Tag Archives: Rock ‘n’ Roll

Jesus Christ Superstar Becomes Our Siren Song

Every time I hear an ambulance go by I think, “There goes another person who saw “Jesus Christ Superstar.”
This odd mental phenomenon goes back to 1971 when I was the area editor for the Kingsport, Tn., Times-News. A bunch of part-time reporters and I were responsible for filling up a page about news from the surrounding counties everyday. Some days that could be quite a chore.
Back then the politicians had a habit of deciding to hold a meeting an hour earlier than announced so that when the reporter showed up they said, “Sorry, you missed it.”
One time I had a school superintendent on the phone asking him why a certain mountain school was being closed. He stammered a moment and then the phone went dead. The guy just didn’t want to talk to me about why the school was being closed. It was tough reporting the news back then.
However, I did get a call from a proud parent in a nearby town that her son had the lead in a touring company of “Jesus Christ, Superstar” which was going to perform at the Kingsport high school gymnasium. This was right after the record album had come out but before the Broadway production. Basically it was a concert version with performers on risers and stools. I told the editor and he immediately assigned the story to the entertainment editor. I never got to write about anything interesting.
Somehow, however, I became the person in charge of getting free tickets for everyone in the newsroom. Since the story ran front page, that was easy enough to do.
Even though it was bare bones, the production was great. A good time was had by all. The gymnasium was packed. When the movie came out, I felt it was a pale comparison to what I saw in Kingsport.
A few weeks later the religion editor—for a small town newspaper, this operation had a lot of editors—wrote a story about one of the local ministers who took the town to task for taking “Jesus Christ Superstar” to heart. For one thing, one of the young male leads had his picture taken in a close hug with June Lockhart and it was in the National Inquirer. Older woman takes young lover. That sort of thing.
Of course, that was nothing compared to the vitriol against the musical itself. Rock music and the gospel? Never! The idea that Mary Magdalene was Jesus’ girlfriend. Outrageous! Who knows what he would have thought about the “DaVinci Code” and its assertion that Jesus and Mary were married. Herod portrayed as a homosexual? The list of infamies went on and on.
He concluded with the statement, “Every time I hear an ambulance, I think there goes another person who saw ‘Jesus Christ, Superstar.’”
Over the years my wife and I had a good laugh over it, repeating that assertion whenever we heard an ambulance siren. In the last few years, we saw the road show production starring Ted Neely, who had the title role in the movie back in 1976. For an old man he looked pretty good in a loin cloth, except it went all the way up to his rib cage. If he kept doing this show much longer, his loin cloth would be up to his arm pits.
Nevertheless, I might even go back to see him in it again. The music is the music of my youth and brings back fun memories. And when I’m walking into the theater, I know I will see other old, paunchy gray haired people, some of them pushing walkers, with big smiles on their faces.
Maybe that guy was right. Considering the popularity of the musical and the age of the generation that made it popular, the person in the ambulance passing by probably has seen “Jesus Christ Superstar.”

Actually…

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When we moved to Florida about 20 years ago, my family and I exposed ourselves to family dinner conversation dominated by my wife’s Uncle Sydney.
My mother-in-law retired to Florida a couple of years earlier to be near her relatives and suffered a heart attack, which is why we transplanted our children and ourselves here to be closer for the next medical emergency. This meant when we all gathered to sup together, for whatever reason, we had to brace for Uncle Sydney’s “Actually…”
This happened when one of us made a statement, any innocuous statement, and Uncle Sydney would correct us with “Actually, that isn’t so.” And off he went uninterrupted because my mother-in-law thought it was impolite to interrupt her brother’s exercises of enlightenment. At one meal, someone mentioned how much they enjoyed a certain current song.
“Actually,” Uncle Sydney began, “no good music has been written since the 1940s.”
I believed Uncle Sydney was full of gas, but had the good sense not to say so in front of the family. Both my mother-in-law and Uncle Sydney have long since passed on, but recently I learned something from the internet that might actually explain why there hasn’t been any good music since he was a young man.
Several websites have been discussing recently the theory that all musical instruments, as dictated by the British Standards Institute, changed the official tuning pitch of music from 432Hz to 440Hz at the request of the corporate entity of the American Rockefeller family and—grab your hats, folks—Adolph Hitler.
The great classical composers wrote in 432, and Stradivarius developed his violin to resonate at 432. Tones of 432 are beautiful, warm and relaxing. Tones of 440 create anxiety, anger and aggression. One supposes a capitalist institution could more easily convince a disgruntled buying public into adopting new spending patterns. One could also see how Hitler’s inflammatory oratory could incite an already dissatisfied public to support a war against its own citizenry as well as the world in general.
After the war, the British Standards Institute continued its support for 440Hz by voting to keep it, the last vote coming as late as the 1970s. This could explain why the generation which grew up listening to music to the 432Hz frequency found the new rock ‘n’ roll sound attuned to 440Hz to be awful noise. Come to think of it, hasn’t the general public been generally ticked off the last 60 years? Don’t political movements begin because, as the man said in the 1976 movie “Network”, “We’re mad as hell and we’re not going to take it anymore?”
Granted, all this can sound a bit paranoid, and there are no conclusive scientific studies to confirm the connection between the dissonance of music’s 440Hz and the general malaise that hangs over the world. Dr. Leonard Horowitz wrote in his investigation of this phenomenon that the effect of 440Hz goes beyond mere mood but to harming physical and mental health to the point of subduing spirituality and creativity.
To be fair, the British Standards Institute cannot legally dictate what frequency is used to tune musical instruments. If you own a violin or piano, you can tune it to anything you want. You can calibrate your tuning fork anyway you want. But in general the music establishment around the world uses 440Hz.
A good measure of how the general public has reacted to this bit of information can be found in the comments section following the internet article. One person wrote, “These articles are too superficial to be taken seriously.” Another writer wrote than from his own experimentation with 432Hz, he found it to be more soothing and harmonious, urging people to contact radio stations to go back to the original frequency.
Am I personally ready to jump on a 432Hz bandwagon? Do I want to believe there’s an international conspiracy to manipulate our emotions? Am I willing to accept the fact that Uncle Sydney wasn’t just full of gas?
Actually…

