In
October of 1980, the band reformed. Floyd and I returned and
started rehearsing with Danny, Chuck, Cory and Jimmy, while
auditioning new bass players. Danny was totally finished
with drugs, including a 2 pack a day cigarette habit by 1978
and would never slip back into it again. It was a joy to
work with him as a healthy human being. After auditions, the
bass player of choice was Mike Seifret. Mike was a fine
player, a great guy, easy to work with and would be with the
group for about a year and a half. Richard Grossman took
over the bass player slot around the middle of 1982.
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Richard
Grossman: A fun guy and talented bass player.
Besides the musical fun we had together Rich left
me with one lasting bit of updating to my
vocabulary. He made reference one day to "Goyam."
Being of white-anglo-protestant background I had to
ask him what that meant. He said it was a Yiddish
term that refers to "all the rest of you guys" that
aren't Jewish. I DID NOT KNOW THAT! You'd think a
practicing heathen such as I would know these
things. In Hollywood, it's good to be up to speed
in this area, which I'm sure Whoopi Goldberg would
attest to.
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The
following subject matter is my own unconfirmed speculation,
that I offer for your consideration.
In 1981
we had begun touring again, albeit in smaller venues. When
shopping for a major record label, a brutal fact emerged: We
had apparently burned some bridges in the recording industry
and had "fallen out of grace." I am referring to the group's
reputation that had changed from one of totally dependable,
dedicated creative professionals, to one of being a "risky
business venture," on the road and in the studio. Drug
issues, road burnout, too much success too soon, would all
fit the problematic perception that may have existed. I
don't know exactly what the last few weeks of 3DN were like
in 1976, but it's possible for word of "the end of things"
to spread quickly throughout the music business community.
The quick demise of S.S. Fools certainly didn't leave a
sweet taste in the mouths of Columbia Records executives.
Chuck's, Danny's and Jimmy's conditions were becoming common
knowledge in music circles, although the drug lifestyle came
to an end in 1978 for Danny. Cory had cut a couple of
albums. The "Touch Me" album, on A&M Records really sold
well, but not enough to launch a solo career. Joe Schermie,
was carving a path pursuing record projects funded by record
companies and/or private investors. Studio owners and audio
engineers often cut deals involving compensation in lieu of
recording time. The party factor was highly prominent in
"Cho's" approach (Sneed
and I called him "Cho Charmie" spoken with a Mexican
accent.)
, and he always generated that "on-going" ambience. Not only
when you were just talking with him, but when we were
playing music together. Those that he worked with over the
years know of what I speak.
(Let
me add that there are many songs "in the can" from these
projects that were / are absolutely brilliant, and great
musically).
Doing many, many projects over the remaining years, Joe had
yet to find "success" again, and there were some
involvements with unhappy investors, studio schedules and
budgets not being met. I was told that he once hit a record
exec with his fist and knocked him on his ass because he was
gay and had patted Joe on his butt as he walked by. Not
good. One of those, "You'll never work in this town again"
type of a thangs? Not that any one guy in Hollywood has
that kind of power, but the perception of Joe in the music
business world was not improving.
And so in
these times there is a great possibility that music industry
executives had a growing, negative perception of 3DN
members, and it may have been a "stumbling block" when we
reformed in October of 1980. Another simple fact is that,
sometimes the public can just get tired of you. It can be as
simple as that. Or maybe we were just "too
toast."
Since
then, the American public has taken us back into their
hearts and the smiling faces I see at our shows now are
absolutely inspiring and wonderful. As a matter of fact ...
I AM one of those smiling faces.
I'd
like to make mention of our road manager, John Meglen, who
became a good friend. John was one of those few young men
who was naturally brilliant, had loads of charisma, and was
capable of using his personal initiative when needed. On
August 18th, 1981 we were in Fitzburg, Massachusetts and it
was John's birthday. He had been showering and primping and
cleaning up for a date with a lady friend at a restaurant on
the Charles river in Boston. Let's just say that he had a
big evening planned. When John was just getting ready to
leave for the date I had Rick Davis
(road
crew)
knock on his door and ask him to come down the hall because
Steve Bristow (road
crew)
had broke his ankle and needed a doctor. Steve was
positioned on the concrete walkway holding his leg. I was
waiting beside him, but out of view around the corner. The
ploy was to get him to bend over just as he reached the
corner. A choreographer couldn't have planned it any better.
