Don Henley
by Carrie Fisher
Interview, April 1986 

Don and I are neighbors. Next door neighbors, mind you. We’re separated by a couple of hills, Beverly Hills, that is—Swimming pools, movie stars, all that Jed Clampett stuff. Don has done so many “serious interviews” I thought that I’d like to try something different. To set the tone, Don arrived wearing scuba gear and a simple monk’s robe. Although he had difficulty negotiating the stairs, he looked quite dashing. I was wearing what I always wear on a Saturday afternoon, the slave-girl outfit from “Return of the Jedi” and some new insect repellent I was experimenting with. We had popcorn and Morning Thunder tea and launched right into the interview.

Carrie Fisher: I guess dreams really do come true in Hollywood.

Don Henley: Darn right. When I think of my humble beginnings—Mom slaving over a hot stove, pies cooling on the sill, my faithful dog Snooks and I roaming through the corn fields—I look around now at all that I’ve acquired…I’m feeling a little nauseous.

CF:  Let me loosen your clothes.

DH:  You know, Carrie—may I call you Carrie, or would you prefer Princess?

CF:  Call me Linda, as in Blair.

DH:  You know, Linda, we should get serious now.

CF:  Let’s talk about women.

DH:  That’s the reason all us guys got into this business to begin with—to get money and girls, and not necessarily in that order.

CF:  And have you gotten enough money and girls yet?

DH:  I can’t answer that question right now. My clothes are too tight.

CF:  What do you think of music now?

DH:  I think it’s beige—very beige.

CF:  I see what you mean. Are you working on anything at the moment?

DH:  It’s a charity concept album.

CF:  What are you calling it?

DH:  Well, it answers to “Steve” right now. But I’m vacillating between “The Phantasmagoric Journey of the Crystal Stink Bug” and “We Are the World Without End.”

CF:  What’s your concept?

DH:  Well, I was hitchhiking across America in an effort to get in touch with myself and the people.

CF:  Which people?

DH:  The red-blooded, hardworking American people. My big, overextended family. The people who watch Family Feud…and understand it.

CF:  And you had a dream?

DH: I had an awesome dream.

CF:  Can you tell us about it?

DH:  I woke in the middle of the night in a small adobe motel somewhere in western New Mexico. As the rain beat down and the thunder rolled, the lightning threw shadows across the walls of my tiny room. At first, I didn’t really know whether I was asleep or awake. Then, I noticed my pajamas, the ones with the read fire engines on them. And then I remembered my dream. It came to me like a flash of lightening that ignited the nighttime sky over the penthouse suite there at the Carlyle Hotel in—

CF:  Wait a minute. I thought you said you were in a motel in New Mexico.

DH:  Whatever. It was America and I was dreaming…A family of Satanists lose the family farm, stow away on a freighter and end up in Sun City where they run into Jerry Falwell, who was just hanging out with some friends. They all join up and form a band managed by some congressmen’s wives and go on a world crusade to raise money from stupid people to give to smart people…or was it the other way around?  Anyway, all the money ends up with the congressmen’s wives who make everything illegal except what they like and open a deprogramming center for children with original thoughts. Then, Nancy Reagan makes an exercise tape for people with broken artificial hearts. Finally, Ronald Reagan quotes some of my lyrics in a speech on TV and I awaken in a cold sweat.

CF:  Wow. That is an awesome dream, almost an impossible dream. Have you ever heard the theory that you are everyone in your dream?

DH:  No.

CF:  What about that most dreams are sexual?

DH:  Phantasmagoric.

CF:  Yes, “Journey of the Crystal Stink Bug.”

DH:  Yes, I have high hopes for this album. I believe that it could save the entire human race…or at least the affluent, educated parts.