A Non-Story about Mott the Hoople

It was kind of a routine. A group would come into town to play the Fillmore, and their manager, or the record label or somebody would call Rolling Stone to see if they couldn’t interest somebody in a story. And so, last year, somebody called on Mott the Hoople. “Anybody wanna do Mott the Hoople?” Sure, sez I, I’ll do it. J

So it happens that Steven is hanging around. Steven, and his lady Julie, live up the hill. He was a fledgling photographer, and at the time, he’d hang out at Rolling Stone now and again on the off chance he’d get a job photographing something. He also has a car, and they used to drive me to work in the mornings.

The Continental Lodge is one of the San Francisco rock and roll motels. One way you can describe it is to say that it ‘isn’t as scuzzy as a lot of motels. Not as nice, either. A lot of British groups stay there. Mott the Hoople was staying there, and that’s where Steven and I found them.

i Q: Where’d you guys get your name?