My Year at Island Records 83

Bono ‘83 given to me by Mary Beth Crain in the hopes we’d use it. Done!

It was my last semester at NYU pursuing a music & business dual major degree. Armed with a dictionary sized book of indie label contacts I was looking for a job or internship in the record industry. My first bite was the storied indie Buddha Records focused on “dance” records but had done it all from Green Tambourine to Midnight Train to Georgia. They were going out of business and looking for a big hit to save them. They gave me the “job” of radio promotion for “Last Night a DJ Saved My Life” on Sound of New York Records and another “In Motion” by Freda Payne. The promo guy said, “Go heavy on the latter and ignore the former. It’s a go-nowhere novelty record.”  That from the company that launched “Chewy Chewy.” DJ became a classic post-disco club hit. I DJ’d the hot ‘n heavy “Uh, Uh Baby” panting, no music, clave percussion, vocals “I can fix it in the mix” remix at Limelight for the extended-mix loving patrons from the mid to late 80’s. Some artists went to then distributor Arista and you still see the label around today but that was the end of any new releases.

My next “job” was at Stiff America. They were also on their last legs after launching the careers of Elvis Costello, Nick Lowe and Ian Dury & The Blockheads. Turning British pub rockers into punk hitmakers. It was very cool to work there. I sat with Boris Blank and Deiter Meier of Yello (“Oh Yeah”) one afternoon while boss Bruce Kirkland was out. They were weird Swiss dudes. Their Stiff record “You Gotta Say Yes to Another Excess” was coming out. Electronic music was on the rise. No small talk in fact no talk at all. Don’t speak unless spoken to. I did get to yell at anyone who wanted to interview John Lydon of PiL (Public Image Ltd.) We had the PiL Box release to promote, and my job was to say, “Fuck off! Johnny doesn’t do interviews!” slam the phone down while snickering. Simple Minds “Themes for Great Cities 79-81” was still being promoted. A very modern record. “Feel I’m going backwards thirty frames a second” Jim Kerr sounded like Jim Morrison woke up and crawled out of his grave in Pere Lachaise. One day boss Bruce pulled me aside for a private chat and said, “Steve, I like you, you have what it takes, this office is closing. I’m going to manage Depeche Mode, and I need a good right-hand man. What do you say?” What do you say? My ship had come in, college was ending, could he wait for an answer? The answer was “No. Pack your bags we’re going on the road tomorrow.” I said, “What about college?” He said, “Why finish college?” I passed and got my BS degree. They went on to become arena rockers and hitmakers. I was back on the street looking for work.

I scoured the indie label book front to back and found the Mango and Antilles Records label logos, ethnic music reggae, African, simple sleek design, with a Fifth Avenue midtown address. I went up the elevator unobstructed to their floor. I sat in reception pretending I was waiting for someone and started looking at the framed posters Steve Winwood, Bob Marley, U2! Where the heck was I? It hit me. I was at Island Records. I saw Traffic on the John Barleycorn Tour when I was 12 and never stopped listening, loved Bob Marley, and always liked U2. It felt right. Just then someone came to greet me. “Who are you here to see?” I said, “I’m here for the internship.” She said, “OK, I’ll be back.” Next my future boss, publicity guru Ellen Smith said, “Can you Xerox?” I said, “I sure can.”  I was hired, $150 per week full benefits as a Publicity Associate.

