The Undiscovered Showman

A trip up the rock and roll ladder filled with advice, success, disappointment, betrayal and encounters with top industry executives and celebrities including a revealing 17-year close friendship with one of the world's biggest rock superstars!

“An often-used phrase in entertainment is ‘he’s the hardest-working man in Show Business.’ One of the few people who deserve that title is Wayne O of The New Bardots… he’s creative, talented, and relentless in his pursuit of great music and entertaining the masses.”

—DENNIS MALLOY | Dennis & Judi Show, NJ 101.5 “Songwriter, author, and front man on a rock n roll stage, I’ve known Wayne his entire career, and he is still rockin' and rollin' with the best of them! The book will tell it all!”

—CRAIG GOETSCH | VP Production Livenation - Music-NY Northeast Regional Wayne Olivieri has been a vital part of the Asbury Park music scene for a couple of years longer than I’ve been writing about it. Live, he’s an exciting and passionate performer. In the studio, he’s a fabulous singer-songwriter. It’s been fun Makin Waves with him all these years. New Jersey is proud to call him our own.

—BOB MAKIN | Asbury Park music writer since 1980

A True Story

“Whether it’s with the New Bardots or anything he’s done solo and otherwise, Oliveri has always been innovative, aggressive, and an underlying force in the Jersey music scene.

His art and contributions go above and beyond the normal realm of creativity; he has never had boundaries or a ceiling in his career.”

—DANNY COLEMAN | “Danny Coleman’s Rock On Radio” on The Ed Sullivan Show. Growing up in Plainfield, NJ, he sang in the Saint Mary’s Boys Choir and joined bands by 7th grade. At 17, he played iconic NYC venues like CBGB’s and Max’s Kansas City with his band Rockids, sharing stages with The Ramones, Talking Heads, and Blondie.

In Asbury Park, NJ, Wayne formed Oliver’s Twist, performing at The Stone Pony and The Fast Lane alongside acts like David Johansen, Huey Lewis, and Billy Idol. In 2017 his solo LP Eclectic Mind produced the single “Music Man” which reached the top 20 on the national radio airplay charts. By 2019, he co-founded The NEW Bardots, charting multiple releases on the International Indie charts.

Almost Famous

WAYNE B. OLIVIERI

WAYNE B. OLIVIERI fell in love with rock & roll after seeing The Beatles

of Being

WAYNE B. OLIVIERI

“Back in the golden age of New Jersey music, there were certain acts that always stood out from the rest. Wayne Olivieri and Rock Kids were one such group, always among the best on the circuit. This was raw rock ‘n roll in its most elemental form and Wayne’s charisma made his band one of the most popular in a crowded landscape where live music was available seven nights a week in every corner of the state. You had to be there to see it; you’d never forget it if you were.”

—Bruce Haring, journalist, author, former rock critic, the Newark Star-Ledger and Billboard “Wayne Olivieri always brings great energy and huge enthusiasm to any music project he pours his heart in. Wayne is the chicken soup to any music lover soul out there.”

—Monique Grimme, owner of Bongo Boy Records & Bongo Boy TV “As a singer, his vocals are rich with emotion and conviction.

His delivery is engaging and persuasive. Wayne is also an accomplished songwriter whose lyrics display a mastery of the language and cultural dialects that surround us today. They are both honest and poetic. His sense of humor is always fresh and colorful and shows up throughout everything he does. He’s a one of a kind personality you’d want to have as a friend. I can’t wait to read this book.”

—Myke Scavone, Yardbirds, Ram Jam, Doughboys “I remember Wayne Olivieri and his band, the Rock Kids.

He had a lot of energy, a great sound, and was a great performer.

Wayne was an integral part of the Asbury Park Music scene. It was an amazing time and we had a lot of fun together.”

—DDP Diamond Dallas Page

“Wayne’s one of the most charismatic singers I’ve seen in a long time. When he’s on stage, he doesn’t let you not pay attention.”

—Eddie Brigati, The Rascals “I first met Wayne in 1973 when he knocked on my door and asked me to start a band with him. I’ve been in and out of bands and trouble with him all these years. Wayne doesn’t take no for an answer. He’s talked me into many crazy ideas somehow, even when I said it was impossible, like setting up a band on a flatbed truck and driving from New Jersey through the Lincoln Tunnel to play on the streets of NYC. We have written over a hundred songs together and have come inches to the big time several times. Our mantra has always been, “This is the year.” After all these years, we still have a good time playing that ole Rock & Roll. We know more about each other than any two people should, but we are still Rock & Roll brothers and best friends.

Looking forward to and a little scared about what you said in the book, but I can tell you it all really happened.”

—Gar Francis, Songwriter/Producer/Guitarist “Fantastic group both live and in-studio great rock and roll” —Joe Cerisano, Trans-Siberian Orchestra “Over the years getting to know Wayne and working with him on several projects. I saw a talented songwriter and performer with the unstoppable drive and energy to succeed. I consider Wayne to be a great friend and colleague.”

—Bill Quinn, Producer/Director Bill Quin Productions

A True Story of Being Almost Famous

Headline Books Terra Alta, WV

The Undiscovered Showman A True Story of Being Almost Famous

by Wayne B. Olivieri copyright ©2025 Wayne B. Olivieri All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any other form or for any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage system, without written permission from Headline Books, Inc. To order additional copies of this book or for book publishing information, or to contact the author: Headline Books, Inc. P.O. Box 52 Terra Alta, WV 26764 www.HeadlineBooks.com mybook@headlinebooks.com ISBN 13: 9781958914496 Library of Congress Control Number: 2024949177

P R I N T E D I N T H E U N I T E D S TAT E S O F A M E R I C A

This book is dedicated to my parents, who always supported my love for singing and music no matter how loud the band played and shook the house at rehearsals in their basement.

To my daughter Madison.

To all those untold thousands of artists, musicians, and actors who have pursued success over a lifetime, never getting to that place they dream of and end up years later with only the memories, videos, pictures, and drawers full of old newspaper and magazine clippings.

Also, to all who are still pursuing their dreams…I hope I can share some advice to help you along your journey.

And a special remembrance to Ray Somlock, Jeffrey Carr, and Sammy Boyde, RIP.

Acknowledgments Over the years that it took me to chip away at this book until it was finally finished, there are so many friends who come to mind that I would need a chapter alone to acknowledge, so I would like to apologize in advance if I inadvertently missed mentioning you within the content of this writing.

I want to thank Joseph Rodemacher, my choirmaster, who taught me how to sing.

ALL my bandmates and crews who put up with me and my ego throughout the years and to this day.

To my current fellow bandmates John Croot, Gar Francis, Johnnie Rago, and Dan Skye, who help keep the fire burning.

To my brother and stage manager, Gary Olivieri, a.k.a. Bozak, who has always been with me over all these years and still to this day remains supportive in all that pertains to rock and roll. To my brother Tod for his support in the early years and beyond.

To my good friend Joe Cerisano (founding member of The Trans-Siberian Orchestra, Silver Condor, and Distant Thunder) who, after reading my first 80 pages, encouraged me to finish this book and is always supportive with his plethora of knowledge, talent, and advice.

To Dan Caruso, a lifelong friend and fellow musician, who was the first to read my initial draft of this book. His positive review helped give me the confidence to continue. To George McMorrow, who from the first time I mentioned wanting to 7

write this book so many years ago, pushed me to do so. To Ron Moye, my personal guru and dear friend who always pushed me to “never give up” and had his chauffeur’s hat and boots waiting to drive me when and if I ever grabbed that golden ring.

To Jim Bonnefond and everyone from the House Of Music recording studios, where I learned from the best!!

To Gar Francis...lifelong writing partner/bandmate and friend.

To Sammy Boyde, my agent who recently passed.

To all (too many to name here) who have been supportive of my entertainment career.

And to Vicki Blasucci, who always gives me the love, support, encouragement, and strength to overcome any mental negativity regarding my creative endeavors.

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Contents Foreword........................................................................................... 11 Chapter 1: A Writer’s Journey........................................................ 13 Chapter 2: The Early Years............................................................. 20 Chapter 3: Back with Gary............................................................. 30 Chapter 4: The Rockids (Take 1)................................................... 35 Chapter 5: Rockids (Take 2)........................................................... 59 Chapter 6: Rockids Make it to Major NYC Radio....................... 77 Chapter 7: The Main Event............................................................ 82 Chapter 8: My Friend Jon............................................................. 108 Chapter 9: Moving Along, The Best Job I Ever Had................. 139 Chapter 10: My inspiration and motivator................................ 157 Final Word...................................................................................... 162 Photo Album.................................................................................. 164

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Foreword I met Wayne at the House of Music recording studio in West Orange, New Jersey, in the late ’70s. He was there with his new band, Rockids, and was preparing to record their first single, “Young and Sexy,” The studio’s in-house producer introduced me to Wayne, and we hit it off. We worked together on the single and several other recordings after that, becoming good friends in the process.

What struck me most about those early sessions was the energy and excitement that Wayne exuded. He was not only a natural performer but also the driving force behind the band, and it was easy to see that he loved rock and roll.

Throughout these early sessions, I was confronted with the complexities of recording a group of five hyper-energized rockers. Also, this was my first experience with mixing when the entire band was present. Of course, the drummer wanted more drums in the mix, the guitarist wanted more guitars, and Wayne probably wanted more vocals, although he seemed happy to take in all suggestions. I’m not sure that I was!

Wayne and I have maintained a friendship over the years, and to this day, he is as passionate as ever about his love of rock and roll music. He is unique in a world of wannabes. He’s the real deal!

—Jim Bonnefond, Producer, (Kool & The Gang, Savage Garden, Jimmy Cliff and too many to mention) 11

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1 A Writer's Journey When I started writing this book, I was already married and years younger than I am now. I temporarily stopped pursuing my dream of stardom after 20 years of a rock and roll lifestyle. I got married, bought a house, and had a baby, which was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever accomplished—best decision of my life.

For some reason, I never got around to finishing this book 18 years ago, so here I am, starting it again in January of 2023.

Many of the references I make might be dated; unfortunately, some people I mention are no longer with us. I am divorced and happily in a new relationship. My daughter is now 27 years old.

Let’s go back in time a bit: Okay, so there I was at 10 p.m. on October 8, 2004; I finally got my lazy, overweight ass down to the basement to try to start writing my book.

I heard from my friend George McMorrow (you’ll hear about him later) that if you could sit down and write a page daily, you could get a book done in a year. So here goes.

Maybe if I made the letters larger, the page would get filled faster. The longer I sat there, the more I felt the tractor beam of the television trying to pull me upstairs to the living room.

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My wife (at the time) was about to fall asleep on the couch, but I stayed up, flipping through the many channels. After I got tired from watching TV, I stood up from the sofa, stretched my back, and went to bed.

It was one in the morning when I hit the sack and tried getting some sleep, only to wake up to drag myself to work without accomplishing any writing the night before. The only two activities I indulged in were wolfing down a half-pint of ice cream and two pints of Guinness.

Has it been a page yet?

Anyway, let me tell you why I was attempting to write this book.

I had to come back to this point and revise the beginning. I had some things I wanted to say.

When I turned 30, I made a mental wish list for myself.

I wanted to have a hit song, make a movie, write a book, and appear on David Letterman before I stopped breathing and assumed room temperature. After 20 years of trying to make it in the entertainment industry, and many of my friends who have heard all my stories telling me, “You should write a book,” I figured it was time to write it.

Most normal people would wish for a house, a family, and such. I, on the other hand, had a different goal in mind.

By the time I was thirty, I had written and recorded many songs, most of them in major studios. I performed in front of thousands of people and met and hung out with some of the top names in the business.

A few years later, I wrote my first of two full-length screenplays.

(They were never made into movies) If I can complete this book, I will be batting 500 in the achievable wish category. I remember writing this book and thinking to myself with so much belief that all my dreams are attainable.

However, my enthusiasm somewhat diminished over time, and a mortgage payment, a wife, and a child appeared in my life.

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Advice: I advise any young person pursuing this dream never to give up because you never know what fate has in store for you.

Words of Wisdom: Just because you’re talented doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll become famous, and just because you’re famous doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re that talented. Yes, that is the reality.

More Advice: Remember, never write off anyone because you never know.

More Advice: Don’t wait around or expect anybody to help you. Help yourself.

More Advice: Remember that old saying, “It’s WHO you know.” Well, let me tell you from a personal experience, that’s not always true.

Sometimes, the WHO can keep you from getting where you want to be just as easily as—no, probably easier than—helping you get where you want to be.

Yet More Advice: An old friend once told me—Ron, you know who you are —“Wayne, trust no one.”

That is not bad advice for anyone starting afresh in this business.

Now that that’s all down on paper or in my hard drive—or wherever this stuff goes—let me tell you that when I started writing this book, which was 2004, I had been semi-retired from showbiz for almost five years (though it seems like only yesterday).

I had gained 25 pounds and started smoking semi-regularly.

I hadn’t sung in over a year. Oh, that’s not true. About three months before, I did a twenty-year reunion gig with my old band, the Rockids. I’ll get to them later in the book. Other than a few walk-ups, “let me sing a song ’cause I’m out for a night, and I miss this” kind of thing. I had become a salesman. Yes, a salesman.

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The Undiscovered Showman

Working for a Living While Pursuing the Dream My resumé looked something like this: Over the years, like most struggling artists, I have had many different “part-time occupations” to supplement my musical and theatrical endeavors.

I sold frozen food out of the back of a truck and jewelry door to door; construction; I sold payphone locations (that was very profitable). I found locations for soda and candy machines.

I’ve bartended, waited on tables, and sold Craftmatic adjustable beds, ATMs, credit card machines, liquor, solar panels, basement drain systems, and attic insulation. I bought used cars for my friend Anthony’s car dealership and even worked as a tree removal estimator.

I had an ongoing part-time job with a friend as an assistant director for his film company, Bill Quinn Productions. I can run camera, do sound, run boom mike, and have helped on many sets in many capacities. I’ve owned a small golf business, video store, air purification company, and ice cream truck.

Recently, I’ve been selling pool liners and renovations, and background acting for film and TV. In some gigs, I’ve made a lot of money. Most just paid the rent and car payments.

But throughout the years, I cared nothing about any of these occupations because I am a musician/entertainer. Damnit!

I made money as a singer/songwriter, performing on stage, etc., but it never seemed enough to keep me from having a supplemental job—except from 1975 to 1986 when my band worked 6 to 7 nights a week. I’m sure if you research most people who are now successful in the entertainment business, you’ll find they have a similar list.

Throughout the years, I was sure I would somehow make my mark in the world of showbiz. It was in my blood and is still there today. It is a little thinner than 20 years ago, but it is still there.

I took a shot at many different aspects of entertainment.

Music was my first love. I tried to break into Broadway, film, TV, 16

Wayne B. Olivieri

acting, doing voiceovers, and even dancing if I had to. I never tried stand-up comedy, but it did cross my mind a few times.

I came so close to reaching my dream, only to miss the golden ring—sometimes for no apparent reason, other times for obvious reasons. (Merry-go-round lingo!) Once you achieve a certain level, it’s kind of like being in AAA baseball, as many of us were and still are in the so-called “Minor Leagues” of rock and roll, waiting for the break to be called up to the majors, or maybe we make it for a blink then are forced back down. Either way, it’s very similar.

Many told me I was sure to make it purely by the people I was hanging around with. Others said I would make it into the industry because of my voice and the way I sang. Those people were my managers and agents (of which I’ve had a few) because that’s what they’re supposed to say.

I even had one of the biggest rock stars in the world look me right in the eye after having dinner together and tell me that I was next on his list to help launch my career in the music biz.

(You can read about that later.)

More Advice: Surround yourself with positive people.

Negative people do nothing but chip away at your inner confidence. And you will need a considerable supply of confidence to sustain yourself over time.

As far as my life was going, I was going to be 45 in two months when I first started writing this book.

I still can’t believe it. In my mind, I was supposed to be a millionaire 100 times over and be way famous by then. Oh, yeah, that’s no bullshit.

First Realization of the Dream When I was 6 or 7, I sat in the living room with my mother, father, and brother Gary, watching The Ed Sullivan Show as we always did every Sunday night. This particular night, he had on 17

The Undiscovered Showman

a new group called The Beatles. That’s when my whole world changed!

I remember my brother Gary and I ran to the closet, grabbed a broom and a dust mop, and pantomimed playing guitars while we jumped around the room.

I don’t know what Gary was thinking, but from that moment, I knew what I wanted to be: a Beatle.

Side Interjection: One day in 2004, I talked with Melissa McGhee. Her dad is Doc McGhee, one of the world’s most successful managers of rock bands.

I had been talking to him through email for the past few weeks about a treatment (a compact story version of a movie script) that I wrote and sent him.

It’s called “The Fabulous Fatso.” I think it’s going to be a huge box-office hit. Doc said he liked it but wanted me to make it into a full script form (ninety pages or more. Right now, the treatment is sixteen pages.) before he can do anything with it. That sucks because it’s almost impossible to write another script with my two jobs. I’ve already written two, one with my friend Bill Quinn five years ago and the other by myself. It never got made into a movie. We still shop it now and then. The other was about fifteen years ago. I still have it. I’ll get to that story later in the book.

I told Doc I needed a $5,000 advance so I could take a month off and finish the script; otherwise, it would take me years to do that script, and I probably wouldn’t finish this book before I’m 50. He passed on the $5,000.

So much for Doc helping me out right now. I understand that’s part of this biz.

A bit of advice: As soon as someone in this business thinks you want something from them, even if they have it, they’ll look the other way. It’s like the kiss of death.

I never should have mentioned the money; what’s done is done. Doc is still a cool dude in my book. He manages the band KISS and a slew of other people like Mötley Crüe.

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He used to manage Bon Jovi. That’s how we met. I’ll tell you all about that later in the book.

The coolest part about Doc is when I called his office after not seeing him in almost ten years. He took my call and remembered me.

I always knew Doc to be a stand-up guy, and to take your call after all those years is a good thing, especially in this business.

Who knows? I’m sending him my old script and a couple of tunes I wrote. Maybe he could do something with them?

I won’t hold my breath, but in the entertainment world, you always want something in the fire, even if it’s just a little rock that keeps your dream warm enough so it doesn’t freeze to death.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. I was telling you how, as a child, I was sure about what I wanted to be when I grew up.

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Practice, practice, practice

2 The Early Years of Growing Up Saint Mary’s Boys Choir I spent the first twelve years of my life living in Plainfield, N.J., at the time a decent city from what I can remember.

After discovering the Beatles, I developed a new love for rock and roll. Unfortunately, this new development in my life occurred while I was attending fourth grade in a Catholic school that had little tolerance for rock music. So, I did the next best thing. I joined the Saint Mary’s Boys Choir. You may laugh all you want, but let me tell you, that’s where my journey with singing began.

Mr. Joseph Rodamocker was our choirmaster. Mr. Rodamocker was a teacher who was wholly committed to his job.

He taught us all one could ever know about singing and much more. He was old school strict and many times would scream at the top of his lungs or even smack you in the back of the head 20

Wayne B. Olivieri

(yes, they did that back then) when we fucked up. I learned a lot from him, and I loved it.

I was an alto and one of his best students. We would get to leave school early for practice, attend concerts, and when we performed, we got to wear cool robes (or at least I thought so) that were red with yellow fringes hanging down from a cape-like thing in front with a cool fringed sash we tied around our waists.

We sang every Sunday in the choir loft at the 11 o’clock mass at our church.

Saint Mary’s church was one of those old churches that looked like a cathedral and where sound reverberated and produced a melodious effect.

The church had beautiful long windows made of stained glass and massive pillars erected up and down the aisles.

Mr. Rodamocker would sit at the astronomical pipe organ Me in Choir robe in the church and play it. He would instruct us simultaneously while his feet would hit the bass notes on the wooden bars on the floor of the organ, and his hands worked the five rows of the keys. To me, that was super commendable.

Once in a while, I would get to turn the pages of his music while he was playing. (He taught us how to read music, and I picked it up pretty quickly.)

I used to love walking down from the loft after mass. It must have been the showman in me that drove me to do that because I thought I looked hip in my choir robe and wanted to show it off. In our opinion, we were the best boys’ choir in any school.

No one could come close to our “Hallelujah Chorus”; our singing was unrivaled. We kicked choir ass!

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I was in that choir for four years and got a lot of experience singing and dancing in front of an audience. Every Christmas season, we sang on the steps of Tepper’s Department Store in Plainfield, one of the most popular around. That was a big deal back then. Every spring, we would put on a show in the auditorium with a choreographer and full makeup. I always liked putting on makeup. It always felt cool to do that, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed it because I’m gay. Straight men can like makeup, too, and it’s about time we normalized that.

This has always been a cool thing about show biz. People are allowed to be themselves, especially in the public sphere. These shows we did in the auditorium would be packed with people, and I always got to sing a solo or two and dance like the Charleston or a waltz or something.

We also performed at the World’s Fair in New York, and I got picked to sing a solo with the worldfamous Vienna Boys’ Choir.

I was hooked on showbiz and felt my obsession with Putting on a show with The Saint Mary’s Boys it was indescribable. choir Rock and roll influences My older brother Gary, six years older than me, used to play rock records loud in his room, and as a new blooming teenager, I fancied it.

We lived in a one-story ranch, and our bedrooms were next to each other, so I couldn’t help but hear all the latest coming from big brother’s room: The Beatles, Cream, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Vanilla Fudge, Led Zeppelin, The Who, The Rolling Stones, and a host of others. I would sneak into his room whenever he left the house and always play his records.

He caught me red-handed listening to his LPs a couple of times 22

Wayne B. Olivieri

but never scolded me. He was always cool about it, and after a while, he would call me into his room and play me new stuff he picked up.

The Pink Elephant Express My brother played drums, and the band practiced in our house’s new furniture-less living room. In retrospect, when I hark back to these memories, I realize how progressive and understanding my parents were. They never admonished us or expressed even a hint of annoyance for our obsession with rock and roll. Except my father was not very accepting of long hair.

(He was a frog man in World War II and a strict but fair father who laid brick for a living. Being that he was 100 percent Italian, you didn’t want to piss him off.)

I remember being awestruck at the notion that a real rock band was in my house. The band lasted about a year and played out a few times, but after the untimely death of their 18-year-old bass player from a brain tumor, the band broke up. This marked the last time my brother ever played in a band.

My first band, Toca It was the summer before I was a freshman in high school when a bunch of neighborhood guys formed a band, and I wanted to be the singer. One of the guys was Dan Caruso. He was the guitar player. I remember he had this cool amp that, when you pressed a button, the top would come up like an elevator. Dan turned out to stay with it like I did and is now a great bass player/ studio producer/engineer, and sculptor. There was another guy named Steve Mayzak with whom I became great friends, and I beat out for the spot of singer. He became a detective and sang in a few cover bands, and we remain friends to this day. I don’t remember the names of the other members (sorry, guys.)

We practiced in our friend John Abbruzzese’s (RIP) basement and had played only one party before our demise. But it was 23

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great, and at that party, I discovered what being a singer in a band meant. Girls thought you were cool. Yeah, I love showbiz.

The next year or so, I jammed with local guys and bounced around, making a name for myself in the big high school circle of would-be rock stars. It’s been a while, and I can’t remember the names of the bands. But besides a park gig, I didn’t get into a real working band until the 10th grade.

Midnight Shift I remember riding my bike over to the house of a guy named Larry Felds with my brand-new Shure microphone that I got for my 14th birthday. I walked up to the third floor of an old Victorian house, with music blasting and getting louder as I approached the band’s practice room.

I remember thinking how tight they sounded as I listened outside the door. I opened the door and saw this colossal drum kit, which looked like a wall of equipment to me and was very impressive.

They had a pedal steel guitar player, a lead guitar, and a bass player. On drums, they had a guy named Mark Reilly. Mark was the best drummer I had heard play in my young life. I knew this was a real band.

I sang a few Stones songs and hung out for a while with these guys. Two of them were older and had beards and mustaches.

When they asked me if I owned the microphone, I got the impression that I was already shortlisted. As it turned out, not only did they think I was a good singer, but I was also the only singer with a mic they auditioned. Midnight Shift was a cool band. We played everything from Elvis and the Beatles to NRBQ to Stones and Led Zep. We played a lot of gigs and were regulars at the Sterling youth center, a big gym-type room in the Watchung Mountains that catered to the youth of the surrounding area.

We also played a lot of high school dances.

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It was great, and I honed my on-stage chops and my lead singer moves. Oh, yeah. We also made money, a new perk to the whole rock and roll thing. This was good, but wait, did I mention girls?

Circus Midnight Shift lasted a little over a year, and then we broke up because the guitar and bass players didn’t see eye to eye, even though they were brothers.

