a trance. She asked him how he felt and he replied that he felt confused.

  Ian had already been hypnotized a couple of times by Bernard Sumner, who also found Ian a compliant subject. Bernard had quite long conversations with Ian while he was in this hypnotic state and one of them was recorded on a cassette. Ian had brought it home for me to listen to on a borrowed cassette player. Although the words were mumbled and quiet, Ian insisted that each time he was hypnotized he had regressed to a previous life and for those few minutes, Ian believed he was an old man on his death bed.

  On 11 April 1980, when Joy Division played the reopened Factory Club, it was the first time I had seen Ian since he had gone to live with Tony Wilson. The brawl in Bury had panicked Rob Gretton into arranging back-up protection for the entourage. His friends Korky and Robo, who were bouncers at Chequers Disco in Altrincham, were drafted in to help. (They eventually became the Haçienda’s first bouncers.) To Terry Mason Ian appeared unruffled, if a little apologetic, as it had been Terry and Twinnie who had suffered most at the previous gig.

  The atmosphere was strained, but Ian did make an effort. He sat with me and bought me a few drinks. All the same, nothing was said about what had happened or how long he intended to stay at Tony’s. It was crowded in the bar and I had hoped for a more intimate meeting, but after a short while it was time for him to join the rest of the band.

  When he left, I began to talk to the other girls. No one had rung me to see how I was – I suppose because they were embarrassed. Yet now they began to tell me what had happened in London while Closer was being recorded. It was then I found out that while Ian had allowed me to worry about money and accommodation, two flats had been booked. The majority had been squashed in one flat, while Ian and Annik enjoyed the luxury of space for themselves. I was told he behaved in an obsequious manner towards her and she in turn ordered him about like an obedient little dog. I had a few more drinks and by the end of the set I was beside myself with jealousy, humiliation and anger. To say I was miserable is to put it mildly.

  Ian was already downstairs. I followed him down and tried to attract his attention. I don’t know if he knew what was coming or if he had already decided to ignore me, but I played right into his hands and threw my handbag at him in temper. He blinked and carried on talking. Someone whispered to me that Ian had intended coming home with me that night, but had consequently changed his mind. The frustration was intolerable. I was desperate for any kind of communication. I was still too much in love to think about ending the marriage for myself. Tony was heard to tell Ian to ‘rise above it’.

  I drove away from the club alone – by coincidence, in parallel with Tony’s car, now loaded up with various Certain Ratios and Ian. As we reached a roundabout the two cars parted and we were taken in different directions. Ian stayed with Tony Wilson for almost another week.

  Natalie’s first birthday was on 16 April 1980 and I was saddened that Ian still hadn’t come home. My mum made a cake and we had a small party without him. I could hardly believe that he had forgotten his daughter’s birthday, but still did not confide in my parents. As far as they were concerned, Ian was working.

  Understandably, towards the end of the week Lindsay began to feel depressed herself. Ian’s inanimate state was more than she could bear and she vented her feelings by screaming and shouting at Tony that Ian had not moved all week. Tony didn’t appreciate that Ian needed specialist help and took the view that Ian and Lindsay were both ‘nutters’ who were driving each other round the bend by being together in the house all day.

  When Tony and Lindsay came back from a short trip to Stratford, Ian had left. He returned briefly the following Monday to pick up some clothes that Lindsay had washed for him. She tried to impress upon him that he could stay, but he wouldn’t. He seemed unaware of all the people who were trying to help him. Rather than appreciate Lindsay’s attempt to provide the time and space for him to think, he came home and sulked because they had gone out for a day. He complained: ‘Tony left me with a pile of Hendrix LPs and some dope.’

  Grateful for his return, I was afraid to try to discuss anything and to some extent he appeared more like his old self. We were still stony-broke, but he suggested that during this ‘calm’ period we go for another Chinese meal in Alderley Edge. This time we were able to talk. Ian complained about hangers-on and the difficulties of being on the road. I told him not to worry about me because I had already begun making a new life for myself. I told him I had made new friends and that I would be able to cope while he was away on tour. He wasn’t taken aback, but warned of the danger of letting people get too close. He said there were people who, once they had a hold of you, would not let go. I took this to mean Annik in particular, but talking to the band one gets the distinct impression that Ian was more susceptible to hangers-on than the rest of the lads.

  The video for ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ was recorded on 25 April 1980. Anything to do with Ian’s personal life had been put on hold, yet there was always plenty of time to arrange recordings and gigs for the band. No matter how he felt inside, to the onlooker he had become a music-business puppet.

  The one good thing to come out of Ian’s attempted suicide was that an appointment was made for him to see a psychiatrist at Parkside Hospital. Amazingly, when the day came for Ian’s visit to the psychiatrist, we went together. On the way there he told me how unhappy he was in the music business. He said that when ‘Transmission’ and Unknown Pleasures had been released, he had achieved his ambitions. Now there was nothing else left for him to do. All he ever intended was to have one album and one single pressed. His aspirations had never extended to recording ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ or Closer. As I drove along, he told me how he wanted to leave Joy Division and join a circus. I comforted myself with the knowledge th
at we were on our way to visit the psychiatrist and shrugged off the wider implications of having a husband who wanted to act out the cliché of ‘running away’. He had also told Steve Morris of his desire to leave, but Steve was under the impression that Ian wanted to live in Holland.

  It felt strange going into the gates of Parkside Hospital. It seemed not to have changed in all the years since I had worked there as a schoolgirl – now here I was taking my own husband into the building. When we reached the hospital reception, Ian was embarrassed. He had misread his appointment card and turned up about two weeks early. His next visit would be very different.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  DECIDE FOR ME

  As I had suspected, the suggestion that Joy Division would cut down on gigging for a while didn’t come to much. Throughout April and May 1980, they always seemed to be busy playing or rehearsing when I especially thought they should have been resting for the forthcoming American tour, so when Ian said he was going away for a break I wasn’t surprised. He said he’d chosen to stay in a small pub in Derby and I asked him if I could go with him. He explained gently that he needed time alone and I accepted this.

  He’d only been gone for two days when I began to wonder. It struck me that, yet again, I had no way whatsoever of contacting him, so I rang Rob Gretton to see if he had left a telephone number. Rob seemed annoyed with me. ‘What is it with you two?’ he said. ‘Can’t you talk to each other?’ I was devastated. His exasperation had obviously got the better of him and he sounded so annoyed that I was hurt by the tone of his voice. All I really wanted was for someone to tell me what was happening. I hung up – the secret had festered long enough. Unable to stand the loneliness, I telephoned my parents. By the time Rob tried to ring me back, I had left the house.