Malcolm McLaren had a hip hop hit with “Buffalo Gals” with the World’s Famous Supreme Team. We were publicizing the album Duck Rock produced by the prolific Trevor Horn. An amazing compilation of original songs from Soweto, South Africa to the Beat Streets of NYC with scratching and talk and music all mixed together. As one caller said, “I love the way you talk, I love to hear you talk.” while Just Allah the Superstar and Se’Divine The Master Mind spewed nonsense “Just hit myself in the head with the microphone! We’ve got a caller from Ft. Green named Cheryl. Cheryl, why do you love the World’s Famous Supreme Team Show?” The radio show started in ‘79 on WHBI-FM 105.9, broadcast from Newark late at night, upbeat and real. That record broke the rapping and scratching scene mainstream along with “Hobo Chic” fashion by Vivienne Westwood from the Worlds End boutique on Kings Road London. “She’s looking. She’s looking. She’s looking like a hobo…” with Malcolm chiming in with an ironic very white “Promenade!” Ellen said, “Take care of him. He’s playing with the turntable and getting frustrated.” I go over, turn on the power amp, plop the needle on the fresh from the plant white label test pressing A-side “Hobo Scratch (She’s looking Like a Hobo)” of the “Buffalo Gals/World’s Famous” B-side 12” promo only and he’s in heaven. Malcom screamed, “That’s it! That’s It! It’s just the way I imagined it! It’s perfect!” He’s never heard his track before because I have it on 33 RPM and it’s a 45 RPM 12”. I switch it midstream up to 45 and he said, “It’s even better than I imagined!” Ellen looks at me perplexed. Steve saved the day. Keep the artist happy. The publicist’s mantra. Next night we’re at the Roxy Disco for the record release party with all my friends getting in with me, wearing big hobo hats and merch. “Double Dutch” ghetto gals jump rope in the disco and onto MTV in the first video and single release from the full album. Buffalo Gals was already getting a bit dusty.

Next up King Sunny Adé and His African Beats. I was charged with disseminating to the press translations of the Yoruba lyrics on his second album Synchro System. The first Nigerian record to be nominated for a Grammy for a style known as “Jùjú Music.” To my ears it sounded like African High Life music I had heard played in a Soho, London underground club summer of ’82. Lots of percussion, talking drums, maracas… with throbbing hypnotic polyrhythmic beats coupled with fluid riffing guitars in “synch” with bass and traditional drum kit accompanying his soulful, soothing, cooing voice. This was another Chris Blackwell cross-cultural achievement. At the Ritz the adoring audience danced the night away. Not the chop, chop, up and down of reggae more a swelling up and down. It was the music of the moment when the Talking Heads (on Island London) went African on Remain in Light recorded at Island’s Compass Point Studios in Nassau, Bahamas. The next day at the office Ellen said, “Get King Sunny a cab to the airport or you’re fired.” It was 5 o’clock on a Friday, rush hour, and the chances were slim but as you can see from the picture taken by Chris P., Ellen’s second in command in our 3-person department, Steve saved the day.

King Sunny Adé, me and Ellen Smith. Photo by Chris P.

Grace Jones: One Saturday I was putting in some extra hours getting press kits assembled and pre-release tapes duped on the wall of cassette decks in President Ron Shapiro’s office away from the hectic clatter of the work week and who do I buzz in but Grace Jones, her mother and brother. Grace said, “Is Chris here?” I said, “Not right now but I’ll check with Ron and see when he’s coming in today.” She says, “No matter, we were walking around Manhattan and got tired so we thought we’d stop in for a rest up, can we order some food?” I say, “Sure here’s our restaurants with charge accounts, order anything you want and have it delivered.” Anything for the artist, rule number one. Grace is really the opposite of her image, very down to earth in her shiny one-piece red jumpsuit trying not to stand out in a crowd, if that’s even possible, she stands out anywhere. We had a nice time all together chatting while they ate, and I worked. Just another unbeatable day at the office. I recently read Chris Blackwell’s Autobiography The Islander and he states on p. 264 of his compelling and highly recommended book, “Grace lives in her own time…When you are going to meet her, you know that at first she’ll say she will be there by 12:00. That will become 2:00. What that means is that she will make it by 4:00. Ish. So you plan for her to be with you at 5:00. And see what happens then. It’s who she is.” Maybe this was the one time?”

“Slave to the Rhythm” (produced by Trevor Horn) was always my favorite track/mini-concept album with talk in between ethereal funky tracks popping with shimmering rock highlights and DC Go-Go super-manipulated samples. I’ve got a stack of bootleg off-the-board Go-Go Live CDs I was given to dupe by a fellow NY lawyer from DC. Everything from Junkyard Band to Ayre Rayde (my favorite), EU, Redd & the Boys, Rare Essence, Chuck Brown and the Soul Searchers. I loved Trouble Funk, saw them at the Palladium a lucky couple of times and played my Saturday Night Live from Washington D.C. on Island Records cassette until it stretched and died. “Get Small” w/harmonica break kills it, opening “Grip IT” with its synths and every track in between, the record is filled with percussion to the gills. Go-Go is a musical dance craze for those who know. Best description is Funkadelic meets Frank Zappa with a bunch of street kids banging on buckets. You can see Junkyard band in the opening scene of the Run-DMC movie Tougher Than Leather or YouTube their “Sardines…and Pork and Beans” but Go-Go live is always the best way.

