We got rid of our three-bedroom apartment in Tarrytown, New York, and bought a town house in nearby Irvington, where I built a recording studio in the attic and had a couple of trained Dobermans roaming the yard for protection against unwelcome guests. We moved out after a year because some fans and the press found out I was living there. Cameras would sometimes flash when I walked out the front door. One day I went right back inside and told Jeanette, “We’re getting the fuck out of this place.” Next stop was a big spread in Connecticut, in the middle of the woods. I had just finished recording my first solo album and the Connecticut countryside seemed like just what the doctor ordered: a welcome escape from fans and photographers. We decided to purchase a five-acre estate in Wilton. Things were escalating on all fronts, and it seemed like a good decision at the time. Eddie Kramer’s wife, Julie, actually helped us find the secluded place and we made the move in no time. While living there, Jeanette and I were happily married and a genuinely fun couple to be around—except when we were fighting!