I stayed in touch with Mark, the drummer, and we decided to put a band together.

I was a senior in high school and remember talking to a guy about starting a band in gym class. His brother was a good guitar player, and he arranged for me to meet with him on a Saturday.

This guy was one of the biggest influences on my young career, and as it turned out, a lot of my older musical activities as well. His name was Gary Venittelli, and we hit it off immediately.

I met him at his house in North Plainfield, the same town I lived in. Gary also lived with his parents and was three years older than me.

He took me down to his basement, The band, Circus and we spent a whole Saturday jamming with his guitar and me singing and playing the harmonica. I wrote my first song that day. Lyrics, that is, and Gary wrote the music. It was called “Living Dying Alone.” (I never forgot that tune...lol.) It was hip and groovy.

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I spoke to him about Mark, the drummer from the Midnight Shift, and the idea of starting a band. Gary agreed to join the band with a couple of guys we knew: Dan Caruso on guitar, Tony P on bass, Mark Reilly on drums, and me at the helm on vocals. We made a great band, the five of us. We called ourselves “Circus.”

We eventually replaced Tony, the bass player, with a guy named Artie D. Artie had this huge afro and played a mean bass.

We played for the public a lot back then; it was mostly school dances, but it’s much cooler playing at a dance than going to one.

I remember we decided to paint all of our equipment white one night after rehearsal. (I hate to call it band practice. Not only does it sound wimpy, but you “practice” your instrument and you “rehearse” a band. ) Gary worked at a paint store and brought over a bunch of cans of white spray paint he “borrowed” from work. We got so high from the fumes that night that we stumbled out of Mark’s basement and fell on the ground laughing without a care in the world.

Pat DiNizio I remember we were in a band battle at a big Catholic school on a Saturday, and about two weeks before the gig, our guitar player left the band. Realizing the urgency to fill the guitar player’s empty spot, Gary invited a stranger named Pat to audition.

I remember how long his fingers were and how he looked peculiar and unusual to my eyes. He seemed nice enough, but I had a strange feeling he wasn’t impressed by us to a considerable degree. How could that be possible, though? We were a hit in my head. We went ahead with the band battle and, what was inevitable, we won. We played a lot of high school gigs and other band battles and got our picture in the paper for the first time.

Pat stayed in our band for a while, and we became pretty tight. However, after spending some time together, Pat decided to leave the band; I’m not sure why.

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Circus broke up, and wouldn’t you know it, Pat attained stardom some 13 years later with a band he started called “The Smithereens.” We remained friends through the years; I even interviewed him on my cable TV show in 2014, and by chance, I sang on stage with him while attending his last local show. He invited me up for a few songs just a week before his premature death. I’ll never forget his wide smile as he turned to me and asked, “Isn’t this fun?” Incredibly sad. Pat was a good man.

David Bowie When I was seventeen years old, I was friends with a girl named Mona, who happened to be the ex-girlfriend of my bandmate Gary. She and her friend Holly Duza, a neighbor of mine, were the rock and roll girls of the time, AKA “The Groupies.” Their makeup and skimpy dresses had become the talk of the town.

I ran into Mona somewhere, and she asked me if I wanted to go to a party in the city. I agreed, and she took me with her. We were somewhere in the village in a basement-type club. There were all kinds of Mott the Hoople-type people there, and we sat at a table with a few dudes.

Mona introduced me to Bowie. He seemed cool and was not much for talking. He just listened a lot. I remember thinking about how cool he looked and how crooked his teeth were, but it was cool that I was hanging with him. We talked for a couple of hours along with Mona and another guy; I can’t remember his name—I think it was Jeff Beck—but we laughed and drank cognac and even sang some harmonies. It was a great night.

I didn’t have a demo tape or a business card, so when the evening ended, he said goodbye, shook my hand, wished me luck with my music, and disappeared into the night, never to be seen again in person for the rest of my life, except for once, years later at his show in a stadium. I sat in the audience and had no backstage pass. After that night in the club, I became a big fan.

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Back to My Career After Circus broke up, Gary went on his separate way, but Mark Reilly, Art, and I stayed together and helped form a band called “Coffee.” It was a band with a keyboard player named Tito Bombaci. I had never heard a keyboard live before as far as a band I was in was concerned and thought it was cool.

Tito was older than me, but we hit it off pretty well. He taught me a lot about music and being cool; he also turned me on to cocaine, but that’s for another chapter. We played a few gigs and lasted about a year. It was 1974 when we broke up. That is commonplace among band members. You have everybody’s egos flying around, and it’s hard to keep everybody in check. You must bruise some egos in order to inflate others, and things may not always go according to plan.

Band Advice: It’s always better to have a definite leader calling the shots, or chaos ensues.

Now, I’m going to tell you how I gave up a great corporate job for the life that I was sure with every fiber in my bones I wanted.

And to this very moment, I still want and will till I breathe my last breath.

Wisdom: This must be your approach if you have any opportunity to materialize your dreams. Just like an athlete, you have to want it to the point that you don’t care (and I didn’t) about money, where you live, or what your parents, friends, or relatives think or say about you.

You must know that this is what you want and believe that you’ll do anything to get it. Well, almost anything. A little disclaimer for any kids aged between 12 to 16: don’t try this unless you can take 18 years of emotional roller-coaster riding, of accolades and disappointments, and not harm yourself in the process.

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It was September of 1973. I had just graduated high school, and the bass player from our band “Coffee,” Artie D, told me that his company needed a draftsman. I told him I failed mechanical drawing two years in a row in high school, but he said they were so hard up for workers that all I had to do was print neatly on my application, and I’d be sure to get the job.

I did, and all of a sudden, I was corporately employed.

I had no idea what I was doing, but Artie showed me what to do every day, and I eventually picked it up. The company manufactured metal gratings for drawbridges and stair grates for nuclear power plants and submarines. And we drew the plans for the shop to follow so they would fit. I would hate to see some of the steps I worked on. (Art ended up working for the military for the next 30 years and then retiring before starting to play bass again.)

1974 -1975 During my corporate time, I got my chops more together, and after “Coffee” broke up, Gary Venittelli called me and said he wanted to start an “all-original band.” He also mentioned he wanted to get a record deal. Now, up until this point, all of the bands I was in mainly did cover songs, so making the jump to all originals was fascinating. Also, back then, there was no such thing as an “indie” band, streaming, etc. There were only vinyl records and major labels who controlled everything; you either got a record deal or you didn’t.

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3 Getting a Record Deal How hard could it be?

I’m not sure what happened exactly in the months to come, but I continued working for Eastco Corp. And Gary was still working at the paint store. I think we wrote a few songs and put them on tape.

I would call the record companies from work and try to get appointments to play our songs for the “Artists and Repertoire” guys. These people decide if your songs are good enough to warrant a record company investing money in you. I used to think we would walk into an A&R guy’s office, play the tape, and walk out with a huge contract, but no. I couldn’t even talk to one, let alone get an appointment to see one. However, with perseverance and a few well-placed embellishments, I finally got us a sit-down appointment with Diane Hyatt, the A&R director for Epic Records at the time. This was it. This was our big break, and it was right around the corner. My thoughts went wild with excitement. I daydreamed at work for hours about how, after we got offered this huge record deal, we would have a multiplatinum album and be famous worldwide. My boss would often catch me in my reverie, nudge me back to reality, and tell me to get to work.

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The Big Day Let me begin by saying that we New Jerseyans had a distinct advantage over other people elsewhere in that we could reach the heart of Manhattan in under an hour—without having to deal with the gridlock that is the city on any given weekday.

Anyway, I remember driving into “The City” that day. We both called in sick and kept talking about what we would do when she offered us a deal.

I remember walking into the CBS building, going past the gatekeepers, and riding up the elevator. We went through these glass doors to a reception area and waited to be called in.

I remember thinking about how huge her office would be.

After all, this woman held the all-consuming power of life and death that dictated my career’s fate.

I imagined her room to be spacious, with a view of the city and a bar that came out of the wall every time she pressed a secret button to get us some champagne to celebrate our new record deal. Suddenly, Gary nudged me, waking me up from my daydream , and I heard our names being announced. We stood up and walked into the inner sanctum of Epic Records. It was like going through the doors of a fun house ride, not knowing what to expect. It was exhilarating and yet nerve-racking. The receptionist led us down a narrow hallway with boxes of records.

(Back then, albums were still vinyl and big.) It was a sloppylooking hallway at best. Then she led us to this little windowless office with a desk, a shelf, and a small stereo system sitting on it.

Then, a woman walked in, sat down, said hi, and reached for the tape.

She put the tape in the machine, pushed play, sat back, and swiveled her chair around so we couldn’t see her face. I remember how long it seemed just for the first song to get to the chorus; come on, I thought, get to the good part.

Then, just as the chorus was playing, she pressed the fastforward button and went to the next song without even turning 31

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around. That sucked. Okay, maybe she will vibe to the next tune.

The same thing happened. We spent five minutes in that room, our songs constantly being fast-forwarded.

She stopped the tape, popped it out of the machine, and, handing it back, said,—Now, for all you young music men and women out there, these are famous words spoken by all A and R people—“I have yet to hear a hit in the songs I’ve just listened to … If and when you write any new material, give me a call.”

That’s it? I thought. Is it over? That’s all she’s going to say?

Fuck this. I’m not letting her get away with just that. I spoke up and asked her, “What’s wrong with our songs?”

She proceeded to tell us that the music was weak and Gary’s voice wasn’t great. (Gary sang lead on three out of the four tunes.)

And there were “NO HOOKS,” which is the big catchphrase in the Biz. For those who don’t know, a hook is the part of a song that people can remember and is usually repeated many times within the song itself.

Well, needless to say, we left with a new understanding of reality.

But on the way home, I thought it gave me more reason to make it. To show that bitch that she knows nothing about the music biz, and after we made it big, she would have to kiss my ass to walk into a room that I happened to be present in. We went home conjuring up cool stories like that and felt better.

Who needs a real job anyway?

After our first of many record company exploits, Gary had a brilliant idea. He said, “Let’s get fired from our jobs, collect unemployment, and write music full-time.”

I was completely in on the plan with him. I thought that was the best suggestion I had heard in my 18 years of life. So, I decided to slack at my job, hoping to get fired by Christmas. It was September of 1974 or 1975, not quite sure. Remember, all 32

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of this happened long ago and millions of my brain cells didn’t make it this far.

Anyway, I tried for four months to get my employer to fire me, but I guess they saw some potential in me because they kept asking me if everything was okay in my life. It took a while, but I finally got my red card and a ticket to become a full-time musician.

I must admit to anybody reading this who has committed to his music that this was a rewarding feeling, at least until unemployment ran out.

Gary and I started looking for musicians who were also unemployed or could commit to a full-time music deal and help pay the rent for a garage behind the house of a guy who played jazz piano in North Plainfield.

His name was Ray, and he was a nice guy. Oh, just a little advice: never rent to a bunch of musicians that are not gigging steadily. Or, for that matter, I would be a little leery of renting to musicians at all unless you don’t need your rent money on time.

My only regret about getting fired from my job was that my mother was so proud of me for having a real job as a “Mechanical Engineer” and that she talked about it all the time. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I got fired from such a prosperous job.

I remember pretending to go to work every morning for the next few months (I still lived at home), so she and my dad wouldn’t freak out about my move into the rock and roll profession full-time.

We would meet at the garage and then drive to Opdykes, a diner-type place right on Rt. 22, a highway near where we rehearsed to have coffee and a roll or something. We then started auditioning people to start our dream band.

Gary had a drummer he worked with at the time named Jeff Carr. Jeff Carr was a cool name, and I remember thinking Jeff was a straightforward, non-flashy drummer who did what Gary asked and was very easy to work with.

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It was evident that Gary would call the musical shots in this outfit for now. After all, he wrote ALL the music and a lot of the lyrics. I didn’t mind because he seemed to respect me as an equal; coming from him, that was a compliment. We found a bass player named Rich and another guitar player named Steve, who was a great guitar player but had some emotional problems.

Anyway, we called ourselves “THE ROCKIDS.” This was an exciting time in our lives. I was a real musician at last.

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4 The Rockids (Take 1) I’m not sure who thought up that name—I think it was Gary—but at the time, everyone liked it, so we took it on as who we were. I think it was 1975. We converted that old garage into a semi-clean place to rehearse. We brought in old carpeting and all of our combined equipment, including a little P.A. system we put together, and started writing and writing. I helped write lyrics and melodies, mostly for Gary’s songs.

It was a fun time in my life, and I remember having this content feeling inside me, knowing I was doing something I was destined to do.

Writing songs is not an easy task, but it seemed Gary had an endless well of ideas for musical riffs and every time I heard one, I would come up with a melody and some words that were eventually born into a song. It was good, and I knew we possessed something extraordinary.

We were a full-fledged “rock and roll band.” Two guitars, bass, drums, and a lead singer (although Gary sang half the songs).

I didn’t mind Gary singing so much because we used to have a lot of songs with harmony lead vocals, and I also played harmonica and percussion.

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We were all in the seventies rock mode, with long hair, wild clothes, and an attitude that indicated that Rockids were the best new band in the world. You have to think that, or you will surely be crushed by many obstacles coming your way.

We had a sound like the Rolling Stones meet the Who with a little Beatles thrown in for good measure.

One of our first gigs was at Wagner State College in Staten Island, N.Y. I remember Gary got us the gig somehow. I’m not quite sure how. We were opening up a show for Roger McGuinn.

I wasn’t sure who he was (lead singer for The Byrds), but the gymnasium was packed with about 3,000 kids, and the stage was big and cool looking. I remember going into our dressing room and bumping into Mr. McGuinn.

He was quite inebriated and cold to me. I didn’t care much and went on my way. I remember having limited space on the huge stage because, as Our first inner circle Road crew: an opening band, we had to set up in Bozak, Mitch J and Daigo Joe front of the headliner so there wasn’t a whole lot of room to run around which was how I performed… lots of strutting around as I sang.

We played a great set, and I felt like a rock star when the crowd cheered for us at the end of our set. It was my first real rock show, and I was in love with being a singer in a rock band.

The House of Music - 1975 I’m not sure exactly how I did it, but I was semi-managing the band and making all the calls and arrangements to try to get us a record deal, some gigs, etc. I was always good on the phone and persistent at getting what I wanted. I remember Gary always saying that I had a great gift of gab.

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Anyway, I decided that our next demo tape should be recorded in an actual studio, not on a small four-track that we had in the rehearsal room.

A small sidebar: A friend from high school, Ray Somlock, had a four-track reel-to-reel and a mixing board on which he often recorded the band. Ray was a fan of our music and always expressed a common interest in seeing us make it big time and wanted to ensure his place for the ride there. As far as I was concerned, anyone who helped or stood with us would always have a place if I had anything to say about it. When I become rich and famous, my true friends and family will have all I can offer them. We had a few good friends in the band at the time.

John Abbruzzese, my brother Gary, some of his friends, and, of course, the girlfriends. Ray stayed with us and eventually became our sound man.

Every band formed has this sacred circle of the “in” ones.

Back to “The House of Music.” I knew we must have a professional demo to get this mysterious record deal. At the time, 24 tracks were the ultimate. We must have this, I thought.

Unfortunately, The Rockids’ Bank account was as empty as most of our gas tanks at the time. In fact, we didn’t even have a bank account.

Well, I called many studios and tried to get them to give us some studio time “on spec.” This is when a studio would let you record there if they thought your music was good enough to get you a recording contract. Then, as part of the deal, you would record your album at that studio at a full rate.

At this point in my career, it was a win-win situation. I just wanted a record deal and didn’t care where I recorded it.

After a week or so of calling around the tri-state area, I got through to the House Of Music in West Orange, New Jersey.

A woman named Irene answered the phone, and we hit it off immediately. I explained my intentions, and she explained that they were a new facility with a few successes. She gave me an 37

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appointment to come down and play our songs for her husband, Charlie, who owned the studio, and a guy named Stephen Galfas, who was a partner and producer.

I called Gary and told him the good news, and we went to the House Of Music.

That’s just what it was: a house with a studio in the basement.

It was fantastic. It was dimly lit with no windows. There were all these speakers and a control board with a thousand switches on them. And racks and racks of equalizers and power amps with lights and buttons, you get my drift. We were in a place that weirdly felt familiar and like I belonged there. It felt like home.

I remember Irene’s nice smile and curly black hair. I felt like we had known each other for a long time. She always was so pleasant on the phone. It was a treat that she looked as such in real life. I never was sexually attracted to her. She was more like a sister to me. Oh well, what the fuck am I babbling about? As she brought us to the studio, we had to walk down a stairway right to the middle of the studio room, where a band was stopped for a break in their session. She offered us coffee or whatever we wanted. I felt like we were someone special due to the way we were treated. I started to like this place.

She introduced us to Charlie, and then he walked us into another room to introduce us to Stephan Galfas. Stephen was a cool dude. He had long black hair and was wearing big, long, hairy fur boots. They were in the middle of recording a band called The Good Rats that day but took a break to listen to our tape.

After they listened to our tape, we talked for a while, and it was decided that Stephen would produce our demo on spec.

YAHOO. I was trying to act so cool while my insides wanted to explode.

Then he returned to work and asked Gary and me if we wanted to stay for a while and watch the recording session.

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I’ve never witnessed a real album being made before, so this was fascinating for me.

The band’s name was The Good Rats, and they looked like a bunch of bikers, but man, the lead vocals I heard were like nothing I had ever heard before. Big, rough, yet smooth at the same time. The vocalist’s name was Peppi Marchello. We had never heard of a band called The Good Rats and didn’t have any idea then, but Rockids and The Good Rats would do many shows together over the next five years.

As we were driving back from The House of Music, Gary and I started talking about how great the demo would turn out and how for sure, this would land us the elusive record deal. It was a great ride home.

Side bar: (Remember, it’s still 2005) Tonight, I’m going on an audition to sing with a cover band. I do this once in a while to keep my chops up and check out the band guys to see if they are any good. Maybe it’s just to feel cool again, but I can’t stay here long, so I’ll continue with the story.

Oh, before I forget, I emailed Doc McGhee the other day and asked him if he would be my representative IF I shopped my script on my own and got some interest. He said he would love to. Does this mean I’m represented by one of the most famous managers in recent rock and roll history?

Advice: The first lesson in this business, believe NOTHING until it happens. And even if it does happen, don’t believe it until you’re paying taxes on the money. Anyway, I will send my treatment to Howard Sterns’ agent, Don Buchwald, as soon as I get around to it.

I got the okay signal from Gary Dell’Abate, Howard Stern’s right-hand guy, yesterday when he returned my phone call. When people like that start returning your calls, you begin thinking that you’re still cool and relevant. You will read why Gary knew me later in the book.

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The cover band audition went well, but the band was old. (It’s funny that I was older than most of them, but they still seemed old to me) When they found out who I was, they seemed to want to do anything I wanted. Change their set list to songs I liked. Stuff like that. Nice guys. It makes me feel good that I still have some reputation and receive respect, even if it’s at the minor league level. I almost want to go out and sing again, but doing cover songs and playing down the shore in a “party” band just doesn’t turn me on. I guess I’ll keep looking. Where was I?...Oh yeah… recording at the House of Music.

Gary and I went back home and rehearsed the band to go into the studio. Little did we know that when you get a spec deal, you go into the studio only when they have no time booked for the paying acts. After about three canceled dates, we finally got in at 11 p.m.

My first experience in a big studio was extremely exciting and educational. Irene met us at the door, took us into the lounge, and gave us anything we wanted, food, drink. It was so cool we were being treated like stars. That night I learned how you recorded a song and rerecorded and rerecorded. I had no idea that getting things right took so many takes.

To make a long story short, we ended up finishing our first session at 9 a.m. the next day and still only had basic tracks down, but they were the most rewarding ten hours I had ever spent.

Oh, I forgot to mention that Stephan Galfas was producing, and a guy named Jim Bonnefond was our engineer. Jim was very cool and took over for Stephan at about 2 a.m.

On the way home, I remember talking about that “Holy Grail” of every unsigned band: The Record Deal. Surely, it was not far off now. “This is our year,” I remember telling Gary.

We had to wait a couple of weeks before we could get more time at the House of Music. It was another late start. I think it was 11 p.m.

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All went well, and we opened the door to go home at about 10 a.m. the next day. Man, I loved that feeling of driving with all those 9-to-5 people on their way to work while I was on my way home to sleep after working in a state-of-the-art studio with a producer like Stephan Galfas and on MY MUSIC all night. It didn’t matter that they were getting paid and I wasn’t.

At this point, I would have never gone back to work for any amount of money. Gary seemed to have the same feeling, and everything was perfect.

Finishing the demo With the studio starting to get booked up with paying clients, it took over five weeks to finish three songs. I sang on only one but didn’t mind because I sang ALL the backup harmonies, which was good enough for me at the time. Stephan was a great producer, and Jim Bonnefond was a superb engineer/producer.

We finished the demo, and I remember how impressed I was when we doubled and tripled the vocals (that means recording the same vocal two or three times on different tracks to make them sound BIGGER.) All kinds of cool stuff went down like that. I was surely blessed to get Stephan to produce along with Jim. It was a great learning experience, for sure.

Back to Epic Records We had what we thought was our ticket to stardom in our hands. This was surely it. According to us, anyone who didn’t like this demo was either deaf or uneducated.

I first called Diane Hyatt at Epic and explained to her that we have more songs for her to listen to.

We headed back to New York City. And this time, I wasn’t leaving without a record deal.

She hated this demo more than the last one. She hated the vocals, the tunes, and “Didn’t hear the HIT.” Fuck her. What does she know anyway? Back to the Band Cave, Batman.

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I got us into a few more record companies, all with the same result. Fuck them! What do they know anyway? We were a good band, and the music was good. That’s all I knew, and that’s the battle cry I shouted to the rest of the band, especially Gary.

The band was still the main concern, and I wanted to keep everyone on and up ahead, so I figured it was time to start playing out. If the record companies saw us live, they would know that we were a great live band and sign us on the spot. Yeah!

Saturday Night Live with Howard Cosell “THE PUBLICITY STUNT” Starring: The Bay City Rollers... and the Rockids?

I remember watching a commercial for a new live show starring Howard Cosell. He was saying that the Bay City Rollers would be coming to New York to play live at the old Ed Sullivan Theater. He was bringing them to America for the first time, and it was going to be a big event.

The Bay City Rollers had a big hit called “Saturday Night.”

I remember telling Gary we needed a publicity stunt to get the Rockids on the map, and I think I had the perfect plan.

We had just finished a new tune called “Party Town New York City,” and it was a fast, hard rocker that made a statement.

Yes, this was the perfect song.

Okay, here’s the plan. We rent a flatbed truck, get a generator, and put the band on the truck with amps, a P.A. system, and banners all over the place with “ROCKIDS USA” on them. Break through the police barricades with our amps on ten and play our song in front of the Ed Sullivan Theater as the Bay City Rollers arrived.

With live T.V. cameras rolling, this would be our protest that a band from overseas gets all the attention instead of a good old USA band. Yes, this could work.

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Gary thought I was nuts but loved the idea, and we started operation “Crash Howard Cosell.”

We only had a week. Gary’s friend Joe had a flatbed rack truck that was big enough to fit the band; I think we paid him off with some pot and beer. (Back then, the drinking age was 18.)

We rented a generator and made huge signs that ran the length of the truck that said “ROCKIDS USA” in red, white, and blue. We were REALLY going through with this!

The big day I remember it was a fabulous night. I think it might have been early October. We met at the band’s rehearsal garage and prepared for our trip into the city. Most of our friends that hung out with the band were there and we needed them to perform some duty to pull this off. It was sort of like plotting a bank job or something. We had our friend Abby assigned to drive my car behind the truck once we got to the city, and Joe was going to drive his truck.

I think our friend Dan Caruso was there also. The girlfriends were helping to put on the signs and get the band ready (we wore a lot of makeup and stage clothes). We had to pull this off with no rehearsal, and the timing had to go down just right, or we would be playing to no one.

I forgot to mention that on the morning of this great event, I called all the New York TV stations and told them that something wild was going to happen at Saturday Night Live with Howard Cosell (this was not the comedy show; it was Howard Cosell’s show’s name originally) and I would expect them to all be there to catch the scoop. I was certain that they would show up. Am I good or what?

We were all ready to rock, so we started into the city. We got through the Lincoln Tunnel with no incidents. We were on 10th, going toward 53rd street, and we stopped a block from the theatre and prepared the truck. We fired up the generator, tuned 43

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the guitars, and checked the P.A. system. All systems were GO. At the last minute, Joe got too freaked out, and we had to put in Abby as our replacement truck driver. The timing had to be just perfect. As we moved up to Broadway, I could see all the lights and the crowd that had gathered.