Back to Grace… I DJ’d “Slave to the Rhythm” for a fashion show opening catwalk track at the Limelight ’86. The essence of her early work made her a deserving disco diva with “La Vie En Rose” and “I Need a Man.” She then took it further with post-disco Compass Point All Stars collaboration producing bangers “Pull Up to the Bumper” and “My Jamaican Guy.” Three albums that solidified her as a writer and singer not simply a modeling and acting superstar who happened to sing. I met Sly Dunbar and Robbie Shakespeare one day, the heart of the rhythm section, they were aloof but cool. 

Steven Stanley, engineer, was more verbal and wanted to chat about being in the studio with Madonna the night before and how she conned him out of an expensive gold ring. He said, “She kept at me, saying how beautiful it was, and how nice it would be to wear my ring, I was mesmerized. What do you think?” I said, “You know what they say, she always gets her way.”  He said, “Yeah, I’m not the first to fall for her charms. You want to know something? You know the bass line in Tom Tom Club’s Genius of Love? Tina Weymouth? I wrote it. She couldn’t play it, so I showed her, don’t tell anybody.” Here I am spilling the beans but she’s a heck of a bass player. I saw her play “Genius” opening for her other band the Talking Heads at Montreux ’82. She can play it; she just didn’t make it. Reminds me of “Dem knew it, but dem can’t do it.” Steven got a writing credit, very unusual for an engineer. It became one of the most sampled songs in hip hop history. He got PAID! Much better those multi-millions than a measly bass credit. Getting the points is the record biz, just ask Mark Kamins. I had a coveted pre-release cassette of Speaking in Tongues the new release by the Talking Heads, on Sire Records. I listened on my headphones to my favorite band on my trusty portable stereo cassette recorder walking through Central Park from the East Side Island office to the Upper West Side where I lived on 71st Street in my one room $213 a month APT on a glorious early summer eve and when it was finished, they were no longer my favorite band. David Byrne had Burned Down the House.

A year before I saw Sly and Robbie play the Brendan Byrne Arena in New Jersey with Island Records reggae sensation Grammy winners Black Uhuru: Derrick "Duckie" Simpson, Michael Rose and Sandra "Puma" Jones fronting with the dub drenched hit “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner Natty Dread Locks” opening for The Police. I was friends with Sting’s limo driver Bill from Music Express. We drove in through the garage and walked up the ramp to our free VIP section seats. The Police bootleg is a mess. The screaming girls drowned out the music. It was a scary siren sound, swirling around and around the arena very similar to what the Beatles raught when they played Shea Stadium live in ‘64. Every Little Thing was not magic. The Black Uhuru bootleg is a wonderful listen but remains in the vault. The very next year I was meeting them and working for them as an Island publicist, from the Nipple to the Bottle indeed!

Early on in my tenure I met the Island A&R. The person who scouts and signs the bands, the job we all wanted. Mark Kamins was the guy. He produced Madonna’s first hit “Everybody.” He said, “Hey new guy, come here!” He cornered me then pushed me into a closet. He said, “I’m going to tell you one thing I want you to always remember, then we can be friends. OK? Get the points! I produced Madonna’s first hit and got nothing!” According to the Tara Hanks obituary for Mark who sadly died of a heart attack in 2013, Madonna came into his DJ booth at Danceteria in the Spring of ’82, gave him a cassette of the song, Mark played it, and the dancers approved. His more adventurous mix of the song was chosen to be released as a single and hit it big. Chris passed on Madonna as he was not going to sign the A&R’s girlfriend and Mark got it to Seymour Stein at Sire Records. Mark was ultimately passed over for another bigger producer for the entire album but eventually got a percentage of future royalties for the song. I never got any points. While I was at Island Mark signed Larry Levan, hottest DJ in the city if not the world at the Paradise Garage and The Loft. The band was called the NYC Peech Boys. These are the people who started modern dance culture, now loosely called EDM, but it all began right there and then with Mark Kamins spinning records at clubs, but occasionally playing cassettes like I did for fashion shows while the platters kept spinning. With “Pre-mixes” the order could be set with a little in between music layered with a multi-track on top for the models to know when to exit. The vinyl could be utilized panning through the mixer. No one on the dance floor was ever the wiser. It made DJ mixing more of a relaxed sure thing.

