With the death of Ozzy Osbourne last Tuesday, at the age of 76, a tidal wave of public memorials have whizzed through the pop culture gate, and many of those have featured chronicles of the many strange incidents that dotted the map of the life of one of rock music’s true iconoclasts. Many were also left wondering just how Osbourne made it to a ripe old age, given all of the extracurricular activities he engaged in, some of which would make the combined antics of Keith Richards and Iggy Pop look like child’s play.
Osbourne left a great legacy, and had he only recorded those first four Black Sabbath records, alone, we’d still be lamenting a lost great. However, there’s also the eccentric, carnivalesque side of Osbourne’s life, largely colored by drug and/or alcohol-fueled behavior. Osbourne battled substance abuse and addictions for much of his adult life, and part and parcel to all of that are many strange tales, such as the infamous bat-biting episode or the time, while he was on tour with Motley Crue, and attempted to snort up a line of fire ants, thinking they were cocaine.
As a Texan and a student of Texas history, the one tale of the Ozzman that immediately comes to mind when I think of him outside of my love of Black Sabbath is the Alamo story.
I’m sure most of you probably know or have heard some variation of this tale. Time tends to compress memory, and with that, the truth of many incidents develop fictional aspects. The general jist is, in most folks’ minds, is that Osbourne, in a drunken stupor urinated all over the Alamo while he was in San Antonio.
Well, there are a couple of elements true about that: Osbourne was quite polluted on that particular evening, and, yes, he was in San Antonio. However, he did not relieve himself on the Alamo itself.
Here’s how the real story goes: The date was February 19, 1982. Osbourne was on tour, and in San Antonio. While on quite a booze-fueled evening, he was looking for a place to relieve himself, while wearing one of his wife, Sharon’s, dresses, no less. Apparently the missus had hidden his clothing to keep him from venturing from the hotel, but like another late, great hellraiser, George Jones, being deprived of the means to venture out – be it car keys or clothes – was no deterrent to Osbourne.
Osbourne found himself at Alamo Plaza, and wound up emptying his bladder on the 60-foot Cenotaph, which was erected in 1939, right in front of the Alamo.
The memorial stone of gray Georgia marble, which sits upon a slab of pink Texas granite, is a testament to those brave Texians who died at the Alamo in 1836.
The monument incorporates figures that depict James Bowie, James B. Bonham, Davy Crockett and others, as well as a feminine form symbolizing the mighty state of Texas. It also lists all of the men who died at the Alamo.
Osbourne was obviously too blotto to know where he was, or what he was doing, and wound up arrested for public intoxication. A $40 bond posting later, and Osbourne was free to perform later at the Hemisfair Arena Convention Center with his Blizzard of Ozz band, which included the ill-fated guitar god Randy Rhoads, who was the sonic architect of many of the classic songs on the first two Osbourne solo records.
Despite the fact that the show did go on after the Ozzman sobered up in the hoosegow, officials were not pleased with the incident. Reportedly, one said “I’d rather chew my arm off than do THAT,” in reference to the Cenotaph being mistaken for a urinal.
Consequently, Osbourne was banned from performing in city-owned facilities for 10 years. In 1992, he issued a public apology and donated $10,000 to the Daughters of the Republic of Texas, the group that maintains the Alamo complex grounds. Osbourne then played two nights at the Freeman Coliseum, where the mighty Alice in Chains served as his opening act.
The fact that the late, great Ozzman did not actually relieve himself ON the Alamo is irrelevant insofar as urban legend goes, and in the annals of rock n’ roll lore, the story looms large.
When Osbourne filmed a segment for his travel show in 2015 in San Antonio, he visited the Alamo and said “I’m honored San Antonio has welcomed me back. I hope this shows I’ve grown up.”
After Osbourne’s passing, the social media page maintained for the Alamo published a tribute post that spoke to a redemption arc involving the musician and the incident:
“However, redemption and reconciliation eventually became part of his history as well. In 1992, Ozzy personally apologized to then-Mayor Nelson Wolff and expressed genuine remorse for his actions. Decades later, in 2015, he revisited the Alamo grounds to learn and appreciate the site's profound history, openly demonstrating humility and understanding.
At the Alamo, we honor history in all its complexities. Today, we acknowledge Ozzy Osbourne's journey from regret to reconciliation at the historic site, and we extend our condolences to his family, friends, and fans around the world. May he rest in peace.”
Now, had Osbourne actually peed on the Alamo, it might have been a different story, but consider this: if you happen to be in a place with which you are unfamiliar and you’ve partied a bit too hard, please, be careful, whether you are a legendary rock n’ roll wildman or some basic tourist type who gets excited over the opening strains of “You Can Call Me Al” and dollar margaritas at Applebee’s.