James Brown’s Favorite Uncle The Hal Neely Story Epilogue

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Epilogue

The intention of this biography was not to evoke pity for a man with a successful career whose final years were not lived in the same economic circumstances as the vast majority of his life. While others of his music contemporaries may have had more creature comforts, none were surrounded by warmer friendships.
While actual court records do not support Neely’s claim of a lawsuit, the underlying feelings about James Brown are nevertheless true. Brown was sued over royalties by an agent, but that agent was Ben Bart and not Hal Neely. Bart’s son Jack said Brown had a habit of “using, abusing and discarding” people throughout his career.1 Both Neely and Bart provided Brown with more than their expertise in the music business; they became surrogate fathers to him who consoled and counseled him during the rough times of his life.
One theme repeated by the many people who moved through Neely’s life was his generosity to artists coming up through the industry and to ordinary people he casually met along the way. Many people related their Neely stories with a smile and a tear. Some thought his generosity was a weakness in business, and perhaps it was. Better to be remembered as someone with a big, foolish heart than as a successful bastard.
As Neely himself said in his last interview, “The human brain remembers the good things…the good times…it rationalizes the rest.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Rarely are people privileged to help another person fulfill the dying wish of a dear friend. I thank Roland Hanneman for allowing me to help keep his promise to Hal Neely to have his memoirs completed. Roland spent many hours with me relating Hal’s stories and supplying names of other friends and acquaintances to fill in the enigmatic blanks of Hal’s life. I also thank Roland for introducing me to Hal at his nursing home so I could interview him for a local newspaper article the year before his passing. Roland’s devotion to his friend inspires me to be a better person.
Dr. Art Williams graciously spent several hours telling me about Hal’s years in Nashville and in Florida and providing valuable insights into Hal’s life and the inner workings of the music industry.
Some of Hal’s most vivid memories are of his second wife Victoria Wise and of her beauty. She agreed to meet me at a Tampa restaurant in 2011. I had seen only one photograph of her so I was concerned I would not recognize her, but when she walked in the door I instantly knew this was the woman who had enthralled Hal many years ago. I thank her for sharing her personal memories and for being the first person to challenge Hal’s claim he had sued James Brown in 2005. Victoria has recently remarried and I wish her all the happiness in the world.
I also appreciate the time and information from Al Nicholson, Buddy Winsett, Vic McCormick, Abe Guillermo, Sarah Nachin, and Bruce Snow whom I interviewed in Florida. I thank Ellen Paul of Brooksville, Florida, for her editing skills in preparing the final draft of this biography.
Those who spoke to me by telephone who provided assistance were Jack Bart, John Rumble, and Brian Powers. Mr. Rumble and Mr. Powers were kind enough to send me information from the Country Music Hall of Fame and the Cincinnati Public Library which proved invaluable.
Equally important were the e-mail communications shared with Mr. Bart, Randy McNutt, William Lawless, Nathan Gibson, John Broven, Cliff White, and Mike Stoller. Mr. Lawless, as Hal’s attorney, confirmed there had never been a lawsuit against James Brown. Mr. Gibson revealed hard feelings among Starday-King staff toward Hal. Mr. Stoller discounted Hal’s claim that he lost a coin toss and thereby lost his position at the Tennessee Recording Company. Mr. Stoller was the only celebrity who replied to my requests for information. As I said in my e-mail to him, I enjoyed his music and respected him for being a gracious human being.
In closing I thank my wife Janet for her memories about her grandmother’s fascination with Oral Robert’s radio program and about how she had ordered the small vial of Jordan River water which actually came from Hal Neely’s tap at home.

Epilogue
1 Bart Interview.

James Brown’s Favorite Uncle The Hal Neely Story Chapter Thirty-One

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Manuel Noriega
Previously in the book: Nebraskan Hal Neely began his career touring with big bands and worked his way into Syd Nathan’s King records, producing rock and country songs. Along the way he worked with James Brown, the Godfather of Soul, who referred to Neely as his favorite uncle. Eventually he became one of the owners of Starday-King, until the other owners bought him out.He found himself sitting further back in music industry room.

In 1989 Hal Neely and Victoria Wise left the problems of Nashville behind and moved to Orlando, Florida. They looked forward to new careers in music, film, and education based on the connections they had made over the years.
For example, Neely had been a judge in the Miss Panama beauty pageant which was part of the Miss Universe franchise. During this project he met a former diplomat to the Vatican and a retired actor who was a member of one of the seven families that formed the core of Panama’s society in the early 1900s. He also befriended President Manuel Noriega.
In Florida Wise wrote a screenplay called “Panama Bay,” an Indiana Jones-type adventure and encouraged Neely to find investors to finance it. Neely contacted his old friend Noriega, told him about the film project and talked him into spearheading it along with his other influential friends.1
Noriega was not exactly the best government leader to be doing business with at the time. He had a reputation as a corrupt and heavy-handed dictator.
Noriega came into this world under corrupt circumstances, the result of a liaison between an accountant and his maid in 1934. Five years later a school teacher adopted him. He received a scholarship to a military academy in Peru where he graduated with a degree in engineering. When he returned to Panama Noriega became a favorite in the Army of Col. Omar Torrijos. Noriega took control of Panama after Torrijos died in a mysterious airplane crash. His reign over the Panamanian people became so oppressive that the United States considered intervention.2
Neely and Wise apparently were more interested in their film project than keeping up with the current political situation. Even today, years later, Wise becomes enthusiastic describing the plot.
“The movie opened on the sea at dawn as a B-52 buzzed a hotel on a small island owned by a young woman named Hattie who came from a rich family,” Wise explained. “A vast treasure had been found on Hattie’s island.” This drew the attention of the Indiana Jones character which Wise called Ace. A love triangle developed between Hattie, Ace, and an old sea captain. Wise wanted the main characters played by Sheree North, Sheb Woolly and Burl Ives. “I had a lot of fun writing it,” Wise said. “I’m kind of glad no one changed it around.”
In December of 1989 Neely and Wise flew to Panama to scout out shooting locations for the movie. Noriega arranged for them to go through the exclusive route at the airport. After they got off the airplane, Neely showed Wise to the VIP lounge. As they were enjoying their cocktails, men in uniform escorted them to an interrogation room where they demanded to know what Neely and Wise were doing in the lounge. Neely said nothing but gave them a telephone number to call. It turned out to be the personal number of Noriega’s mistress. After the mistress explained the situation to the men in uniform, the officials were very polite and escorted them to their hotel. The next few days went very smoothly. Noriega gave Wise a necklace which consisted of two pieces of Plexiglas, one side yellow and the other side blue.
Then Neely got a call from the office of Tennessee Sen. Howard Baker telling him to leave everything, including his clothing and film equipment, at the hotel and go immediately to the airport to fly home.3
Operation Just Cause, a full-scale attack with 24,000 American troops, had just begun. Over the next four days several hundred American troops and thousands of Panamanian soldiers died. Noriega surrendered to the Vatican Embassy on January 3, 1990. The United States convicted him on drug charges, and the new Panamanian government wanted to try him on murder charges.4 “Panama Bay” was never produced, which became a pattern of behavior for Neely, according to his friend Art Williams who also moved to Florida in the 1990s. Neely became easily excited about business deals which never came to fruition.5
Perhaps the most fortunate meeting in Neely’s later years came at Orlando International Airport in 1989 when by chance he came upon musician Roland Hanneman who had brought a mutual acquaintance to catch a flight. After the man had boarded his airplane Neely and Hanneman realized they had quite a bit in common. The man who had just left them had taken them both for not inconsiderable amounts of money.
“He would shake your hand with one hand and give you a rubber check with the other,” Hanneman said. “Hal told me that this fellow had sold him music which he didn’t own and that he was always one step ahead of federal authorities.”
Over the next few years Neely and Hanneman worked on several small music projects. Neely produced albums for people in country and gospel music.
Hanneman, a native of Great Britain, is also known in the entertainment industry as John St. John. He studied music at the Cambridge College of Arts. After moving to the United States, Hanneman worked for Miami’s WINZ as production director. He has recorded and/or produced for the Miami Sound Machine, Mary Hart, Jon Secada, Clint Holmes, Jimmy Buffett, the Orlando Philharmonic and many more musical projects. He has written music for two Orange Bowl Shows and composed and/or produced more than 241 records and CDs. He has his own production company.6
“Hal was an extremely generous man and was always helping people. But he could see through people in seconds,” Hanneman said. “I would run people past him to get an opinion, and he was never once wrong about any of them. I asked him once how he could judge people so well and he replied, ‘I’m a hustler, and a hustler can always spot another hustler.’
Hal described his life as being fortunate to be in the right place at the right time and somewhat charmed, but he was always–to his dying day–looking ahead to some kind of business venture. It was difficult for him to accept the industry had changed and the paradigm had shifted. At one time, 200,000 records were a lot but now it’s half a million.”
Hanneman learned Neely’s technique of using ego to get his way with an artist. One time Hanneman was trying to get payment from a client who had recorded at his studio. Neely volunteered to get the money for him.
“Hal called the guy, identified himself as ABC Records and offered a record contract on his cassette and a plane ticket to California. ‘You do own all the rights, don’t you?’ Hal asked him.” Neely offered him $10,000 for the master tape remix. The man immediately called Hanneman for the master tape, but Hanneman told him he had to pay the full amount of the studio fees to get it.
“The next week he called Hal who told him this song might be used in a movie so he increased his offer to $25,000 and again reminded the man he had to have the master tape.” He called Hanneman again and agreed to pay the full amount and was at his doorstep the next morning with the cash. He received his master tape, but he never heard from the guy from ABC records again. 7
Neely’s relationship with Wise resulted in marriage in October of 1990, one day after his divorce from Mary Stone Neely was final. He was seventy years old, and she was in her middle forties.
Wise had fond memories of her years with Neely. They would pack a lunch and a bottle of wine, go on long drives in the country and have conversations about acoustic theories. For example, she said, boys between the age of 10 and 11 are at the peak of their hearing capacity to discern low-level tones. They even talked about the sound of wooden posts as they drove by would change according to the thickness of wood, speed of the car and spacing of the posts
“Hal would write letters with poor grammar to somebody about credit card issues, threatening lawsuits and saying he was sending copies to officials,” Wise said. “And then he would sign my name.”
Wise said she was bothered because she did not notice Neely’s decline into dementia but only concentrated on how hurt she felt during his emotional outbursts.
“He was like an angry gorilla throwing things.”
When Neely’s brother Sam came to visit them in Orlando they would wait at the curb right in front of a liquor store, Wise related. Sam went in, but when he came out he didn’t recognize the car. “I could see it (the cognitive decline) in Sam but not in Hal.”8
His finances began to decline also, to such an extent that Neely had to sell off personal items, Hanneman said. Neely had a Baldwin grand piano which had belonged to Liberace. Neely thought the provenance would make it more valuable, but he had trouble selling it for a good price. The person who finally bought it never paid for it.
Neely and Wise moved to an apartment in Tampa so she could study geriatrics at the University of South Florida.9
***
It was during this time James Brown was paroled from the South Carolina prison where he had spent 2 1/2 years of a six-year sentence. Upon his release in February of 1991 he announced a Freedom Tour.
“I am hotter now than I ever was in my life,” he announced to the press. In March of 1991 he starred in a live, pay-per-view concert from Los Angeles, and by the end of the year produced a new album “Love Over Due.”10
***
Neely’s marriage to Wise steadily declined throughout the 1990s while she continued her studies and eventually worked at the University of South Florida in Tampa. As she studied, Neely produced gospel music for small groups in central Florida. Eventually they separated in 2003, and Neely came to rely more and more on his friends Hanneman and Williams.
“Hal would come to my house to sit by the pool and cry about the way Victoria treated him and talked to him,” Williams said. “I told him to go back to Mary who had a farm in Nebraska.” When Mary died she left the farm to her family members who, according to Williams, detested Neely.
Sitting around the pool, Neely also complained about business deals which had gone badly for him, particularly the sale of Starday-King master recordings to Moe Lytle of Gusto Records.
“He hated this guy(Moe Lytle). They would tell anyone wanting rights to sell not to deal with the other one. Each claimed the same catalog. It ended in a stalemate with no one buying the rights. Hal was always involved with threatening to sue people and writing letters. One of his lawyers would filter them. He had no follow through on legal matters.”
Neely told Williams he was going to serve Wise with divorce papers but he never did.
“I told Hal to sue her for support,” Williams said
Williams also suggested to Neely that he should apply for Medicaid. “As long as Hal sat there and talked about his million-dollar catalog he wasn’t getting Medicaid. He had to admit he was broke.”
Another mutual friend told Williams he should help out Neely financially, but he declined. “I had lent him thousands of dollars over the years. People who loved Hal took care of him, and it may not have been the best for him.
“Hal never lost his optimism and always thought the deal was about to happen. The catalog deal was always about to break.”11