We got up to the corner, and there was a police barricade across 53rd blocking us from getting onto Broadway. Now what?

I shouted to the band to “Start playing.” We were very loud. I saw the police turn and look at us for an instant, and then one of them went over to the barrier, moved it, and flagged us through.

He must have thought we were part of the show. Yes, this was it.

Abby drove us around the corner, and I could see all the cameras and lights and about 1,000 people all turning and looking at us as we pulled right in front of the theater playing full blast. I saw Howard Cosell in front of the truck with his mike and all the lights and cameras pointing at us. We did it!

All the people started cheering at us. I noticed behind us the limo carrying the Bay City Rollers stopped with nowhere to go.

This was a perfectly timed stunt. We continued playing for about a full minute and a half when the power suddenly went off, and about 10 NYC Police officers stormed the truck with their billy clubs drawn and shouting, “Stop right now!”

I saw them pull Abby out of the truck and make Joe, sitting next to him, drive the truck around the corner. As all this was happening, the people in the crowd were shouting “USA” and clapping in acceptance of what we tried to do. At least, that’s what I got out of it.

Once we were safely out of the way, the Bay City Rollers pulled up to our previously marked territory, and the lights and the cameras went back on them. And just like that, it was over.

After we bailed Abby out of jail and received our five summonses, we all went back home and celebrated our victory at our local hangout, “The Rathskeller,” a little pub in the basement of the Dunellen Hotel.

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Bragging about our escapades to everyone at the bar, we anxiously awaited the 11 o’clock news to see ourselves. I thought that after this, some record company guy would see us and be so impressed that we would have some shot at playing our demo for him and, in my fantasy, get a record deal.

I was pretty obsessed with this record deal. Hey, if I weren’t, who would be?

We starred at the TV all through the news, asking my buddy Steve Mazack, the bartender, to keep switching the stations from one news broadcast to another until they all ended their programs without a mention of this monumental publicity stunt we pulled off. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a monumental stunt without any publicity.

We still kept our heads high and continued to pat each other on the back until much past the last call. I felt proud yet cheated.

The next night, I was watching the news on channel 9, a local New York station. At the very end of the broadcast, the anchor seemed to look right at me and said—To this day, I remember his exact words—“And my hat’s off to the ROCKIDS who attempted to get their band on the Howard Cosell show Saturday Night Live.

Don’t worry, guys. According to the ratings, that show won’t last very long on the air anyway.”

I felt this wave of contentment rush over me like a warm shower. That was all I needed to hear to make it all seem worthwhile. This was good. I wasn’t crazy. This thing is achievable.

I immediately called Gary and the band to let them know what went down, and everyone was relieved that it wasn’t all in vain.

I slept great that night and thought to myself how much I loved this business.

After the great stunt that went relatively unnoticed, the Rockids went back to writing songs and getting ready to play a few well-placed gigs in our area as a warm-up for the crucial gigs to come.

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I knew that any gig in New Jersey for an all-original band was a waste of time getting any record company executives to come and see you. I set my sights on New York City.

Sidebar: In 1975, the drinking age was 18 in New Early Rockids: Bruce, Rich, Jeff (RIP), Jersey, and bars popped up all me, Gar over the place. They were pulling in crowds of people seven nights a week. This allowed bands to play out. However, there were more all-cover bands than alloriginal. To me, doing covers didn’t make sense; I couldn’t get a recording contract playing other people’s songs. Cover bands were definitely below the original bands in the rock and roll food chain. Although, they made 200 times the money.

Rockids Live!

I got us our first big club gig at a place in New Brunswick called the Red Fox Café. It was a club with two rooms, a small room and a big room. We had a small room because we didn’t have a following of fans yet, and we played all originals, a bad thing if you want gigs in this circuit. I didn’t care. This was just a warm-up before I went after the Singing our first gig, New Brunswick, NJ original clubs in the city.

I remember my older brother Gary made a light board made of dimmer switches from regular house lights nailed to a small sheet of plywood connected to three boxes of colored light bulbs.

This was our light show. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing and made the band look better.

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The gig went well, and I decided to go forward and try and get us some gigs in the city.

CBGB’s That next week, I picked up the Village Voice and started calling clubs that advertised live bands to see if I could get us a gig.

After what seemed to be 100 phone calls, I got a few of them to offer us spots on off-nights.

Our first gig was at a place called Final exam opening for Good Rats CBGB. A guy named Hilly Kristal asked me what kind of music we played, and just like that, we could do a Monday night with five other bands. This was an audition. If he liked us, he told me we would be able to play more gigs on the busier weekend nights. Hilly was a very cool guy.

I remember thinking that one night would be all Rockids would need to land a deal if only I could get some record company A&R guys to come down and see us. I spent the next week harassing every major label A&R department, trying to get them to come and see us. I got through to a few and was told they would send someone to look at the band.

Having a record company come and see us was a very big thing. It could mean a contract. Everyone in the band was excited at the possibilities. I sent out invitations to every record company in the city. We were slated for the third spot, which, according to Hilly, was around 11 p.m. “primetime.”

We put our equipment into our friend Joe’s old box truck and headed into the city.

When we pulled up to the club, I saw bums, hookers, and more bums lying around the street. I hope our cars are safe here…shit….I hope WE are safe here!

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When we walked into the club, it was almost as slummy as the outside. There was even a dog licking up any dropped food on the floor.

I felt strangely at ease there. Just like the House Of Music, it seemed like the right place for me to be at the time. My partner Gary seemed to feel the same way. It was a long and narrow room with the stage toward the back.

The stage spanned three-quarters of the way across the back of the room with a hallway on the left side to allow you to the backstage dressing room behind the stage and the downstairs steps to the bathrooms. Tables were lined up in rows, starting at the front of the stage and continuing toward the front of the room. The bar ran across one-half of the right side of the room.

It was very dimly lit, even in the afternoon. The stage was full of equipment and didn’t have much room after the drums were set up.

There was a small dressing room right in the back of the stage where all the bands had to call home for the night unless you wanted to go down the stairs to the bathrooms. I opted for the dressing room.

As the night got older, people started to come in. Not just your normal everyday Jersey people. It was a different kind of crowd. Nothing like I ever saw before—girls in black leather with spiked hair. The guys looked very—how can I say this?—They were sort of hard-looking like they didn’t conform to rules very easily. Lots of black leather. But they were subdued in a way—lots of weird people.

Clearly, each band had a local following of fans while, besides a girlfriend and our road crew, we had none. We liked to think we had a crew but couldn’t afford to pay them. They hung with the band with the same hopes we all had of making it big-time someday.

I can’t remember all their names, but I think Abby and Ray were there and Joe and my brother Gary and Mitch. I always 48

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loved all those guys. Without people like them hanging with us, telling me how good we were, and pitching in to help us with everything from beer to moving and running our equipment, it would have been hard to drudge on without their support.

I didn’t care. I was there to rock and roll.

In my mind, I had every confidence in Rockids NYC the world that once any crowd heard our band, we would win them over.

It was getting late, and the first band hadn’t gone on. I started getting a little pissed about that, but I could do nothing. We were the apparent outsiders tonight and had to wait our turn.

I kept looking around the room for people that might be recording people and came across one or two that didn’t look weird enough to be regulars. Sure enough, it turned out that one guy did show up. I approached him, and he told me he had come to see my band. I’m pretty sure his name was Stu Fine from a company called Sire Records. This was like finding the winning lottery ticket.

I talked to him for a while and went backstage to tell the band. It was 10 p.m. The first band didn’t start yet, and I started worrying about our time slot. What if Stu leaves before we go on?

At 10:30, the first band started playing. The crowd was very enthusiastic and gave them a great reception. They were okay but not very good, musically speaking. They were quite loud. I can’t remember their name, though.

When the second band went on, it was 11:45, and the record guy was still there. I went over and talked to him. He told me he would wait for us. This was a relief.

The second band was worse than the first. They had a girl bass player that couldn’t play bass except for one string at a time, and the lead singer had a weird, droning voice that kept going 49

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out of tune. He played an acoustic guitar that was also out of tune. He looked like a mental patient. Gary and I just laughed at them.They sucked.They were called “The Talking Heads.” It was 12:45, and I was pissed that the night was progressing so slowly.We frantically put up our equipment and were done with our drum check at about 1:10 a.m. I looked out from behind the stage, and Stu (the record guy) was still there. We got on the stage at about 1:20 a.m., and Stu was gone as I walked onto the stage.

So was everyone else but a few people at the bar. There must have been only 10 to 15 bodies in CBGB. I was pissed at the whole situation, but I came to rock. I shook it off and told the band, “Fuck it, let’s rock and roll.” I felt like a quarterback trying to get his team up for a two-minute drill.

Most bands need someone to snap them out of a down mindset to get them to perform up to their ability.

We played a great set. All ten people clapped at the end of each song. I always looked at it as if ten people were in the room, and ALL seemed to like our music, then if there were 1,000 people in the room, ALL of them would like our music. I NEVER put any less effort into my performance, no matter how small the crowd.

We got done, packed up our equipment, and left without staying for the other band called “Television.”

I must include a little food story On the way home, we stopped at a MacDougal Street place called Mamoun’s Falafel. My brother Gary and our friend Mitch suggested it.

It was a tiny place, dimly lit, about 10 feet deep and 6 feet wide, with a little kitchen in the back with five small tables pushed against the walls. It was around 3 a.m., and a line of people stretched out the door. There was Indian music blaring.

The line moved quickly, and with my first bite into my first-ever falafel, I realized that I was being educated on a cultural taste experience and the whole scene.

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In New York City, at 3 a.m. on a Monday, I did a gig at CBGB (it wasn’t a famous club to the rest of the world yet, but in NYC, it was cool). My bandmates were all together and laughing and carrying on. We were COOL. I felt like I’d been to Mamoun’s a hundred times before. It was one of those places that felt right.

I never ate a falafel before. It was the most satisfying thing I’ve eaten as a late-night meal since pizza burgers. (Note: Mamoun’s is still there 45 years later.)

The next day I called Hilly Kristal, not knowing whether he would give us another gig. He told me he liked the band and material, to my surprise. We were booked for the following Thursday, according to him, a much busier night.

I called Stu Fine, and he returned my call and explained that it was getting very late and he had to leave. He told me he would try to make our next show.

The next week, we found ourselves back in front of CBGB. Bums and all. I felt like we belonged there this time. I couldn’t wait to get back on the stage. I didn’t care that we had no following of people. I would wow the crowd, and we would steal the other bands’ people. It was a VERY crowded night.

We were on second, and the first band was not as strange as the other bands the week before. I thought they didn’t have very much musical ability, but they had a certain realness that I liked.

The singer was a girl, and she intrigued me. They were called “The Shirts.”

Once again, I was spending a lot of time looking around the smoked-filled packed room for Stu Fine. He was nowhere to be found, and we had to go on. I didn’t care because the place was a madhouse. Most of the crowd was in black leather jackets and had bizarre colored hair to go with their very strange haircuts. I thought it was cool.

I figured that amongst all these people and with the buzz of CBGB there was as good a chance as any that a record person 51

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was in the audience. And we would be discovered that night.

(Always think positive!)

Looking around me, I saw people wall-to-wall. Mostly young people, but I sensed that I was inside a secret clubhouse and only the cool could be in attendance. I didn’t know why but a part of me knew that my music was not in the same vein as the music these people came to hear.

We were essentially a rock and roll band from Jersey. I was a run-around-the-stage, crazy type of frontman, so we did have that much in common. We were VERY loud. That kept us running, but we weren’t exactly their cup of tea. I figured WE were the BEST band in the place because there was no doubt we had the best musicianship AND vocals, hands down.

We seemed to fit strangely with the whole scene. Maybe because we had an attitude, Yeah, that’s it. Fuck everybody else. We are here to get a record deal and don’t give a shit about anybody but ourselves. Plus, we looked cool.

We took the stage and played a great set. I was shirtless and sweaty by the last chord. It was a very satisfying set. The crowd was responsive and seemed to like us. We came off the stage and huddled into the tiny dressing room. It was time to party!

My partner Gary and I went out into the crowd and headed to the bar. I looked around the room for Stu Fine but didn’t see him. Jeff, our drummer, came over, and we all had a celebratory shot and a beer. We got praised by a few people as we stood there drinking. This felt good.

The next band was on the stage and started to play. I could tell they were a local favorite based on the audience’s reaction. They had a girl singer. She had bright blond hair and looked almost scared. She had a pretty good voice and a cool look. Once again, the talent in the band didn’t seem very advanced. Their songs were less trashy than what I was used to hearing from the New York bands. I liked them. They were called Blondie.

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After their set, the lead singer came to the bar and told me she liked our set. I returned the favor and bought her a drink.

She asked me my name, held out her hand, and told me her name was Deborah. As we shook hands, she smiled. She was cool. We talked for a while then she disappeared into the room. After another beer and a few more compliments from some strangers, the next band took the stage. I was feeling very good about our acceptance into this scene. However, I wasn’t sure what kind of scene we were in. All I knew was that it was music and New York City….Not realizing at the time we were participating in a part of rock and roll history: NYC Punk scene.

As the next band walked onto the stage, the crowd went crazy. They were all dressed alike. Sort of. They all had jet-black hair and had on leather jackets. They all had what looked like Beatles-type haircuts except the lead singer, whose hair was long and curly. He had on glasses. They started to play, and it was earth-shattering. The volume was more than I had ever heard to date. Gary and I just looked at each other as the crowd went nuts, jumping around and trying to get to the front of the room. The music was VERY simple. Three-chord stuff. I could have played this on guitar, and I don’t even play guitar except when I’m alone and no one can hear me.

To us, they were not even close to our caliber of musicians.

This was a joke, right? Why were all these people going crazy?

They’re not even in tune! We just laughed. They did possess one thing, though—lots of energy. We just stood there and watched as they rambled through song after song without stopping for more than a second. Each song couldn’t have been longer than two minutes at the most. These guys sucked. But they were entertaining to watch.

After they finished, Gary and I still couldn’t believe what we just saw.

“They think they’re tough,” Gary joked as the singer walked towards us.

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“Watch this,” Gary said as he put his arm out and leaned it against a pole so the singer would have to walk around his arm.

The lanky dude stopped at Gary’s arm, looked down at the ground, and walked around Gary. We both thought it was funny, and it confirmed that they weren’t the tough guys they tried to portray on stage.

They called themselves the Ramones.

A little while after Joey Ramone wimped out at Gary’s arm incident, an older guy approached me and gave me his card. He told me to call him the following Monday. He told us he liked our set. His name was Danny Fields. He was a manager.

I had never heard of him, but then again, I didn’t know anybody in the biz except the few people I mentioned up to this point. Right after that, Hilly, CBGB’s owner, came over and told us he enjoyed the show and for me to call him the next day.

Rockids first version The band left CBGB feeling pretty good about themselves. On to Mamoun’s for some falafels!

The next day, I called Hilly and got a weekend date for two weeks later. I asked him if he knew of any other clubs in the city where we could play. He suggested that I call a place called Max’s Kansas City. He gave me the guy’s name, which escapes me now.

I called the club and mentioned that we were playing CBGB and we got a booking for a Tuesday night show. This was good.

Max’s Kansas City This club was a lot different than CBGB. It was a lot cleaner and bigger. We were one of four bands that night.

Not to go into much detail, but there was a group called Mink DeVille, who was really quite good, and another called Wayne County that went on after us. These guys made the Ramones look 54

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normal. The lead singer was a transsexual, I think, screaming and ranting while doing weird things with a doll or statue or something. I couldn’t tell what the hell was going on there, but all I knew was that it was nothing this Jersey boy ever saw.

There wasn’t a huge crowd there, but we played a great set and had a good reaction from the people who were there.

I remember that night because when I went to get paid—By the way, the bands got to split the door back then after the sound and lights were paid for.—Anyway, I went to get paid and started talking to the club manager for a while. I still can’t remember his name. I think we made $56 or something. He liked us and gave me another booking.

When I came out of his office, I noticed that the entire band went home thinking the other guys had me. It was 3 a.m. in New York City, and I was stranded. I called the bus station, and the last bus to New Jersey had just left. What now?

Lucky for me, I had gotten the waitress’s phone number that night. She was cute, and she liked the band. She had been long gone, but I called the number anyway and, voila!

I took a cab over to her apartment, where she graciously let me stay the night. …Nudge, nudge, wink, wink!

Side Bar: I have the greatest respect for anyone who is making a living in this biz, whether it be a duo playing lounges, a wedding band, or a studio owner. It’s so hard to do, and I respect all of you.

Max’s Kansas City was one of the New York clubs that The Rockids booked at least once a month. CBGB was more like our home New York club. I always thought that CBGB was more our style. Suppose you want to call it style at all. During that first year playing in that NYC scene, we became friendly with the bands we played with on many occasions.

The Ramones were okay, although they never had too much to say. The Shirts were very friendly, and the Talking Heads started sounding better every time we played. Blondie also was 55

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part of that scene along with Rockids. A band called Television was also around a lot.

During my time in New York, I did a lot of work trying to get record companies to come and see the band. I believe Stu Fine finally saw us and passed. One or two other companies came to CBGB and also passed. The funny thing about all the hype of being in that scene was that I always felt we were the best band.

We were better players, and I was a much better singer than my fellow lead singers. (Even if Gary was singing half of our songs.)

We got a lot of write-ups in the New York press that year, including the New York Daily News and Variety magazine, which had an extensive article about “the new bowery booms.” Included in this prestigious lineup were the Ramones, Talking Heads, Blondie, and the Rockids.

During that period, I spoke with at least five different recordlabel people on a steady basis. None ever committed to signing the band. They all told me they liked the band but had never heard “The Hit Song.”

On one occasion, I received a phone call and set up a meeting with a very important music manager at the time. (I will keep his name out for obvious reasons, but if you’ve been paying attention, he handed me his card at CBGB.) He saw us there and wanted to sign us. I couldn’t believe it. Finally, someone with a brain. As far as I was concerned, we were far overdue for this. At the meeting in his office, this dude started to talk a little off the wall. You know, like sexually speaking. He suggested that I reciprocate in the act of thanks. Suppose you know what I mean. I told him I didn’t go that way, and Gary and I left his office. Later that week, that person signed the Ramones and became their manager.

Back stage at a show opening for the Good Rats 56

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The Rockids, with this lineup, were also playing regular gigs with The Good Rats back in Jersey at various clubs. We were getting a lot of exposure because The Good Rats had two albums out and always played to a packed house. We were lucky that Peppi (the Rats’ lead singer) liked us. We met at the House of Music. Remember? (Pay attention: I will throw in quizzes.)

The first time we opened for The Good Rats, Peppi said to me, “Good luck, kid….I give you two songs before they (his fans, which were 99 percent drunk guys) boo you off the stage.”

Sure enough, after the second song, all I heard was “Get off the stage!” And “Good Rats!” Well, I remember turning around and looking the packed house right in their eyes, pointing my finger as I screamed, “Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck YOU,” with a smile on my face.

Suddenly, the crowd applauded and screamed in appreciation of my vulgarity, and we finished the set with a great response from The Good Rats fans.

As I was coming off the stage, Peppi said, “You’re my new opening act,” as he patted me on the back.

Side note: Just so I don’t offend anyone, I have to say that we had a few different bass players during this time. Jeff was always on drums. There was a guy named Steve on guitar, Gary on guitar, me singing (half the songs), and I think we started with Carl on bass, then a guy named Pat, Rich K. I think Dan Caruso and Tony P were Rockids for a moment. I’m not sure. If I missed anyone, I apologize.

New York was not producing a record deal,but it still was the place to be in my mind.

The frustrating thing about the New York thing was that the Ramones, Talking Heads, Blondie, and The Shirts and Television ALL got signed to a label, while Rockids never received an offer.

In this business, you can’t let things like that get you down.

It never did for me. At the time, I still thought (and always did) I was the best rock singer in the world. (I did think that!) I did start 57

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wondering about the band’s music, though. Gary still insisted that he wanted to sing more than half of the songs. He wrote all the songs and had most of the lyrics written when he unveiled a new song to the band, allowing me to write only a minimal amount of the lyrics. That started to annoy me—a lot.

The Rockids were making a name for ourselves in our part of New Jersey and Manhattan. We were written up in the paper and local music mags regularly. We were opening the Good Rats shows all over Central Jersey and Long Island, and we even did a show at CBGB with the Rats where we played to a room full of record executives who were there to sign the Rats. I remember that night Peppi the lead singer mooned all the record people and told them to go fuck themselves. Then the band went into their song “I’m A Mean Motherfucker.” They lost their deal that night.

I knew then that record people don’t have a sense of humor.

As I think back to all these memories I’ve been writing about, I give thanks for those memories, the people I met, and the lessons I learned.

This writing a book thing is harder than I thought.

Okay, I’ve been complaining about Gary singing too much for a while now. It got to a point where it was obvious that Gary wanted to sing even more than he had already been. We discussed the matter, and he decided to leave the band and pursue his path.

This was both a shock and a relief to me.

Over the past year, Rockids had not signed a record deal, and we had no offers. Despite all my efforts to do so.

Our guitar player, Steve, had just left the band, and we got a new guitar player named Bruce. Bruce was a very talented rock guitar player. He looked cool with his long, bright blond hair.

Back then, looks were almost as important as your playing ability.

Gary agreed to stay with Bruce for a few more weeks to fulfill some gig obligations.

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Rockids 2.0: Jeff (Drums), Bruce (Guitar), me, Doug (Bass), Wayne (Guitar)

5 Rockids (Take 2) When it came time for Gary to leave, Bruce brought in a friend named Todd to replace Gary. Todd was extremely talented on lead guitar and looked like Bruce’s brother with the same hair and overall look. We lost our bass player when Gary left, so we brought in a guy named Doug Cook, who looked very cool and played well. This band was a much improved Rockids. Jeff stayed with me on drums, and Jeff and I bonded on the direction for Rockids and what we had to do to make money and get that elusive record deal. We were both so excited about the new harder sound Bruce and Todd brought with them, and we knew we had a much better Rockids with the new lineup. (At least, we thought so.)

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Copy vs. Original When Gary left, Jeff and I decided to keep only a handful of heavier rockers from our song list of over thirty songs. We decided to start writing with Bruce and Todd to get a “New” Rockids sound. A much heavier sound. We moved out of our rehearsal studio and into my parents’ basement, a much cleaner environment with a pool table to boot.

Special thanks to my mom and dad for letting us rehearse there. Oh, and our neighbors, the Moroses.

We all decided to write a new set of originals and put together a list of copy material we could all get into.

We decided to do a combination of Aerosmith, Queen, Zeppelin, The Who, Rolling Stones, J. Giels, and an eclectic array of many other popular artists who made up the Top 40 at the time.

The club scene in New Jersey was saturated with clubs and average bands at the time. The drinking age was 18, and the clubs were packed every night of the week. If you had a good booking agent, you could play seven nights a week and make upwards of $1500 per night. In 1977, that was great money for doing what you loved to do. I didn’t want to become a club band, so I agreed to book clubs only if we stood by our guns and performed a full set of original songs along with the copy stuff. No other band on the circuit was doing a full set of originals. I don’t recall anybody doing more than one or two.

I figured we could build a huge following and continue playing in New York to keep us in that scene.

The first thing I did was get us an agent. His name was Sammy Boyd, may he rest in peace, one of the most powerful and successful agents in the state. He came to see us play at one of our local bars. Sammy told me he was so impressed by my energy and movements on stage that he signed us that night.

Finally, someone in the biz felt the same way I did about the band. The only thing Sammy and I bumped heads on was the 60

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set of originals. Sammy told me the club owners would not like it, and we had to mix them with the copy stuff so the owners wouldn’t notice. I agreed but never stopped playing a full set of originals. I also told Sammy I would not play the traditional 40 minutes on and 20 minutes off. I would only perform three onehour sets with 30 minutes in between. He agreed, and we were into the club scene. I believe we were instrumental in changing the 40min-on-20min-off traditional set for clubs because slowly, all the bands started doing it…but I can’t prove it.

PA and Lights One thing I knew about rock and roll was the importance of a big sound and a great stage show. My friend Ray Somlock and my brother Gary agreed to come on board with a huge PA system and light show for a piece of the take each night. This, without a doubt, put the Rockids above almost all the other bands on the circuit. We had the biggest, baddest PA and lights in the state: two 18-inch bass speakers inside folded cabinets 7 feet by 5 feet, two 15inch JBL speakers in cabinets 4 feet by 4 feet for midrange, and two huge JBL horns with drivers for high end and two super tweeters for ultra-high. This was “per side,” and our PA alone took up most of the space in our 24-foot U-Haul truck. For those who don’t know what that means, it was fuckin’ LOUD!!