One night I DJ’d a fashion show in ’86 at the hottest club in town, “Area” in Tribecca. I’d always make the club sign a little contract stating I was the DJ for before and after the show so when the night DJ showed up it was still my party. No money, I wanted the extra time to keep spinning for my crowd. Who walks into the booth? Mark! We hugged and did a few of his stash under the console and I said, “Fuck the contract, start spinning! I’ll just hang back in the booth.” He was a bona fide legend and, in the biz, when a legend shows up, you stand down. No questions asked. He said, “Nah, you keep going, the James Brown Mix you got on is killing the crowd. Wait ‘til the frenzy is over then I’ll rev them up again.” It was soul singer friend former bandmate Carlton Jumel Smith’s special taped mix of the “Give It Up or Turn It Loose” studio 7” on top of the 12” inch live “In the Jungle Bro” break and the needle would miraculously jump right from the live to the studio with a deft needle drop to shorten the long live part. Harlem DJ style. Listen to it on my Substack podcast “The Night I Hung Out in James Brown’s Limo” and hear for yourself what Mark was talking about along with a pristine JB bootleg ‘83. I never saw Mark again, but what a night at the tables! For an inside look into “Area” with no names changed because nobody there could ever be called innocent, check out Natalie Standiford’s book about those days and even longer nights Astrid Tells All. It takes you all the way inside the stalls of the genderless bathrooms and the human monthly “themed” dioramas from the POV of the “Fortune Teller” who uses her old movie stubs to tell you, your future for $5 bucks a pop while the city’s who’s who roll by and rub elbows with the regulars who somehow got behind the velvet rope that night. It also describes in graphic and realistic detail life of the denizens of the East Village at that groundbreaking time.

I had a finger in every pie in the 80’s but back to my year at Island… Tom Waits fresh off his acclaimed movie appearance as Benny the barkeep in Rumble Fish was ready for his next musical reincarnation. Chris Blackwell was the man to finance this foray into the unknown realms of yet undiscovered depths of Tom’s ample aural imagination. The first of these was the already recorded and rejected epic “Swordfishtrombones.” His first self-produced album with the lingering “Frank’s Wild Years.” Which in my view should have been the single. I was introduced to Tom, as was always the case in publicity, being introduced was standard ops as we were their spokespeople speaking for them with their blessing. What we said to the press was considered fact straight from the horse’s mouth. Tom said to me, “Nice to meet you, Steve. Now I know I’m a hard sell but stick with it, people will eventually catch up, good luck.” I was charged with getting press for the single “In the Neighborhood.” It was selected because it was the only song that sounded like a song. The rest were all strange meditations of life on the edges of society that had to be lived to be told but one could relive them by simply listening to them. The band sounded like they found all their instruments in a junk yard and weren’t allowed to get them fixed before recording. The result was so “lush” in both senses of the word. Silky smooth yet overly indulgent but not to a fault. Tom’s proclivity for self-deprecation as self-discovery launched him into a new phase.

Bob Marley was gone but the legend had one last record to be released. A publicity conundrum at the time and Chris was very concerned about the protection of Bob’s reputation as a rebel and songsmith. He smartly released “Confrontation” and the 12” single “Buffalo Soldier” to coincide with Timothy White’s in-depth biography Catch a Fire. Bob’s Jamaican roots story growing up in Kingston and the bush could not have been told any better and the epic novel became a smash publishing hit cementing his legacy. The book told the story of the role Bob played in the overall history of reggae music including so many others along the way. Nobody gets there alone, and nothing and no one of significance in his life or importance to the development of Jamaican reggae or Rasta culture was diminished or left out. It’s a historical novel, a must read. From the cradle to the grave and beyond. It would give the post-humous record release context as a culmination not an afterthought. Some tracks on the record were built up from demos and added the I-Threes for continuity on earlier unreleased tracks. I was charged with escorting both Timothy and Vivien Goldman “reggae soulmate of long standing” and his Island London publicist to a private screening of the Uprising Tour film. Crisply shot but Bob was obviously very sick. When the lights came on, we three looked at each other with tears in our eyes. Bob’s frail body made it through the long set with flying colors, still the master blaster. Use of the film for promotional purposes of Confrontation was a bad idea. However, it is now a beloved document and readily available online. Time heals all.