1 Wise Interview.
2 http://notable_biographies.com/Ni-Pe/Noriega_Manuel.html.
3 Wise Interview.
4 http://notable_biographies.com/Ni-Pe/Noriega_Manuel.html.
5 Williams Interview.
6 Hanneman Interview.
7 Ibid.
8 Wise Interview.
9 Hanneman Interview.
10 The Life of James Brown, 183.
11 Williams Interview.

James Brown’s Favorite Uncle The Hal Neely Story Chapter Thirty-One

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James Brown’s Favorite Uncle The Hal Neely Story Chapter Twenty-Nine

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Lieber and Stoller, one-time partners of Hal Neely
Previously in the book: Nebraskan Hal Neely began his career touring with big bands and worked his way into Syd Nathan’s King records, producing rock and country songs. Along the way he worked with James Brown, the Godfather of Soul, who referred to Neely as his favorite uncle. Eventually he became one of the owners of Starday-King.

In the early 1970s, the record industry experienced a loss of sales which could not be reversed. Pierce said Neely’s course of action was to record larger bands with fuller arrangements which did not help the financial status of Starday-King.1 The Bienstocks saw a different problem with the business operation in Nashville.
“I was at the Gavin Convention,” Johnny Bienstock said, “and I saw this guy (Neely) having a lavish party and everything else. I said to Freddy, ‘Starday-King Records must be doing phenomenally.’ He was treating jockeys like I’ve never seen; he was having bigger parties than Atlantic Records. Freddy was furious.” It was at this time the Bienstocks began to consider extricating themselves from the record company, even if it meant taking a financial loss. They were still interested, however, in the company’s song publishing catalog.2
“For whatever reason,” Wilson said, “the Neely, Bienstock, Lieber-Stoller situation became not as close or as productive as it had been initially hoped for, and the relationship there became sort of, well, at loggerheads. They being in New York – that is, Lieber-Stoller and Bienstock – and Neely in Cincinnati or in Nashville. Internal paperwork problems went unsolved because the people who needed to make such decisions were never in the same place at the same time. Beinstock, Lieber and Stoller in New York could only see the financial statements of recording costs.” Wilson felt they weren’t being informed about the rationale behind the numbers.3
The company endured mounting recording costs which had not been recouped. “I just visualized a lot of problems that maybe could have been overcome, given a little reinvestment money to pull the thing along,” Wilson said. “But I would be answering, really, to some people who had not been in the other end of the record business.” Lieber-Stoller and Bienstock had been involved in A&R (artists and repertoire) and publishing. Wilson and Neely were in distribution and marketing. “I just felt at the time, and this later came to pass, that their main thrust, all of a sudden, was not to perpetuate a record company but was to divest themselves of the record company and only keep the publishing end, which was really what happened.”4
Even Neely’s good friend Williams said he made a few bad decisions on producing new performers. He said one demonstration tape sat on Neely’s desk for months. Others urged him to produce it but he did not because he thought it was just a so-so song. The song “I Never Promised You a Rose Garden” went on to be a big hit for another company.5
At one point Starday-King started selling off some of its real estate. Billboard Magazine reported in its Feb. 19, 1972 edition that Owepar, owned by Dolly Parton, Louis Owens and Porter Wagonner, bought Starday’s Townhouse building on Music Row to house its business activities.
In another effort to generate revenues, Starday-King released a second series of the Old King Gold catalogue, a collection of 31 rock ‘n’ roll and rhythm and blues singles from the 1950s, according to an article in Billboard Magazine in the Nov. 18, 1972 issue.
“What we did, originally, was to prepare a series of our King catalogue vintage tracks and turn them into pre-packaged sets which were sent to jukebox operators and one-stops,” Neely told Billboard. “Then all of a sudden we found we’re getting calls from underground college areas. This led us into our third pressing of the original series.” He said the company was planning to release a third in the series early the next year and eventually expanding to nine albums.
Business continued to decline, according to Pierce, and “after about a year and a half, the operation in Nashville was deeply in debt, and the Bienstock brothers came down and discontinued Hal Neely.”6
Eventually, Wilson said, Lieber, Stoller and Bienstock voted for Neely to resign as president, but Neely still owned one third of the Tennessee Recording Corporation.7
Neely gave a major interview with Billboard Magazine in its Oct. 6, 1973 edition. He said negotiations had lasted more than a week in both New York and Nashville over the Starday-King division of Tennessee Recording and Publishing Company. Neely told the magazine at first he was asked to resign. After Neely refused, the other three owners voted him off the board, while he retained his shares. The three men—Bienstock, treasurer; Lieber, secretary; and Stoller, board member—offered to purchase Neely’s percentage, and he countered with an offer to buy their shares.
“Neither offer was acceptable,” Neely said in the interview. “We were far apart at first, but we have been getting closer together. I am still hopeful of making the purchase.” He explained that the move began because Starday-King had not had a hit record for nine months. “I poured my own money into it, but there had been considerable disagreements over the way the firm should be run.”
Neely said if he were unable to buy out the other three, and they purchased his assets, he would immediately start another recording company and publishing firm. He owned a part of the physical properties and the existing catalogue through Neely Corporation Inc. (Review of Billboard files revealed Neely did not follow through with these plans.)
“If I should get out, I will be free and clear to enter business and compete.” Neely stressed he and the former partners were still “very friendly. It is now down to the point where the lawyers are involved for the most part, protecting their clients.” He said the company was still very healthy with the publishing company alone worth more than $1 million. He added that whatever debts existed were more than covered by the properties themselves.
Billboard reported that Bienstock said he would make a statement later in the week. (Likewise, a review of Billboard’s files showed Bienstock did not make any statement.) Lieber and Stoller were not available for comment. Neely concluded by saying if no agreement was reached that sale to a third party would take place.
The job of president was offered to Wilson, but he said, “I declined, because I could see the handwriting on the wall. And shortly after that period I resigned.” Wilson went on to work in the new distribution wing of Polygram, the parent company of Polydor which had bought James Brown’s contract.8
Don Pierce stayed on the Starday-King payroll for two years with an official title of advisor but actually took no role in the operation of the company. He bought a new home on the Old Hickory Lake, the same neighborhood where Neely lived. Over the years Pierce dabbled in real estate, automobile parts manufacturing, and established the Golden Eagle master achievement award for the country music industry.9
“Those guys (the Bienstocks) are only interested in the music publishing,” Pierce said. “That they won’t give up. They hold those copyrights and they know that those copyrights don’t argue. They just grow money. But they’re not in the record business. Take the records and get as much of it in the marketplace as possible. But we’ll do the publishing.”10
