Keth

Keth

Albert Grossman 1926-1986

ALBERT GROSSMAN: 1926-1986

Managed Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin and others

ALBERT B. GROSSMAN, WHO AT ONE time was the most powerful and influential personal manger in pop music, died of a heart attack on January 25th while on a flight to London. He was fifty-nine years old.

Grossman, who at the beginning of the Sixties, recognized the genius of a scruffy folk singer named Bob Dylan and helped turn him into a rock icon, was traveling to MIDEM, an annual music-business convention in Cannes, France. “He just went to sleep on the plane and never work up,” said Bill Ader, a close friend of Grossman’s for over forty years. “Albert was a peaceful man, and he went in a peaceful way.”

A large man who tied his long, gray hair back in a ponytail, dressed casually and looked like a hippie Ben Franklin, Grossman rewrote the book on personal management during the Sixties, winning major increases in artists’ royalties and helping songwriters gain control of their publishing rights. “He was really on the front lines of the whole business revolution in the record industry,” said Robbie Robertson, who as a member of the Band was managed by Grossman during the late Sixties and early Seventies. “He was also a teacher. He taught me a tremendous amount about everything that you can imagine in life….I felt that he changed my life.”

In addition to Dylan and the Band, Grossman guided the careers of Peter, Paul and Mary, Janis Joplin, Paul Butterfield, the Electric Flag, Gordon Lightfoot and Richie Havens. “He was an extremely astute picker of original and unique talent,” said the president of Arista Records, Clive Davis, who, as head of Columbia Records, worked closely with Grossman. “He was one of the most highly respected managers of his day.”

Grossman was born in Chicago on May 21, 1926, the child of Russian Jewish parents. While earning a degree in economics from Roosevelt College, he sold shoes for Bonwit Teller, then spent several years working for the Chicago Housing Authority. In the mid-Fifites, deciding he was better suited to private enterprise, Grossman opened the Gate of horn in Chicago, one of the first folk clubs in America. There he met, befriended and, in some cases, managed artists like Odetta, Big Bull Broonzy, Bob Gibson and Joan Baez. “Albert was a very generous man,” said Baez. “Though he never managed me, his cajoling me to perform at the Gate of Horn when I was eighteen marked the beginning of my career.”

Moving to New York at the end of the Fifties, Grossman co-directed the first Newport Folk Festival in 1959, a pivotal event for the emerging folk movement. He also put together Peter, Paul and Mary and brought them Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind,” one of their biggest hits. “He elevated folk singers to a much higher status,” said David Braun, a top music-business attorney who represented Grossman for most of the Sixties. “He brought them into the pop field.”

The real jewel in Grossman’s management crown was Dylan. He lived in Grossman’s house off and on for almost two years, and the cover photo of Bringing It All Back Home was taken in Grossman’s living room. “He protected Bobby from all the crazy parts of the business, a world that could have terribly injured his growth as an artist,” said Peter Yarrow of Peter, Paul and Mary. “Bobby was allowed to be Bobby.”

Then there was Janis Joplin, whom Grossman courted around the time of the 1967 Pop Festival. “Janis adored Albert,” recalls Braun. “I remember once he was talking to Janis – we were walking down the street together. She asked him how come he never tried to put the make on her. And he said, without batting an eyelash, ‘Cause if I was bad, you’d never forgive me.’ Which I thought was a very funny, typical Albert Grossman remark.”

In 1969, Grossman’s music empire began to crumble. First Dylan decided not to renew his management contract. Next, in 1970, Peter, Paul and Mary split up. The worst blow came when Joplin died of a heroin overdose at the end of that year. Joplin’s death deeply affected Grossman. He withdrew from personal management and with his wife Sally, lived the life of a retired millionaire in Bearsville, a hamlet in the town of Woodstock in upstate New York. He built a recording studio and established a record company, Bearsville records, for which Todd Rundgrin, Jesse Winchester, Foghat and a select group of other artists recorded. He also opened to restaurants, the Bear Café and the Little Bear.

Grossman’s last public appearance came just two days prior to his death, at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame banquet at the Waldorf-Astoria in Manhattan. He showed up for the black-tie affair wearing blue jeans and a peasant shirt. “He dressed like he always dressed,” said promoter Bill Graham, “It could have been an Indian wedding. With somebody else, you wouldn’t believe that was real, but that was really Albert. That’s who he was.” – Michael Goldberg. Rolling Stone Magazine Issue No. 469, March, 1986.

