
The surf-rock icon sang lead on the Beach Boys classic "Barbara Ann," but his life was never the same after his musical partner Jan Berry was involved in a devastating car accident
Rolling Stone‘s interview series Last Man Standing features long-form conversations between senior writer Andy Greene and musicians who are the last remaining members of iconic bands. In some cases, they are the only classic-era member in the current touring lineup. In others, they are the only ones still alive. In either case, the task of keeping the torch lit has fallen onto their shoulders, whether they wanted that responsibility or not.
Years before the Beach Boys, the Surfaris, Dick Dale & His Del-Tones, and other surf-rock acts of the early 1960s, there was Jan and Dean. The duo of Jan Berry and Dean Torrence formed in 1957 at Emerson Junior High School in Los Angeles, and bonded over their shared love of doo-wop. With help from future industry moguls Lou Adler and Herb Alpert, and support from Dick Clark on American Bandstand, they landed a series of hits on the charts like “Baby Talk” and “Clementine” while still teenagers.
And even after joining forces with the Beach Boys in the 1960s for massive, global hits like “Surf City” that landed them a gig as emcees of the groundbreaking 1964 concert movie T.A.M.I. Show, featuring performances by the Rolling Stones, James Brown, the Supremes, Marvin Gaye, Chuck Berry, and the Beach Boys, they continued with their studies in college. Torrence majored in advertising design at USC, while Berry went to UCLA, and later California College of Medicine.
This was highly unorthodox for a successful pop group since school took up so much of their time, and it greatly limited their touring, but Torrence has no regrets. “It was actually a good thing,” he says today. “We wouldn’t get burned out by the music industry. We were away from the noise. And school was more fun because you didn’t have to be someplace at any particular time except class. So in a way, we could recharge our batteries. We could actually think things out a little bit more clearly when the offers came in to do this, to do that, and take our time with it.” Editor’s picks The 250 Greatest Albums of the 21st Century So Far The 100 Best TV Episodes of All Time The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time 100 Best Movies of the 21st Century
Berry had a genius-level IQ and was indisputably the leader of the group. He also played a crucial role in the creation of Jan and Dean classics like “Dead Man’s Curve.” But in one of the cruelest ironies in rock history, Berry suffered a devastating car crash not far from the actual Dead Man’s Curve in Los Angeles on April 12, 1966. It left him with severe brain damage and partial paralysis that plagued him for the rest of his life.
Torrence would eventually reunite with an impaired Berry after the 1978 TV movie Deadman’s Curve introduced their saga to a new generation. But a dozen years before that, Torrence put his college degree to work by starting the graphic design firm Kittyhawk, and creating iconic album covers for Chicago, the Beach Boys, Steve Martin, the Supremes, Michael Nesmith, and way too many others to mention.
Berry died in 2004 following years of health issues stemming from the car accident. But Torrence continues to gig with his group the Surf City All-Stars, but only sporadically. He spends most of his time at his Southern California house.
He logged onto Zoom with Rolling Stone in his lush California backyard. “It’s always 72 degrees here,” he says with a smile, “no matter what time of year it is. And I planted all of these trees myself.”
Torrence may be 86, but he’s still got a full head of blonde hair, and a stunning ability to recall events that took place nearly 70 years ago. He chatted with us for over two hours to go over the glory days of Jan and Dean, the hysterical story of how he wound up singing lead on “Barbara Ann” with the Beach Boys, the difficult aftermath of Berry’s accident, and his hopes that Jan and Dean will one day be recognized by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
What’s the first music you heard as a kid that really spoke to you?My parents’ music. We only had one radio in the house. I was listening to a lot of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra, which I appreciated. I was never really motivated to think that I should do something like that, because I really wasn’t interested until doo-wop. And then once I heard doo-wop, heard background vocals and all of that, I became immediately interested. Related Content See Mike Love and Al Jardine Play ‘Pet Sounds’ Deep Cuts on Their Separate Tours Peter, Paul and Mary's Noel Stookey Had a Front Row Seat to the Sixties. He Remembers All of It America's Dewey Bunnell Is Thinking of Retirement But Still Riding That 'Horse With No Name' Righteous Brother Bill Medley on His Improbable Comeback and the Last Words Elvis Told Him
When did you start surfing?Probably 15 or 16 when I first got a car, because then I could have a surfboard. So I actually bought a truck, and that way I could take my board to the beach. I was more interested in the beach culture on a whole. Surfing, I sort of enjoyed, but California water is cold. We didn’t have wetsuits like we would nowadays. I probably spent more time bodysurfing if I happened to be in the water. I had a paddleboard, and those were really big boards since you could paddle out, and then lay on it and get some sun.
What’s your first memory of ever seeing Jan Berry?Jan was quite a character. I had heard of him. He was one of the most interesting characters in school. One day I was sitting in a class. I have ADD, which I didn’t know about at the time, so it was hard to pay any attention to a teacher for very long, and I would sit there and probably look out the window more than I would be listening to a teacher lecturing.
I just happened to be looking out a window this one day and I see some guy. I knew he was a high school kid. He was walking on the other side of the fence, which wasn’t allowed, towards Fosters Freeze ice cream, which was like Dairy Queen for us. He was blonde. He had a gray jacket on, so I knew that meant he was a Baron, and the Barons were a group that was very popular with the girls: “I think that’s Jan Berry.” And about that time I see his hand comes up, and he’s smoking a cigar.
I’m going, “How does a person do that?” And then a few beats later, once he was out of sight, I thought that would be a nice character to meet someday.
When did you meet him?I’d say maybe a couple of months later. Football season started and I was on the football team. I knew Jan was on the team the year before, but he was on the team for a couple of weeks and then he just disappeared. So new season, I go to my locker that I was assigned. I open it up and somebody comes next to me, opens up a locker and I thought, “Oh, man, this is that guy Jan Berry.” I said hello and he said hello back, and then within minutes he’s offering me candy. He said, “Oh, you want some Milk Duds?”
I didn’t really eat much before football practice and I’m certainly not going to eat some sweets, so I said, “Maybe after practice.” And then the next day, practice again, he offers me Red Hots. I said, “No, thank you.” And he said, “Are you sure?” Then he sticks his hand out with the Red Hots in it, saying, “Well, here,” like, “I eat ’em and you need to eat ’em.” I hit his hand and they spilled all over the floor, and then he goes about picking them up and putting them back in the little package. I went, “This is a very interesting guy. I think I’m liking being around him.”
Within a couple of weeks, in the shower room, somebody spontaneously was singing a doo-wop song. I suppose it was all really just in the moment that somebody else chimed in another part and then somebody else found another part to sing, and pretty soon we found ourselves just, a cappella, singing.
Prior to that, did you see yourself as a singer?No. In the shower room, I noticed that nobody picked up the falsetto part. Now, I didn’t even know the word falsetto, but I realized, “Hey, man, I can sing,” because I’d sing along in the car. That’s where we got our music. I filled in the high part, and everybody went, “Oh, good, man, we got all the vocal parts.” Then we’d double them. Some other people wanted to sing along, and they just picked up whatever vocal part they wanted to double or triple. It was like a choir at one point.
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