Looking around the music industry, the Bienstocks found a likely buyer in Gayron “Moe” Lytle, who with songwriter Tommy Hill founded Gusto Records in 1973. The company specialized in reissuing and licensing records from its catalog of acquired and self-produced music. 11
The Bienstocks originally wanted $500,000 for Starday and King masters and tapes in 1975. Pierce recalled Tommy Hill telling him, “Moe went up there, and laid down a check for $375,000. They (the Bienstocks) said, ‘You’re out of your mind.’”
Lytle picked up the check and said, “I’ll be at my hotel room.”
Hill said the Bienstocks discussed the proposition and decided that their business relationship with Neely was not working out right.
They didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Pierce said. “They didn’t know what to do with the masters. They don’t know a goddamn thing about records. They got all the songs but they needed someone to use those masters. So they took the $375,000. Imagine that! The whole King and Starday catalogs. Of course things were low ebb back then. They weren’t like they are now. It was just a different ballgame then.”12
In the deal, Gusto Records acquired thousands of master records and tapes which had been produced by King, Starday, and their subsidiaries. Included in the deal were all the record covers, photographs, promotional materials, contracts and other fan collectibles accumulated during the 30 years of running the companies. Lytle was quoted as saying he bought the masters because he wanted the Starday catalog and considered the King music just as an “add-on.” Gusto Records continued to own the King catalog which meant Lytle had now owned it longer than Syd Nathan.13
Master tapes generate immediate income upon the release to the public. They can become a source of quick and easy money but can also make it harder for a company to use its imagination and create new material. Gusto Records launched in 1978 a series of long-play records, cassettes, and eight-track tapes, which proved to be a treasure trove for fans and collectors. These records were affordable, plentiful, and easy to find.14
Tennessee Recording and Publishing, however, kept the publishing rights to thousands of songs on the King and Starday labels because this was considered to be much more profitable. Among the hit songs owned by the labels were “Fever,” “Dedicated to the One I Love,” “Please, Please, Please,” and “Work with Me, Annie.”15
During this same time Neely sold his interest in Tennessee Recording and Publishing Company to Beinstock, Lieber and Stoller. In his memoirs, Neely claimed who would sell out to whom was determined by a coin toss which he said he lost. Both Mike Stoller and business associates of the late Freddy Bienstock disagree with this story.
“I’m not quite certain what Hal Neely meant by a coin toss,” Stoller said. “With that image in mind, what did each of the heads and tails represent? My memory of the reason for the sale of the King and Starday Record catalogs to Moe Lytle was that Hal had spent a great deal more money (including his own compensation) than the company was earning. That resulted in the debts far outweighing the receipts of the company. Included among the expenses that Hal incurred was the purchase of a new bus for a recording artist who had had one successful recording. In regard to the sale, as I recall, the phrase ‘25 cents on the dollar’ was bandied about.”16
Bob Golden, vice president of marketing for Carlin America, Inc. — which was founded and run by Freddy Bienstock until his death in 2009–said he believed Mr. Neely’s memories of this transaction were probably inaccurate.
“I can verify that Freddy always considered and treated everyone in any business relationship he had as a colleague. He took great pride in the fact that all his dealings were scrupulously fair and square in a particularly hard and tough business.”17
Over a short period of time all employees of what had been Starday-King were dismissed, according to Wilson. “About the only operation that continued to exist until such time that Gusto Records bought the masters of Starday-King, about the only thing that continued to operate was the mail order operation, Cindy Lou’s Mail Order,” Wilson said. “Or as it used to be known, the Country Music Record Club.”18
“Hal never recovered from the Lieber-Stoller deal,” Wise said. “He never recovered in business. Hal was always the eternal optimist, but this was the beginning of the end.”19
Williams believed Neely sold Starday-King because he saw that major record companies, such as RCA and Capitol, were moving into Nashville and would put independents out of business. “He was right and wrong. The majors took over for a while but finally found it more feasible to let independents produce records instead.” 20
The music business was very volatile, Williams explained. For many years a company was able to make $60,000 in sales in juke boxes which created a market to small producers. Then juke boxes disappeared from the marketplace.
“The worst thing was to have a big hit. ‘Harper Valley PTA’ was a big hit but the producer went bankrupt. The printer had to borrow money from the bank to get copies out to the public before the sales came in.
“Hal was a great raconteur. He was an impresario and gave advice to young artists. Hal got involved in projects with that resume and storytelling, but when it came to putting the tread to the road he couldn’t do it,” Williams explained. “He got burned on many deals – including James Brown – and got shell-shocked. He got beat down. Hal was an easy mark and was taken advantage of. Hal bought himself a coal mine which blew his fortune. That mine was in War, West Virginia, near Welch. War had 300 people. Coal cost $200 a ton more to mine than it paid. He also decided to subdivide his lake property in the mid-1970s and lost money on that.”21
This was the time period during which Neely said in his memoirs that he and Wise acquired a condominium in Nashville. Williams remembered visiting Neely “when three guys came in the back door and ate in the kitchen. Each of us assumed the other one knew who the intruders were, but they were strangers. That was exactly what Nashville was. Nashville is a handshake and litigate. People don’t remember what the handshake was for.”
While Neely never lost his optimism and always thought a big deal was about to break, he did at times look back upon his career wistfully. Williams remembered him saying, “It wasn’t but a few years ago I could go into a bank and go up to the top floor to see the president. Now I can’t see the teller.”22
Others in Nashville did not take their music industry decline as gracefully. One time Faron Young asked Neely, “What do you do when you’re a has-been?”23 Young had been a top country music star from the early 1950s to the mid-1970s with hits like “If You Ain’t Lovin’ You Ain’t Livin,’” “Live Fast, Love Hard, Die Young” and “Hello Walls”. He also had made plenty of money in real estate and publishing the successful trade paper Music City News. But Young felt the country music business had forgotten him. At age 64, he committed suicide by shooting himself in 1996.24 His ashes were scattered over Old Hickory Lake where he had been Neely’s neighbor.25
“It was not the money but being a has-been,” said Williams, who entered his retirement years comfortably through investments in agricultural markets. “Soybeans have been very good to me.” He added, “I want to be remembered as being in bar fights and not as a 75-year-old man drinking grape juice.”26
The last story to appear in Billboard Magazine about Hal Neely was in its Dec. 1, 1979 issue, with a brief notice that he was now a salesman for a new Harlequin-type book series which he was pushing at Seibert’s Book Store in Little Rock, Ark.