Richie Havens at Woodstock 42 Years Ago Today

Jerry, my friend from the old neighborhood emailed me to remind me that this was the anniversary of Woodstock, and was recollecting our trip there.

I remember how I tracked high school mates Jerry and Marc down in Wildwood, where they lived in a motel room and worked as short order cooks at a boardwalk grill. Sitting in their motel room they were excited about a new album by Santana, and played it for me.

Then they said Santana was going to be playing at this festival at Woodstock in upstate New York, where Dylan and The Band were holed up, and The Band was playing the festival too. They were planning to go and wanted me to go with them, even though I was committed to working for the summer, especially weekends.

A few years ago, on another anniversary, Jerry wrote what he remembered. How him and me and our high school mates Mark and Bob left Ocean City in my father's car as soon as I finished work at Mack & Manco's around midnight.

It was the weekend or so before Labor Day, and I had gotten a letter from school - I was to be a freshman at the University of Dayton, Ohio in September, but they sent me a letter saying I had to be at a special "orientation" class the same weekend as Woodstock. I showed the letter to my boss, Mr. Mack, and he said my education came first and I had to go, but be sure to be back on Monday because I was needed for the busy upcoming Labor Day holiday.

We were going to take my '59 Jeep that had no doors or side windows, but it wouldn't start and my mother said to take dad's car and we didn't argue with her. I fell asleep in the back and someone else was driving when we got pulled over and a State cop shined a flashlight in my face. He had seen the "County Detective" sign on the visor and asked me if my dad knew I had the car and if we were going to that rock concert, but he didn't give us a ticket and said to have a good time.

Woodstock the Festival, as everyone who was there knows, wasn't really at Woodstock the town, the artist community where Albert Grossman, Dylan and The Band lived. They were going to have it there, but when the community decided it didn't want all those people coming in, they got Max Yasker's farm near Bethel, New York, about 30 some miles from Woodstock.

As we got closer and the traffic was backed up, they set up road blocks and turned people away, but the "County Detective" sign got us past a few checkpoints. As Jerry remembered, it, he was driving when we picked up a hitch hiker who had already been to the concert site but left to get some supplies. We drove on the side of the road full of stalled traffic and then the hitch hiker told us about a small, dirt side road that led right to the stage and showed us where it was. Before long we had pulled up about 30 yards from the back of the stage, and within an hour we were blocked in so we just made camp right there.

It wasn't rainy or muddy at first, and I think we all went to together to near the front of the stage, which was pretty huge. I think Mark may have stayed behind, but me and Jerry and Bob were right down in front. Jerry now only remembers him and Bob in the front row, but I was there with them for the first half of Richie Havens set, which really was remarkable. He was on for a long time, and since few people paid admission - we didn't have tickets and nobody asked for any - the rumor was that the other acts wouldn't go on without getting paid. So Richie Havens had to play an extra long set.

After awhile I left them at the front of the stage and went for a walk about, to the back on the hill where they had food concessions and a makeshift hospital.

Thousands of more people had arrived so there was no way I would ever make it back to the front row again, though I later learned that Jerry and Bob hung out there for quite some time.

Occasionally we would meet back at the car, but Mark didn't like it at all, especially after it started to rain, and he wanted to go get a motel room somewhere.

While I don't remember too much else, there was the time on Saturday night, I think it was while The Band was performing, when I climbed a tree and laid across a big branch to stay off the wet ground. While up there Jerry was walking by and yelling my name, and was quite surprised to find me at all let alone up in a tree.

I remember taking a dip in a muddy lake with a bunch of naked hippie chicks, but I don't remember many of the acts, even the ones we went there to see, like Santana and The Band.

By Sunday afternoon, enough room had been cleared around the car that we could move it out, and at Marc's insistence, we left early, so we didn't see or hear Hendrix.

I will never forget the smile on my father's face as he stood on the porch at 819 Wesley when we pulled up in his car, totally covered with mud. He was just glad to see us and his car.

Then, still in our muddy jeans and t-shirts, Jerry and I went around the corner to the local hippie coffee house - The Purple Dragon, and were celebrities for day for being Woodstock veterans. But the next day when I went to work at Mack & Mancos I couldn't tell anyone where I was because I was supposed to have been at college orientation.

I guess that's one of the reasons why I've been a bit disoriented.

And no, I didn't do any drugs at Woodstock, though we did have some wine, and I think Bob did some acid though I'm not even sure about that.

