Lessons From Augie
Augie Blume was, to my thinking, a saint in the music business. When our paths first crossed he was V.P. of Promotion at RCA Records in New York. I was living in Milwaukee and had been doing promotion for RCA Records for about 4-5 months when we met in 1970. Augie came through town to visit local radio stations and record stores, and as it turned out, to spend a fair amount of our 6 hours to help me understand my job and, in turn, get better at it. At the end of our time together he got into his rental car and headed to Chicago. The short version is that Augie wanted me to understand that everyone—every record store, radio station, programmer, distributor, disc jockey, newspaper and others—needed to be visited because all were important to the success of our artists.
The business was witnessing a transition. The days of the major labels dominating the music business was changing with dozens—more likely hundreds—of independent labels becoming a force in music. So the major labels began spending money on things that didn’t make sense to anyone other than some major label exec in New York. Which brings me to the Klowns.
The RCA Records label—home to Elvis Presley, Jefferson Airplane, Jose Feliciano, the Archies, Chet Atkins and others announced they had completed a deal with . . . wait for it . . . the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus. Each partner would put in money and “expertise” and create a band. One of the people they hired to make this “group” a success was songwriter and producer Jeff Barry. If the name isn’t familiar, he was a successful songwriter, producer, and collaborator with his then wife Ellie Greenwich. Remember “Doo Was Diddy”, “Then He Kissed Me”, “Da Doo Ron Ron”, “Be My Baby”, “Chapel of Love” and on and on. He’s a legend.
Hundreds of us were all introduced to the Klown’s album at a special event in Chicago. Let me put it this way. The event included the screening of a custom film and an appearance by the group. The album was awful, the songs were sub-par, contrived and worse, and the members of the band all wore costumes and makeup to make them look like, well, clowns.
Coincidentally (or not) Augie checked in with me that week, asked me what I thought and all I could do is ask, “any suggestions?” That’s when Augie introduced me to a new phrase, at least new to me. He said, “working on a bad record like this is like being asked to ‘polish a turd.’” There was a 5-10 second pause, and then I heard Augie say, “Everyone involved with this project should be made to atone for their sins.” Within a month or two of release, the album, the singles, and the Klowns disappeared from our current priorities. Almost as if George Orwell was running the company.
Augie died more than a decade ago, and yet I continue to remember him as a thoughtful, dedicated and smart record guy, and one of my earliest influences on how I approached working in the music business. As a relatively young man, I listened to him and one of his words that stayed with me was "atonement." Whether you are religious or not, it seems to me the concept of atonement should be universally accepted, and universally applied. A dictionary tells us that “atonement” can include (at least in part) acknowledgment, reparation and reconciliation.
When I was a child, maybe 9 or 10 years old, I would sometimes walk into or through my grandmother’s garden. Among the flowers and shrubs and a few trees were the ferns. Lots of ferns. You know, the kind that grow to look a bit like a hand-held fan? I decided that it would be fun to strip the leaves, and it was easy. You place a thumb and index finger at the bottom of the stem, and pull those fingers up and easily strip all of the leaves, with only the stem remaining. Voila. Cool, right? I quickly realized that I had either killed that plant, or at least destroyed one stem. It bothered me enough that I never did that again.
Some five years later I was on a walk through Grant Park on Milwaukee’s south side. I was with three friends headed through a wooded area toward Lake Michigan. In short, we were just being stupid teenagers, attempting to entertain ourselves on a sunny, summer day. One of my friends, and I really don’t remember which one, brought along a pellet gun which looked to me like a 45 automatic. He shot at a log (yes, a fallen log) about 30-40 feet from the group. Although it wasn’t a ‘real gun’, it made a solid popping sound, more like the “silencer” made with a TV cop-show gun. Some minutes later he said to me, “Hey why don’t you try it.” Being comfortable and just passive enough I asked, “What am I shooting at?” He simply said, “whatever you feel like.”
I looked around and noticed a good-size woodpecker on the side of tree, maybe 50 feet up, minding its own business, working the bark for bugs. I raised the pellet gun, aimed toward the woodpecker and fired. To my (everlasting) amazement, like right out of a movie, the bird fell backward off the tree and dropped to the ground. Dead. I was stunned. First time. First shot. I killed an unsuspecting woodpecker. Nothing came to me but remorse. I handed the gun back to my friend who said, “nice shot”. I didn’t pick up a gun again until I was in the U.S. Navy Reserve boot camp at Great Lakes, Illinois.
While living on the Mendocino Coast the past 15 years I’ve re-noticed a few things. There are ferns here, and there are woodpeckers here. While I no longer strip the ferns or shoot at the woodpeckers, I can only accept that these days there are probably far fewer critters, ferns and other unsuspecting life forms out here in the beautiful woods on the coast than there were since I arrived in 2006. Not due only to us, but due to all of us.
We have adopted a bunny, or perhaps she has adopted us. This is a formerly domesticated bunny, now feral who comes by most days for breakfast or dinner. Still shy, she will show up at 7 am or 6 pm, and Dolly, who dutifully watches for Bunny (yes "Bunny" is her new official name), sees to it that Bunny has food. The food reflects on the produce I've picked up at the Farmers Market on Saturday morning and we're using for our meals. Bunny receives the remnants of dandelion greens, parsley, apples, cilantro, spinach, broccoli, kale, carrot greens and from time to time the carrots themselves. (Caitie tells us that carrots are essentially chocolate to a bunny so use discretion when doling out the various foods.) Bunny moves around the neighborhood and, so far, has regularly (and safely) crossed the road without becoming road kill. Sustaining Bunny has become a part-time duty; and an enjoyable one.
Thinking back there are days I truly have remorse for the fern and the woodpecker, and I hope to some degree I have atoned for that stupidity more than 50 years ago. I’m not certain just what is an appropriate atonement. Maybe a prayer, a memorial or some other penance. Maybe it’s simply helping Bunny.
There’s a well known quote, often attributed to John Muir, that when venturing into undeveloped areas, “take only pictures, leave only footprints”.
Dolly, Caitie and our friend Sue spent almost three weeks in Africa in 2000. We visited Zimbabwe, Botswana, and South Africa. We saw the animals, birds, fish and various wildlife. We could only wonder then what these places might have been like 100 years before our visit. And we wonder what those places are like since our visit 22 years ago?
Let’s make room for the Stellar Jays, Fox, Raccoons, Quail, Forest Pigeons, Skunks, deer and all the others. They are our companions here on the planet and deserve some respect. Besides, I don’t want you agonizing on just how to atone when you're reflecting back 20, 40 or 50 years from now.
