It was several years ago that I’d heard of Lynn Klavitter, Jim’s main girlfriend at High School and for the summer afterwards when he was playing with The Iguanas up at Harbor Springs. I’d tried lead after lead to get hold of her, all of which turned out to be dead ends. Finally, I interviewed one charming woman from AA High, a rather kind person whose recollections were general, and consequently likely to end up on the cutting room floor. I’d continued talking long after I needed to – I’m stuck in a scuzzy Days Inn in Ypsilanti, marooned among car parks and cheap fastfood joints – when she mentioned that Lynn, who didn’t attend the high school reunion, was still a friend. A couple of days later, Lynn calls me out of the blue.

 

It was one of those interviews that start all unpromising – “Jim was a nice guy, but I can’t really remember much from that time” – and turn out to be priceless, because they contain one perfect story. This was the story I need to open the chapter on Jim’s childhood. The story reminds me of the movie Unbreakable - an adjective obviously appropriate to Jim Osterberg.

 

More Iggy trivia: he always signed his name all lower case. And he never invited any of his girlfriends back to the trailer.