Koyaanisqatsi: I worked on a magnificent artistic achievement, an exquisite marriage of film and music for the new Island Alive motion picture distribution division with the soundtrack on Antilles records and tapes. It was directed by Godfrey Reggio with music by classical / minimalist composer Phillip Glass and cinematography by Ron Fricke. The film was a feature length visual tone poem. I saw Phillip Glass perform the score at Carnegie Hall that May. I saw the movie at one of our private screenings. I sat way up front in the first row mesmerized by the speeding then slowing footage.

The Grand Central escalators going into the MetLife Life building I would later often ride while working in that building at two different firms in my career as an attorney were as animate as the drones riding them were not. This urban image was juxtaposed against waterfalls, raging surf, surrealistic sunsets, rock formations and various urban and non-urban skyscapes sped up or slowed down with changing clouds and weather. Hard to explain but that was the concept. Life Out of Balance. I only first met Phillip Glass after my Island days were over at a St. Mark’s Place party for an Irish band he was producing, the Major Thinkers, with Pierce Turner and Larry Kirwin (Black 47). I have their demo tape of “Avenue B is the Place to Be.” I got that tape and many others from my friends who owned the club 8BC, when they closed, they gave me their “pre-mixes” collection. Phillip and I chatted like we were old friends as we both had the film in common. He also produced an act I DJ’d at our first Pyramid fashion show, Polyrock, “Your Dragging Feet.” They had one foot in the No Wave scene the East Village was famous for at the time and the other in Avant pop. Island haunted me for many years after with many tracks I inserted in fashion shows or DJ mixes. Often utilizing an Island soundtrack and in-house musician French artist Wally Badarou. 109 St. Mark’s Place Fashion & Records (my company after I left Island) first signing was Dean Johnson (Dean and the Weenies.)  He left the label in a huff over a fashion shoot and ended up on Great Jones / Island Records. Hear all the dirt, narrative and music on “The 109 St. Mark’s Place Fashion Store Story” Live! From the Vault #8.

East Village Flyer Culture 109 St. Mark’s Place Fashion & Records

And now for my U2 War Tour and album publicity experience… New Year’s Day, Sunday Bloody Sunday, Two Hearts Beat as One… there were no fillers, everything was clicking even the drum tracks were done with clicks. This was the album and tour that made them the arena rockers they are today and deservedly so. Bono walks up to me carrying three books and in a hoarse voice said, “I want to talk to you, privately.” I said, “OK.” The other three guys the Edge, Adam Clayton, Larry Mullen, Jr. shrug and we go off into the far corner of the publicity room with my little schoolboy desk and piles and piles of publicity packages next to the locked 1” video tapes cabinet. Bono Vox says, “Look here are three books that were ‘em given to me by these nice Christian Science gals who want to talk to me. I can’t do it. I’m too busy, so I want you to go over to the Mayflower Hotel where we’re staying, and where they’ve booked a room too. Sit with them for however long it takes for you to convince them that I read them and appreciate them giving the books to me.” I said, “What should I say?” Right then Manager Paul McGuinness breaks us up and starts screaming “Why are you talking to that guy! He’s nobody and you’ve got laryngitis. This pier show is tonight, the biggest of your career. What the fuck is wrong with you, stop talking!” The other three are laughing. This is their dynamic. Bono, known as Bono Vox then for a reason said. “Fuck off Paul.” Turns to me and says, “Go! Now! And do what I said.” I ran out of there. The night before they played the Palladium, Bono climbed the old statues to the side of the stage and the crowd loved it. I went to the Mayflower went up to the room of the Christian Scientist gals and sat for about an hour and listened to their take on the controversy about Bono saying that all Christians should unite together and how he had created this narrative and therefore he must be the messiah or some crazy shit like that. I understood appeasing them was far better than clarifying the statement or adding anything of substance. I was polite. The creepy part was they were staying in his hotel so I said, “If you need to talk to Bono here’s my number call me and I’ll tell him whatever you want but right now he’s really busy with the tour so unfortunately he can’t meet with you, but I can, call anytime, we’re very close mates.” Solve the problem so it goes away.