Seeing Steve as he got to the corner, he bent over to see
what was wrong, and ...
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Aug
18, 1981: Me, John Meglen and Rick
Davis.
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It was perfect. As he bent over I took one step out
from behind the corner and came up from underneath
with the cream pie. In case you're wondering, no he
didn't immediately react with laughter. In fact, I
distinctly remember, with his face still in the
pie, his ears moved back about a half inch as he
gritted his teeth in anger and surprise. This
passed very quickly and resulted in the laughing
face you see above. It was close, though. The
thought of killing the guilty party was definitely
in his mind for a split second. Happy Birthday,
John. He told me that, even though he quickly
washed off his face and hurried to his date, he
smelled like soured cream the rest of the entire
evening. I have more road stories about John, but
they will stay in the vault because he has stories
on me, too.
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Our
record catalogue was now with MCA records and in
1982 they released an album,
"The
Best of Three Dog
Night.
This album has continued to be a big seller over
the years. It is now available in CD
format.
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In
1982, we went into the studio with Bill Cooper and Richie
Podolor to record an EP (extended play) record that would
only have 5 songs on it. I still feel very strongly about
three of those songs. Particularly, "Livin' it Up," "It's a
Jungle Out There" and "Shot In The Dark." We even did a
couple of videos.
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I
strongly suspect that if we had a major label
handling the distribution, we may have had a hit.
Sounds like sour grapes, but not really. We ended
up with an independent label called, "Passport" and
the record never took off. "It's
A Jungle"
is a fine album that I am proud
of.
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During
1981 - 1985, it became evident that Chuck was still "a mess"
and just couldn't shake his drug problems, at least not yet.
Jimmy was also in "deeper sh_t" than I realized. I was
unaware of it because I wasn't in the loop concerning the
heroin problems. Jimmy would soon hit the wall, then once
and for always, put it behind him. Something very few are
successful at doing. He did it, thank God, and never looked
back. It would be a few more years before Chuck "hit his
wall," and found the strength to put it all behind him. Both
of them are very, very lucky to have made it. I say lucky,
but in reality it took major strength and willpower to win
that battle. In the business they call it, "The Big One."
It's usually a dead-end street, no pun intended. I'm so
thankful that both of them are healthy and alive today.
In
1982, I was a single parent who was enjoying a 2 weeks on /
2 weeks off, joint custody arrangement with my son. Due to
this situation, it became necessary for me to have a talk
with Cory about having to leave the band because I needed
and wanted to raise my son. To my surprise, he suggested
that I consider touring with the band for just two weeks at
a time. I was so appreciative and happy that this
arrangement was offered to me. Being a parent himself, he
understood and even said he admired me for the decision.
Although I was getting some help from my future ex-wife when
there was a major overlap in touring/custody periods, it was
a decision that I made out of love for my son. I have no
regrets.
Richard Grossman had a roommate that was a killer guitar
player, named Paul Kingery. He auditioned for, and got the
gig, "subbing" for me, when I was home being a full-time
parent. One day, Paul came by my place so we could go over
my guitar parts. This is the one and only time I have ever
sat down and shown another player exactly how to play my
parts. Wisely, Paul had a cassette player going that day.
Over the years, Paul has thrown it up to me saying, "Ah, ah,
ah! Careful now, I've still got that tape." An ongoing
threat/joke between us. Here's a picture of Paul doubling
for me on the road during that period.
I
say "doubling for me," but that's my term, not his.
A friendly term of irritation I bestow upon his
talented self . Not only is he a killer guitar
player with chops of doom, but a great singer and
father of two terrific sons, as
well.
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