Our light system had over 40 Par Cans with two rows of 747 aircraft landing lights facing out into the audience to blind them whenever Gary felt it necessary. Additionally, we had a follow spot and a stage manager, my brother Tod, who ran the follow spot and ensured all the equipment on stage was working. When Tod eventually went to the light board, we took on Pete Crafts, another stage manager/follow-spot guru who stayed with us for many years. Pete was the best!

Gary also had explosions and fire pods that could reach 10 feet in the air if he put enough power in them. I remember we caught the ceiling of a club called Gulio’s on fire one night when 61

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On Stage Rockids

we opened for the Good Rats. No one was hurt, and the fire got put out quickly.

Overall, we had the best equipment you could buy at the time. Even Bruce and Todd had Marshall Stacks. We looked cool.

The Rockids were a very loud band!

Getting popular The more we played, the tighter we got. We were booked four to seven nights a week and gained popularity along the way. We mainly played northern and central New Jersey and also Connecticut. We traveled the east coast to Florida to play during Spring Break in Fort Lauderdale. We did a few gigs down the Shore in the summer and still played CBGB monthly. Pretty soon, we had a “following” of Rockids fans. This was one of the best things about that time. It was like being a rock star but on a smaller level, sort of like the minor leagues of rock and roll.

(There’s that baseball analogy again). All in all, things were good, and we were making money to boot.

Back to The Studio Along the way, we kept writing songs and testing them out on our audience. I decided it was time to make another charge at getting a record deal. I called up Irene at the House of Music and set up a meeting with Charlie and Stephen. They agreed to do another spec deal with me and put Jim Bonnefond in charge of producing. Jim was on many records as an engineer, and I was glad to work with him.

Reflection All through the early Rockids year or so, I did not doubt that I was one of the best singers out there (in my mind, anyway).

After going through all the excitement of the New York scene 62

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without securing a recording contract, I still felt I was on the road to my destiny.

I’m not kidding. I still felt that I would hit it huge someday soon, and there was nothing or nobody that could stop me. With the new Rockids lineup, I felt more in control. This was my band now. My apologies to anyone in the band that might get offended reading this, but back then, that’s how I felt. It doesn’t mean that I didn’t love you guys.

Jeff Carr, my drummer, was my partner. He and I saw the same dream and still had an overwhelming desire for success.

We were determined to get there, and with the old Rockids gone and new Rockids here, it was a new wave of excitement.

The new songs were powerful, and the players were firstclass. I was finally singing all the songs. In our book, this was it!

A record deal was only a matter of time.

I felt more seasoned and better understood what I wanted in a band and which direction to take it. I was honing my craft and getting good at it.

More and more times at the mall, club, or diner, people would come up to me and ask if I was in the Rockids. The band was making a local name for itself, and I was becoming a real live singer in White Punks on Dope Rockids a rock and roll band.

At this time, I was making $500 and more a week. More than I ever made from any other job I had. I played rock and roll for a living. What a trip!

Throughout this time, I never stopped thinking about getting a record deal and becoming rich and famous. I know it sounds so cliché, but I’m telling you, if you didn’t feel that way, you would have never made it into my band’s lineup. We all shared the same dream. We talked about it all the time. Jeff and I used to always 63

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tell each other what we would do with our millions and all the babes etc.

Alas, mine was a kind and gentle ego. And many of the bands on the circuit had to feel the same way. There were a lot of really good rock bands out there. The Rockids were the only ones to do a full set of originals, which set us apart from all the rest.

Many young people did the same kind of thinking, but not many could say they were doing much about it. I saw lots of socalled musicians come and go. Kids that acted like rock stars dressed like rock and rollers but, after a year or two of trying, gave up and got a REAL job. A real job was where you were banished to when you threw in the towel. Not me, no way, I was in it for life. That was the difference. I can’t speak for the rest of the band in their deepest minds. I can tell you from the moment I woke up at 11 or 12 in the noon (If I wasn’t gigging, I was always out at a club until closing and usually at a party till 4 or 5 a.m. and home by 6 a.m.) I had no negative thoughts in my mind about not making it.

The Rockids were getting tighter every night. Our following was growing, and we had a few clubs at which we played weekly.

Back then, a band would play at one club every Monday for a while, then another club every Tuesday and another every Wednesday, and so on.

Every weekend, we would play at a different club. We made a home in a few clubs along the way that I have to mention. The Riverview Lounge in Bridgewater, N.J., was one we played at every Thursday. We played the Main Event in New Brunswick, N.J., every Wednesday, and The Rock Machine in Bound Brook, N.J., every Sunday. There were so many other places at which the band played. We played in Connecticut every month at two particular clubs. We built up a significant following there. We also played the Playpen in Rochester, New York, where we had a huge following. (Maybe, looking back, the club was packed on the weekends no matter who was playing, but all I remember 64

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is when we played, it was always full to the point of people not being able to get in) and we always had one, two, or three encores, and I loved encores!)

Every time we played, the crowd seemed very responsive and demanded an encore at the night’s end. This was partly due to them being very drunk and not wanting to go home. In my mind, they didn’t want us to stop because we were so good. Either way, it was so great to hear them shout “encore” night after night.

Just a quick blurb about encores There’s probably nothing more gratifying than hearing people screaming “MORE, MORE” and clapping, stomping, and yelling for YOU. Then, you walk out on that stage, and they go nuts. It is better than sex.

We were always in the local music paper in the band listings and had articles written about us regularly.

Back to the Studio When the right time came, I got a call from the House of Music letting me know that some hours had opened up and we could go in and start our demo. We went in at 2 a.m. the first night and worked on the basic tracks, bass, drums, and rhythm guitars until 10 a.m. the following day. I loved getting into the studio when it was dark and leaving when it was light. Jim Bonnefond was a great producer, and we got along well. He made us sound big and powerful. The new songs were hot. This was sure to bring us a deal.

We worked the demo in between our gigs and went into the studio after midnight most of the time.

Jim brought in a guy named Richie Shalanda to write a song for us, and at first, I didn’t want to do it, but the songs he wrote were so cool we all decided to go ahead and record them. The demo had ten songs. I thought all were great.

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Where was I? Oh yeah, in the studio with Rockids. The second generation. Todd, Bruce, Doug, and Jeffery are on drums.

Jeffery was my bud. He always had a great attitude, and rock and roll was his life, no doubt about it!

While we were recording in the House of Music, Todd and Bruce started talking about Jeffery’s drumming. They said it wasn’t great and thought they had a better guy they knew and wanted to bring him in, just for the studio. Jeff would remain our live drummer. They talked to Jim, the producer, about it behind my back, and Jim approached me, asking if I thought Jeff was a little unexciting. I was pissed and told Jim flat out that Jeff was the Rockids’ drummer and would always be the Rockids’ drummer no matter what anybody thought. He played great as far as I was concerned; I was the leader, and my word was final.

Advice time: I want to tell everybody reading this right now about respect and loyalty. If you have a guy in your band who stuck it out through thick and thin (and he didn’t suck), don’t let anyone tell you that they know someone better because there is always someone better. Will they stick out the bad times? Will they talk behind your back? Will they work as hard as the guy you know did? Just because there is someone a little, or maybe a lot, better than a dude you are working with doesn’t mean the band will get to the next level. There is a big wide-open plain of reasoning for getting rid of someone. Just be really careful of the reasons before you do.

Jeff and I were in this thing together, and I knew deep in my heart that Todd and Bruce were not 100% with us.

I wasn’t stupid, so I told Todd and Bruce my thoughts, and I diplomatically got them to understand that Jeff had seniority over them and that he deserved to record. Jeff did work hard to improve his timing (not that I could tell it was off in the first place, which it wasn’t), and the session went well.

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by us. Jim Bonnefond was our producer, and he taught us a lot about recording and mixing songs. He had a lot to do with the harmonies and melodies. Jim was on a bunch of major records and was one of the regular engineers on Kool & The Gang records. They always recorded at the House of Music at the time.

I remember seeing them in the lounge when we were there. The House of Music had two studios, A and B. Other major acts were recorded there.

Meatloaf One night, when we came into the session, I ran into a big, longhaired dude at the pinball game in the lounge. He looked like a roadie. We played a few games and didn’t talk about music, just the pinball game. He was nice but didn’t have a lot to say. I just thought he was part of a road crew, and when Jim came out to get me to let me know the studio was clear (sometimes you can’t go into the studio if the artist wants a closed session) When I got into the studio, I noticed a big buffet table in the main room and empty platters of food sitting there. Jim told me that this guy loved to eat, and when he ordered out, there was so much food they had to put it in the band room because they couldn’t fit it in the lounge. We were there for a mix, so we didn’t have to use the main room. Jim took me into the control room and sat me down to play a song he had just finished mixing. (For those who don’t get where I’m going with this, the song wasn’t even on the radio yet!) He wanted my opinion.

After I heard the song, I told him that it would never be a hit. He looked at me funny and questioned my opinion. But I told him the singer sounded good, but the song was too weird.

Jim just said, “Hmmm,” and we went into our session. The singer and the guy at the pinball machine were Meatloaf, and the song was “Paradise by The Dashboard Light.” Hey, what do I know? Ya never know, do you?

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Me On A Hit Song Another good story from The House of Music was the night we went in for a mix at about midnight, and Kool & the Gang left after about 20 hours of work. Jim brought me to the studio and explained that after a lot of partying, this one tune they were working on still didn’t sound right. The harmonies were not on.

After hours of trying, Jim thought they still didn’t sound on key (no auto-tune back then). So Jim recorded my voice redoing some of the harmony parts that night, and no one ever knew that my voice was on one of their biggest hits. (I can’t reveal which one because, well, you know, I just can’t, but it starts with the letter J and rhymes with “banana”).

I could probably write a book about our adventures in The House of Music. I’ll just try to give you some of the good stuff.

Sidebar: I got a call from a lawyer to whom I sent my treatment yesterday. He told me he loved my movie idea and would hook me up with some major producers to whom I could pitch my idea. Now kids, I usually would be stoked about that, but knowing all I know about the biz, I’m not. Believe nothing until the check clears!!! I don’t even tell my wife (at the time…ex now) things like that because she has heard it all over the past 12 years. Anyway, I’ll keep you informed along the way.

Anyway, let’s get back to the book, shall we?

Okay, so here we are in the Rockids. We are working on a great demo. We have an agent, Sammy Boyd. He booked us for five to seven nights a week around the tri-state area. We are developing a following and have fans from Rochester, N.Y., to Wildwood, N.J. It’s a good time. The band sounds hot, and I feel like it’s just a matter of time until we get a deal. My brother Gary has put together one of the biggest light shows anywhere in the tri-state area along with my younger brother Tod andPete as stage manager/follow spot operator while Ray, my friend and sound man, has put together the biggest and best sound system.

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We still play with the Good Rats monthly and do the occasional gig at CBGB to stay in touch with the N.Y. scene.

Gary and Ray (Ray passed away just a few years later) eventually left and went on. We got Doug St. Laurent, his brother Bruce, and manager/follow spot operator Pete Crafts. They were cool guys who knew what they were doing. There were a few road crew changes over the years, and I am sorry if I forgot someone.

We were lucky to keep most of the family intact.

My brother Gary went on to work with some of the big names in the business…Aerosmith, Ian Hunter, Gregory Hines, and many more. In a sense, he made it to the big time while I was still in the minor leagues. To his credit, he always would help me in any endeavor I was in…till this very day.

Although I must admit, we got a little greedy and didn’t play in N.Y. as much as we should have because it didn’t pay us enough. It’s still a great time to be 20-something years old. And doing what I love AND getting paid for it.

I had more drive then than I ever had in my life. I settled in on my craft. I was always writing, and my voice was improving as I got older. I sang for three hours a night, sometimes seven nights a week, and in my opinion, I still hit all the high notes in our repertoire.

Advice: Don’t get fucked up with drugs or alcohol when you perform. You think you sound great until you listen to the tape the next day!!

Twisted Sister One night, we were booked at a club called Zaffy’s. It was a huge room that held over 1,000 people. We played it a few times with the Good Rats and rocked it pretty well. This night, we were playing it with a band from Long Island. They were wild-looking.

The singer wore lots of makeup and outrageous clothes. The band was LOUD and HARD, and they brought in a ton of people. We went on first and did our one set of originals. We got a good 69

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reaction, but it was obvious the people were there to see the other band. I was blown away by them and felt a little inferior. They were older than us by about 5-10 years but were cool and were called “Twisted Sister.”

We ended up doing more shows with them along the way, and Dee Snider, the lead singer, and I got along pretty well. He told me he liked the band and always wished us well. Years later, we met up in London, and on-air, he gave me kudos on The Howard Stern Show, but you’ll read about that later.

Twisted Sister was great. At the end of the night, I had a chance to talk with Dee Snider, the singer. He told me all the stories of trying to get his record deal. They didn’t have one yet.

But they were close. We opened for them a few times that year and got along well.

Advice: If you ever get the opportunity to open for a band up the food chain from where you are, be gracious. Don’t be a douche or an egomaniac. If you get the chance, kiss a little ass, unless they totally sucked and you would instead stick a hot tire iron up your ass before you told them that shit. But, if that were you headlining, wouldn’t you like hearing a little something nice from your opening band? It might help get you another gig in the future.

A day in my shoes I would just like to take up a small portion of space to let anyone who wants to run a band know what I was going through.

I usually woke up around 11:30 or noon and got on the phone with our agent, Sammy, to find out about the upcoming gigs and let him know how the previous night’s gig went. Sammy usually asked me where his 10% commission was because I was always late paying him. After I got done with Sammy, I usually went out for my coffee and roll and brought it back to my house for consumption. I spent the next hour or so on the phone with the band members or my brother talking about the lighting and the 70

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gig the night before. I talked to Ray, the soundman, and Eric from BML Lighting. This was where we got our lighting gear from; the owner was a friend of the band and helped us out whenever we needed something special.

It was Eric who suggested trying out our bass player, Doug Cook. Eric was a good guy and was around from the beginning.

His lighting company started in his parent’s garage about the same time the Rockids started. Eric would always be there if we needed something. Eric was friends with my brother Gary.

Eric and his company BML went on to become one of the major concert lighting providers on the East Coast.

We also had a good relationship with Joe Loria, who owned a music store in Clark, N.J., where Bruce lived. I would talk to Joe from Loria Music about our account there. There was always someone to call and some problem to solve. When you’re gigging 5-7 nights a week, you have to coordinate your gear with the renta-truck with load-in times, your crew, etc. One time, someone forgot to lock the back of the truck door, and most of our drums and stage gear bounced down the highway. Thank God we had a connection with Loria Music, who gave us new equipment the next day.

I would always call the club owner and ensure we were on the same page before sending out my crew. I also would talk to Jim from the House of Music daily to review recording strategies for a mix. This demo took a long time, but that was okay because the band was very busy. Four days a week, the band showed up around 1 p.m. for rehearsal.

Sidebar: New Year’s came and went, and a week flew by in a blink. I gained 5 pounds over the holiday. I’m going to try hard to stay on top of this book. I never heard from that lawyer who was so into my movie treatment. We will see. I’m not holding my breath. I sent an email to a producer looking for a kid’s movie idea and got a response back that she wanted to read the screenplay. Cool, right? I don’t have a screenplay written for that 71

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idea. She told me to write it, and she’d read it. I asked her to pay me so I could take a week or three off work and finish it. What do you think happened then? You guessed it. Sorry, no soup for you!

Every time you ask these prima donnas for a small stipend, they run away. She probably was full of shit. I do not burn bridges, and neither should you. Always step away because you never know when your paths will cross again. In my case, I don’t give a shit because I’m thick-headed. Anyway, back to the book. * Okay, so after about two hours of jamming, we would learn a new song or two that anyone thought was cool for the time.

We would work on vocal harmony (our poorest quality), then break for a half hour of pool. My parents had a regulation pool table in the next room, and we became quite good pool players.

Sometimes, Jeff and I would get in a quick game of eight ball while the guitar players were figuring out a riff. We would stop the rehearsal at about 4 p.m., and if we had a gig, we would all go home (I was home, so it was a short walk upstairs) and meet either at the club or with everyone who could ride together. The truck would always leave four to five hours early to set up our massive show (at least for the time it was massive). Our rehearsal gear stayed in the basement, including Jeff ’s rehearsal kit.

Aerosmith During the Rockids’ days, we played in front of big crowds and opened up for cool bands. The best opening we ever did in my book was when we opened for Aerosmith at a place called The Fountain Casino, a huge ballroom with a big stage. My brother Gary, after he left Rockids, went on to work for BML and a few big rock outfits…one was Aerosmith…the story goes they were on tour and coming to New Jersey when their road manager asked Gary (since he was a jersey guy) if he knew a good band that might be a good opener ….He suggested us and we got the gig.

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We rocked that night. I hate to say it, but as I watched Steven Tyler, I thought he sucked. It was back when they were doing a lot of partying and weren’t very tight. In all honesty, I think we were the better band that night—at least in my mind. I remember backstage, Aerosmith guys were yelling and smashing stuff. I didn’t have any urge to meet them. I thought I was a much better singer than the guy I just saw, which made my confidence soar. I would get my deal and rule soon!

Betrayal in The Ranks The Rockids were now an established band, and we had quite a following in the club scene. That was nice, but to Jeffrey and me, it wasn’t enough. We wanted to get a record deal in the worst way. It consumed my mind, and I couldn’t wait to return to the studio. I couldn’t wait to do our original set every night we gigged. That’s all that mattered to me. I think Jeffrey was thinking on the same level as all the guys in the band. Doug and the rest of the guys wanted it, but I don’t think as bad as Jeff and I. At least, they didn’t seem to.

We finally returned to the studio to finish the mixes on the new eight songs, and they came out great! This time, for sure, we would land that elusive record deal. After all, we had a band with a following and could rock out at any place we played.

Jim Bonnefond, who produced the tape (and wrote a forward for this book,) took over as far as shopping for it. He told me he would play it for a few friends he had in the biz. Jim knew a lot of people. He was a successful engineer and had many major album credits. Stephan Galfas and Charlie Conrad also knew many names in the biz and were interested in getting us signed.

They did put up their free time so we could get a deal with the tape with the agreement that we would record our album there.

After a week or two, Jim called me and told me that Stephan had talked to Warner Brothers, and they wanted to hear the tape. My heart started to pound, and I had to hold back from 73

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screaming. I immediately called Jeff, and we started fantasizing all over the place. We were going to get a deal. I could taste it!

A week went by, and I didn’t want to bother Jim about it, but I had to call and find out what happened with Warner Brothers. It was then that Jim told me the bad news. Todd, our guitar player, had called Stephan or Jim in between talking to me. I’m not sure who, but he told Jim that HE had better songs than the ones we had recorded, and he and Bruce had a better drummer than Jeff.

They wanted to make a separate spec deal with Stephan and the House of Music. Of course, the House of Music passed on it.

They were dealing with me and my voice, but the incident dashed all hope of shopping our tape to Warner Brothers Records or anybody as far as Stephan was concerned.

Jim told me that Stephan thought the band was unstable and didn’t want to go into a deal with members already talking about leaving the band before the band even had a deal. I was crushed.

When I told Jeff, he was pissed off more than I ever saw him; he just got bummed out. I was, too.

Why would these guys do this when we were so close? Fear of success?

A little advice break Most people think they want something until they get close to having it. Then subconsciously, they do something that fucks it up. I’ve seen this many times. Sometimes they drink too much and fuck it up, sometimes they do too many drugs and fuck it up, or sometimes they act like egotistic assholes and fuck it up.

Oh, I forgot one of the biggest ones. Sometimes they get married or into their girlfriend so much they fuck it up. In their minds, it wasn’t what they wanted anyway. The first time anyone pulls this type of thing or seems to be going that direction, get away from them and hook up with someone else, trust me.

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and Bruce were curious about doing some of his stuff and staying in the band. He felt he did nothing wrong, and Jeff and I were taking it way out of proportion! Doug stayed neutral. I would not trust Todd’s loyalty to the band ever again. Bruce seemed like he didn’t want to become famous, which was cool with me as long as he stayed in the band.

Side bar: Loyalty A band is a family. Everyone becomes brothers and sisters.

Everyone wants success as a unit. You party together, fight together, and play together. Eat together. Even think together.

Your friends become the band’s friends. If I tell you someone’s cool, they’re cool. You must be loyal to the cause, or the cause will fail. When you are on stage together, and everyone is on, it’s like you’re invincible, untouchable. No one can hurt you while your music is sounding. You are ONE with each other. It’s the most incredible feeling you can have for being who you are in addition to that. If all are loyal, it’s a powerful force.

After the talk with Todd and Bruce, I knew we had lost that force forever. Things would continue, but I knew then that Todd would be plotting something down the road, including Bruce. I needed them in the band, so I let things go. I spoke to Jeff, and he agreed. Jeff was my only real brother regarding the “Dream.” He had as much want as I did and would stick it out no matter what happened. He had faith in me, which kept me confident things would work out. Doug was also a good friend but did not have that intense want as I did…at least, I didn’t get that feeling from him….Doug was like Switzerland, kind of neutral but always a good egg and a good bass player/singer. To me, Jeff was an excellent drummer and a great friend; nothing or no one would make me think otherwise.

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Where’s that deal?

More weeks passed, and Jim didn’t have any good news about the tape, so I decided that if no one was going to give us a record deal, we should give ourselves one and press our record.

In 1979, not too many people put out their own records. We were one of the first bands in the club scene that I knew that ever attempted it. We were making a lot of money and could afford to finance a single.

I got the prices, put in a budget, and called a band meeting.

Everyone agreed, so we went ahead and started our own record company with the help of my younger brother Tod who kicked in $1,000. Since Tod kicked in $1,000, we called the company TKO Records Tod Kevin Olivieri—or Technical Knockout, whichever one you prefer.

A friend of mine, Randy Miller, who was into the band and was a real music lover and collector/DJ, worked for Jem Records, a worldwide record importer and distributor. Randy helped me get Rockids a distribution deal that would put us into record stores worldwide.This was getting exciting.

A friend of the band we called the “Mad Hatter” was an airbrush artist who came up with a sketched version of the band on stage with a superhero comic book look. The single was called “She’s a Cartoon” and “Young and Sexy,” so it fit the bill perfectly, and we used it for the cover.

We had 2,000 copies printed up and pressed on the first run.

I remember driving down south Jersey to pick up the boxes on our way to a gig in Connecticut, a place called the Red House Café in Waterbury.

We had a huge following there, and it was always packed.

That night a guy named Jim Kerr came into our dressing room and asked for one of the records we were selling. I gave him one, and he took my number and left.

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6 Rockids Make It To Major NYC Radio The next week, I got a call from Jim Kerr, who told me he would play the record on the radio show he had on WNEW FM 102.7. I was stoked and called Jeff and the rest of the band, and we listened.

Jim had Deborah Harry from Blondie as a guest when he played “She’s a Cartoon.”

After the song ended, Deborah mentioned she knew the band from CBGB and said she had a drink with me. That was so cool that SHE SAID THAT!! Jim said we rocked the club he was at that past weekend and played the flip side later in the show.

It was weird to hear me on major radio for the first time. It was like being a little boy again and seeing your first Yankees game or something. It was cool, but where does it go from here?

We had no record company behind us or PR firm to help spread our name and no promotion person from A&R to take us to other radio stations. This all hit me at once. I had the first Rockid record. I’m not sure what happened next, but we went into the clubs and started selling the record at our shows. I went to some local record stores and got the record in a few. Randy Miller, my friend from Jem Records, got it distributed in Europe and Canada. I think just one or two records in each store. But it was 77

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cool to know that they were out there.

I decided it was time to let someone else manage the band besides me, so we signed a contract with a group called Wimpia Management. They handled a few big club acts at the time, like Kinderhook Creek and Cloverhill. Both were huge club bands.

We took out New York FM radio ads for our gigs and record.

We were the only band at the time to do such a thing. Once again, my idea.

Side Bar: I’m ashamed to say this, but it’s October 26, and I haven’t written a word since April. It wasn’t writer’s block. I just couldn’t get around to coming down here and typing. I know it’s hard to comprehend, but try to write a book while living paycheck to paycheck. I have no publishing advance. I started a new job in May selling candy and some tobacco. I have 47 supermarkets as a client. I also went back to selling ATMs twice a week for extra cash. I’m so burnt out by the end of the day that I just can’t seem to get down here. I think I’m getting depressed about my life. I had to go to Maryland for a sales seminar and realized I was a 40-something overweight sales manager, just like all the other 16 people in the room. The sad part was they seemed to be ok with doing this for the rest of their lives.

NOT ME. I still want to be famous, either through publishing this book or selling one of my movie ideas to a director.