Then later that winter when I was at school in Dayton, Richie Havens did a concert at the basketball arena and I found myself down front in the first row again. After the concert was over I wrote down the address of a house where we were going to a party and gave it to Richie on stage. He smiled and winked at me. Then an hour or so later a limo drives up to the party house and Richie Havens gets out. I was back in the kitchen, and in walks Richie Havens, looking for me, and when he sees me he smiles.

Richie Havens changes strings on stage at Dayton, Ohio, circa 1970

Can he light up a joint? Sure we're all in college, and he proceeded to roll a joint like he was a cowboy on a horse, twisted it up with one hand and then lit it up.

I think Richie now lives somewhere in Jersey not far from where I am though further north. I was thinking about taking a drive someday and paying him a visit.

Then I'd like to visit the real Woodstock, the town of Woodstock and visit with Levon and Garth and the boys from The Band.

Boardwalk Empire Music Soundtrack

Boardwalk Empire Volume 1 – Music From the HBO Original Series Tracklist

01. Vince Giordano And The Nighthawks – Livery Stable Blues
02. Stephen DeRosa – The Dumber They Come The Better I Like Them
03. Regina Spektor – My Man
04. Vince Giordano And The Nighthawks – Dark Town Strutters Ball
05. Catherine Russell – Crazy Blues
06. Vince Giordano And The Nighthawks – Mournin’ Blues
07. Kathy Brier – Some Of These Days
08. Vince Giordano And The Nighthawks – Margie
09. Loudon Wainwright III – Carrickfergus
10. Nellie McKay – Wild Romantic Blues
11. Kathy Brier – After You Get What You Want (You Don’t Want It)
12. Leon Redbone – Sheik of Araby
13. Vince Giordano And The Nighthawks – Japanese Sandman
14. Kathy Brier- Don’t Put a Tax On the Beautiful Girls
15. Martha Wainwright – All By Myself
16. Stephen DeRosa – Life Is A Funny Proposition

The Wall Concert at Potzdam Platz Berlin

The Wall Concert at Potzdam Platz - July 1990

With the fiftieth anniversary of the construction of the Berlin Wall and the 20th anniversary of its fall, I reflect on my time there in the summer of 1990 shortly after it opened and Roger Waters of Pink Floyd orchestrated this mammoth concert production of his Rock Opera The Wall at the Berlin Wall.

The concert stage left ran up against the real wall and it was constantly being chipped away all day and night the whole time I was there. As you got close to it you could hear people chipping at it with hammers.

I went to Berlin with my friend from Ocean City NJ architect Jack Snyder. We were there for a few days and visited East Berlin with a Russian intourist guide who took us to lunch at the revolving restaurant atop the TV Tower, which is something similar to the Seattle Needle or Dallas' Observation Tower.

She told us an incredible story that seems to have gotten lost in the shuffle of history, as they try to give Ronald Reagan and Mikahel Gorbachef credit for the fall of the wall.

Actually she explained, the big impetus that led to the opening of the wall began in the East German city of Lipsig, which has a strong cultural and musical heritage. There, a group of gypsy musicians were being harassed by the government and took refuge in a Lipsig church where the local priest named Christian Fuher.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christian_F%C3%BChrer

Fuher had been holding weekly prayer protests for years. Together the harassed band of musicians and praying protests eventually grew from a few dozen people to hundreds and then thousands, and then it began to spread to other cities, including East Berlin.

The first thing people did at the wall, besides climbing it, was to play music, and among those who went there to play included Mstislav Rostropovich and Jackson Brown.

Then Roger Waters got in the act with his major production of The Wall, which included a half-million spectators and a live TV audience from around the world - everywhere except the USA, who had to wait to see it rebroadcast or buy a video tape.

Among those who performed in the show were Cindi Lauper, the German band the Scorpions, the Hooters, The Band (sans Robbie Robertson) and dozens of other acts who performed almost all day and all night long.

After the show we hung around back stage at a makeshift Hard Rock Cafe where I met Patty of Chieftons and Schnade O'Conner, both very personable people.

We stayed at the Intercontinental Hotel where we crashed a private party for the cast, many of whom we knew from back home - including Rob and Eric of the Hooters and Rick Danko of the Band, who was with Rockabilly Ronnie Hawkins. I have photos of me and Rick and Ronnie but they're color slides and I can't scan or post them.

My friend Jack, a USMC veteran, was at the hotel bar with Sir Leonard Cheshire, the head of the International Fund for Disaster Relief, the ostensible beneficiary of the profits of the show, and a very worthwhile charity that I don't believe exists anymore.

