
Smoking is a major no-no in the Buskirk-Chumley Theater, a revered old showplace just a few watering holes away from the sprawling campus of Indiana University. John Mellencamp, however, doesn’t really care about the old joint’s clean-air policy. Not when he’s rehearsing for a live national telecast and feedback is ruining an otherwise rocking version of “Small Town.”
Light ‘em up and let ‘er rip: The 53-year-old Mellencamp puffs where he wants, and says whatever he darn well pleases. Really, who’s got the guts to tell this guy otherwise? He didn’t earn the self-administered nickname “Little Bastard,” which is also the producer credit he takes on his albums, by hiding his bad habits and holding his tongue. Just about everyone — band mates, loved ones, U.S. presidents (oh, and he’ll lay into those presidents soon enough) — is due for a tongue-lashing if the bard of the heartland has a bone to pick.



