22 JULY 13, 1977 “It was a HOT SUMMER NIGHT in the city.”
To paraphrase a line from a song that Jimmy wrote, it was not only a hot summer night but a hot summer period. For those of us who live in the New York/New Jersey metro area, summer's can be unmercifully hot. It's not so much the temperature, but the oppressive humidity that accompanies it. Such was the case during the summer of 1977. Starting at the end of June and for a couple of weeks in a row the three "H's" (Hot, Hazy, and Humid) were alive and well. Thankfully there was air conditioning in the clubs and the studio to help cool you down. Dennis and Corky called us in to polish up a few lines and some background vocals before the final mix. You know, tweak it a little bit. And so it was that on July 13th, 1977, Jimmy, Tom and I traveled to the studio to finish up the demo. Richie wasn't needed that day so he stayed home.
As was the custom, we parked in the high rise garage directly across the street from the building that housed The Record Plant. It was about six stories high and although there was ground level parking, by the time we got there that afternoon, there was no space available and so they parked the cars on one of the levels.
We went into the studio, Studio B, which was directly to the left of the entrance. When you entered through the door to Studio B you went directly into the control room. There, hunched over the console listening to "Somebody Like You" were Corky and Dennis. They were listening to the vocal tracks and writing down what we needed to go over. Inside the studio, smack in the middle of the room, was a mic hanging on a boom with baffles set up behind it and amps and wires all over the place. After listening to the track a few times, Corky went over the vocals with me with some suggestions he thought would make the track more alive. After rehearsing the part for about 15-20 minutes, I'm a quick learner, I was ready to go. For those of you who have never been in a recording studio, it's completely sound proof. There are no windows and the only door is the one that leads you into the studio. It's the entrance and exit. In the case of Studio B, there were actually two doors that you went through to get into the studio. When you went out there to do a vocal, or overdub a guitar, anything, it's you and whatever you hear in the "cans" (headset). That's it.
"Whenever you're ready big guy", said Dennis. So, off I went through the double doors, stepping gingerly over wires and amps. I picked up the cans and positioned myself in front of the mic. They played the track through a few times so I could warm up, then told me to get a little closer to the mic and try not to move around so much. One of the things Corky wanted me to do in the beginning of "Somebody Like You', was to yell "ALL RIGHT". The track started with the count off, I used my drum sticks, click, click, click, then Tom's bass comes in. Drums follow, light strumming on the guitar, then with all my might I yell out. "ALL RIGHT". They stop the tape, and through the cans I hear Corky say, "that was great but we didn't get that one, let's do it again una morey. (one more time). Once again the tape rolls; clicking drum sticks, bass comes in, guitars then "ALL RIGHT". "
Back away from the mic a little and let's do una morey." I can't remember how many times we went over this, but eventually we found an "ALL RIGHT" that they liked. There were a couple of lines that sounded a little off so they fast forwarded directly to them. Corky told me to "give this one section a lis (listen)" and try to give it a little more excitement. The tape rolled and I gave it all I had. "No, that wasn't the one, let's go for it again." Again the part came around and I gave it another shot. For some reason, it didn't seem that I was singing in the same key, as a matter of fact it seemed to be one step lower. They stopped the tape and I told them that the key seemed to be lower than where we recorded, maybe they should check the tape recorder to see if it was running slower for some reason. Right about that time, I noticed the lights in the studio getting a little dimmer. I yelled in the mic, "Hey guys, you want to turn up the dimmer on the lights?" The last thing I remember seeing before it got pitch black was Corky and Dennis frantically removing the tape by hand to get it off the tape recorder. Then, the place went dark.
I stood there with the headset still on waiting to hear something. Nothing. Finally, a voice came through the door, "The lights are completely out in the building, stay where you are and don't move, we'll get a flashlight and come get you in a minute." The Record Plant, without a doubt the most prestigious recording studio in New York City at the time, had the latest up to date state of the art recording and diagnostic equipment but did not have a flashlight. So, I stood there for several minutes, waiting. I'm not exactly sure how long it took, but it seemed like it was forever. Finally, Paul Prestopino, the studios technical wizard, found some diagnostic equipment with a blinking light and used that to fumble his way into Studio B to get me out.
"What the hell happened", I said. Corky walked me through the entrance into the lobby and out to the street. There were people streaming out into the street from all over the place, people who were working late, theater goers, and oh yeah musicians recording at the Record Plant. I looked around and I couldn't believe what I was seeing, there wasn't a light on in the city. The only thing you heard, other then the hum from people talking, were the sirens going off from fire trucks and cop cars. We found out later that the minute the lights went, people started breakin

g into stores and looting them. It was surreal. As people were finding their way out of the building, Corky suggested sending one of the guys from the road crew to Smilers to get some snacks and beer. Smilers was a deli/convenience store on 9th Avenue, right around the corner from The Record Plant. I'm not sure who it was that went, but after about 45 minutes or so they returned with cold beer and a bag full of snacks. So the story goes, the manager of Smilers let one person come in at a time while the other workers escorted you around with a flashlight as you were picking up whatever you needed. When you were finished and had paid for your stuff, they'd let the next person in and so on. Leave it to New York.