I shouldn’t say famous. I would be content being well off.

Even making $200,000 a year doing something I like would be nice. NOT sales. Oh God, please don’t let me die a salesman!

Anyway, back to the book. I’m once again going to try to restart this thing. I’ve been too depressed thinking about not doing it.

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We were getting paid a paycheck with taxes taken out and everything. We were now a real, on-the-books professional band!

I think we were making $500 or $600 a week or something.

Not bad for doing what we loved. We had a sound man, Rockids at our home base: The Riverview Lounge lighting director, follow spot operator, and a stage roadie full-time on the payroll. We rented a 24-foot truck, a HUGE PA, a light show with pyro/flash, and all kinds of neat stage lights. We had two racks of 747 landing lights (thanks to brother Gary) that we set up behind the band so we could blind the audience on a whim. We were in the minor league of rock and roll, like AAA baseball. Professional, yet not in the real show.

After we started the radio ads, we got some airplay on a few local stations, and we started seeing a significant increase in our crowds each night we played.

Just a little sidebar: The drinking age in New Jersey at the time was 18, and there were clubs all over the place and many bands of all different styles, rock, country, and Top 40.

If you were good and had a draw, you could work 4 to 7 nights a week. We were working 6 to 7 and went on the road to upstate New York and Connecticut once a month or so. We were huge in Rochester. It was a time like no other. The clubs were packed Monday through Sunday.

Those days were so cool. It was like you made it big in a small way. AAA ball and having a following in the tristate area.

We still gigged with the Good Rats once a month or so and always played the huge clubs like Zaffy’s in Piscataway, which held over 1,000 people, and the Final Exam in North Jersey.

We were used to big crowds and encores most nights.

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We played only three sets a night, one hour each, and one was always fully original material.

We always got shit about playing that set of originals. Some club owners hated that, but I refused to yield. Rock on, Wayne!

I had more rock and roll in my veins than you could imagine.

I ate, drank (a lot), and slept music 24 hours a day; life was good.

The record was selling in clubs and local stores but not anywhere else.

We ended up selling around 2,000 copies, not very much by today’s standards, but it was a good first try, considering I never did anything like that before.

Still, in my heart, I knew we didn’t have that elusive record deal yet!

Bruce, Todd, Doug, Jeff, and I were still in the band.

It’s November 3, and a year has come and gone since I started this thing. I guess I’d better buckle down, or David Letterman will be retired by the time I get this done…..(And he is ..lol.)

Okay, it’s 1980 or somewhere around there. The Rockids is one of the better bands in the metro area (at least, that’s what I thought). We were hard and loud and did originals (which not too many other bands dared do. They all did popular covers and were afraid, in my opinion, to step over the line.)

The Riverview Lounge I got to write a little bit about this club. We were a regular Thursday night attraction for almost two years.

We used to pack the place every week and had our best fan base there.

The Riverview was a family-run operation owned by Jerry The Shoe. I can’t remember his last name, but I’ll never forget him or his wife, Rose. She ran the kitchen in the club and always let us eat free pizza. Jerry used to let us drink for free and treated us like rock stars. I always enjoyed being treated like a star, even 80

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if it was in a local club. So thank you, Jerry and family, for all the great times…you rocked!!!

Everyone knew my name and seemed to want to be my friend. I tried to be cool and friendly whenever I went out in the crowd during a break. However, I did like to stay in the dressing room, away from all the commotion (or if I had two or more girls in the room that I didn’t want to introduce to each other, wink wink.) I always believed in a little mystique when possible.

The Riverview was kind of like our home field. We felt very comfortable there and used to play many original songs.

We always tried a new song out there. Our fans would scream out the original song’s name and want to hear them over the copy songs, which made me feel like it was all worth it, even if it was just a couple of hundred people in a small club in Bridgewater, New Jersey.

It was a great place to tighten things up or try a new explosion or stage move.

There are many stories I can go into that happened at the Riverview, but maybe that’s for the next book.

One night, Jerry The Shoe took the band and me out to dinner for my birthday in New York’s Little Italy. I remember how cool it was because the waiter and the owner knew him, and he spoke Italian to them, and they just kept bringing food and drinks all night. Jerry picked up the tab.

He pulled me aside and told me in a fatherly way that I would be a star and don’t ever forget the little people I would meet along the way because, on your way down, you might have only the little people left to talk to.

I thought that was good advice. I got a chill in my spine when Jerry told me that. I knew I would make it and never forget Jerry and all the cool people from that club.

(The Riverview is now an Indian restaurant, and I haven’t seen Jerry The Shoe in over 15 years.)

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7 The Main Event While I’m on the subject of clubs, I need to mention one or two that were a staple in Rockids history.

The Main Event was a huge two-story club located in New Brunswick, New Jersey, with three rooms, two rock rooms on the main floor and a big downstairs room that used to be sort of a country-rock room.

The rock rooms were right next to each other, one larger than the other.

The owner was also a really cool guy, along with the manager.

I can’t for the life of me remember their names. I’m sorry, but it will come to me.

We played there every Wednesday for a year or two and on weekends once every six weeks or so on rotation.

We were very popular there as well.

I’ll come back to the Main Event later on in the book.

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It had a very cool little piece of rock and roll history that happened there. And I was the one who made it happen (at the time, I thought I was doing a buddy of mine a favor.) Anyway, you’ll have to read on to find out.

Emmett’s Inn Another club to mention is Emmett’s Inn in Jamesburg, N. J. I liked that place, and we were very popular there as well. The owner was a guy named Bob Garvey. I liked him. He was older but a real rock and roll kind of guy. I remember one night, on my birthday, which happened to be his also (he always booked us on his birthday, at least for the three years we played there.)

He wouldn’t pay me until we finished a bottle of Chivas Regal scotch. He would then proceed to line up empty beer bottles on the back bar, take out his handgun, and we would have a target shooting match right inside the club…yes, the bullets were real…

What a hangover!

Anyway, I found many people during the Rockids days to be very interesting and funny, as well as the assholes I met along the way, but that’s neither here nor there.

The Playpen in Rochester, N.Y. I wanted to mention this room because we had such a tremendous following up there. We played there once every two or three months. We would pack that place to the point of people standing halfway around the building trying to get in. (Looking back, maybe it was just because it was the weekend, but I’d like to think we had something to do with it!)

It was a huge club with room for over 1,000 people and was always packed to the gills.

I felt like a rock star every time I played there because the people would slap me five and always scream for one or two encores every night.

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I remember one night, a guy came into the dressing room telling me how great I was (I used to hear that a lot). You start believing it after a while, although I do think I’m pretty good.

He went on and on about how he thought I had a good shot at getting a deal etc.

After we started our last set, my soundman told us that Jan and Dean were in the audience and wanted to come up and jam with us. I announced their names and invited them up. The dude in the dressing room was Jan from Jan and Dean!

We jammed and spent some time partying with them that night. We never ran into those guys again.

Enough with remembering the clubs’ stuff; let’s get back to the band. Doug left the band, and we got a new bass player we called “Sasquatch.” I can’t for the life of me remember his real name, Gary Something, but he lasted just a few months. Then, a few months before that, Bruce got married, eventually quit the band, and started working at his father’s butcher shop, where he still is today. We replaced him with Rich Hyland. He was a good rhythm guitar player and an okay lead player but nothing in the caliber of Bruce, although Rich was very cool in his own way, hip to the music scene, and enthusiastic. I liked him a lot, so I brought him on board. Todd left with Bruce, and Doug stayed long enough to try out new guitar players.

One wasn’t hard to find because we were offering a “full-time paid position.” We had so many people apply for the job that Jeff and I would stay upstairs at my parents’ house (remember, we rehearsed in a room in their basement with an outside entrance) and look out my bedroom window when they pulled up to see if the applicant looked “cool” enough even to get to plug in.

We wouldn’t answer the door if they were fat, bald, or too oldlooking. That was mean, but back then, looks meant a lot and gave you an edge in gaining girl followers. This brought more guys who packed the clubs.

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We ended up with Al Alperstien. He looked just like Brian May from Queen and played like Jimmy Page, and we got a guy named Joey Sweatra on bass.

This lineup was cool, very cool.

We continued to play the tristate for about a year when we decided to record our second record.

With still no sign of a record deal, we would do it again ourselves.

This time, I had an idea to shoot a short movie about us. Kind of a modern Monkees-type thing I wrote. The band thought it was cool, so we put up $2,000 of our gig money and hired Peter Galfas, brother of Stephan Galfas of the House of Music, to shoot it in 16mm. To this day, I still don’t know whatever happened to that movie. Last I heard, Peter got shut down due to some kind of IRS thing. I think it was 1980.

Anyway, we pressed up our second single with money borrowed from Al’s father and continued to make a living in the music biz. We still open for the Good Rats every month or so and as we did for Twisted Sister and other national acts throughout the year. We also played New York City every so often, CBGB, mostly.

We even did two “tours” to Florida, Spring break in Fort Lauderdale for six weeks. That’s another book in itself.

I have been away from this book for well, I’m not sure, it’s May 17, 2004. Been a long time.

Life has been a bitch. I’ve been working two jobs and just getting by. I haven’t done ANY writing, music or otherwise. Just working, coming home, and falling asleep on the couch watching TV. My daughter is eight years old, and by the time I put her to bed at 9 p.m., I am ready for bed.

I am a little depressed all the time except when I’m in my car blasting AC/DC on my way to work—or talking to Gar and laughing about the good times.

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Oh, I thought this was funny. My brother Gary called me last week and said he was playing the Rockids’ second record very loudly down at his beach house, and some kid on his bike stopped and asked him if it was the Rockids. He said he almost fell off his chair (he could have because he was full of rum and Rockids second single Candy Kiss/Summer Love Coke). Anyway, he said yes, and the kid told him his mother plays “Summer Love” (the flip side of our single) all the time, and it “ROCKS.” Gary gave him the record (we have two cases of them in the attic) and told him to have fun.

Twenty-four years and still famous in the mind of at least two fans. Better than none, I suppose.

I laughed along with my brother, and I was truly happy again for that moment or two.

Some more Advice: As soon as you start thinking negatively, things won’t happen as you want them to!

Once again, keep away from negative people!

The longer I wait to finish this book, the more I forget.

Back to Rockids 1980s and Florida Spring Break 1981 (that experience is a book in itself.)

The only thing I will say about that is we played six nights a week and five sets a night for three weeks for the Spring Break season. Each week, a different batch of colleges came down to Fort Lauderdale, ready to party.

After Florida, we had gigs in Connecticut and Rochester, N.Y. It was sort of a tour if you will.

After we got back from N.Y., the band started to fall apart.

We lost the bass player and one of the guitar players. I think it was just me, Jeff, and Al left.

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We then got Brian Hadley into the band, along with a new bass player from Detroit, Rich, though his last name escapes me at the moment.

Anyway, Rockids was reformed and still playing 3-5 nights a week.

By this time, I felt we should have been stars, but we were far from where I wanted to be.

I still hung onto the dream.

Jeffrey was my bud, and we still talked of fame and fortune even though everything pointed against it. At this point, no Last version of Rockids: Jeff, Rich, Brian, record deal, no management, Al and me no nothing but the same old gigs in the same old places with the same old crowd, which, by the way, I still loved, as they did us.

Asbury Park, N.J. Wanting to be close to the beach and out of my parents’ house, I moved into a hotel room in Asbury Park, New Jersey, with my girlfriend Melissa (RIP) for the summer of 1981. Little did I realize that I was about to be one of the few to witness and, in some instances, be a part of the biggest music scene since my CBGB days.

That summer, Rockids played a few weekly nights, including our agent’s club, Park Place in Asbury Park. I remember that a fraternity house used to see us every Monday and eventually made me an honorary brother of Phi Kappa Psi from Monmouth College. The band never rehearsed anymore, and things were getting stale. I knew the end was near, yet we kept going anyway.

I knew I didn’t feel that we had any chance of making it at this point.

That summer, I was hanging out in the Asbury Park music scene and getting to know many local music men and women.

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They were cool and into a different music than the North Jersey Music people I was a part of. They all seemed to worship Bruce Springsteen and Southside Johnny. That kind of music was not what I was into, but I didn’t hate it; I just wasn’t exposed to it until that summer. There was one more last-ditch effort of a new Rockids with Brian Hadley on guitar and Phil Rosell. I’m not sure how long that lasted, but it couldn’t have been very long.

Eventually, by November of 1981, Rockids broke up. Anyway, Rockids were broken up, and I had to find a way to make money outside the music biz for the first time in almost six years. What a bummer! I remember getting evicted from a rental house in Ocean Grove, N.J. I got a job selling boxes of frozen steak from a small pickup truck door to door.

I remember being so bummed out, but weirdly, I felt like some weight was lifted off my shoulders. Maybe it was because I felt responsible for all my bandmates’ careers, and I was the one who always had an optimistic look at things. I never would give up. Jeffrey was the one person that I felt I had let down. He was the only one who truly believed in us, and I want to thank him for that now. He was the only one who stuck it through thick and thin to the very end. Jeffrey and I have never been in a band together since.

I still thought I would make it. It just wasn’t going to be with the Rockids. I loved that band and all the things we accomplished.

But it just wasn’t meant to be.

I remember not being in a band that winter. I was just hanging out working and jamming with some of the local music men. I wasn’t sure which way to go or what to do; all I was sure of was that I wanted to be a star, and NOTHING was going to stop me!

I remember that Asbury Park was a very cool town with many clubs, including the Stone Pony. The Hotel California.

Club Xanadu and Park Place, to name a few.

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Side bar: I just have a minute. I emailed this book (82 pages) to an old friend, Mark Baxter. Do you remember the drummer in the Midnight Shift and Circus and Coffee? We saw each other about six weeks ago at Gary Venittelli’s house on the Jersey Shore.

We had a sort of reunion. It was great fun. Mark changed his name to Baxter and went through the same thing I did, except he kept his career in the business and is now one of the best vocal coaches out there. Some of his clients included the biggest names in the music industry. Not to mention he’s a great music man in his own right.

Mark is the only person I have shown this book to so far.

I don’t know why I did that. Maybe, because he has already written two books and has had success in this type of stuff, he can give me some pointers or turn me on to a publisher or something. I don’t know, but I always respected his talents and his honest vibe. Plus, at this point, I needed a kick in the ass to continue this thing, and he seemed to get the fire burning again, at least for a short while.

Everyone could use a friend like Mark because, in the entertainment business, you have to harness positive energy wherever you can, and trying to do it all on your own requires much energy; once in a while, you might need a friend to help you recharge.

Anyway, just a tip of the hat to Mark. He always had an optimistic view of things; I like that in a person.

Anyway, I will be curious as to what he thinks so far.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, right, Asbury Park 1982.

It was the spring of 1982, and I still didn’t care to be in a band, but I was getting to know many of the local shore music men and not missing the stage that much except when I would go out at night and see other people performing. My girlfriend worked the bar at a few of the big clubs, so I got to be a regular at all of them.

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I remember Brian Hadley, the last guitar player from the last incarnation of the Rockids, kept calling me, but I never returned his calls. One day he just showed up with his guitar, and he explained to me that he wanted to continue writing Brian and me on the Board at House of music, and he wanted to do it Music recording studios with me.

We sat down that day and wrote five songs. It was a rebirth of creative energy that I hadn’t felt in over a year. It was good, and it was ROCK, a very different kind of rock, sort of a mix between Queen and Led Zep. It was cool.

November 9, 2004 My computer crashed, and I haven’t been able to get on here till now. It’s been a while, and I have not heard from Mark Baxter.

I guess he either didn’t read this yet or did and didn’t think much of it.

Advice break: That happens all the time; don’t get discouraged.

Rock on, keep plugging, and don’t give up! No one but you truly knows how good you are!

In this biz, everybody will tell you to your face that they will call, but if they don’t like you or your material, you will get bored waiting by the phone cause they just won’t call. Hence, never bank on one person and keep moving. When you almost forget that you gave your product to someone, they just might call.

Anyway, Brian and I wrote a bunch of songs that day and decided to start an all-original band.

We called it “Olivier’s Twist,” me being Olivier and the music being a twist from Rockids originals.

I guess you can say that I had a bit of an ego, but Brian didn’t seem to mind, so it was.

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We put together a new lineup of great musicians previously in other bands. Most were from a local popular band that just broke up called “Rivendale.”

We had Simon on keyboards, Charlie on bass, Phil on drums, and another Phil Roselle on Oliver’s TWIST rhythm guitar.

I called the House of Music and was welcomed back with open arms to cut a new demo on a spec. (That means for free.)

We went in with Jim Bonnefond (Kool & the Gang’s engineer) and cut eight songs. One was called “Hold on America,” and it was cool.

I then proceeded to book the band at CBGB and New York, and now, since I was living in the Asbury Park area, I also booked us locally at places like The Fast Lane, The Stone Pony, and a club called Xanadu.

We also played up north, but we played only one set and only original material. I remember feeling cool that we didn’t play covers anymore except for an occasional remake.

I moved to Bradley Beach, which was a half mile from Asbury Park. It was funny because I had no money for a rent deposit, but the landlord was so cool he let me have the place on a hunch I would win the lottery. His name was Ron Moye, and to this day, we remain friends. (Even though I still owe him $100) Hey, Ron, you are the best!

Yeah, I know, but it’s my book, and I’ll write what I want!

The Fast Lane Anyway, I remember that summer, I frequented a place in Asbury Park called The Fast Lane. It was a cool all-original club near the beach and down the street from the Stone Pony and a few other clubs.

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The manager was Tony Pelegrossi, and a dude named Eric Hendricks was running the place.

They were very cool, and I hung out there a lot.

I remember going there every Sunday because Melissa, my then-girlfriend, was bartending. There was a band that played called The Wild Ones.

I remember meeting the lead singer, and he told me he saw me with Aerosmith in the Rockids and enjoyed my singing very much, and my band was cool.

I don’t know what it was, but I felt a bond with him. He seemed like a nice enough guy, and we hit it off from the start. He was six years younger than me, but there was something about him that I couldn’t put my finger on but kept my curiosity to get to know him better.

I didn’t pay much attention to him or his band because they had that “Asbury Park/Bruce Springsteen” sound that I didn’t like, but he was cool to watch. Didn’t have a great voice, though (at least, I didn’t think so.)

He was friendly to me, and we always hung out with him and some of his bandmates after they played their set.

They always only played two sets to about 50 to 75 people.

Then, at about midnight, everyone would get up and leave because that summer, Bruce Springsteen would show up at the Stone Pony every Sunday and perform with the local band Cats On a Smooth Surface. The word would get out, and boom, The Fast Lane was empty just like that. So Tony and Eric would just let the band stop, and we would all walk the four blocks down to The Stone Pony and watch Bruce do his thing, which I eventually was won over by him and actually became a fan. I remember John (lead singer from The Wild Ones) would complain that Bruce was his idol, but he kept taking his people away every Sunday.

Dave (keyboards) from The Wild Ones would agree. We would all just laugh, go in the side door to the Pony for free, and catch the Cats’ last set with Bruce.

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We all knew each other down there, and the bars and the people who worked them always let the musicians and other bar workers in for free. It was a very cool thing.

Note: Down in Asbury Park, in those days, it was like everyone involved at the bars, the bartenders, the bouncers, the doormen, the coat check girl, the waitress, all seemed so into what was happening. I can’t explain it, but it was like we were one big rock and roll family, especially at the Stone Pony.

The Stone Pony I got to know the owners of the Stone Pony very well, Butch and Jack, and the manager they called “Little Butch” also, all the bartenders and DJ Lee, a staple at the Pony, was the music man of the club. He knew all the bands on a personal basis and introduced the bands.

I always used to bug the owners to let my band “Olivier’s Twist” play there, and they always gave me an opening slot with a very cool national act or a very popular regional band.

All through the Eighties and some of the Nineties, I called the Stone Pony my home club. I got to see some amazing shows and was part of some of the history made there. (I will tell you some stories later in the book).

I became part of the family there and even played on the Stone Pony softball team!

It was a great place to experience some of my life’s fondest and coolest rock and roll moments.

Little did we know that John and Dave from the Wild Ones were soon to be signed to a major label and eventually become part of the world’s most popular band. You might have heard of them: Bon Jovi.

I have to go now. I hope to be back soon! I’ll tell you the whole Bon Jovi story in a later chapter devoted to the 15 years I knew him, his wife Dee, and all the guys and their families.

I’m trying to remember what exactly happened with the first rendition of Olivier’s Twist. We wrote many songs and played 93

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out regularly with national acts and got some great reviews, and won a band contest for a local rock radio station called WDHA 105.5 FM. They put out this compilation album with eight local bands on it. “Hold on America” was our song, and we got a lot of airplay.

The record was released in Europe, and I remember thinking that “Hold on America” would break out and become this great hit.

A lot of fantasizing goes on when you’re trying to make it in the biz. I know all you guys and gals in the biz or trying to be reading this know what I’m talking about.

If it wasn’t for the fantasizing, I don’t think I would have stayed in it as long as I did. The truth is, I still fantasize about this book being a big hit and doing a book tour where I get to perform before my interviews with Letterman and Howard Stern, and yes, Oprah!

Anyway, Olivier’s Twist became a full-time thing as far as writing and rehearsing. I had a job selling frozen food out of the back of a small pickup truck just to get by. Brian and I kept writing songs, and I felt good that it wouldn’t be long before we got a deal. Sound familiar?

I still believed with all my heart that my destiny was that of a rock star. I sent out the demo of Olivier’s Twist to a few record companies in New York with little response.

I decided that I would go to LA and shop the tape.

I got on the phone and started to call record companies in LA, telling them that I was from New York and coming out to talk to a rival record company, and I hadn’t signed anything yet.

“Could I drop off a tape?”

Well, I got a few appointments (back then, you could do that).

I remember having to leave my tape with most of them, which kind of sucked. But what can you do? I also remember bumping into a guy from another band in Jersey whom I knew pretty well, Scott from a band called Prophet. He was out there signing his record deal. I liked Scott and the band Prophet. They 94

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were a great band and played more progressive music. Their guitar player used to play for Rockids for a few months. Scott was cool and wished me luck, and we went our separate ways.

I had an appointment with Arista Records. The A&R guy’s name was Ritch Esra.

Anyway, I went to his office and proceeded to play our tape.

By now, I was used to the phone ringing and people not listening to the whole song or stopping the tape after the first 30 seconds, telling me they “didn’t hear the hit.” I couldn’t believe that this guy listened to all the tape.

When it was over, he told me he “loved it” and asked me if I had any more songs.

I couldn’t believe it. Finally, someone with some vision. I was going to get a record deal!

Another few weeks have gone by, and I haven’t done a thing on my manuscript! Well, if you think it’s so easy, why aren’t you writing a book?

Anyway, this guy Ritch Esra told me to give him some more material, so I called Brian, and he overnighted me some more stuff.

I took it to Ritch the next day, and he again played it in front of me, bopping his head and smiling. This guy liked it!

I couldn’t believe it. After all this time, a real record company dude liked my songs. I was going to finally have my record deal, or so I thought.

After Ritch listened to the tape, he told me he loved the band and wanted to see us live.

I told him it would take a little doing, but we could come out to LA in a few weeks to do a show.

He told me not to bother and that we should set up a showcase in New York where he would come and see us.

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It was as good as done. We shook hands, and I could have flown to New York without a plane. I was so happy with myself.

This was going to be a slam dunk. After seeing me live, he Brother Bozak and Tod (in background) would love us even more! at NYC SIR Showcase I got back to New Jersey and told the band what had happened.

I told everybody. My brother Gary helped me get SIR Studios in New York for the showcase.

SIR was one of the most prestigious rehearsal studios in New York at the time.

They had a showcase room that had a huge stage with room for a ton of lights.

I rented 2 tons of lighting with two super troopers, bright spotlights, and extra PA. I set up a bar (with a bartender) and made up a formal invitation for all the record companies.

The band went into the city to rehearse the day before, and I remember feeling so cool when I looked at the small marquee they had in the entranceway that told you what bands were in what rooms. Olivier Twist had the big room; right next to us was KISS. I remember thinking we were in the big league now. All we had to do was what we did best, rock and roll, and a record deal would be ours!

We rehearsed that night, and everything went great. My brother Gary set up an awesome light show thanks to long-time friend and owner of BML Lighting, Eric Todd.

Doug Saint Laurent was on sound, and everything sounded great!

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After the rehearsal, we were walking out, and KISS walked in looking all major, rocked out with huge hair, and decked out like the rock stars that they were and told us they heard the rehearsal and liked our band.

John, our drummer, almost had a heart attack. He loved KISS. He asked if they would mind a picture, so we all got together for a pic. (I can’t seem to find that picture anywhere, so you will have to believe me on this.)