1 Brian Powers.
2 The Starday Story, 165.
3 www.fundinguniverse.com_histories/lin_broadcasting_corp_history.
4 The Starday Story, 165.
5Record Makers and Breakers, 267-269.
6 Ibid.
7 Ibid., 271.
8 Ibid., 296.
9 Ibid., 438.
10 Tobler, John, NME Rock ‘n’ Roll Years (1st Edition), Reed International Books Ltd., London, 30.
11 Record Makers and Breakers, 233-234.
12 NME Rock ‘n’ Roll Years, 19.
13 The Starday Story, 165.
14 Wilson Interview.
15 Record Makers and Breakers, 148.
16 Dr. Art Williams Interview.
17 Ibid.
18 Winsett Interview.
19 Williams Interview.
20 Goldsmith, Thomas (editor), The Bluegrass Reader, University of Illinois Press, Urbana and Chicago, 2004, 193.
21 Ibid.
22 Williams Interview.
23 Wise Interview.
24 Williams Interview.

James Brown’s Favorite Uncle The Hal Neely Story Chapter Twenty-Eight

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Previously in the book: Nebraskan Hal Neely began his career touring with big bands and worked his way into Syd Nathan’s King records, producing rock and country songs. Along the way he worked with James Brown, the Godfather of Soul, who referred to Neely as his favorite uncle.

Hal Neely was probably the main reason James Brown stayed with Starday-King as long as he did. In one anecdote from his autobiography, Brown recalled how badly an engagement was going at the Copacabana Club in New York City where his “raw, gutbucket” style was not appreciated by the sophisticated crowd. He even gave the Copacabana management back $25,000 and cut the second week of his run. He remembered Neely coming into his dressing room on his last night.
“James, I think it’s time to redo the band. They’re a super band, but it’s time for a change.”
“I think you’re right. We’ve gone about as far as we can go.”
Brown said they often discussed personnel changes to get “new energy and new ideas.” With Neely’s guidance, Brown enlisted Fred Wesley as the new group leader who played the trombone instead of the clarinet which was the instrument of the previous leader, thus changing the sound of the group.
On another occasion Neely was producing a Brown record called “Choo-Choo Locomotion” but the session was not going smoothly. “It was about two or three in the morning, and Mr. Neely said, ‘Why don’t you just play conductor and call off the names of the towns and talk about them?’” Brown claimed that was the first time he ever did a rap.
“One thing you can count on was a phone call at two or three in the morning,” Wise said, remembering the days with Starday-King and Brown. “James always wanted to talk after a performance.” One time Neely arranged for a group of girls to be at an airport on the tarmac to greet James Brown. The girls lost control and ran toward him, getting very physical. “They tore the buttons off his coat.”1
On another occasion Wise recalled flying to Miami with Neely to attend three concerts by Brown, who went without food between the three performances. Neely treated Brown to a meal, Wise said; however, they went to Sambo’s, which she found ironic.2
Neely created lyrics on paper napkins during luncheons with Brown during which they discussed the continued development of his career and music.3 Even with Neely’s personal attention Brown had problems with Starday-King management. He demanded payments in addition to his regular checks and wanted the company to pay $5,000 for leasing of a Learjet. Even while trying to extract as much money as he could from of the Nashville studio, Brown was making overtures to other record corporations, such as Warner Bros. But his escalating demand for more money became a sticking point for the entertainment giant.4
Jim Wilson described the hard process that Starday-King went through to decide it would be in its best interest to persuade Brown to look for another company. “Now, mind you, everything we put out on him was a hit record. Whether it was a hit or not, it was a hit. We sell records on it. And maybe deservingly so, but for a little company such as we were to have one strong artist (who) suddenly began to dominate everything, we found it difficult to develop and break in other acts. It was a corporate decision, probably. James’ advantage and to Starday-King’s advantage.”5
Long-time King attorney Jack Pearl said to Brown in 1971, “James, there is a company moving into the American market called Polydor, and I think you should be with them. I think they’re going to be very big in the business.” Brown said in his autobiography that he wasn’t interested in the deal. Before long he was approached by Julian and Roy Rifkin who talked him into considering their company which turned out to be part of Polydor, which was a worldwide conglomerate of record companies with Dutch and German ownership.
Neely encouraged Brown to sign with Polydor promising to help renegotiate a new contract with them. Neely was familiar with the European company in dealings over record distribution for King.6
“He made good on Mr. Nathan’s verbal promise to me that I would get 10 percent of the sale price of the masters,” Brown said. After the transfer of the personal services contract and title to the masters, we negotiated a new long-term contract with Polydor they gave me a substantial advance, a production company, a separate office so I could be independent from them, and artistic control of my work. There was some talk at the time that Mr. Neely might move over to Polydor a little later.”
Wise saw James Brown in Macon before his contact was sold to Polydor. She and Neely stayed at his house while attending a show in downtown Macon which Brown hosted for musical newcomers. “He was nice to newcomers,” Wise said. “James helped other people unless he thought they were a threat to him.” Her last memory of Brown was him coming down the stairs to greet them. “He had pink curlers in his hair,” she said. “I think they made him self-conscious.”7
During the negotiations with Polydor, Brown showed his skills as a businessman. Fred Davis, who was Brown’s banker and one of his bookkeepers at the time of the deal, said, “James Brown had his seventh-grade education, but there’s no telling what his IQ was. I remember times when we were sent a 30-page contract from Polydor. He (Brown) did get worked up about some things, and wrote a little note in the margin, and everybody in the courtroom would be bickering about it. Two years late, that elementary little side note would bite them in the ass. One little side note cost Polydor $4 million when it caught up with them.”8
Brown also sought the advice of Henry Stone who claimed to have been on his way from Miami to Georgia to sign Brown to a contract when Ralph Bass got to him first in 1956. “I was in New York at the time,” Stone said. “Got a call from James, saying, ‘You’ve got to help me out. I met at the American Hotel with the Polydor people and I’m not happy with what’s going on.’”
Brown’s demand that Polydor pay for his jet blocked the negotiations. “I said, ‘So look, he wants an airplane,’” Stone related. “You and I both know James is breaking wide open with a new generation of kids. You know that James is huge in the clubs of Europe—all over the world he is breaking out. So why are we arguing about a jet?”9
The deal was sealed, airplane and all. However, the major element which made the deal click was Neely’s participation. Neely was both the lead negotiator for Starday-King and the holder of the personal-services contract with Brown. He was going to make a lot of money either way.10
“It took a little of the pressure off our company,” Wilson said. “Artists like James essentially said, ‘Look I’m selling all your records. I want you to spend all your time, you know, working on my product.’ We were developing another group at the time, the Manhattans, who since went on to become big artists with Columbia. We were developing the new thrust back with the bluegrass artists. And things were rolling along.”11
In a press release, Polydor said, “James Brown will perform 335 days this coming year, losing as much as seven pounds each performance. In an average month, he will give away 5,000 autographed photos and 1,000 pairs of James Brown cufflinks. He will wear 120 freshly laundered shirts and more than 80 hours on the stage, singing, dancing and playing at least 60 songs on more than eight instruments.”12
What followed in the next couple of years were some of the biggest hits in Brown’s career. Unfortunately, music historians actually mark the deal with Polydor as the beginning of the end for James Brown’s career. In April of 1972 he sent a memo to Polydor which announced the following: “To all white people this may concern: God dammit, I’m tired. It’s been a racist thing ever since I have been here. Leave me the fuck alone. I am not a boy but a man, to you a black man.” He wished someone would buy him out.13
Polydor wasn’t very happy with Brown either. By the end of 1976 Polydor estimated that it had paid $1,514,154 to Brown as an artist, and loans to his production company. The next year Brown asked for another $25,000, but Polydor refused to give it and even tried to impound his airplane. When 1980 rolled around Polydor and Brown were discussing ways to break their contact. Negotiations, in fact, became quite nasty when a Polydor executive claimed “Hal Neely had absolutely nothing to do with any of Brown’s success! Fact!” This statement was cited by Brown and his advisers as revealing conclusively that Polydor was ignorant about the career of the entertainer.14
In his autobiography Brown would compare King Records “which had been my family for fifteen years” with Polydor. “Whatever King had been about, Polydor was the opposite. Every King act was individual; Polydor tried to make all their acts the same. King wanted to be an independent company with individual artists; Polydor wanted to be a conglomerate. King wanted to be a little company with big acts; Polydor wanted to be a big company with little acts.”

