Preston: I got assigned to shoot Sly Stone during one of his his many comebacks. He's living in a small apartment on top of his manager's garage in Mandeville Canyon. I wanted to do a "magic hour" shot of him as the sun was going down. So I get to his house and I'm waiting. Sly was notorious for never being on time for anything—interviews, concerts, it didn't matter. An hour goes by, two hours, two and a half. I'm figuring it's not going to happen when one of his guys comes to me and says, "Sly's on the phone, he wants to talk to you." I take the phone and Sly starts talking, but I can tell he's right on the other side of the door I'm standing a foot away from. I can hear him through the phone in one ear and through the door in the other. He says, "Hey man, it's Sly. I'll be ready in ten minutes." I managed to keep a straight face. Finally he comes out of his room, dressed in army fatigues top to bottom, and says, "OK, where do you want to shoot?" I said, "I've got this spot picked out up on Mulholland." He says, "No problem, man, but I gotta do one little errand first. We'll take your car. It's right around the corner." We end up driving from Mandeville Canyon to the corner of La Brea and Washington, at least 12 miles. While we're on the freeway, he whips out a case and starts smoking crack in my car.