The next day was the big one. I rented a limo for us and some friends. My buddy Ron came with me. He always believed in me, and I will never forget him for all he has done for me through the years (I still owe him $100). Ron Moye, you’re the best!

Anyway, we got to the studio at around 3 p.m., but the show was not supposed to start until 5 p.m.

The bar was set up, and we awaited the VIPs. 4:30, no one yet 4:45, no one yet 5:00, no one yet 5:15, no one yet I’ll make a very sad story short. At 5:45, the only people there were a music lawyer named Clayton Knowles, my friend Ron, our girlfriends, and a few walk-ins from down the hall.

We played anyway, and we played hard and loud!

After, I spoke to Clayton, the music lawyer who showed up.

He gave me his card and told me he would like to talk about the band and to call him.

Ritch Esra didn’t show up, and neither did anyone from Arista Records. I was pissed.

That same day, I called Ritch Esra in LA, and he was in his office. I told him that no one showed up, and he told me that he sent our tape to New York, and they passed on it.

That’s all he said. It was like he never even gave a shit about the band or me. He didn’t even have the balls to call me and tell me they passed.

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He was an asshole as far as I was concerned. But looking back, so was I for putting all that money and effort into what one guy says.

If you ever get that kind of rap from anybody important, don’t believe them until you sign the contract, and don’t blow them off either. But don’t count on anybody until it happens.

Okay, that ended that story, except we went out and partied all around NYC in the limo until the break of day. It was weird.

I never let stuff like that get to me that much. Maybe I should have. I just blew it off and told myself I would get a deal from some other company and sell a few million records to shove up Ritch Esras’s ass.

Side bar: Hey, I have to tell you a quick thing that happened to me about a week ago.

I went to the eye doctor to get a new prescription and check out a flash I’ve been experiencing in my left eye. (Getting old, I guess.) The nurse who did the pre-exam came in, stared at me, and asked, “Did you play in a band? Like, years ago?”

I didn’t have to say anything when she looked at my chart and saw my name. She turned red in the face, had her mouth wide open, and explained she and her friend followed the Rockids all over the tri-state area and had both our records.

She proceeded to tell me that I was a “Rock God” (I loved to hear that!) and she and her friend loved me and the band blah, blah, blah. Her name is Liz, and she is a super cool woman.

We talked for a while, and then she finished with my preexam, and we said our goodbyes.

Liz, if this book ever comes out and you get to read this, I just want to thank you for enjoying my music and such …it means a lot to me, even after all these years!

I left the eye doctor that day feeling really cool. It never goes away, that feeling. If you can bring joy to even one person through your music, then it’s worth the struggle. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?

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I want this book to be published in the worst way, but I have to finish it first.

It’s times like that when I feel happy again, if only for a short while. (If you are a true artist, you can’t be truly happy unless you are doing what you thought you were born to do.)

Another thing I should mention is that this bartender I met while having an adult beverage at a local pub while I was waiting for my daughter to finish a dance lesson told me she worked for a publisher and would be interested in reading this attempt at a book.

I thought maybe she could edit it or something (anything to put a fire under my ass.) And she might think it sucks. But that’s okay too.

She gave me her email address, but I can’t access the ’Net tonight for some reason. I will try tomorrow. You never know what can happen, or nothing, but more advice to you youngins reading this, always get yourself out there and for God’s sake, be nice to people. Her name is Kim. Hey Kim, what do you think so far?

I got to go. It is 11 p.m. on January 5, 2005, and my extra strong rum and Coke are kicking in. Long day at work tomorrow.

Oh, yeah, my New Year’s resolutions: lose 25 pounds, finish this book, reinvent myself, and get back on stage. We’ll see.

Kim never responded, and no sweat off my back. I noticed many people want to be writers, singers, or movie actors but never do anything about it!

That’s okay because that leaves more spots open for people like me who are doing something about it!

Advice: Don’t just SIT THERE, DO SOMETHING! I know it is taking me forever to finish this book, but remember, I spent 20 years doing stuff! Hello?!

Advice: Just cause you’re doing stuff doesn’t give you a pass to the big time. Remember, only a small, very small, extremely minutely small percentage of a percent make it!

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I have been working two jobs and droning through life for the past how many months? I don’t know if I will ever have the energy to finish writing this book.

So many things have happened this year, and yes, I am still overweight and never got to the gym, reinvented myself, or got back on stage (although I did sing “Stand by Me” at a bar in Miami a few weeks ago while at a candy convention. As far as exercise goes, I did hang my 100-pound punching bag up a few times and worked out a few rounds. It got to be too much trouble putting that thing up and down, so I haven’t gotten to it in a while.

Anyway, let’s get back to it.

I’m not sure I can do this book thing lately. When I come home from work, I am so tired I can never make it down to the computer! Oh well, we shall see.

Anyway, where I left off was the showcase in New York!

We all were very disappointed that nothing happened, but Brian and I just went back to work and put Olivier’s Twist back together to play out regularly. Simon Gannett on keys and John Fitzpatrick on drums, Brian on guitar, and Dan Skye on bass.

Dan was a really cool guy from Belgium who owned a recording studio and was a member of the English Eyes bar band.

Diamond Dallas Page We played out down in the Asbury Park area a lot. Mostly the Stone Pony, The Fast Lane, and a club called Xanadu which was managed by a guy with whom I became pretty good friends. His name was Page, and I knew his sister (she worked at the club).

He was a huge dude—about 6’-6 280—but a very nice guy. We hit it off immediately and became fast friends. He always gave me a gig when I asked and was always ready to lend me his wisdom to help the cause. He became Diamond Dallas Page, a famous WWF wrestler.

Page let us play every Tuesday, and we were at the Pony every Monday for a whole winter.

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Anyway, I would like to shout out to Scott K. for challenging me to start writing again. Let’s see if I can keep going for a while.

The one thing that has had my mind for the past two years is the one thing besides work that can kill your creativity and drive while entertaining your mind in a nonreality buzz: television!

I love it, but it’s eaten away many hours of my life.

Advice: Stay away from the TV if you want to get something accomplished. A small amount is fine, but it will consume you if you’re not careful.

Oh, just a quick update on my music career. I have been singing with a copy band for the last few weeks while their singer is in the hospital.

During this time, I ran into Gar (my old guitar player partner, for those of you who have not been paying attention!) Gary Venittelli changed his name to Gar Francis.

I found an old love song we wrote, and I wanted to rerecord it. Gar thought it was a great idea, so we are putting the wheels in motion to get it done.

I know I’ve said this before, but I really think this song is a hit!

The end of Brian and me Olivier Twist had landed a gig that had the potential to get us a record deal. We were opening up a show for a recently signed Columbia Records artist named John Eddie. John was a huge draw down in Asbury Park and parts of Pennsylvania, etc. He was going to perform some of his unreleased album at Emmett’s Inn, a popular night club in Jamesburg, NJ, where the Rockids used to appear. He had Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band as his band. Bruce was there, and all the executives from Columbia were there, including their distributor. This was probably one of the most important gigs of our career.

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We were set to go on stage at 8:30 p.m. My brother Gary and Tod were in charge of the lights. I had my crew ready, and the band was there except Brian.

It got to be 8:30, and we finished our sound check without Brian. Remember that Brian was the main writer and the only guitar player in the band, along with a keyboard and bass player, so without him, we were like dead fish in the sea.

9 p.m. came and went, but Brian was nowhere to be seen.

There were no cell phones back then, so I was going crazy. The promoter said if we didn’t go on by 9:45, we would have to call it a day and possibly lose the gig. Soon, it was 9:30, and there was no sign of Brian.

The time was 10 p.m., and we were still waiting for Brian. The promoter came to us and told us he was done with us, and we were officially canceled.

We finally found out what had transpired. Brian was in the parking lot and had locked himself in his car due to stage fright.

He saw us approaching him, but he drove away, and we never spoke again.

As you would have probably guessed, I was devastated as well as pissed beyond imagination. So that was it for that possible record contract. We were back to square one. Fun stuff, huh?

It took me a long time to get over what Brian had done. To tell you the truth, I NEVER got completely over it. But you can’t let that shit stop you if you REALLY want it…ya never stop trying.

It was time to put a new lineup together. This time, I decided to stay in the local Asbury Park area. I kept John, who was the drummer, and we kept the name Olivier’s Twist and proceeded to do it all over again.

Okay, Xanadu in Asbury Park, the band was still called Olivier’s Twist. The lineup was Joey DeMayo on guitar, John Fitzpatrick on drums, and Steve Cottrell on bass. I can’t recall the other guitar player, but on the keyboard was Mike Scalfa, brother of Mrs. Bruce Springsteen Patti Scialfa. (This was before 102

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they were a thing. I actually had my eyes on Patti for a blink… lol.)

I have some interesting stories Mike told us about his sister’s younger days, but I really liked her, so I will not divulge any at this time.

That version of Olivier’s Twist was fun. Joey D was a great guitar player and a really nice guy. We had a lot of fun.

We never made a record, but we recorded a five-song demo and played out only original songs written mostly by Joey and me. We were a tight band and continued to open for national acts, thanks to my friend Butch who owned the Stone Pony, and another friend, Page, among other friends.

The band lasted about a year or so. Joey ended up buying Garry Tallent’s (E Street Band) recording studio in Long Branch, N.J., and still owns it to this day.

MY Shot at Being an Assistant Director One of the best jobs I’ve had in my lifetime so far was working as an assistant director for my good friend Bill Quinn.

I met Bill while living in Asbury Park. He had a film company, “Bill Quinn Productions” and did, among many other things, amusement park TV commercials. One of his clients was Six Flags. I forget what year it was ….somewhere in the early ’90s... anyway. He asked me if I would be his assistant director or righthand man on a “tour” of Six Flags he was contracted to do. I told him I had never done anything like that before, and he said, “It’s easy; just stay by my side and light my cigarettes and yell what I say!” I jumped at the chance, and just like that, I was an AD (assistant director.)

One of the things we did was a commercial for a new roller coaster called Viper. I remember Bill going up 150 feet on a platform attached to a crane to get an aerial shot of the ride. This was before drones. I also remember having to corral 30 to 40 kids and put them on the coaster for a series of rides of which, after 103

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the third time around, they wanted to get off and vomit. One of the coolest parts of that gig was flying to Chicago. Bill took me on the plane while the rest of the crew had to drive with the equipment. I felt really special.

So many stories I could write a book just on my and Bill’s adventures. I remember we did the waterpark commercial and the Batman the Ride and The Wild West Show etc. One of the craziest things he did was for Clementon Amusement Park in New Jersey. It was a new show that had white tigers and a trainer.

I remember having to go inside the cage with Bill and the 35mm camera, and we were only 6 feet from these tigers—what a trip.

I loved that job.

I still remain great friends with Bill to this day.

PS: Bill always supported my musical career and shot a few of my music videos in 35mm at no charge. He was a big influence on me with his wit and wisdom. We also wrote a full movie script together, which was never produced, but we had a blast writing it…never say never!!

Howard Stern It was 1986, and I was still living in Bradley Beach with my girlfriend, Melissa. I was a solid fan of Howard Stern on WNBC AM radio. He just announced he was leaving NBC to go to 92.3 FM KRock. He was also running a song parody contest, and the prize was a trip to London and to be with the radio show for a week for the best song about his genre move to rock.

I had an idea for a song: the Gilligan’s Island theme song with the words changed to signify Howard leaving WNBC and going to KRock.

Sing to the Gilligan’s Island Song: “Just sit right back, and I’ll tell you a tale, a tale of a fateful trip that started a year ago. When Howard ran the ship, his mates were Robin Quivers and Fred Norris, and they made damn sure that every skit they did on air would help their ratings soar. Yes, help their ratings soar.

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The ratings started going up, but NBC was lost. They didn’t get the humor of Howard’s show, and soon, they’d feel the loss….

Yes, soon they’d feel the loss. Howard signed a better deal on the KRock dial with Robin, Fred Norris, and Boy Gary. Just get it right.”….etc etc…

I called Steve, our bass player, and asked if he would help me record the song. We went to a friend’s studio and took the original song and deleted the vocals; there was a machine that did that. Then Steve played an acoustic guitar track over it, and With Roger Daltrey, Howard Stern Show, London I sang the new words.

Needless to say, I won the contest, and it was a moment of great pride for me.

It was my first time in Europe, and I was with Howard Stern on his show along with nine other winners. I brought our demo tape and was calling record companies in London, trying to get appointments to play our tape. I was able to play my song recordings to a few companies.

Howard had great guests on his show each day the show was broadcast.

On our first day of the show, we broadcasted from the Hard Rock Café, where I got to meet Ian Anderson, but WNEW (a With Howard Sten, London rival NYC station) had some contract issues with Hard Rock, so we had to move into a small nearby radio station for the next show.

We were all squashed into a small studio, so I literally sat on the floor with my feet next to Howard’s first guest, Roger Daltrey, 105

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one of my idols! I got to chat with him throughout the show and actually had a pint with him at a pub after the show.

The next day, Alan Parsons and I were chatting, and Howard reprimanded me on air for bothering his guests with my demo tape (I would hand them a copy.) The rest of the Dee Snider, London week was amazing. Guests like Duran Duran, Brian Adams, Mr Mr and Tears for Fears were all brilliant, and we had a great time with them at the show. Then, on the Forth day, Dee Snider showed up, and on-air, he pointed to me and said, “Is that Wayne from Rockids?” Howard screamed and said, “You know him?” Dee then explained how he knew me, and I got some airtime on the show; it was awesome!

That night we all met at a bar and performed on stage. Howard, Dee, and I were singing together, then I picked Dee up and sat him on my shoulders as the place went nuts. That’s when someone threw a beer bottle at us, and Dee dove off the stage, and a huge bar fight ensued.

Howard and I ducked behind one of the guitar amps until the coast was clear.

Robin Quivers The next day on-air, Howard commented that he and I chickened out. Then he went on to say how I was bothering his guests all week with my demo tape. To my surprise, he called me up on the mic and then proceeded to play a couple of clips of our songs on the tape. To me, this was huge! Our tunes were being played on the Howard Stern Show, and not many groups get that kind of airplay. He and Robin surprisingly gave the band a good review, and that was the extent 106

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of it all. Nothing more ever became of it. Needless to say, my trip to London with The Stern show was very interesting and fun. We got a lot of publicity, and so many people heard the show in NY/ NJ. I got phone calls and letters from many friends and family who heard the show. Many of them asked what Howard was like.

He was shy and laid-back when he was off the air , but when he was on-air, he seemed to transform into the Howard Stern we all knew and admired. He was more like a shy new kid in school with not much to say, but you could almost see his mind was always racing.

Side bar: There has been one interesting development in my life. I joined a band to help myself get out of the house twice a week and play in the bars twice a month. Jordan Singer, an old friend of mine from the Rockids days, called me and asked if I would sing for his band Chub Funk. I said an immediate yes, and now, I am singing ’70s and ’80s cover songs in bars twice a month. At least, according to Jordan, I’m not stuck at home and glued to the couch. You go, Jordan!

Olivier Twist is over.

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Jon & me at Electriclady Land Studios NYC (Photo by Mark Weiss)

8 My Friend Jon My relationship with John Bongiovi grew alongside his career. John and I are as tight as ever. I think it’s a good time to devote some pages to my years with John.

I think I mentioned earlier that I met him at a bar called The Fast Lane in Asbury Park. I think it was the summer of ’82.

The Rockids were just about over, and John was playing with John Bonjiovi and The Wild Ones. They did a gig every Sunday at the Lane. I used to stop in to see my girlfriend, who was bartending at the time.

Dave Bryan was on the keys (his real last name was Rosenberg) and a guy named Jack Ponti was on the guitar.

I already mentioned going to see Bruce S. etc.

John was working at his uncle’s or cousin’s recording studio in NY called the Power Station. He got his first deal through his cousin.

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Rock and Roll History Fact: Bon Jovi’s very first gig was opening for me!

The lineup was Jon, Richie, Alex, Dave, and Tico.

Turns out the record company wanted to get the band a gig so John called me knowing I ran an Original Night every Wednesday at The Main Event with Olivier’s Twist and asked me if they could open my show. I let him open for us...imagine that...

Bon Jovi’s first-ever gig was opening for me...How ironic...lol.

A friendship that lasted for sixteen years.

As you have previously read, I met John in 1982. We became fast friends because, believe it or not, John looked up to me as a rock guy and was always asking my advice on every subject. John ended up with his record deal and a tour with his first hit song, “Runaway.”

As you can guess, I was a little jealous that he got a deal, but I somehow overcame my envy and kept in touch with John the whole time he was on tour. I had also befriended Dorothea, his girlfriend, throughout the past year. John was living at home with his parents when he got his record deal. I got a call from him asking me if I could find an apartment near the beach somewhere. I was living a block from the ocean in Bradley Beach, N.J., so I found a real estate person and got him and Dorothea a small one-bedroom condo across the street from the beach in the same town I was in.

I remember John called me from the road and told me all their equipment got stolen and asked me what he should do about it.

I hooked them up with Joe Loria, a friend of Rockids, who owned a music store in a nearby town.

They bought new stuff, and the problem was solved. I believe Tico knew Joe.

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When John finished his first tour, he came to live around the corner from me. I spent many nights over at their condo eating dinners that D would make. We would talk about music for hours, and he would tell me stories about being on the road opening for whoever. Half of me loved hearing the stories, and the other half wanted to scream, “I’m better than you. Why can’t this be me?!”

But I always smiled and cracked a joke or said something funny. Something inside me knew he was on his way.

The second album was also selling well, and Bon Jovi was on tour opening for the likes of The Scorpions, KISS, Van Halen, and more. He really was on his way!

After the second tour, I remember John calling me and asking if I could find the band a place to rehearse in Asbury Park since I knew everyone around that neck of the woods.

I found them a big room at a place called The Hot Dog House on Cookman Avenue. It was an old building converted into rehearsal rooms for bands, and they rented out by the month. I got Bon Jovi the old gymnasium on the third floor (the road crew hated me for that one!)

It was here that Bon Jovi would rehearse for their yet-to-bebiggest LP sales and tour.

The album was to be called “Slippery When Wet.” I remember John calling me when the LP was almost done and asking if I knew a place where they could shoot the album cover. Back then, an LP was still vinyl, and the cover art was still very important.

I found them a place next to my apartment so that they could use my space for makeup and dressing etc. The shoot went great, and the record went to number 1 with 12 million copies sold.

When John was around, we got together every week or so, sometimes a few days in a row, but I had my band, and I didn’t always hang out with John. He called me when he wanted to do something, and I called him, well, just to say, “Hey, wanna do something?”

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John and D weren’t from the shore area and didn’t know about places to go. This is why I would take them to different restaurants and bars to check out all the local restaurants. The local restaurants used to love it when I brought John in. He was becoming a rock star, but no one knew how big he would soon become.

Alex, Tico, and Richie As the band got bigger, I was always with John when he was home. I got to know Alex, Dave, Tico, and Richie pretty well, and we partied together.

It was the ’80s, after all, and cocaine was the drug of choice for most. For the record, John was against using drugs, and I Richie Sambora and me after a rehearsal never saw him ever do any. Alex, on the other hand, was out of control. I didn’t hang out much with him. Richie would ask me to find him some on occasion, but every time I was with them, it was just a recreational thing.

Back then, almost everybody did cocaine, but John, on the other hand, loved his drink.

Off they went on the Slippery tour to reach the status of bonafide rock stardom.

For me, it was a semi-life-changing event just through association. I was the guy who was Jon Bon Jovi’s best friend. I would always get calls asking me for tickets to John’s shows or to be put on the guest list, etc. I would rarely ever bother John with these requests unless it was from someone he admired or knew.

John called me a few times from the road and asked me stuff like if I could find a location for their next video or get Richie’s guitar from his house to the airport. But he always asked me to make sure Dorothea was looked after and entertained. I became 111

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very close with D; she was like the sister I never had and was also a great friend.

I forgot to mention John did give me a “special thanks” on the album of “Slippery When Wet,” which was quite unexpected but was appreciated nonetheless.

I got to know John very well, and I saw his reaction when an old bandmate or friend would ask him for help with his band or career, etc. John would be nice and say something like, “Yeah, man, let me think about it.” Then, he would immediately change his phone number, and that would be it for them, forever. I was careful not to overstep my place even though I would always bring John my new songs. I would record with Olivier’s Twist.

He didn’t like them because they didn’t have hooks.

Funny, because years later, and I do mention this, he came into the studio when we were recording a guitar part that later ended up sounding just like the guitar riff that started the song “Blaze Of Glory” …but oh well.” I remember one time he took me to his office and tried to show me how he wrote some tunes or got hooks by putting on old records and “stealing” ideas.

I got a call when John was on tour asking me to find him and D a house near the shore. I contacted my friend George McMorrow, and he hooked me up with a real estate woman who took me around to a bunch of really cool houses. I would then call D, and we would both go look. They ended up buying this really cool house in Rumson, N.J. The house had an electric gate driveway and a huge backyard with a swimming pool. It also had a panic button that released steel shades over all the windows and doors on the outside of the house.

I remember during one of the breaks from the Slippery tour, John was home, and D was cooking us dinner. John asked if I wanted to play some basketball; he had a hoop in the driveway far from the front gate near the garage. I wasn’t that good, but I 112

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was a bit taller than him. He was 5-8 ½. I was 5-11 ½, so I felt confident I could beat him.

Side bar: I am a very competitive person, and I never let him win. Well, little did I know he was pretty good at basketball and beat me every time.

I remember over the years, whenever he was home and feeling down, D would call me and ask if I wanted to come for dinner and play some basketball with John to cheer him up. I always obliged and always lost.

Living the celebrity life I felt responsible for watching John’s back whenever we went out, which was often.

There was always someone trying to talk to him like they were his best friend. Even though they were just fans, he was always nice to them, but I always had a close eye on them. If they started to become a pain, I would kind of step in or hurry John along so he could get out of it.

I remember every time we would go out, even to Home Depot or something, there were always a bunch of kids at his front gate, and we would always be followed no matter where we went. It was kind of cool for me, but I don’t think John was thrilled about the constant attention.

I used to get a kick out of going to the house and pulling up to the black gates, waiting to be let in. All the kids would gather around my car and ask me who I was and if I was coming out with a record soon. I looked like a rock star, and I must admit, I loved that stuff.

Dorothea, John, and I used to watch the kids at the gate through the camera on the monitor in the kitchen. We would have so much fun together just hanging out. D would cook dinner, and John and I would play basketball or pool or just hang out and talk music shit.

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John got a pool table, and we would spend hours in the basement playing and drinking. Now pool, I would almost always win. I had a pool table growing up!! It felt good to beat him.

The Slippery tour was held worldwide and lasted almost two years with breaks in between legs. Every time John was out on the road when I was free or if D called, we would always go out and have fun. By now, John was one of the biggest rock stars in the world, along with Michael Jackson and Bruce Springsteen.

For me, it was bittersweet. It was where I always dreamed to be. But that said, I was actually happy for John and his success and grateful that I was able to experience what it was like to be in the inner circle of superstardom.

The Bon Jovi jet I was sitting in the living room of my garage apartment when the phone rang. It was John saying, “Hey, man, what are you doing tonight”? I said, “Nothing, just working on a song.” He then suggested I come with the band to Boston on the jet. Well, who am I to say no?

He told me he would pick me up in an hour.

An hour later, a limo pulls up, and I get in with John.

It takes us to Allaire Airport in Wall, N.J., (now it’s Monmouth Jet Center), and sitting on the tarmac is a jet with Bon Jovi on the side.

This is going to be cool, I said to myself. We got out of the limo and on board. It wasn’t a big jet, more like the size of a Lear but wider and taller. I think it was a G5 Turbo.

Anyway, the guys were on the plane, and I sat with John while Richie, Tico, and Alex were playing cards. I remember thinking to myself, This is what it’s like to be a rock star.

We landed at some airport in Boston, and as we got out of the plane, there was a stretch limo waiting for us on the tarmac. I looked past the limo and at the fence of this airport. There were a few hundred fans holding signboards and they were mostly girls 114

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screaming as if the Beatles were there. This is when it hit me how famous John was, and I wondered to myself how I was living my dream, but at the same time, I was not.

Richie, Tico, John, and Alex took it in stride as if this was normal for them and happened wherever they went. We arrived at the concert venue, and I got to watch the sound check. I had an all-access pass, so I was wandering around the venue, talking with a couple in the road crew whom I knew from the Rockids days.

The show went well, but I noticed John was screaming more than singing.

The fans were going nuts, and backstage was filled with radio station people and all kinds of fans waiting for a meet and greet.

