Jill Sharpe: MUSIC

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It probably seems odd for me to post something like this, and it is, but in this particular case, somehow, I got a little too close. You know, we very rarely realize just how close we could be to death, and I am certainly one of those naive persons who believes in the goodness of most people (I guess that’s why I’ve been hurt by so many people, so many times in my lifetime). The way it all came about in this situation was certainly an odd twist of fate. She was Jami Vitteli, a girl I didn’t know, but could have very easily.

When living in downtown Huntington Beach, how could we ever dream of death and murder? It’s a beach town, full of surfers and surfettes by 6am every day, on almost every street. I moved to HB from Pasadena, tired of dealing with the hideous LA smog. I decided to move to the beach where a friend of mine had moved several years earlier. I came for the surf, the music and the boys! I thought I’d hang out for a while and find out what was up, somewhere other than where I was from (outskirts of LA - but every part of LA is like a different country). I was thrilled when I arrived. It was not just everything my friend said, but more….Much Much More!

It didn’t take long for me to find the best music joint in town, with THE best guitarist I had ever heard……..Walter Trout. My boyfriend had taken me to see Walter when I was only 18. He said “You’ve got to see this guy” “there’s no one like him anywhere!” My move came almost 10 years later. It was a little surf/biker joint called “Perq’s”. The owner Gary was a friendly drinkin’ man who was very inviting to all the young girls in town. I only lived 2 blocks away and learned very quickly that all “locals” had to ride bikes to “fit in”, (Huffy or Harley it didn’t really matter as long as you rode. So Thursday, Friday, Saturday and most Sunday’s I was off to watch and listen to the wondrous Walter.

The little tiny club on Main Street in the City almost called “Surf City” was always packed with fun loving guys and girls, drinking and having a good time. The music was loud, you could still smoke in bars and it smelled like a combination of sweat, leather and liquor (to this day my favorite, the sweat and leather part) and most people where there to have a really great time. I can’t tell you how many boys I met in that club. My friends found boyfriends and so did I. We all did. We where cute and fun and talented like a Mutha (we know this already lol!) People where just having fun and making friends and flirting, etc, etc. It was great!

I think it must have been the first or second time I had seen Walter play, when I heard the song that made me afraid and sad at the same time. It was “Life in the Jungle” about a young girl who had been killed…murdered in HB. Walter told me it was a true story. I was stunned. It was violent and scary. The tune was scary too, not just the words. It hit me like a ton of bricks falling on my head! God, this song cut me to the bone just like “Strange Fruit” by Billie Holiday…I had fallen for Strange Fruit before I had ever even heard the words, but again the words stung, they stung me with tears as they came streaming down my cheeks. Both songs effected me the same way.

Next, I asked Walter if I could record the song. With his gentle kind words he asked me why I wanted to record the song and I told him. “I feel it”. I can’t explain it any other way than, “I just feel it, it my core”. He was gracious, so gracious and granted me permission. I recorded the song and gave it everything I had. (Listen to my rendition and you can see exactly what I mean). I hope I did it justice. That was my goal and to make everyone who heard it feel the same way I did the first time I had.

Next was another little twist of fate. And here’s where it starts to get weird. Walter and I ran in to each other downtown one day while riding our bicycles. We rode around and around and as we passed this one building Walter pointed and said, “That’s Life in the Jungle”. A little fearful, I said “what”? And he repeated the same thing again “That’s Life in the Jungle”. I felt cold and stiff and I said “Walter, that’s where I live”. We both stared at each other for a brief moment and just kept on riding.

I had heard the story of the young girl who had been killed in the song. And the song really does tell the story, but it goes much further. I began to talk to people, to locals and they were all too eager to tell me the story of Jami Vitteli and how and where she was killed. It turns out that she was murdered in the apartment right next to mine. The man who lived there now was mentally ill. I didn’t even know what that meant, though it wasn’t too much longer that I was to experience that one in several ways.

When Jami had been killed, the police found a great deal of blood. She had her throat cut and you can imagine the results. What they did to preserve all of this evidence was to spray a substance over the blood splattered walls (it was described to me as “Agent Orange” and just paneled over. Again, to preserve everything. I found that absolutely gruesome but necessary, if they were to ever find her killer.

Then it all went away for awhile. I sang Walter’s song for many years until I found myself getting a little lazy and not doing it justice. I stopped playing it until I felt it again, then I would start doing it. Well…………..

I went to see Walter several weeks ago at the Blue Café. It was a wonderful show and I have video to prove it. Laurie Morvan opened for Walter and it was great! I talked to Sammy before they played, it was really joy to see him! I was there with Dick Deluxe and his wife Beth. I even stuck around to see Walter after the show. Once Walter realized it was me he had big hugs for me (which always makes me feel so good) and he asked me, as we sat on the side of the stage…….”Did you hear? They arrested the guy.” I asked “what guy” and he said Jami’s killer “Life in the Jungle” Jami Vitelli. This was another one of those times that I felt ice run through my veins. I felt tears come and I asked how it happened. We could only talk for a minute and I was so stunned, I kind of slinked away hoping no one would notice my face.

That night I cried all the way home. What was it? What was it about this girl and her death that has hit me so hard, for so long? I cried hard. I bawled! And bawled and bawled. I came home and cried more. I wrote a few lines about how I felt and am sure my pillow was wet for some hours after that. I set the paper aside (on the refridgerator in fact) for several weeks, not quite ready to do anything with it. I just couldn’t yet.

So, I was at my best friends house yesterday, in HB. She pulled out a newspaper and told me to read it. And read it I did, outloud, to Shari Puorto Sean Myers, Gail and Scott. I was stunned. She said over and over “that could have been us”. Again, I cried. I want everyone to see who JAMI VITELLI was and how her life was taken so quickly, so violently. Just because she trusted a guy.

Oh Wait, it gets worse. I knew him. Yes, I really did. He used to come to my gigs, in Long Beach. I saw that man many, many times. And the article………..was released on my birthday. Good Lord.

I guess some things are meant to happen the way they happen………and some just aren’t!

I didn’t even know you Jami but it has never stopped me from caring about you and wanting to remember you, the best way I could. I’ll write something for you too Jami. I hope God has brought you to a special place in heaven for all the children who are hurt much too early, much too young. Good Night Jami Vitelli, Good Night.

Just Listen - You'll get the picture.