According to John Simpkin's http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/2WWcheshire.htm
Leonard Cheshire was born in Chester, England, on 7th September 1917. He was educated at Stowe School and Merton College, Oxford. After the outbreak of the Second World War he joined the Royal Air Force. He was posted to 102 Squadron and by August 1942 had been promoted to squadron commander of of 76 Squadron. In March 1943 at the age if twenty-five he became the youngest group captain in the RAF. In November 1943 he was given command of 617 Squadron and over the next few months developed new low-level marking techniques that dramatically increased bombing accuracy.

In 1944 Cheshire was awarded the Victoria Cross after completing a hundred bombing missions on heavily defended targets in Nazi Germany. Cheshire was chosen as the official British observer of the atom bomb dropped on Nagasaki. After the war Cheshire dedicated his life to maintaining world peace and was a member of CND. Cheshire also joined with his wife, Sue Ryder, to establish the Sue Rider Foundation for the sick and disabled. Leonard Cheshire, who was created Baron Cheshire in 1991, died on 31st July, 1992.


In any case, while they were chatting, I was phoning home from a pay phone on the wall, and while I'm talking I see some of the musicians from the show heading into a side room, and when I got off the phone I checked it out. It was a private party for the cast and I just waltzed right in and nobody stopped me. There was an open bar, glasses of wine and champagne and a hot food bar. So I went out and got Jack and Sir, who actually had an invitation, and we hobnobbed with the heavyweights.

The drummer from the Hooters, whose name I can't pronounce - recognized me from interviewing him at Reds in Margate (which is no longer there) back in the 80s.

Then I noticed someone I recognized at the front door, Jerry Hall, Mick Jagger's then wife. She was one of the stars of the show, but she seemed lost and by herself, so I picked up a glass of champagne and walked up and gave it to her. She thanked me profusely, and we started to small talk. I had seen her before having lunch with her children in the dining room at the Seaview Hotel in Absecon, where the Stones had stayed when they wrapped up their Steel Wheels Tour in the USA. I asked her what was her most enjoyable moment in Atlantic City and she said it was taking her kids to Storybook Land.

She complained that she had been so busy that she didn't get a chance to get to the wall and get a piece of it, and it just so happened that I had been to the wall that day and purchased ear rings made from pieces of the wall and gave them to her. She was really impressed and said she would wear them in her next photo shoot in Vogue, but I don't know if she did. Then a papparazi photographer took our picture and wanted to know who I was.

The following night we had to switch hotels and the new hotel had a downstairs bar with a picture window facing the street. While we sat there drinking our beers I noticed a bevy of young girls standing around and then getting all excited as a limo pulled up and they all started screaming as a couple of guys in leather jackets got out and ran into the hotel. It couldn't be the Beatles.

About a half hour later, after the girls had dispursed, two of the guys in leather walked in the bar and had to reach over us to get their drinks. It was little Klaus and the tall guitarist Rudy Schenker from the Scorpions, the German band who opened the show.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scorpions_(band)

They spoke good English and after a few rounds we were getting pretty friendly. They told us about how they were playing a concert in a cabaret somewhere when they saw on TV people climbing on the wall and celebrating, and since they had grown up a few miles away from Berlin they were so happy they started crying.

They inspired by the event enough to record the hit song - number one in the world "Wind of Change," with a video that depicts the fall of the wall.

Then a few months later, back in the States, I got an invitation in the mail for the album release party for the double album soundtrack and video of The Wall. The party was to be held aboard the USS Intrepid aircraft carrier on the Hudson in New York City.

Jack and I drove up and were pretty amazed at the huge carrier. They had a couple large blocks of the Wall as a rememberance, and the party was petty cool.

They made a big stink of all the celebrities as they entered the front door, and Cyndi Lauper got a big reception, but the best was when the Scorpions came in, still decked out in their leathers. They were applauded and as they looked around the room Rudy and Klaus see me and Jack, smiles and walks up to us like we were old friends from long ago. It was good to see him, and that he recognized us, so we grabbed a drink and went out to the edge of the large airplane elevator to get some air and for him to catch a smoke.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Klaus_Meine

When we went back in a paparazzi taking photos of us came up to me and said, "Who are you anyway?"

Tell him Klaus, I said, slapping his leather. "He's just some guy I was with in Berlin, a great time."

Atlantic City Pop Fest Program August 1969