1 Wise Interview.
2 Ibid.
3 Hanneman Interview.
4 The One, 257.
5 Wilson Interview.
6 The One, 256-257.
7 Wise Interview.
8 The One, 258.
9 Ibid.
10 Ibid., 257.
11 Wilson Interview
12 The One, 259.
13 Ibid., 313.
14 The James Brown Story, 151.

James Brown’s Favorite Uncle The Hal Neely Story Chapter Twenty-Seven

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Don Pierce, the boss at Starday Records

After the burial of Syd Nathan on March 7 at Judah Torah Cemetery in Cincinnati, maneuverings began for control of King Records. “Many prospective buyers have been trying to purchase King,” Billboard Magazine reported in its obituary for Nathan, “and it is known that bidders are still anxious for the property. The Nathan family intends to keep King functioning.”1
“Hal Neely still held an option,” Jim Wilson said, “from his previous association with King, on a certain amount of stock. We decided that this would be a great thing for Starday if we could buy the King operation. It was kinda logical, since we pressed our records there. Both Hal and I had worked with Don (Pierce) who had worked with Syd professionally and known him for a long time. We probably knew more about the company than anybody else and the people involved in it. So through a series of negotiations with Syd’s estate and so forth a deal was consummated whereby Starday acquired King Records. And then, in turn, negotiations had been set up whereby Lin Broadcasting, which was a Nashville-based conglomerate, bought Starday-King.”2
Pierce had owned Starday since leaving another country music company in 1953. “I’m originally from Seattle,” Pierce said. “I don’t play any instrument or have any real knowledge of music. But when I got out of the Army in 1946 … I needed to find something to do, and I answered an ad in the newspaper that said something about 4 Star Records,” which hired him in sales.
Pierce remembered the King transaction in his book “The Starday Story.” Pierce and the current operators of the King plant went to Marathon in the Florida Keys to discuss the possibility of Starday buying King. “I wasn’t so sure I would get along with Mr. Brown,” Pierce said, “and I realized that I knew very little about pressing plants, plating plants, label printing, or taking care of 30 branch offices. So, I decided I did not want to own King Records.”3
Henry Glover, who had worked for King Records before the payola scandal, theorized that Neely and Wilson “insisted, to a certain extent, on Pierce’s purchasing King. At the particular time, the interest on their part, and, of course, mine, was to reactivate and continue the running of the company, especially in the area of rhythm and blues, because James Brown was on the label and, at the time, very big.”4
Later Pierce met Fred Gregg, owner of Lin Broadcasting, which was interested in buying Starday Records. Pierce mentioned that King Records Company was also on the market. “We told him of the importance of King and, because Hal Neely had been formerly one of the chief operators of King Records, he could operate both Starday and King on behalf of Lin Broadcasting Company.” Gregg paid $2 million for Starday, and Pierce sent Neely to Cincinnati with a cashier’s check for $100,000 of Starday money as earnest money to purchase King for $2.5 million.5
In the Nov. 23, 1968 issue of Billboard Magazine, the amount of the deal was put at $5 million. Gregg was quoted as saying, “This will mean a great expansion program. It will mean an additional $6 million to $8 million in gross income to the Nashville music economy.” The Billboard story said the corporate structure included Pierce as president, Neely, vice-president; Wilson, marketing vice-president; Johnny Miller, in charge of the Cincinnati office; and Henry Glover, manager of the New York office.
Trade and local newspapers in the fall of 1968 offered conflicting versions about the sale of King Records, but Neely said, “It was all very simple. It was a personal option, so I had to buy the company but I needed $1,750,000 cash.”6 What Neely did not reveal publicly was that his first attempt to raise the money was with the Mafia in New York City with whom he already had a working relationship because of his sale of overrun records.
Neely went to an office on the corner of 142nd Street and Broadway where he met with an organized crime boss who lived on Staten Island. Neely’s request was simple: please loan me the money to buy the record company. The man opened a huge safe filled with cash but cautioned Neely, “You don’t want to do this because if anything goes wrong, the organization doesn’t play very nice.” He added that for the rest of his life he would be manipulated by mob. “Why don’t you find another way?”7
Neely reconsidered and opted out.
Instead he went to Nashville and Don Pierce of Starday who “loaned me the money. In turn, I agreed to merge King with Starday to form the Tennessee Recording Corporation which we then sold to Lin Broadcasting in late October.”8
“Tennessee Recording Corporation was the official, legal name I believe,” Wilson said. “Call it Starday-King Records.” Lin stood for Louisville, Indianapolis and Nashville, Wilson explained. Among the company’s assets were radio and television stations, and advertising media buyer, a chain of national art galleries, a telephone answering and radio paging service, several direct marketing companies, and the Miss Teenage America Pageant.
Wilson believed the deal “gave an opportunity for Don Pierce, who wanted to cash in his chips. He was getting a little disillusioned with all the changes that were going on in the music business. He wanted out, so Don cashed in his part. He sold the Starday part of Starday-King, and in turn he retired from the business.9
Pierce told Billboard Magazine, as reported in an Aug. 8, 1970, article, “I have no plans at the present other than an extended vacation.” He called his departure from Starday “the end of an era. I am an executive casualty and this happens all the time.” The magazine added, “Despite his obvious displeasure at the turn of events, Pierce said he would continue calling on Starday to offer advice and assistance whenever possible.”
James Brown had his own interpretation of the events in his autobiography. “After Mr. Nathan died, Mr. Neely exercised his option to buy King Records and turned it into Starday-King. In late 1968 he sold it to Lin Broadcasting as a wholly owned subsidiary with headquarters in Nashville. He took me with him into Lin. I was still under a personal services contract to Mr. Neely that had six or seven years to run, but he didn’t like the arrangement with Lin. A lot of their radio stations wouldn’t even play my records. I don’t know if they were worried about a conflict of interest or what, but it was frustrating and something was going to have to give.”
While Wilson said that James Brown was one of the greatest living performers of all time, he was also very demanding. “You find, sometimes, in such a position, where an artist is dominating the label roster, that the work and interest in developing along the other artists is diminished, because of the demands to keep this other thing rolling. These are some of the things that happened with a small record label, and particularly one with an artist who is very aggressive and demanding.”10
Brown did, indeed, produce several profitable singles for the new record label, including “Sex Machine” and “Super Bad” –both recorded at the Starday Sound Studios in Nashville.
But Brown’s influence at Starday-King didn’t stop there. Some sources believed the reason Pierce painted the front of Starday Studio brown from its original white was to accede to the demands of the rhythm and blues star.11

