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ABOUT (CONTINUED) MUSIC
AS A PROFESSION With the matter of a high school diploma out of the way I went from one lucrative music gig to another. I could play guitar and bass equally well and worked the night club scene all over New York (still underage), with a borrowed cabaret card (required by law, at that time). I played a two year residency as a bass player at Ben Maksik's Town and Country club, in the Ned Harvey band for all the big cabaret stars of the time including Buddy Hackett and Robert Goulet. It was fun, total fun! The same band would migrate north every summer to the Catskills, which was as much as a holiday, as it was a gig for hundreds of musicians like myself. I continued to study theory privately through books and with a former high school teacher, Raymond Charrey, who taught me the Schillinger system of composition. Another great teacher of mine was Milt Anderson, a full time arranger and copyist, who was also the baritone sax player in the Ned Harvey band. When we played at the Brickman Hotel in the summers I would go to 'Uncle' Miltie's room most nights and watch him arrange band parts right out of his head, with no piano! He showed me many invaluable techniques about voicing. He also showed me how to copy music, even how to mix different India ink combinations and how to hold the Italic pen to write musical notes. His copying was flawless (copying music by hand is an awesome art when done well; Uncle Miltie's work looked like a printed page)! In Ned Harvey's show band, we played dance music and backed the singers, dance teams and comedians. I played for the likes of Cab Calloway and Rodney Dangerfield during those three summers. In the bar lounge there was a slick Las Vegas style group called the Speedy Garfin Band. I spent every spare moment studying that band! Much to my surprise the pianist and girl singer left the band after the last summer I was there and I was asked to replace both of them on guitar and vocals. I joined without hesitation. We sang tight, complicated four part harmonies with a jazz flavor. We played many chic New York night clubs (this was the early '60s) and also did a six week stint in Scottsdale, Arizona. Speedy abandoned the bassist, drummer and me due to a series of misunderstandings in Scottsdale. I was hurt by the animosity which grew in such a short time, this was my first big band breakup (many musicians eading this might recall that it could be even worse than a divorce). We continued as a trio for a while, then we were spotted by a former singer of the Crewcuts, the 50's Doo Wop group from Canada. He asked us to be the new Crewcuts and tour the Far East as a self-contained band and vocal group. We did. During a Crewcuts residency in Tulsa, Oklahoma, the most beautiful female I'd ever seen in my life walked into the club and my life. She was Siegrid, my future wife and song writing partner. We had an intense four day affair. It was almost impossible to conceive of such a short courtship, but I wanted Siegrid in my life, to come to NY and live with me. Through my Brooklyn eyes, Siegrid was like an exotic bird. She was only one month younger than me (21) but she was already married (unhappily, she said) to a 42-year-old millionaire uranium prospector. Within days of getting back to NY I phoned Siegrid and asked her to join me. She did. CAREER IN ROCK BEGINS Completely taken in by Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert, Siegrid and I spent a year on acid. We literally 'turned on, tuned in and dropped out.' I was no longer a working Crewcut, far from it, my hair was halfway down my back! During that year we attended the very first "Be-in" in Central Park in 1966, only blocks from where we lived where we lived on the upper west side. We watched, in utter fascination, Allen Ginsburg, the Beat poet, smoke a joint in front of the thousands of us and openly in front of the police without being arrested. The police graciously accepted and looked so cute with the flowers stuck in their hats. For a brief time, they were on our side. One day, as our financial resources dwindled (some days all we could afford to eat was a hot dog each) we were listening to the radio and thought, "We can write better songs than that!" Our immediate efforts led us to being signed by The Richmond Organization for publishing and RCA Records as recording artists (earlier, we auditioned for the legendary song writers Mike Leiber and Jerry Stoller but failed). After our second single flopped I was offered the job of "house" record producer for The Richmond Organization but accepted it out of desperation. Siegrid was a little disheartened, but briefly pursued a solo career for herself. My abrupt career change found me standing next to a British record producer by the water cooler in my publisher's offices one day. He asked what I did, and upon learning of my new status he said, "Ah, my American cousin. I'm the house record producer for this same company in England!" He took me into a listening room, placed an acetate disk on a turntable and played a recent production of his. Out of the speakers came the organ intro to the yet unreleased "A Whiter Shade of Pale." His name was Denny Cordell and the new group was incongruously called Procol Harum. I was so in awe of him. I asked what he was doing in NY, and he said he was recording a track for Georgie Fame! Now I knew this man was big, I had bought a Georgie Fame record! I asked to see the charts [arrangements] and he casually said he hadn't any. He explained that in England sessions were very informal. They would roll a big joint, listen to the demo and proceed to take all day to record just one song! I told him this was unheard of in New York (the splif notwithstanding). Without charts he'd be crucified, musicians in New York then worked three hour sessions at a very high union rate with strict rules! He paled and asked if I could help. I listened to the Georgie Fame demo several times and transcribed the brass parts to music paper. Then I wrote out the chords and a basic bass line then made several copies on the Xerox machine in under an hour. We rushed down the street to a studio full of NY's finest musicians, among them Clark Terry on trumpet. I had never dreamt I'd be on a recording session with these heavyweights. The session went extremely well -- and I had a new job! TO LONDON Six weeks later I was on a plane to London with everything I owned, four guitars and a suitcase full of clothes, including flare trousers (Siegrid was to follow a month later)! After I deplaned and managed to wrangle my way through immigration authorities, prompted by Denny to say that I was on vacation, I knew I was home! Within
the next few days I met and/or worked with Denny Laine, Manfred Mann,
Brian Jones, Georgie Fame, Procol Harum and The Move. On my third night
there I heard a white label test pressing of the new Beatles album.
There wasn't a title on the blank white label or on the white sleeve
it came in, but after the stylus dropped their voices proclaimed, "We're
Sgt. Pepper's lonely hearts club band, we hope you will enjoy the show!"
I was not only "home", I was in "heaven."
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