Everything went crazy in June. That was when Mr Tambourine Man hit No 1 in the charts. The album was finished, too, and got released pretty instantly. No more footwork was needed with the record company, and all members of the band had played their own parts. Everyone had also contributed to those of the tracks that were originals, although there was no getting ’round giving the main songwriting credits to Gene. Money started rolling in. Fame and hair grew, the former real fast. David got serious satisfaction the first half of that summer from tuning into the chart shows and hearing himself right after the Stones. The Byrds had to go play all over the place, even in England. When David was in town he got asked to everything, and mostly he and Juno went. Halfway through some reception or industry knees-up David would grow restless, though, and Juno was glad to see that he remained keen to get back to the Troubadour. She, too, needed her fix of the feeling, which was still nowhere as strong as here.

Even more people came back to the house every night, but it had clearly ceased to be the main attraction. That honour now went to David, particularly after the album had also reached No 1. There was a brief blip in July when the follow-up single, another Dylan song, failed to score as expected thanks to Sonny and Cher releasing their version of it the same week and hitting the big time. A third Byrds forty-five, Turn Turn Turn, was recorded and issued real quick, and everybody breathed a sigh of relief to see it go straight to No 1. The reward for the band was a whole week in late August of hanging with LA’s most stellar guests of the moment, none other than the Beatles. They’d requested the Byrds’ attendance at their pad, clearly keen to assimilate their company. This festivity was closely followed by the Byrds Ball at the Hollywood Palladium, not so much a gig as a homecoming party from all the touring for LA’s highest-rolling musical sons.

At the Troub David nevertheless was a tainted hero. He inevitably held court at a large table, but not everybody dug his new strut, hat and clothes. Pretty much every band had a plugged-in guitar now, though. Juno would often find her eyes straying and searching for Jackson, who’d be sitting deep in conversation somewhere or leaning against the bar checking out the sounds. There’d been no sign of the baby but luckily Joni’d had several unfinished paintings with her that day in May, so he was maybe almost Juno’s friend.