After that, we were put into two separate limos with two “dummy” limos also waiting. I was told this was a safety measure so the kids would not follow the limo on the highway and put themselves in danger as they would hang themselves outside of their cars, trying to get a glimpse of the band. I was in one with John and Tico; Alex and Richie were in the other. Sure enough, there were two carloads of fans following us close, then pulled alongside us screaming and trying to touch our car all the way to the airport.

Back on the jet, I sat with Richie and Tico and began to play cards while John went to the back of the cabin behind a curtain.

After about 45 minutes, I walked back to the rear of the aircraft to see what John was up to. I pulled back the curtain and saw John sitting with his road manager with a table stacked almost nose-level with cash!

He looked up at me smiling and said, “Another show, another 80 thousand in T-shirt sales.”

This was when I knew John was not only a good performer (even though he obviously took some of his moves from me) but also he was a good businessman as well. Maintaining all your merch money is a great move.

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Advice: To all you young singers who want to be stars and you know who you are, remember it’s still called the music “business,” so always heed the business side. Don’t give it away, and keep a close eye on your business.

When we landed, John and I took the limo back to my apartment, and Richie, Alex, and Tico had their own cars at the airport.

On the ride back to my place, John asked me how the show went. I then explained to him how I noticed he was screaming too much. I recommended he take voice lessons and gave him Katie Agresta’s name, whom I knew through my friend Marc Baxter. She was based in NYC. John took my advice along with some vocal hints from me, and the rest, as they say, is history.

A Piece of Rock and Roll History Jon Bon Jovi and Bruce Springsteen were together on stage for the first time.

I was home in Bradley Beach conditioning my hair, whichwas shoulder length at the time, at about 11 p.m. when the phone rang. It was John. He had heard that Bruce Springsteen was going to be at the Stone Pony and appear with Cats On a Smooth Surface, a popular local band. Bruce had a habit of doing this over the years. Anyway, he asked me if I could get him to perform on stage with Bruce since it had been his lifelong dream.

Remember, John was now a super rock star, so for me, it wasn’t challenging as I was good friends with Butch, the owner of the Pony, and I knew all the guys in the Cats band. My girlfriend was a bartender there as well.

I told John to give me a few minutes to make some calls and that I would call him back.

I called the Stone Pony and talked with Butch and he told me to bring John to the side door around 1:30 a.m. Then, he would have a bouncer open the door, which was right next to the stage.

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I called John back and told him to pick me up at 1 a.m. sharp.

John and Dorothea pulled up at 12:55. I jumped in their jeep, and we headed to the Stone Pony, which was only a mile away.

On stage with Bruce Springsteen/Jon Bon We got to the Pony and Jovi and part of the E Street Band, Stone parked and went to the side Pony Asbuty park, NJ door where we could hear Bruce singing with the band while the packed house of fans screamed with excitement. I banged on the door, and one of the bouncers who knew me opened the door and let us in.

We were directly on the side of the stage where the Cats On a Smooth Surface band was playing along with Bruce, Clarence Clemons, Garry Tallent and Max Weinberg. Everyone was just jamming. All of a sudden, the song ended and I screamed, “Go, Go,” and literally pushed John onto the stage. He went up and stood there like a deer in the headlights as Bruce said, “Good night, everyone,” and then walked right past John like he wasn’t there. As did everyone else as they left the stage. I grabbed a disappointed and embarrassed Jon Bon Jovi and Back stage with Bruce Springsteen after show at Stone Pony, 1987 followed Bruce and the gang back through a packed crowd into the safety of the dressing room and Butch’s office. I told John to wait as I went into Butch’s office and closed the door on John. Butch was talking to Bruce and Clarence as he noticed me, and I greeted them all. Bruce knew me from hanging at the Pony and Clarence knew me from 117

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opening up a few of his shows with his Red Bank Rockers band the past few years.

I explained to Bruce and Clarence that John was there and it would be so cool if you two guys were to go on stage together.

Butch looked at his watch and said, “You got time if ya want.”

Bruce shook his head and said, “Sure, why not? Let’s ask the band.”

I told them I’d be right back, and as I opened the office door, I introduced John to Bruce and Clarence, then went into the dressing room to ask the band if they wanted to do an encore with Jon Bon Jovi and Bruce. What do you think they said?

We all walked back through the crowd as they cheered. We got to the stage as everyone was walking on the stage, Peter, the keyboard player, looked at me then and motioned me to come up.

The crowd went nuts, and the next thing I knew, I was on stage singing. Don’t ask me what song it was because I can’t recall, but I performed with two of the biggest rock stars in the world and that for me, was my magical moment.

Side Bar: Someone took a picture of us that night but cut off Bruce. That picture is hanging on the wall of The Stone Pony to this day.

The Swimming Pool Incident Whenever John was on tour, I frequently would get a call from Dorothea whenever she needed something or wanted to go out to see a band.

One day, she called and asked if I could hook up the pool’s vacuum because their handy man was off. She wanted to vacuum the pool since it was dirty, and I had a pool, so I knew how to do it. I drove over. I liked going over because there were always fans hanging at the front gate, and because of my rock look, they would always ask me who I was, even ask for my autograph.

Which I happily gave even though they had no idea who I was… lol.

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I hooked up the vacuum, and as I was about to hand it to D, she tried to be funny and pushed me in the pool. I grabbed her to stop myself from going in, but instead, we both ended up in the water.

Now, John was very tight with his mother; he was almost a sort of mama’s boy. She was the president of his fan club, always had something to say, and also had keys to his house. She happened to be in the house and witnessed the pool incident.

She promptly called John who was in Japan at the time and told him she thought there was something going on with me and Dorothea.

That night, I got a call from a questioning John about the pool thing and had to reassure him that I was innocent of any accusations from his mom.

Sam Kinison I got a call from Dorothea one afternoon asking me if I wanted to see Sam Kinison at Rascals, a local comedy club not far from us. I said sure, so I went over, picked her up, and off we went. We saw the show, and afterwards, she invited Sam and his opening act back to the house.

At the house, we all went into the basement, where they had a pool table, foosball, and a few arcade games along with a bar.

I never saw anyone snort more cocaine than Sam. (By the way, Dorothea never partook in any illicit activities.)

I, on the other hand, am guilty.

Sam was really funny, and we stayed up all night laughing, drinking, and doing illicit activities till the sun came up. I drove him and the other comic whose name I can’t remember back to the Berkeley-Carteret hotel in Asbury Park, which was right on the way home to Bradley Beach where I lived. I never saw him again. It was so sad to hear of his death not too long after our meeting. RIP Sam! 119

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Keith Hernandez, Stand-Up Guy! I think it was 1989. Dorothea, I, and her friend Sherry went to the China Club in New York. We got right in because of D and sat in the VIP section. We were having champagne and chatting away when D spotted Keith Hernandez in the crowd. All of us were big Mets fans. Keith disappeared into the crowd as D and her girlfriend Sherry couldn’t stop talking about how they loved him.

After a while, I had to go to the bathroom, so I excused myself and made my way into the men’s room urinal as I was standing there, relieving myself, who do you think steps up to the urinal right next to me? Yes. Keith Hernandez. I introduced myself and explained I was there with Jon Bon Jovi’s wife and friend and told him they were huge fans of his. He then told me he was a huge fan of Bon Jovi, so I proposed a plan. I asked him to pretend he and I were friends and I would call him over for an intro. He agreed, and I proceeded back to our table and started a conversation, telling D and Sherry that I was in fact, a friend of Keith’s. They didn’t believe me, but then, right on cue, Keith was walking by us, and I yelled, “Keith,” he turned and smiled and yelled back, “Wayne.” Then, he came over and sat with us. You should have seen the look on the girls’ faces. They were awestruck.

After a few minutes, we came clean with the girls, and the moment erupted into great laughter.

The Tipping Incident The years I was associated with being Jon Bon Jovi’s best friend were not only fun, but I had a sort of celebrity of my own.

I was a singer in my band that was popular in the Asbury Park music scene. Add my relationship with John to that, and I got treated differently than most as far as going to a restaurant or social function was concerned.

Let me explain. As I mentioned before, I would constantly get asked for tickets to a Bon Jovi show when they played in the 120

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area, but I also got phone calls from people looking for help with getting a guitar signed by John or Richie for a charity or asked to bring John to an event. More often than not, a restaurant owner would ask me to bring John next time I wanted a meal. I once had Gary U.S. Bonds call me, asking me to hook him up with Jon for an event.

I remember quite vividly when a friend opened a Mexican restaurant in Neptune, a town next to Bradley Beach, where I lived.

I went to his grand opening, and it turned out to be really good. As I was leaving, he asked me if I could bring John back. It was a good restaurant, so I told him I would.

One night, in between legs of his world tour, John called me asking if I could recommend a restaurant he wanted to take his manager Doc, his wife, and their friends to.

I suggested the Mexican restaurant in Neptune. John agreed and invited me to come along, so I called the restaurant to book a reservation. John was such a star that I had to warn the restaurant to make us sit away from the public otherwise we wouldn’t be able to eat without a bombardment of fans, which is fun at first but easily gets out of hand and ruins dinnertime.

We had a nice dinner, and John picked up the check. There were eight people at our table.

The next morning, I got a call from my friend who owned the restaurant, asking for feedback regarding last night’s dinner and their services. I told him that everything was pristinely done and it was a memorable night for everyone. Also, the waitress who served us was polite and attentive to our needs. I asked him if everything was okay, and he told me that the check was for $600, and John only gave a $10 tip on his credit card.

I ended up going back and giving the waitress $60.

Next time I saw Dorothea, I told her what happened, so I’m sure John got an ear full.

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In case you didn’t pick up on it, John was extremely cheap with his money and weird about spending it on other people. Not to mention, he was a workaholic. I remember D complaining that they hadn’t been on vacation in over two years. John promised her that after he was back from tour, they would go and that she could pick a vacation spot. Thus, she and I went through a bunch of brochures, and she picked a Caribbean vacation in St. Barts.

She booked it and was excited for John to know when he got home.

John came back from the tour, and I happened to be at the house when he arrived. After the initial greetings, D showed him the brochure and the first thing he did was ask her, “How much does this trip cost?” She told him the total cost of the trip and he immediately barked out a loud, “What? That’s too much; cancel it now.”

By now, John had become a multi-millionaire, and this stringent and miserly attitude from him was unreasonable.

Dorothea left the room pissed. I stepped in and reminded John how much it meant to her and what a dick move that was.

I always was straight with him and never kissed his ass like everyone else; it’s probably why our friendship lasted 17 years.

He agreed, made up with D, and they finally went on vacation together. What can I say? I love happy endings.

Christmas at The Bongiovis’ Any Christmas that John and Dorothea were home, I was invited over. It usually was during Christmas Eve. I can remember one in particular might have been in 1991 when the whole band and their significant others were there.

I was there with my ex-wife (my girlfriend at the time), Tico, Richie, Alex, and Dave, along with their girlfriends. We were having hors d’oeuvres and champagne. John called me into the other room where his baby grand piano was and asked me to give my opinion of a song he just finished. He played me Bed of 122

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Roses. I told him I loved it, which I truly did. I would always give him an honest answer; that’s why he would ask.

“I guess all those piano lessons I hooked you up for paid off,” I joked. John had asked me to find him a piano teacher nine months earlier, so I did. When John put his mind to something, he usually accomplished what he set out to do.

Note: One thing I had to get used to over the years at Christmas time was the fact that John never gave expensive gifts—unlike Elvis, who would give new Cadillacs to friends, even though John loved Elvis.

One year on Christmas, I was given a cheap plastic Elvis clock and another time, I was gifted the bottom half of a pair of flannel PJs. The top half was a gift for my girlfriend. I remember that year, I was working sales for a pay phone company and gave them a real pay phone along with installation for a gift for their basement arcade room.

It’s the thought that counts, right?

Another Christmas story. Not sure which year it was, but I remember it was snowing, and my car wouldn’t start. I was supposed to be at my parents’ house for Christmas Eve, which was an hour north of the Bonjiovis’. John said I could take one of his cars, then offered to pick out any car from his six-car garage that I wanted to drive.

I pointed to his Lamborghini, but he quickly changed his mind on the “any car” part of his offer. I ended up with his vintage 1964 GTO with positraction, which those of you who are car enthusiasts will appreciate.

The Recording Studio Incident John had built a state-of-the-art recording studio in his basement of the Rumson house, and I was around to help oversee its construction as John was about to embark on another tour. It was 1992, and I had gotten back together with Gar to write and record some new songs. Before John left for the tour, 123

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I mentioned that I was back with Gar, and we were planning to do some demos. John surprised the shit out of me by offering up his home studio. He told me I could use it for as long as I wanted, free of charge. I just had to pay for his personal engineer, who was the only one he trusted to run his board. I happily agreed, and over the next two months, we were in and out of the studio in between working our day jobs and whatever.

One day, we were working on our final tune, trying to figure out a chord that would fit a section of the song, when out of nowhere, with no notice, John came walking in. He just got home in between the legs of the tour.

Over the years that I was friends with John, he never offered to help me with my career, and I never asked him to. So having him come into the studio was a big deal, not to mention he was one of the biggest rock stars in the world. This could be a huge plus for us if he actually took an interest in a song or possibly helped write it. Any struggling musician would kill to have him walk in on a recording session just to be able to say he was there and, better yet, if he helped contribute, his name associated with your project would get you major attention. At least, that was partly why I was so excited he was there.

I remember it was Gar, me, and a keyboard player friend, Dennis Copa. John stayed and observed Gar and Copa trying to figure out a chord that would fit a section of our song. I remember John asking to hear the song from the beginning, so we played it for him. After he listened, he made a suggestion on a chord to use. I was thinking, This is it; he’s getting involved with our song.

This could be the break we needed.

All of a sudden, Gar looked at John and shook his head, “No, that won’t work,” and promptly went back to his guitar and basically ignored John totally. If I had a knife, I was so mad I probably would have stabbed Gar. I couldn’t believe he blew John off like that. Within 5 seconds of Gar blowing John off, John looked right at me and shrugged his shoulders, and gave 124

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a facial expression as of to say, “Oh well, I tried to get involved,” then promptly walked out of the studio, never to return. The one weird thing that did happen was the beginning of John’s song Blaze Of Glory sounded almost identical to the song we played for him that day….go figure. PS: Gar, after many years, now admits he fucked that up.

The Woodpecker The Rumson house was John’s first home he owned, and it was beautiful, big, and had some cool features. I can’t not tell this story.

D and John had been in the house a few months when they started hearing a knocking sound at their front door. Upon investigation, John found that it was a woodpecker pecking at the side roof of his front door. He told me he tried sh00ing it away many times, even tried scaring it away, hiding in the bush with a hose and waiting for it to start pecking so he could hit it with a stream of water, but it was all for naught. John figured he’d had enough, so he grabbed his shotgun and sat in the nearby bush, waiting in silence for his intruder.

He waited and waited for two hours before the woodpecker arrived at the crime scene. John took aim and shot. The bird escaped death by the skin of its teeth and flew away, never to return. This incident left a huge hole in John’s side of the house, which cost an arm and a leg to repair. We had quite a laugh when he told me that one!

The New Jersey jacket incident In 1988, Bon Jovi released New Jersey as the follow-up to the smash LP Slippery When Wet. It was my birthday, and John was out on tour. Dorothea called me and said she wanted to go out for my birthday and that it was going to be her treat. I called Gar, and we both went over to the Rumson house to pick up D. As we walked in, D looked at me and said, “You’re not wearing that 125

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jacket, are you?” I had grabbed an old Army jacket, which was a bit ragged. She asked me to go inside John’s closet and pick out a cool jacket. John had a huge walk-in closet down the hall from the front door, filled with cool jackets and coats. I saw a yellowcolored fringed leather that I thought was used for a picture in the sleeve of the New Jersey LP. I put it on, and we went out. Not to blow my own trumpet, but I was looking quite cool.

After dinner, we ended up at the Stone Pony, and I remember getting out of the car and closing the door. Little did I know that about twenty of the long fringes were shut in the door when I closed it, so, as I walked towards the Pony, I ripped them all out of the jacket. To this day, I never found out if D told John because he was never going to hear about it from me.

The Harmonica mishap

I got a call from John telling me that he just got off the phone with Steven Tyler from Aerosmith, who asked John if he would join the band on stage for an encore. John agreed and wanted to play a harmonica solo. They were going to do a Beatles song. I think it was I’m Down. John wanted me to show him a riff on the harmonica that he could play.

Side note: John had seen me play Dueling Harmonicas, me and harp with my band and knew I could Jon play. He asked me one day to show him how to play the harmonica. I’m not a great harmonica player, but I do know how to play, so I gave him a few pointers and asked my friend Dave from the band Yasgur’s Farm to stop over and give us both lessons.

Dave was in a popular local copy band and a fantastic harmonica player. John never picked up on it, but we had fun trying. I even got to play a dueling harmonica with him on stage 126

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at Convention Hall in Asbury Park in front of a few thousand fans. John agreed to make an appearance for a charity as long as I agreed to go on stage with him.

Back to the Aerosmith story. I drove over to his house, which was about 20 minutes away from my apartment. We went into his office and I showed him a simple but cool riff to play to the Beatles song. He asked me to come with him to the arena, and I agreed.

There was a sold-out crowd of 20,000 or so at the thenContinental Arena. Now, it’s the Izod Center, which closed in 2015.

We got there, and we went back stage and hung around with Aerosmith. I mentioned to Steven Tyler that my band opened for him a bunch of years before, but he told me he didn’t remember due to the fact he was heavily doing drugs back then.

We laughed, and I got my pass and left John with Aerosmith. As I walked around the packed arena, I kept thinking of how I longed to be the band performing that night. My want for success never subsides. The funny part is I was, in a weird way, experiencing my fantasized success through hanging out with John. It was cool yet frustrating.

As I watched the much-improved Aerosmith perform, I kept walking around the arena, waiting for my student to arrive on stage to show off my harmonica riff. Well, John ran out, and the crowd went nuts. He and Steven worked great together on stage, then John pulled out the harp and proceeded to play the most horrible harp ride with all the wrong notes. He had apparently put the harmonica to his mouth backward.

Note: A harmonica has its holes going from low to high. John put it to his mouth with the harp upside down with the holes going high to low, so by the time he realized the mistake, the riff was over. To the crowd, it really didn’t matter because they were so excited to see John the ride was just a tiny blip. To me, it was a total disaster.

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After the show, I walked into the back band-only dressing room.

(Note: At arenas there is always “Backstage,” then a band and special guest Backstage area dressing room.)

Anyway, I walked in, and Steven immediately looked at me and shouted jokingly, “You’re the one who taught John how to play the harp.” With that, I put up my hand, smiled, and said “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Then, I turned around and walked out of the room.

Passed over again As I said earlier, John never did anyone a solid as far as helping in their careers, at least not to my knowledge. But the only time he did do it was with his high school bud Dave Sabo, who had a band called Skid Row. At the time, the band was still in its infancy and rehearsing in his parents’ garage. I don’t know the story, but I do know that John offered him and his band an opening spot on an upcoming world tour.

Skid Row needed a singer to complete the lineup. I know this because we were having dinner at John’s (which we did often) with manager Doc McGhee, and John was talking about it.

Doc actually said, “How about Wayne?” I almost chked on my potatoes. Did I just hear the biggest manager in rock and roll at the time suggest me?

John, without missing a beat, said, “Wayne’s more of a Mick Jagger type, not a good fit. Plus, I think I got somebody, a kid from Canada.” I said nothing, but that was all that was said; at least that’s all I can remember.

Fast forward a week or two.

Note: When John was home, we used to always play sports when we could. In summer, we would play softball, and in fall, we would play two-hand touch football with some musician friends we all knew. Well, it was a Saturday, and we had a football game planned for that afternoon. John had flown the Canadian singer in. His name was Sebastian Bach. When I got to John’s to pick 128

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him up for the game, Sebastian was there, and we all drove to the field together. We picked teams like we always did, and Sebastian was my opponent. Well, every time I went out to try and catch a pass (John always got to play quarterback, of course) thrown by John, Sebastian grabbed my arm and held me, which, if you’re not a football fan, you won’t know that players can’t hold! He did it over and over. I kept telling him he couldn’t do it, but he kept doing it until I finally grabbed him and threw him to the ground and yelled, “No holding!”

He jumped up and got in my face to the point where we were broken up by the rest of the team members. I never liked that guy since. Although I must admit, he was a good fit for Skid Row, who, by the way, did the world tour and became rock stars.

Side note: John made them sign away their publishing in order to do the tour, so John made a lot of money from their record sales. They later sued John.

Photo shoot with Mark Weiss At dinner one night, John mentioned that he was paying for Skid Row’s photo shoot with Mark Weiss, a popular rock photographer of heavy metal bands and John’s friend.

Then, to my amazement, John said he wanted to help me next and wanted me to do a shoot with Mark also. I don’t know why he wanted to pay for my shoot or what he had planned. I didn’t ask any questions. I just thanked him and said I would do it.

I had met Mark a few times when I was with John. He even took a cool shot of us together at Electric Lady Studios in NYC, which I have hanging in my office. Anyway, I showed up for the shoot, which happened to be the same day as Skid Row’s. We were all there together, including Sebastian. We were cordial to one another, but I was closer friends with Dave Sabo.

I remember there was a makeup artist who had covered my face in makeup. I wasn’t going to complain, so I let her paint my face like an empty canvas. I went first and did the shoot and 129

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got a chance to bond with Mark. He’s a bit hard to read but a nice person and is definitely serious about what he does. After I finished, I hung out for a bit and then left. I ran into Mark many times over the years.

All John ever said after he saw the pics was, “Too much makeup.” Nothing else ever happened.

Steve Van Zandt I got a call from John…I can’t remember the year, but he said Little Steven was looking for a singer to front the Disciples of Soul, and he recommended me. I was stunned. That came out of left field. (I wouldn’t be surprised if Dorothea put him up to it.)

Anyway, I was stoked. I remember John told me to dress rock and roll. I called Steven, and we agreed to meet at The Peter Pan Diner on Route 35. I got dressed in my pirate shirt and even put on some makeup to look cool (at least, I thought so.) I met Steve Van Zandt in a booth towards the back of the diner, sat down, and ordered breakfast. We chatted about John and a few other things which I honestly can’t recall. Then just as fast as I got there, we left. I never heard from Steven again. Was it something I said? I’ll never know.

Side bar/advice: The music business is like any other, but it’s filled with constant ups and downs, anticipation, excitement, and disappointment. It never stops, and you have to be able to shake it off and move along. If you dwell on the disappointment, you will eventually give up or get depressed and end up on a therapist’s couch.

John tries to cheer me up I want to put this in the book because it showed me that, in a lot of ways, John was a true friend to me.

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where my girlfriend worked, and I was devastated to the point of depression.

John called me to make sure I was okay and insisted we go out and have some fun to shake it off. He pulled up in a huge stretch limo with the whole band!

They had champagne and shots in the car. John called me the sixth member of Bon Jovi.

We started the night off at a go-go bar on Route 36 in Hazlet. We all walked in, and the girls came swarming at our table. The drinks never stopped, and the girls were all over us. I think John paid them to overly pay attention to me, but at that point, I wasn’t asking any questions. When it was time to leave, I remember everyone signing autographs, even me. John, Tico, Richie, Alex, and Dave walked out, and I remember vaguely, still sitting at the table and talking to two dancers. John came back in the bar, grabbed me by my jacket, and dragged me out. We ended up at the Stone Pony, where John wanted to find the dude my girlfriend cheated on me with and who happened to be a boxer as well as a bouncer.

John was intoxicated, and the guy was working that night.

Everywhere John went, he developed a crowd around him because of his celebrity status. Imagine the whole band in one room, and you will see it started to become overwhelming with fans trying to talk and get autographs or buy drinks etc., to the point of getting out of hand. But John went right up to the guy and got in his face. We had to pull John back and sit him down.

We all left about 15 minutes after we got there, and I remember the next day laughing about it at breakfast as we went back to John’s house and I crashed.

Emilio Estevez I got a call from John one night to come over for dinner.

When I got there, I met Emilio, and we hit it off immediately.

After dinner, John wanted to go out, so I suggested Cheers.

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Cheers was a small club in Long Branch, only a few minutes from the house. I called the club and spoke to George, the owner, to let him know we were coming.

If possible, I always would call if I knew the people at a club because otherwise it could turn Out with Emilio Estezez, Jon, and my friend George chaotic pretty quickly if there was no security. We jumped in my car and off we went. They were talking about the movie Young Guns most of the time because they just wrapped the film. The club was packed, but as soon as we walked in, the owner, George, saw me and got us a table at the back. My other good friend, George McMorrow, was there and helped keep us from being overwhelmed. George was familiar with protocol when John was in a room because he also had famous friends. We all had a fun night without incident and ended up back at the house playing pool and drinking till the sun came up. Fun night!