At the West Side Pier show that night U2 was great. He climbed the scaffolds to the top and everyone was enthralled except Paul. The next day he was yelling at Bono again, “Stop climbing everything! You’re going to fuckin’ kill yerself, you’re a fricking lunatic! Get a grip mate we’re about to make it big.” Then next thing I knew everyone is told to leave the band alone. After their meeting they all leave quietly. The next day we all found out Larry wants out. He has had enough. After more frantic meetings throughout the day there was a calm. Everything was settled. Bono took charge, told Paul to shut up and leave and had a private band meeting. The result was he told Larry that if he quit, the band would stop and they’d all go home, “One for all, all for one.” It worked Larry calmed down and the rest, as they say, is history. I think the actual quote was “If you quit, we all quit.” Most bands gladly replace the original drummer, record execs love that shit, “You’re signed as long as you ditch your drummer.” or “Get a new drummer for your next album and it’ll go platinum for sure.” Here are a few examples: Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians, Kurt Cobain’s Nirvana, Guns & Roses (Steven Adler) and the list goes on. Not U2, they’re a real band, old school.

The end of the tour I was charged with being the doorman at the Canal Bar in Tribecca later known as Don Hill’s and its infamous “Squeezebox” Parties, and site of a few of my better left unsaid days gone by in the late 90’s. Sweet Crude at Don Hill's But back in ’83 it signified the end of the incredibly successful U2 War Tour. They were the opposite of record release parties usually held to garner public interest. This was an A-list only event highlighting the personalities of the guests and their star wattage signifying the arrival of the new stars. Rock royalty too famous to name names were all there and it was little old me that granted or denied access. I also had a bunch of merch to give out, the most coveted of which were the black mesh trucker hats with big block red letters: WAR TOUR. My boss Ellen once again trusted me to keep order among the ensuing chaos and crunch at the door. I did my best. I had not a cent to my name not even a token to get uptown home after or the cab fare as it was going to be a long NYC 4 AM+ night and I had to stand the post. I stayed the course hoping for a ride later. This young guy who nobody knew walked out of stretch limo and asked me for a hat, which I gave to him, and he went back to the limo not inside. He came back and wanted another, I said, “One per customer.” He said, “It’s for my nephew.” I said, “Give him the one I gave you and leave.” He said, “I’ll give you $20 bucks?” I thought, this is my cab fare home. “OK, $20 but that’s it.” He went back to the limo dropped off the hat and came back and asked for another one. I said, “OK, enough please go away now.” He said, “I’m going back to the limo and getting my gun to shoot you if you don’t give me another hat.” I said “Motherfucker. You go and do that while I call the cops! Now get the fuck out of here.” All he had to do was tell my boss and I was fired for sure, but he went the other way. He never came back, and I had my cab fare.

My final U2 moment will live forever. I received a request from MTV to personally deliver the U2 Red Rocks 1” Master concert footage recently shot in the foggy mist with Bono naturally climbing those red rocks and like usual enthralling the crowd. I Will Follow… he is a bit of a cult leader at heart, but a benevolent one of a non-denominational rag tag amalgam of music lovers and seekers of spiritual meaning through song. He aims to please and does. Amy Bright, MTV executive summoned me personally but how she got my name I don’t know. We usually delivered the video tapes by messenger. I put the tape in a plain brown shopping bag and walked over to the station. She had me sit down. She wanted to talk. She said that Island and MTV have been at the forefront of videos since the very first video they aired was The Buggles (Trevor Horn here for a third time) “Video Killed the Radio Star” launched the cable network juggernaut. She prophesized that this full concert of U2 Red Rocks would cement a partnership between Island and MTV and usher in a new age. I was flabbergasted. I wasn’t the guy who OK’d this, or was I? The days flew by so fast and were so action packed that who knows? She said, “Without you delivering this to us we might never have gotten it, so I wanted to thank you personally for bringing it.” We shook hands and I went back to work not aware that when it aired not only did it send U2 soaring ever upward but as I was told by a friend who saw the broadcast, I had received a “Special Thanks to Steven Jay Gabe” credit. A nice coda for my well spent time at Island Records working for U2.