Sidebar- Brushes with stardom. I believe David Letterman used to go into his audience and ask people if they ever met anyone famous, who it was and how they met them, which leads me to the following. We weren't the only people in the studio that night. While I was standing on the sidewalk, a guy comes up along side of me and starts chatting. After some small talk he asked me what I was doing in the city. I told him I was in a band and we were at The Record Plant recording some demos in hopes of landing a record contract. He asked me where we were from and I told him the band was from Jersey, even though I lived in New York. He said, "I'm from Jersey too". At that moment a car pulled up and he said, "Well, my rides here, see you around and good luck with the demos". He jumped in the car and off he went. Moments later, Corky came up to me and asked me if I knew who the guy was that I was chatting with. I said "no". He looked at me as if I had two heads, "you're kidding, right"? "Sorry Corky, but I don't know who the guy was".
Let me digress for a moment and go back ten years. I was a teenager in high school in 1966, playing in a local rock band. We played all the high school and CYO dances, as well as a few sweet sixteen parties. The local newspaper wrote a nice article about us which caught the eye of a musician who was playing at a place in the Catskills called The Nevele Country Club. He contacted one of the guy's parents to see if we would be interested in auditioning for a gig in the nightclub at The Nevele. Seems they were looking to bring in a rock band to compliment the jazz group they had there. Really, they were looking to attract a younger crowd and having a rock band as entertainment would help that along. So we auditioned and low and behold got the gig. We played weekends and long holidays and got to stay in the main hotel rooms, most of the "help" (waiters, waitresses, bus boys, maids, etc.) had to stay in these bungalow type houses. And oh yeah, we got paid $25.00 each a night. Not bad for back then. During this time Go-Go girls, (not the kind you see now), sixties type dancers with go-go boots, fish net stockings and glimmering outfits that danced on these pedestal type platforms, were huge.
The Nevele decided that it would be a good idea to bring these go-go girls in to dance when we played. You know, make it a hip place to go after the main show was over. So, they began to hire from an agent in New York City who I believe was called Mambo Hyde, but I'm not sure. The girls would come upon Friday and dance the first set with us, cocktail hour from 6 to 7 PM, before heading off to the "helps" dining room for dinner. As was our custom at the time, remember we were a bunch of high school teenagers, we'd sit with them and all at the same time, shove a bunch of food in our mouths and play Look. Usually they'd get startled and think that it was disgusting aside from being juvenile, which it was. This went on for weeks with the same results until this one weekend when this new face arrived.
For several weeks, the same three or four girls came to the Nevele. Just like playing a song over and over, it gets boring after awhile. It was summer of 1966, and this new girl comes to the lounge and unlike any of the others, introduces herself to us. She was cute, perky, bubbly, with this tremendous smile and infectious laugh. We all liked her immediately but that didn't mean she was going to escape our Friday night dinner ritual. Cocktail hour ended and we all went together to the employee dining room. On cue, we shoved a pile of food in our mouths and opened up for her to view. Just like that, she piled a bunch of mashed potatoes, peas, meat and anything else that was on her plate and gave us a view right back. That was it, she was one of us. Not only was she our favorite but she became a favorite of the Nevele and wound up returning just about every weekend throughout the summer of 1966. When the nights ended around 2:00 PM, she would join us for late night eats an

d a few laughs at the coffee shop. She had a great laugh, kind of like a giggle and this contagious smile. I vividly remember the last time I saw her, it was towards the end of August of that year. It was a Saturday night; we had finished up and as usual met her for something to eat at the coffee shop. Afterwards we sat in the lobby of the hotel; it was around 3:00 in the morning. She said something like this; "Guys I won't be coming back next week so I want to say good-bye to you now." We all looked at each other, "Of course you'll be back next week". "No, she said, I won't. I'm moving to California to become a big movie star." Yeah right, a big movie star, see you next Friday. Well, next Friday arrived and she was no where to be found. The same thing for the following Friday and the one after that.
September rolled around and we are all back in school. New TV shows premiered in late September and early October in those days and I remember looking in TV Guide one evening to see what new programs were airing. There was this new show on called "Good Morning World", a comedy show about two disc jockeys. As I read the snippet about that nights' episode, my eye glanced down to the actors names. I couldn't believe it, there she was listed as one of the actors in the new series. I immediately called one of the guys in the band, "You gotta look who's in TV Guide and on TV tonight." We were stunned. I watched the show that night and the following episodes right up until it was cancelled about six weeks later. It would be just the beginning for her as she then landed a gig on Rowen and Martin's Laugh In and became a fan favorite right away. The rest they say is history as she became a huge success and "a big movie star" just as she said the last time we saw her. Her name, Goldie Hawn. You know, I often wonder if she ever thinks about those days and would even remember me? Probably not, but I do. And oh yeah the guy I was talking to that night in the middle of the blackout, Bruce Springsteen.
Our cars were parked across the street in the high rise parking lot, so with the electricity out, those cars weren't going any where and neither were we. Later on that night we were able to get a cab to drive us over the GW Bridge to Jimmy's apartment in Fort Lee, New Jersey. Eventually we were able to get back into the studio to finish up the demos but that's a night I'll never forget.
Summer was winding down, we were finished doing our part so now it was up to Corky and Dennis to get busy mixing the tunes. It took them a couple of weeks but they finally called us in for a final playback to make sure everyone was happy with the mixes. We were and so they booked their flight to LA to shop it around. With demo tapes in hand they flew to California in hopes of getting us a record deal. They'd call us right away if they had any news, but either way they'd be back in a week. It was September of 1977, four years after we first got together.