Larry Getlen of the New York Post has written a feature article about guitarist Lita Ford’s new memoir, Living Like a Runaway. Excerpts from the article appear below.

No one lived larger than sexy heavy-metal guitarist and singer Lita Ford.

When Ford recorded her 1984 album, Dancin’ on the Edge, in New York, Jon Bon Jovi and guitarist Richie Sambora were ­recording nearby, and would ­often hang out.

After a night out at the club Traxx — with Ford’s best friend Toni and keyboardist Aldo Nova also in tow — Ford brought the crew back to her room at the Broadway Plaza Hotel.

Ford and Bon Jovi were making out in one bed and Sambora and Toni on another, as Nova “watched, sipping his red wine, as we tried to fit him in, too.”

All the wine got to Bon Jovi, who “began puking in the corner, right on the bedroom carpet.”

At that point, Toni felt generous. “Toni hopped off Richie,” Ford writes, “as if to say, ‘Here, Lita. Try mine.’ So I got in bed with Richie.”

The room then turned into a scene from “Caligula.”

“Holy s–t,” Ford writes in her new memoir, Living Like a Runaway (Dey Street). “Richie Sambora is the king of swing, I must say. Jon recovered from puking and Aldo finally made his way into the action, and it turned into girl-on-guy fun at the Broadway Plaza Hotel.”

Lita Ford was a rarity then, and now — a female solo artist in hard rock, a style of music that enthralled her early on…Ford, who began playing guitar at ten and writes that she mastered Led Zeppelin’s licks by age thirteen.

…Throughout the book, Ford details a series of mentors and lovers — often the same person — that reads like a who’s who of rock royalty.

She got crabs from Dee Dee Ramone and freaked out Who bassist John Entwistle when, after removing her pants, she had black and blue marks along her legs. While “John was looking at me like I was into sadomaso­chism or something,” the bruises had come from horseback riding, and ultimately gave Entwistle no pause about spending the night.

Her friends with benefits ­included Deep Purple’s Ritchie Blackmore and Judas Priest guitarist Glenn Tipton, both of whom she describes as perfect gentlemen, and Edward — not Eddie — Van Halen, as she says he actually disliked his commonly used nickname.

Ford shares the time in 1980 that she and Van Halen were drinking vodka and trying on each other’s clothes in her living room. Ford had a T-shirt that read, in part, “Beat me. Bite me. Whip me. F–k me,” among other such sentiments. They were fooling around on the floor when she felt someone kicking her ankle, and found Mark, a large man she had recently broken up with, staring down at them. He had “climbed up the balconies and came through the sliding-glass door.”

Van Halen, drunk, freaked out. He “backed his way toward the bathroom and said, ‘Well, if you’re going to kill me, just bury me with my guitar.’ Then he slammed shut the bathroom door and locked it.”

Ford got Mark to leave, but when she checked the bathroom, Van Halen was gone, despite the only exit being one “tiny, tiny window” over the shower.

He had, in fact, “managed to squeeze his body through that window, scraping up his entire stomach, [and] dropped down four stories.”

At the height of his fame, he had to borrow a dime from a kid on the street — while wearing Ford’s T-shirt — to call 911.

Years later, Ford…got to open for Black Sabbath, and spent time after with her idol, [guitarist] Tony Iommi. “He seemed so charming, confident and handsome,” she writes. “I would later find out that looks are deceiving.”

They “fooled around a bit” that night, but “that’s as far as he was able to get because he was so high,” she writes, having noted the copious amounts of cocaine present.

“He was impotent from his constant drug use, and he was very embarrassed. I felt bad for him and didn’t really know what to do. Eventually, I got him off.”

They stayed in touch, the relationship progressed and she was thrilled when Iommi invited her to England to meet his “mum.”

The couple were on the plane, and as soon as it started moving, Iommi, “out of nowhere . . . hauled off and punched me in the eye.”

She was now stranded on a 10-hour flight with a man who had just mysteriously transitioned from lover to abuser, and spent the entire 10 hours in the flight attendants’ station. She planned to fly right back to LA when they landed, but Iommi acted like nothing had happened, and she decided to stay, she writes, “like a moron.”

Iommi’s mother saw her black eye, and Ford learned that abuse ran in the family, as the guitarist’s father used to do the same.

She and Iommi were eventually engaged, and he would go on to physically abuse her four or five times during their relationship. The worst came shortly after he gave her the ring.

“After snorting tons of blow, he got angry and choked me unconscious,” she writes. “When I woke up, I saw him holding a chair above my head. It was a big, heavy leather chair with studs around the arms, and he was about to smash it over my face. I rolled over, and luckily I moved fast enough that he missed me and the chair smashed into the ground.”

She ran outside and thought of the safest place she could go. Eliminating her parents’ house, since her fathered would have “murdered” Iommi, she drove to the home of ex-boyfriend Nikki Sixx from ­Mötley Crüe.

Sixx told her, “I’ll be right back. I have something that will help make you feel better.” He drove, Ford writes, to the home of Ratt guitarist Robbin Crosby, and returned with heroin. While not her drug, Sixx told her it would take the pain away. She snorted some and fell asleep.

She broke with Iommi — who, in a final indignity, recruited her band to work with him instead behind her back — but he wouldn’t be the worst she would face.

About 50 pages before the book’s end, Ford includes an Author’s Note, stating that, “out of respect for my children, I have chosen not to write in detail about their father, my husband of almost 18 years.”

Ford was married to Jim Gillette — she refers to him in the book by his last name only — who previously sang for an impossibly screechy ’80s metal band called ­Nitro.

She strongly implies that many of the changes in her life — from a move to Turks & Caicos, which she hated, to her getting four tattoos that paid tribute to her husband, to the release of a 2009 comeback ­album, Wicked Wonderland, that was quickly regarded as her worst — were happening under coercion.

At one point, Ford flew to LA to meet with TLC about a possible ­reality show for the family. She claims in the book that upon her return, both her husband and her two young sons refused to speak to her. That was six years ago, and her sons have not spoken to her since. She’s now divorced.

…Lita Ford will appear Monday, Feb. 22, at Word Bookstore at St. Vitus Bar in Brooklyn, and Tuesday, Feb. 23, at Barnes & Noble in Tribeca, both at 7 p.m.

Read more at the New York Post.


[Dana’s note: Thank you to Michael, for passing this along.]


17 Responses

  1. I find this stuff with her kids kinda interesting Craig. You know there’s way more to that story than what’s out there. Hopefully one day it’ll work out for all of them. But me thinks she isn’t as innocent as she proclaims.

  2. I’m no prude, but this is terrible that she is not only saying who she’s screwed, but she is giving detailed info on Iommi not getting it up….and then goes on to say “but I eventually got him off”??? I don’t know if she’s boasting as if this validates her place in metal, or if she really believes this is no big dea to write about, but I will say that when your kids don’t speak to you, something is up. Her sex life certainly is more interesting though than her actual career…I’ve seen her many, many times live at festivals where she is part of the lineup and she is usually horrible…flat and it just doesn’t do it for me…BUT, I will read the book…hahaha…

    1. I have no problem with her being a heavy metal whore (pig); many of her male counterparts are also. But I do have an issue with telling lies or at the very least exaggerating the truth for self-aggrandizement. Her career and marriage in the toilet, she has to do this to get attention to try to sell books. At this point, Lita couldn’t sell out the men’s room at a BLACK SABBATH concert. I have one question for her; PROVE IT B–CH!

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