There are a few other stories: When Marianne Faithfull, who had a big comeback hit with “Broken English” and many other fine subsequent Island LPs came into the office. She politely asked if she could sleep on the floor in my coat by my desk while she waited for Ellen to take her to lunch at the Time Cafe. She, whose very seductive picture I had mooned over in the recent Village Voice article titled “Bedroom Eyes” in my little one room bedroom. She even invited me to go to lunch one time with them, but I knew it was better to hold down the fort. She was always very nice to me.

Then the end came. One day in late October Ellen said we were moving downtown above Tower Records at Fourth Street and Broadway and there was an office area for me with a proper desk on the floorplan. However, she had heard I had my own indie record label out of storefront on St. Mark’s Place. She said, “You know you can’t have your own label and keep this job?” I said, “I know but I hadn’t put anything out just some info to press promoting our first fashion show I DJ’d at Pyramid.” Word travels fast in the city especially if you’ve got game, Steve Game, as I was mis-named on the cover of Details Magazine December ’84 “Naughty and Nice” as a hip couple of the East Village in a fashion shoot on the rooftop of the Morgan Hotel with Studio 54’s Steve Rubell hanging out with us in the Swatch Suite penthouse photo by Patrick McMullan with the Empire State building in the background. We had arrived big time.

109 St. Mark’s Place Fashion Co-operative was making it, rent was cheap ($550/mo) and the world was opening for me as an owner “going for the points” as Mark Kamins had said. Ellen said, “This job I gave you is a fantastic opportunity and you’re willing to throw it away for a store in a shitty neighborhood?” I said, “At $150 a week? I really can’t afford to live on that, at least give me $250?” She calmed down and said, “Sorry, but this is a glamour job and you’re lucky to have it, go get a second job to support it but on second thought forget it. Your luck has run out, you’re fired. Pack your things and get out of here.” And there it ended. Just like that no take backs. That night I went to a big club in Jersey with a VIP invite because I worked for Island. When I got there the doorman didn’t believe me, he was right. I was a nobody again but not for long.

Fast forward to my closing 109 Records debt free in 1990 after an illustrious run of good luck and heading straight into law school January ’90 for a two-and-a-half-year compressed JD degree then passing the NY Bar first attempt while the hunk flunked. Thanksgiving ‘89 I was asked by my LA interior designer of our new store at 115, a friend of the stars Deee-Lite and Lenny and Lisa if I wanted to volunteer to work the Marianne Faithfull show with him at St. Ann’s in Brooklyn Heights for a free ticket as an usher. I agreed and when we got there, they made me doorman because of my black leather motorcycle jacket with hand painted flame sleeves, skull with top hat on the back with “Mr. Lucky” written in ghoulish bloody lettering holding a straight flush in his boney hand. I purchased it on a whim that summer in a Dallas thrift shop while visiting the lead singer of The Daylights. The band was on an Island compilation LP with Edie Brickell, Reverend Horton Heat and others before I signed them to 109 in ‘88 during SXSW II, subject of another Live! From the Vault #6. The Rev shared a drummer in common with The Daylights, Kyle Thomas. I sat with the Rev while Jay Lavender sang an afternoon showcase with a reconstituted Daylights for just us two hanging Texas style day drinking. The Rev wanted me to sign to him to 109 pre-Sub-Pop Records and he sent me his finished demos, an 8x10 B&W with a personal note.

There I am, working the door at a sold-out Marianne Faithfull concert, Mr. Lucky, heading to law school still promoting my last releases always trying to live up to my financial and spiritual obligations to my artists as I learned to do at Island. Follow the Leader as Eric B. and Rakim (another Island favorite of mine) rapped. Who walks up to me? Ellen Smith now Marianne and Tom’s private publicist. She said to me with her famous “Dahling” faux British accent, “Oh, it’s you, Steve, how are you?” I said, “I’m fine, going to law school in January. How are you?” She said, “Could you please tell Paul where I’m sitting when he arrives and make sure he gets a good seat.” I said, “Paul who?” Ellen said, “Shaffer you idiot, uh! You always were useless…” I was a nobody again. The music business is a long Road to Nowhere just ask David Byrne.