(from page 14)

I had set ten hour work days at the Transfermat. 10:00 am to 8:00 PM every day. Therefore, I left my suite and ventured out onto the street around 8:45 am that following morning. I strolled south along 7th Avenue, past the famous Carnegie Deli (as featured in Woody Allen's Broadway Danny Rose), and finally turned right on 54th street. The infamous 'Studio 54", where Andy Warhol and The Velvet Underground shaped the trendy sixties counter culture now stood sadly shuttered.

I crossed Broadway and spotted the old Ed Sullivan Theater just to the south. The Beatles changed the world there one night. I know this because I, as a second grader, witnessed it on the old black and white Crosley TV in Golf, Illinois. And as I have said before, that second grader made a decision that a forty-something man is still living with! Now the theater hosts Late Night with David Letterman. Letterman has never changed much in my world except maybe the channel on my remote.

I found this really awesome deli / bagel bakery on that same corner. And each day I went there before work for my breakfast. As I munched my bagel with various creme cheeses, and drank freshly-squeezed juices, I thought about all the bands I had seen on Ed Sullivan and how they'd  shaped my musical life. Along with the Beatles were The Stones, The Who, The Association, Kenny Rodgers & First Edition, Herman's Hermits,  and of course the Doors. On Sunday nights at 6:30, my whole family always watched The Ed Sullivan Show together. Always.

That's why I dreaded whenever the Doors performed. Not that I didn't dig them, far from it! But when Morrison went into his pelvic thrusting antics, my parents got these horrified looks on their faces and lectured me, "You are NOT getting an electric guitar young man!!" Ironically,  two weeks after my mom passed away, I won my first electric guitar in a contest that a local radio station held. A baby blue Kalamazoo. "You know that I would be untrue..."

Anyway, after breakfast I ventured on westward toward the Toy Specialists, past cab repair garages, Asian restaurant supply houses, parking lots, and pushcart vendors. Past Sony Studios, and the world famous Hit Factory where Bon Jovi cut most of their work. The studio had these flags all lined up like a dumpy hotel register company I know of back in Mundelien Illinois. What's with all those tacky flags? The rumor was that this studio was owned by mob boss John Gotti. Each morning I walked by, string players were gathering outside the marble faced studio with their violins and viola cases. Either for a big film scoring date, or to help perpetuate the mob myth. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!

Eventually I came upon 619 W. 54th, a rather run-down looking warehouse building with scratched up Plexiglas doors.  I pushed the bell and was buzzed in. Rita Tesar, Bill's wife warmly greeted me. They led me through the rental warehouse to the Transfermat in the back of the building. Everything was set up as I had requested. Everybody there treated me like I was a star! An assortment of exotic fruits, pastries, and fresh juices was on hand. I had my own personal teaboy, Larry. And everyone who worked there came in to greet me. I was so relieved to have these new friends. New Yorkers can be so outgoing!

Rita told me that the Arista tapes would be arriving by truck shortly. But she was worried about something. She once worked for a large rock radio station in Manhattan years before. And back then, The Kinks did an "on the air" studio jam from a local studio on that same radio station. There was a disagreement about the subsequent rights to the masters of this broadcast. In anger (a put-on display from what I know of Icon) Ray supposedly had picked up a wine bottle and thrown it through an aquarium in the studio's control room. It shattered it to pieces spewing fish, water, and gravel everywhere! Over the previous months, I had heard lots of these sad tales. Yet I was determined to stay focused on the job at hand and was unconcerned about this particular horror story. (continued)

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