1 King of the Queen City, 182-183.
2 Wilson Interview.
3 The Starday Story, 15.
4 Henry Glover Interview with Country Music Association, February 1983.
5 The Starday Story, 161-162.
6 Brian Powers.
7 Hanneman Interview.
8 Brian Powers.
9 Wilson Interview.
10 Ibid.
11 The Starday Story, 164.

James Brown’s Favorite Uncle The Hal Neely Story Chapter Twenty-Three

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It was evident to me that both the black R & B and “old” country (as we knew it) was changing. Our total self-contained business was in jeopardy. Syd and I disagreed on tactics. Motown changed the way independents did business. Berry Gordy Jr. and I were good friends. We talked about a merger. In 1964 King’s profits sunk. Syd and I disagreed.
“Hal, it’s my way or no way.”
Don Pierce’s Starday Records also changed. Don, a pioneer in country music, founded Starday. Don was not a musician but knew the business. He knew the Starday catalog and assembled most of the LPs. Don and I were both low handicap golfers and played whenever we could. We became very good friends. Don had a young man, not a musician, working for him as his assistant but he left to join a company in California. Don had a good staff and was aware of my problems with Syd so he offered me a good deal in July 1964–a minority interest in Starday if I would move to Nashville and become his vice president and chief operating officer. I would keep my King deal and still help Syd all I could. Syd and Don had always been good friends but not on the same wavelength. Starday worked through distributors and direct mail order, keeping a low profile.
My wife Mary did not want to leave Cincinnati and all her friends. Even so, she agreed. “Hal, if that is what you want, okay.”
We bought a small house Pierce had built out on Old Hickory Lake, close to where Faron Young, Roy Acuff, Roy Orbison, Johnny Cash, and a host of other country music stars lived. Starday’s “lake guest house” was close by me. Pierce had built, and now lived in, a big new house on the lake up the road from me. We jointly owned sixty acres on the lake called “Grasslands.”
Several of my key Cincinnati King people–Jim Wilson, Johnny Miller, Roy Emery, and Dan Quest– moved to Nashville Starday with me. Key Starday staff were Suzanne Mathis, sales, and her little sister Dorothy of accounting, Mrs. Casey in shipping, and Tommy Hill, producer.
Eventually Mary and I built a big ranch-style house on 80 acres of woods and pasture. We owned horses and cattle. James moved his office to Macon, Georgia, and built a beautiful estate across the river in South Carolina. He and I were still in business together, but he did his own thing. Surprisingly, James loved country music and several times in our early years came to our house to eat and listen to country music. He loved Mary because she taught him proper table manners. However, for the rest of his life he seldom ate in a restaurant. He picked at his food.
James Brown exploded in the marketplace. His shows sold out. He worked nonstop. This earned him the title “The Hardest Working Man In The Music Business.” In the beginning I often toured with James, running interference for him as his massive ego and unpredictable nature created problems.
By this time I had built an enviable reputation in the music entertainment business. Among my credits, awards, and industry service were being the Record Industry Association of America representative on the Copyright Act Tribunal, cofounding the Music City Pro-Celebrity Golf Tournament at the Woodland Hills Country Club and being the master of ceremonies at the “after golf” show. Participating in the tournament were Perry Como, Boots Randolph, Nashville Cats Band, Sam Snead, Jerry Reed, and other Nashville stars who enjoyed golf as a pastime. I wrote a series of technical music/productions/engineering articles for Popular Science magazine, Billboard, and other trade papers.
At Faron Young’s Christmas party in 1967, I was holding court and spouting off as usual. “What Nashville needs are some sharp young ladies in our business other than just secretaries.”
Standing in the back of the group was a 5’11” beauty in high heels.
“My name is Victoria Wise. I would like a job. When can I see you?”
My ass was hanging out. “Come see me the Monday after New Year’s.”
That whole holiday season was snow, snow and almost blizzard weather. That Monday, I had a Jeep with snow tires so I went into the office early as usual, knowing none of my people would probably come to work. My book did show a Victoria Wise in for an interview. I did not figure she would show up. About eight, a car pulled up out front and in waltzed Miss Wise who took off her coat and sat down in the lowest chair she could find, wearing the shortest shirt dress I had ever seen. She crossed those long, long beautiful legs. There wasn’t any place else I could look.
“Glad to see you. Nice of you to come out in this weather.”
She said she had a friend who had snow tires on her car and had brought her out. She was now sitting in the outer office. Victoria was one sharp, sharp lady. She had a good resume. A scholarship to Middle Tennessee State University, worked with Revlon out of New York as a beauty consultant traveling and teaching salespeople. She quit Revlon to move to Nashville where she was born and raised. She had family in Lawrenceburg. Currently working at the new Country Music Association Hall of Fame and Museum, she wanted a chance in the music industry. In high school she played clarinet and had been a drum majorette and she had some music knowledge.
She was very well-qualified and probably just the person I was looking for. We agreed on the terms and conditions. She wanted to do public relations and artist relations. She would report to me. We would build a special office for her on the second floor. I was due in Las Vegas, leaving Wednesday, to attend the James Brown show opening at Caesar’s Palace’s big room that weekend. I thought it was a good idea to take Victoria along to break her in.
But there were two problems. She still had her job and she had a boyfriend. Her job at the CMA would be no problem. I was now a vice president and director of CMA and her boss would be happy to see one of his girls get a chance. Victoria went into the next office, closed the door and talked to her boyfriend on the telephone. He was not happy with her deal. Even so, she came back into my office and said “Okay.”
My plan was that Jim Wilson—who had left King to join me in Nashville—Victoria, and I would leave on American Airlines Wednesday morning by the way of Cincinnati, to pick up Jim’s girlfriend and then fly on to Vegas. I had the premium guest suite at Caesar’s and rooms for my people. She and Jim’s girlfriend would share a room.
James Brown was the “hottest act in the industry”. He had hit after hit and sold out shows on tour. I had chartered a special flight from Hollywood to Vegas and my guests were Hedda Hopper, the Hollywood Reporter, Billboard, Variety and others. It would be a gala night. We held a preshow special James Brown reception in my suite.
Victoria was a little late getting to the reception, dressed in a beautiful short skirt, long legs, stunning. Wow. But I told her, “No way.” She was working. I sent her back to her room to change into something more businesslike. Victoria, in all the years to come, never forgave me.
Col. Parker, an old friend of mine and Elvis Presley’s manager, had a special personal booth directly in front of the stage. He was at James Brown’s opening reception and invited Victoria and me to be his guests in his booth for the show. I had not gone to that afternoon’s rehearsal. I knew the James Brown show by heart. It was basically the “Live at the Apollo Show” which I had produced. I had seen it many times.
Showtime. The curtain went up. I went into total shock. James Brown’s 12-piece band with Bobby Byrd and the girl singers were all staged out in front of a full 24-piece orchestra with its own conductor. The orchestra opened the show with “I Feel Good.” James came out on stage dressed in a black silk tuxedo and not his usual cape. He had good opening applause, and then not much of anything. He was “bombing.” James Brown had that pure instinct of a great performer, to improvise, and all of a sudden on “Fever,” the James Brown’s band took over from the big orchestra and were doing the Apollo show. The orchestra members were good Vegas musicians, could play anything so they picked up their James Brown version and joined in “jamming.”
I ran upstairs to the control room and called the lights and sound for an Apollo show. Thank God, all Vegas show room technicians are adaptable to emergencies. This was an emergency. The customers never knew what happened. They loved it! Soon some were up dancing in their chairs, others in the aisles. I had never seen such a show in the big room, even Elvis. My Hollywood guests were enthralled with the “Godfather of Soul.” After the show I took them backstage to meet and greet Mr. Brown. By this time James insisted on being addressed as Mr. Brown. The entourage loved him. He was at his best. The evening was a huge success.
The original contract was for two weeks; however, we all agreed to cut it to one week. The date was a success. It opened the door for me to book more of my artists, Redd Fox and the Wayne Cochran CC Riders band into a Caesar’s lounge for very early 4 a.m. shows.
James took his private plane to Hollywood to regroup. Bobby Byrd and the others followed on their bus. They had no trouble and booked into a Los Angeles club. Victoria and I went to Hollywood for a week of meetings. She took to her job and soon was pretty much her own boss when we got back to Nashville.
Next I went to London, and our sales hit bottom. We had no hits. I called Jim Wilson and said, “Jim, I’m stuck here for at least a week or so. You better cut back where ever you can and hold the fort ‘til I return.” This was the same old record business. “Hot today, cold tomorrow, hot again.”
First thing Jim did was to lay off some people. Victoria Wise was the last hired so she was the first to go. When I got back I called her. She was furious. She always did have a bad mouth and knew the words. She hung up on me. So be it. She had two weeks’ pay coming. Victoria’s girl roommate was one of my artists with some merit but had no hits yet. She was in the office, and I told her I had Victoria’s check, but she would have to come and get it.
Victoria came in. We made peace. But she had taken a job with her friend Ellen Tune as a bus tour guide of Nashville. She was good because she knew the stars, the gossip and Music Row. She was doing okay.
I was involved with the Beach Boys. Their manager, a bachelor, was in Nashville visiting me. He wanted to “go out and do the Strip.” I called Victoria and her friend to invite them to go out with us. We would pick them up about seven. That night began a complication: the girls went to the store and locked themselves out. They had to climb up the balcony to get in through a window. When we got there they were not yet dressed.
The plan was for Victoria to team up with Roger and sit in the back and Sarah and I would sit in the front. But Sarah jumped in back with Roger. Victoria had to sit in the front with me. That was the pattern for the night. We ended up at Boots Randolph’s club. It was a good fun night, though it was cold and wintry. Victoria and I found we had much in common.
Jim and I had to go to Cincinnati and would stay at a new inn close to King. Victoria knew all the Cincinnati people and hadn’t been there in a long time. I asked her if she would like to go, and she agreed. We got in late and went directly to the inn. My room was on the first floor in back facing the pool. Jim’s room was across the hall. About five in the morning the fire alarms went off. Jim Wilson was running up and down the hall knocking on all the doors yelling fire.
Smoke was coming under my door. Victoria and I soaked towels, packed them around the door, dressed in our sheepskins and cowboy hats and went outside. People on the second floor could only get their patio doors partially opened and were calling down to us. The smoke was billowing. The fire trucks arrived. There was more smoke and commotion than danger. A man on the first floor, across from me, had fallen asleep with a lighted cigarette. The first floor was cleared, and we went back to our rooms.
Mary and I still lived on the lake. She loved her house, her dogs, and her friends. Mary never went into town and hated the music business. We had drifted apart. Victoria and I started hanging out together. It just happened. She liked the clothes, the travel, and the music business. We liked many of the same things and had the same friends. Victoria was very independent; however, we were each still going our own way. She still worked with Ellen Tune and was doing very well.

