According to Ballenger, the attorney’s response was, “Just go. They don’t have a better case than you. You don’t have a better case than them. It’s not in their best interest or moneywise for them to chase you.” He began making plans to leave Seattle. According to Music Bank accounting records, the final rent payments were received in late February or early March 1989. On February 6, 1989—a date Ballenger remembers because it was his sister’s birthday—he told Scott Hunt he was shutting down the Music Bank.
“You kept it open way longer than it ever would have been,” Hunt responded.
The decision had been made, but not the date. Ballenger eventually packed his things and got out of there, taking everything to a motel room in West Seattle. Ballenger called a few friends, said his good-byes, and moved to Portland.
The federal government’s case in the Ballard marijuana operation went to court at the beginning of 1991 but never made it to trial. According to the terms of a plea bargain negotiated by his attorney, Gabriel Marian agreed to plead guilty to conspiracy to grow marijuana. He was sentenced to a thirty-three-month prison term and had to pay a $7,500 fine. Court records show that Bengt Von Haartman failed to appear at his initial court arraignment. The prosecutor handling the case subsequently discovered that Von Haartman had left the United States and was residing in a country that would not extradite him.18
Chapter 8
AS A CONDITION OF HIS parole, Randy Hauser was subject to regular urine-analysis testing. Because of this, he wasn’t using any drugs himself, although he admits to having kept some around in case anybody wanted some. “Drugs and alcohol have always been part of my life, but money was the most important part, and so it was nothing for me to have coke around and not use.” At some point in fall 1988, Hauser’s drug test came back positive for cocaine. Hauser’s parole officer tested him again, and it came back negative. About two weeks later, Hauser tested positive again. A second test yielded the same result, and Hauser went to jail. Despite his denials, Hauser spent the next fourteen months in prison and wasn’t released until January 1990.1 By that point, the band was already signed and working on their debut album.
By late 1988 or early 1989, Ken Deans and Kelly Curtis’s business relationship was falling apart. At that point, Deans said he approached Susan with a proposition: “I’m not confident that Kelly has enough interest to see the Alice in Chains project all the way through. I want you to take my half of the partnership of the band, and I’m going to go into concert promoting. If we do this deal, then I want to be the promoter of Alice in Chains in the Northwest for as long as the band exists.”
Susan explained how she got involved with Alice in Chains. “Ken gave me a cassette tape of some of the songs that Alice had done, and they were so catchy and so wonderful. I went to see them live and thought they were great fun and very energetic and entertaining and spent a little time with them, and they were hilarious. In a matter of time, the fellow that they called their manager, who was a hairstylist slash coke dealer, took a second vacation to prison. Ken asked Kelly and I if we both wanted to work on the project together, so we said we’d give that a try.”2
Hauser disputes both Deans’s and Susan’s accounts. According to him, he was sitting in a county jail in Everett, Washington, where Kelly Curtis and Susan came to visit him. Hauser says they offered to take care of Alice in Chains for him while he was in jail, an offer he gladly accepted. Hauser spent the next several months incarcerated while challenging and appealing the parole violation. Nearly twenty-five years later, he still insists he had not used cocaine at the time he tested positive, nor would he have had any reason to do so. Regardless of which account is accurate, it was the beginning of a long professional relationship between Susan and the band that continues to the present day.
Susan Jean Silver was the oldest of Samuel and Jean Silver’s three children. Years later, she wrote that she was inspired by the creative process early in life, doing volunteer work with organizations and theater groups that were involved with music. This eventually led to her involvement with the short-lived but highly influential Metropolis.3
In 1982, a French-born ski instructor, Hugo Piottin, moved to Seattle after working several years as a commercial fisherman in Alaska. When he got there, he “connected right away with a group of young folks dabbling with video production.” They realized they needed a place to create videos, and because Piottin had about fifty thousand dollars in the bank from his fishing work, he wound up financing everything.4