James Brown’s Favorite Uncle The Hal Neely Story Chapter Twenty-Two

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Previously in the book: Nebraskan Hal Neely began his career touring with big bands and worked his way into the King records, producing rock and country songs. Along the way he worked with James Brown, the Godfather of soul.
(Author’s Note: Italics indicate passages from Neely’s memoirs)
On October 24, 1962, James Brown was booked to play at the Apollo Theater in Harlem, New York. It was the premium show palace for black acts. I decided to record the show for King. On Saturday nights the Apollo ran three shows, first a movie then a live act, after which they cleared the theater. They sold the tickets for the second show, cleared the house, and sold new tickets for the third show. Many Saturday nights, depending on the live act, some customers would buy tickets for two shows.
I rented the recording gear from Tom Nola’s Studio in Manhattan—a two-track mixer and four mikes. I hung one mike from the theaters ceiling in front of the center stage. James held one mike as he danced and sang and two mikes were in front of his band the JBs. I engineered and recorded the show backstage, wearing earphones. They all wanted to hear the tape recording.
“I can’t use it,” I told them. “There is some old lady sitting in the front row directly underneath the hanging mike shouting, ‘Sing, you mother, sing.’”
The guys all whooped it up and wanted to hear the tape again. Bobby Byrd explained to me that this was a common phrase the black kids yelled at James as he danced around the stage. It gave me an idea–the blacks would all know the phrase.
I knew James’s show routine. He usually did three different shows each night. I suggested they do the exact same routine all three shows– any show routine changes a little every time it is done. I would edit the same three shows and finalized them into one album. I ran out into the lobby to see if I could by chance locate the little old lady. I was in luck. She was eating a bag of popcorn and waiting in line to buy a new ticket for the next show. I went to her and introduced myself as James Brown’s manager.
“Ma’am, I noticed you really enjoyed his show. Would you like to be James’s guest? I’ll reserve the same seat for you.”
She was thrilled with the idea. She lived alone and came to the Apollo Saturday night. It was her weekly entertainment. I bought her a hot dog, new ticket and had a sign placed on her seat “reserved”. She shouted, “Sing, you mother, sing” as if on cue in all three shows. After the third show, I went out and gave her $10, and my card, got her address, and told her I would send her a copy of the album when it came out. She was a happy nice older lady.
James and the band were staying at a nice hotel in Harlem. Late that night another nice old black lady came to see James. It was his mother. She lived in Harlem and had gone to the last show that night. She and James were together again.
I edited the three shows and sent James my edited version for his comments. He loved the album, no changes. Dan Quest, King’s art director, designed the album cover, and I wrote the liner notes.
“James Brown Live at the Apollo” is now ranked the fourth best album of our time. This is the album that taught the white kids what the black kids already knew.
James and I formed “James Brown Productions/People Records, a joint venture company. James owned 49% and I owned 51%. James was still an exclusive King artist. I furnished him with his own private office in my King building on Brewster Avenue with its own private entrance. He had a secretary. Bud Hobgood, one of his longtime employees, was its manager.
James and I grew apart. He started being “self-possessive” and developed a “convenient memory”–trying to cut me out to do his own thing. He signed a contract with Mercury Records in Chicago. I took them to court and won the case and damages from Mercury. James Brown remained an exclusive King artist under personal contract to me.