It was the one and only time I saw Emilio. He was a fun dude to hang with.

Doc McGhee I first met Doc at John’s house right after he signed with him.

I remember he was a bit portly in appearance but outspoken, and we hit it off immediately. Over the years, we developed a friendship of acquaintance and never had a serious one on one, except I remember one night, me, Doc, John, and D went out to dinner at a place I worked at called Jake’s. We took separate cars, though I’m not sure why. After dinner, John wanted to go out, so we went to a small club in Asbury Park called T-Birds. I remember Doc riding with me and as he was getting in my car, he yelled jokingly to John, “Help! Wayne’s going to play me more of his stuff.”

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Side bar: I almost always carried a tape of any new material I recorded to offer to Doc. John was cool with that, or at least that’s what he told me. I remember playing him a new tune Gar and I recorded when we got to T-Birds. Doc got out of the car and said to John, “Hey, that new tune Wayne just played me was actually really good.”

Funny because it was the same song called “Music Man” that John heard in the studio the day he came walking in.

I actually had a Top 20 radio On stage with Jon at convention Hall Asbury Park hit with it years later when I released it on my solo LP. Anyway, Doc was around many times and we had a pretty good relationship, but never did he ask me, or I him, to help with my career. I think we both knew John would not be happy if we did.

Note: John was a very serious business man. He was paranoid of competition and would never do anything that I saw to help anyone that could invade his space as far as fans or business was concerned. He did start his own record company, and I believe he signed a few acts. I’m sure he owned their publishing and had a big piece of them. I thought for sure he would offer me a deal, but he never did, and I never asked. Although, I did confide in Dorothea, and she told me that when she mentioned it to him, he responded by saying he didn’t want to mix our friendship with the business.

It’s funny because I remember leaving a tape of new tunes on their kitchen table for John to listen to, and when I asked him if he got a chance to listen, he said, “I don’t want to listen because I don’t want you ever to think I stole your idea.”

Little did he know I already thought that he had, not to mention copying some of my stage moves.

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Miami Vice One of the perks that I got knowing John was an appearance on Miami Vice, a super popular TV show at the time. I was working as a bartender at a place called Jake’s in Bradley Beach.

One of the waitresses approached me for tickets to a Bon Jovi show down in Miami for a good friend of hers. I normally would not say yes to that, but in this case, her friend happened to be the casting director for Miami Vice. I believe her name was Dee. I always wanted to dabble in acting, so I made her a deal. If her friend could get me a spot on Miami Vice, I would not only get her tickets but also get her backstage.

Her friend agreed, so I spoke to John. He was totally cool with it, and she got her wish. John told me he took care of her. Apparently, he did because three weeks later, I was on a plane to Florida and on set of Miami Vice, where I played a bodyguard of a villain on a huge Wedding invite yacht. I even got a gun.

Funny side story: My younger brother Tod lived near Miami at the time, so I stayed with him for a couple of nights. He drove me to the set and was in the wardrobe trailer with me. I left to get fitted in my wardrobe. When I came out, Tod was nowhere to be found, and I was escorted to the marina, where we had my scene on a huge yacht. While I was on the yacht and the cameras rolled, the scene called for a server to come out and drop a tray of drinks… I was standing next to the star bad guy as his bodyguard while Don Johnson and Philip Michael Thomas were having a conversation with him.Well, who comes out as the server but my brother Tod. Apparently, when the actor who was cast as 134

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the server didn’t show up, they saw Tod sitting in the wardrobe trailer and grabbed him. His part was bigger than mine!

I hate when that happens!! We had a good laugh about it and have told that story many times over the years.

Side Note: It’s funny, but it seemed every time I got into something, John always did the same not long after. He started acting shortly after my Miami Vice episode…go figure.

Dinner parties Over the years, I attended many dinner parties at the house with huge record company executives, movie stars, and rock stars, including David Geffen, Clive Davis, Jimmy Lovine, Irving Azoff, Lou Diamond Phillips, Kiefer Sutherland, Ally Sheedy (actually went on a double date with her and D and John), Meatloaf, and Alice Cooper, just to name a few.

I always maintained restraint and did not talk about my career unless I was asked, and even then, I kept my responses to a minimum. I also tried to inject as much humor into the table talk as possible with stories of me and John and D, which is probably why I was invited so many times. John always said I was a great party guest. But that said, when I could slip it in, I would always try to get an okay to send my demo tape to whomever. I sent it out to many with zero responses. One of the coolest dinners was at John and D’s elopement reception—a red carpet, highend affair at the South Street Seaport in NYC. I got to walk the red carpet with my date (I think it was Sherry, D’s best friend), and, from what I can remember, met many celebrities, including Richie’s date Cher.

John’s 30th Birthday Party Dorothea wanted to throw John a party for his 30th. She asked if I would help, so of course, I agreed. I thought it would be cool to film one of our touch football games and have NFL Films put together one of their signature clips, with John being 135

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the quarterback. I got ahold of a friend who filmed with a steady cam and had him come to one of the games we were playing.

John kept asking me, “What is that guy doing?” I told him I thought it would be cool, taping a game just for old-time’s sake.

John was a little pissed, but let him do it. I then sent the footage to one of John’s sound guys who had a connection with NFL Films. They edited a cool segment together, and we showed it at the party. It was a big hit, especially because almost the entire NY Giants football team was at the party; that tape is floating around somewhere. It shows me in the huddle with John. John loved the Giants and attended the games whenever he could.

He became friends with Bill Parcells and a bunch of the team, including punter Sean Landeta, with whom I went out to dinner a few times with John, D, me, and Sean’s wife.

Dorothea wanted a magician, so I got Vito Lupo, a famous magician with whom my brother Gary had worked and got me his number. Back then, and probably still to this day, when you mentioned John’s name, people were always excited to do what you requested. He was THAT famous and still is. Anyway, the party was a success, and I can remember taking the gifts back to the Rumson house and then staying up with John and D for hours more before crashing.

The last time I saw John or D Dorothea’s father passed away. It was 1997, and my ex and I went to the wake together. A few days later, I went to call D and John, and the number had been changed. This was normal and a routine that had been going on since John became famous. If someone was bothering them or if they were pissed at someone, the first thing they did was change their number. I would always get a call either from John, Dorothea, or the office and get the new personal number. This time it was me they were dumping.

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and whoever just to get some closure. After all, we did have 16 years of friendship behind us. I tried every one I knew to try and find out why I was excommunicated. No one seemed to know.

The only thing I heard from my brother Gary, who was in the business, was on the other side of the stage. He was on the crew side and knew everyone on John’s road crew. He told me that one of them told him that John thought I slept with Dorothea, which would explain things, but I never did. We were close friends, and that was that.

For the past 25 years, I still wonder, every time I hear a Bon Jovi tune, what happened to us three? But it looks like I’ll never know.

One thing I did hear, but I can’t prove it, and a part of me doesn’t want to believe it.

One day, a few years ago, I ran into one of the guys from Bon Jovi. I won’t say who, but I asked him if he knew why John cut me off, and all he said was, “You can’t argue with a bipolar mind.”

Then he said something that floored me. He said, “Do you know all those people you met with John to whom you sent your demo tapes? They used to get back to John with rave reviews, asking John what he wanted them to do with you. John would always answer, “Don’t do anything.”

Note: They say it’s all about who you know but sometimes who you know can hurt you as much as help you.

I never put all my eggs in one basket. I never counted on a break from John. If it happened, fine, but throughout the years of being friends with him, I still pursued my career as I would have without knowing him.

By now, you get the gist of what it was like to be friends with a famous rock star; it was both exciting and bittersweet for me as I always dreamed of living that life. Being with him along the way. Watching him become super famous from that day at the bar when we met, him fawning over me, all the conversations, the jets, the fans, the perks, the recognition, the excitement, the 137

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parties, it was a great time, and I don’t regret any of it. Still, it is hard to think back on 17 years and not feel bad about getting no career boost from all the industry people I met and the tapes I sent out.

In John’s defense. I must remind everyone that becoming super famous can change you. Everyone you meet wants to know you or they want something from you. Everyone will always agree with most anything you say; it gets hard to really trust anyone fully. I sometimes think that the powers of the universe—or God for that matter—had planned on not allowing me the fame and fortune that I always dreamed of just for the reason that I would NOT be able to handle it.

For me and John I suppose it’s water under the bridge now.

(We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in 20 years.) But every time I go somewhere and a Bon Jovi song comes on over the speaker system (which to this day happens too frequently), I think back on those days for just a second and wonder, what if?

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9 Moving Along, The best job I ever had Huey Lewis I got a call from Butch, the owner of the Stone Pony, in the summer of 1989. He told me the record company for Huey Lewis called and booked Huey at the Stone Pony under the name “The Sports Section.” This was so that Huey could try out new material in front of a crowd in an intimate setting.

He was coming in for two shows, Friday and Saturday night, and they were looking for someone to be Huey’s chaperone for the weekend and show him a good time between gigs, drive him and the band wherever they wanted to go, and stick with him the whole time. They were supplying a van and $350 a day plus expenses.

Butch told the record company about me, my friendship with John, and how I was used to celebrities, etc., and got me the job. I wasn’t working a steady job then, so I happily accepted the offer.

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To get to the Stone Pony for a sound check with Huey and the band, I remember picking up the 8-passenger van and driving to the Berkeley-Carteret, a luxury hotel on the boardwalk in Asbury Park, about a quarter mile from the Pony.

I was excited yet calm as I was used to the celebrity experience.

The trick to hanging with someone famous was to act normal around them, not like a fan. Let them know you dig their music etc., then shut up and talk about normal shit. Although I purposely put one of my harmonicas on the dashboard, hoping Huey would see it and start a conversation about playing the harp, which would allow me to let him know about my band, etc., without me bringing it up. I admit I had an ulterior motive when I took the job. Maybe I could get Huey to listen to my demo, and he would turn it on to his label? Just being honest here. Anyway, I remember pulling up to the hotel, and the band was waiting for me.

The band and their road manager piled in; Huey sat in front.

He introduced himself and the band, and we drove to the Pony, where I hung out for a sound check. After checking, they piled back in the van, and sure enough, Huey noticed my harp sitting on the dashboard!

“You play the harp?” he asked.

“A little, not like you,” I answered.

“What key do you like the best? You in a band?” he asked.

I responded, “I like D.” Then, I went into my short version band summary.

That was all that transpired as we arrived back at the hotel.

Huey asked if I knew a good place to eat, and I suggested him a place. Then, I was instructed to return in an hour to shuttle them to dinner, where we all ate and then went to the Pony for the first show.

The show was great, and the word got out that it was Huey Lewis and the News, so it was a capacity crowd. After the show, 140

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we hung out at the Pony after hours, which was normal with Butch and Jack, open bar, cocaine, and cards.

The next day, when I got to the hotel for brunch, Huey asked me if I played golf. I told him I did, and he and his guitarist asked to play. I called my friend George McMorrow, and he set us up at a private course, The Rumson Country Club. Huey and the guitar player brought their clubs, and I was invited to play, so we were assigned a caddy, and we played 18 holes. It was pretty cool.

Huey shot like a 78 (for you non-golfers, that is REALLY good), and the guitar player (I cant remember his name) shot in the 80s.

I came in last with a 90-something.

After golf, we went back to the hotel. Huey told me to come back in a few hours to get them back to the Pony for the last show. He asked me if I could do him a solid. I said, “Sure, name it.” He then explained that he wanted me to wander through the crowd during the show, stopping behind as many cute girls as possible and he would give me a thumbs-up if he liked my pick.

I was then supposed to give her the number of his hotel room.

After about ten or so winners, I was instructed to return to the hotel room, bring enough ice to fill the hotel room tub and then stock it with beer, which was pre-approved by Butch. Then, I was to drive back, pick up the band after the show, and bring them back to the room. In the meantime, I remember calling Dorothea and letting her in on the party. She loved Huey, and he was more than happy to meet Dorothea (John was on tour).

On the way into the hotel, we bumped into D and her friend Sherry, and we all took the elevator up together. Introductions were made, and all was well. Not long after we entered the room, I had to relieve myself, but Huey and some girl cut in front of me and closed the door to the only bathroom available. Huey’s manager was standing right next to me and noticed I had to go and told me not to worry. Huey won’t be long. After what seemed to be a minute or two, the door opened, and Huey walked out nonchalantly with a smile, followed by a cute brunette who gave 141

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her mouth a quick wipe with her hand, indicating to me they didn’t go in to do a line. Otherwise, she would have been wiping her nose, but I digress; can’t prove anything.

The next day, I met Huey and the band for breakfast, then took off to the airport. Huey pulled out his “D” harp, and we proceeded to play harp together for about 10 minutes. Then, we talked about music and being in a band, and he told me to send him my tape. I said, “I just happen to have one in my pocket,” and that made everyone laugh. I dropped them off at the airport, never to hear from him again.

Landing the job of Foghat’s frontman The year was 1990, and I was in between bands. I used to look in the classified ads in the back of The Village Voice, a popular NYC newspaper catering to the artsy world. I remember seeing an ad for a frontman or vocalist, and I called their provided number. On the receiver was a man with an English accent who invited me to his place in Long Island. He mentioned that there was a tour coming up, so I think that’s what intrigued me. I remember it was a modest small house tucked back in a woodsy area. He was a long-haired, cool music type but a bit older than me. We talked, and he pulled out his acoustic guitar, and I sang something. After I was done singing, I remember him saying I had the chops and asking me to come back on Saturday and play with the full band. It was Foghat. He explained that the guitar player had left, but the remaining two original members owned the name and were touring as Foghat. I was totally stoked. Me? Foghat? I was beyond thrilled.

I went back that Saturday to a rehearsal room somewhere in Long Island, and the band was there. It was just bass, drums, and 2 guitars. We then proceeded to do Foghat tunes: Fool For the City, Slow Ride, and I Just Wanna Make Love to You. I was singing Foghat with Foghat and felt my dreams were finally coming true.

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I immersed myself in the whole experience and started moving around on the rehearsal stage as if I were in a concert. It was such an ecstatic feeling.

After the rehearsal/audition, Roger, the drummer, said that I was great and they would like to have me on tour, but he asked me to try to concentrate on the words more and not jump around so much. I assured them I would and left for home. It was such a great ride home!

We ended up having a few more rehearsals getting ready for the tour. I’m not sure where or for how long, but it didn’t matter because I got a phone call from Roger after two weeks that the band was getting the original lineup back together, so I was no longer needed.

And just like that, I never got to be the lead singer in Foghat… except at rehearsal.

I should give this Broadway thing a try I had just about had it with rock and roll. All my life, I lived 40 minutes from NYC and Broadway. I was trained to sing operatically in the choir. I’ve seen a bunch of Broadway plays. In my mind, I was as good, if not better, than most of the people I’ve seen sing on Broadway.

I got my subscription to Backstage Magazine, a paper that listed all the auditions and open calls for Broadway, offBroadway, and off-off-Broadway shows. I then started to attend open calls; these are cattle calls for anyone with the confidence, nerve, or whatever to try and snag a job for mostly chorus linetype parts. I remember the first show. I waited in line for it for over an hour and a half. I entered a dance studio-sized room with a piano player and three people sitting at a table and sang, Stand By Me.” I nailed it and was called back into the room along with all the others, and they called out about 16 names. I was one of them. I remember thinking how easy that was until they announced all of us had to report back in two hours and bring 143

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our Capezio’s. I was like, what? (Capezio is a shoe that dancers wear.) Anyway, I came back, lined up in the last row (to try to hide my inability to dance well), and tried to keep up the best I could with the choreographer. I now knew what singers who “move well” meant. Needless to say, I didn’t get the job.

I’m not sure why I decided to take acting lessons, but I did.

I approached Marie Lillo, an older woman who had been a Broadway star for 20 years. She lived in a high-rise in NYC on 42nd Street. She was also a voice coach. We worked together for a few months while I continued to audition for Broadway and off-Broadway. I got called back a few times and hit on twice for a part in an off-Broadway show by the director (yes, it happens,) but since I’m not gay, that didn’t work out.

I once went to Radio City Music Hall to audition for a European tour of Jesus Christ Superstar. As always, I did my Stand

By Me song and got a call back to which I had to sing “Pilate’s Dream.” I nailed it and got the part.

Afterward, the final full cast came up on stage, and we sang Jesus Christ Superstar. It was cool. After that, I asked the musical director questions like, how much does this tour pay? He said he wasn’t privy to that, and I had to talk to the producers. Well, I found out it was a non-union production, and it only paid something like $289 a week plus taxes taken out, but it did pay all the expenses. Long story short, with a car payment and rent, I couldn’t afford to go. So much for my European tour.

I remember there was an open call for “Tommy,” the Who’s rock opera; now here’s something I was born to play. The audition was packed—a line of hopefuls literally stretched around the theater. I was one of them. It took hours. I finally worked my way into the building, around the halls, and through the dressing rooms. As I got closer to the stage, I could hear the singing and the piano playing. Instead of my usual Stand By Me, I figured I would wow them with See Me, Feel Me. Back in The Rockids, we did a Who set. I got this! Well, I got on the stage when one 144

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director asked what song I would sing. As soon as I said, See Me, Feel Me, he said in quite a stern voice. “Sorry, no songs from the show. Next!” I don’t know what happened. I froze, then walked off the stage without trying to defend myself. Looking back, I could have switched to Stand By Me, but I went blank! Fuck Broadway.

Fast forward a month or two. I found this cool progressivetype band I hooked up with (I can’t recall their names). Still, they had an album’s worth of recorded songs and needed me to rerecord the vocals as their new singer. So I called my friend Dan Caruso, who owned a studio, and called in a favor to see if he could record me for a super-discounted rate, which he did. I then got us a gig at a cabaret theater on 45th Street. I was into a theatrical/Bowie type of performance with this band. Anyway, Marie Lillo, from whom I was still taking acting/voice lessons, came to the show and brought her good friend Barry Moss, the biggest casting director for Broadway in NYC. After the show, she brought me to the table where she and Barry were sitting and introduced me. I reached out my hand to shake his. As I did, I clipped his glass of red wine with my suit jacket sleeve, and whoosh, red wine was all over his lap. I figured that ended any shot I would have to gig on Broadway.

That was a Friday. On Monday, I got a call from Mr. Moss asking me how old I was. I remember thinking, Should I lie and say I’m younger? I think I said 32 or something when I was 37. He said, “You’re too old to play Tommy, but you could do Captain Walker. We are replacing some of the cast in Tommy, and I’d like you to come in for an audition. There is a new song Pete Townshend wrote for the show. I’m going to leave a couple of tix at the will call, and I want you to go and see the show before you come in. I gave the audition song to Marie so you can work with her on it.”

I thanked him for the opportunity, then hung up and called Marie.

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We worked on the song. I think it was called I Believe My Own Eyes. I remember it had a high “C” note that I had to hit, and we worked on that. Normally, the high “C” was not an impossible note for me to hit. I’ve gone higher, but singing it in a certain tone and holding it was not simple.

The day of the first audition came, and I went into the room and was surprised to see many other auditioners. I performed the song and nailed the high “C.” I remember going back a second time, and there were only six of us, then four. Then, the next day, I went back, and there were two of us. This time, sitting behind the table was the director and Pete Townshend himself! I really got nervous, and I remember immediately needing a sip of water… I had to sing this flawlessly.

I felt like I had sung it best the first time, but I remember hitting the high “C” every time. Well, as you probably guessed. I didn’t get the part. Fuck Broadway again! AT LEAST I GOT TO MEET Pete Townshend…sort of. I stopped going to Marie and decided to stay with rock and roll for now.

Oliver Wilde

I think it was 1990. Olivier’s Twist was de-banded, and I was no longer the lead singer of Foghat. My Broadway days were over, and I was looking to move forward. I reunited with Gar (not sure of all the details on how or why) and started Oliver Wilde, Gar, me, and John an original band called Oliver Fitzpatric (Photo by Bob Bowné) Wilde, a play on Oliver Twist and Oscar Wilde. Gar and I wrote a bunch of tunes and started playing out, mostly the Stone Pony and the Asbury Park scene.

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Our first management My brother Gary, aka Bozak, was working for Ian Hunter at the time and had a friend who was starting an artist management company and wanted to offer Gar and me a contract. His name was Craig Goetsch. He knew me from the Rockids and always liked my Me and Gar Oliver Wilde 1994 showmanship on stage and my music.

Craig had a partner whose name escapes me. Gar and I had nothing to lose, so we signed. It was cool having Craig as a manager. He knew many people in the business, including Steve Marriott from Humble Pie, with whom we partied and went to Studio 54. That was a weird experience in the VIP room…yikes!!!

I also remember my brother Gary taking me to Ian Hunter’s birthday bash somewhere in New York with Craig; fun times.

Unfortunately, they could not land us a deal, so we went our separate ways and remained friends. Craig is now VP of East Coast production for Livenation.

Premier artist services: Management number 2 One gig we had was an outdoor concert at Fort Monmouth, a military base near Asbury Park. It was an event to welcome home vets from the Iraq war. I remember Danny Federici from the E Street Band, who was involved and knew me from Bruce and the Stone Pony Oliver Wilde on stage Stone Pony gang. Danny invited us to play 147

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with him on stage that day, along with Garry Tallent and Max Weinberg of the E Street Band. How could you say no to that?

I remember going to Danny’s house, where he had a huge barn in the back property with a fully functional rehearsal stage. We rehearsed a couple of times and then were set to do the gig.

I had been shopping our demo around (yes, another demo) and sent it to Premier Artists Services, a management company in Florida that handled Liza Minnelli and Frank Sinatra, among others. To my surprise, they called me asking if they could come to NJ and see the band live. I mentioned the Fort Monmouth gig, and they agreed to fly up one of their agents to see us perform.

We did the show in front of about 2,000 people and got a great response. The agent from PAS was there; his name was Jim Ramos.

Jim used to be KC and The Sunshine Band’s manager. He offered us a contract on the spot. About two weeks later, we were officially a PAS client.

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At that time, they had also just signed a very young kid (he was 14 or 15) named Joe Bonamassa, a whiz guitar player.

I was stoked! I mean, Frank Sinatra, Liza Minnelli!? How could these guys not get us a record deal!? Lucky for us, we both still looked great, if I must say so myself. It’s the best look I have had to date. They agreed to pay for a new demo and shop us a record deal!

Finally, it was going to happen! Or so I thought. We started recording in Jon Bon Jovi’s home studio, so it was perfect timing because they could pay for the engineer.

Frank Sinatra I had gotten a part in Miami Vice, so after filming, I decided to stop in at our management office in Florida. I got there in the morning and was told to help myself to coffee, etc. I went into the small kitchen area to grab a cup and noticed a boardroom with three people sitting and reading the newspaper. Suddenly, I turned around and was staring eye-to-eye with Mr. Sinatra. Well, I was taller than him, so it wasn’t quite an eye-to-eye. He looked old and frail but had those famous blue eyes. He said, “You must be the new kid.” Then he pointed into the board room and said, “Do you know what those agents are doing?”

“Not a clue,” I responded. Then, he whispered, “They’re looking at the obituaries to see if I’m in there because if I were, they would be out of a job.” With that, I turned back around, and he was gone. Did I talk to Frank Sinatra?

Liza Minnelli The other star our management team handled was Liza Minnelli. My mother and cousin Carol loved her, so I asked Jim if he could get me a few tickets to her show at Radio City. It was 1992, I believe. He got me four tickets, so I took my mother, aunt, and cousin Carol to the show. I remember getting there and going to the will call to pick up the tickets. When we handed 149

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the tickets to the usher, she started walking us down toward the stage. We kept getting closer and closer until we were in the front row. I guess it pays to know people. I was so glad because it made me look so good. We were so close you could get hit by her drops of sweat as she paraded by us on stage. After the show, we went backstage and met her. She was a sweetheart, and what an impression I made on my family.

Z100 Band Contest PAS had our demo and was supposedly shopping it to record companies but had gotten no hits yet. It was the summer of 1992, I think. Anyway, I got a call from Jim, our manager, who told me to get the band up to the Hamptons next weekend to perform at the Z100FM best band contest. Z100 was, at the time, one of the biggest rock FM stations in New York City. I told him we had never entered that contest, which was in the final stage. We missed it and didn’t have a full band, as we needed a new bass guitarist.

He explained that we were, in fact, one of the finalists, and we needed to get there, play a 20-minute set, and that we would indeed place second.

Well, what can I say? I didn’t question how it happened. I didn’t want to know, so we called our bud Dan Caruso to fill in on bass and rehearsed once or twice. That weekend, we drove up to the Hamptons, where our management put us in a hotel and took us to dinner. I felt like a real rock star. The next day, we did our show on the beach, where Z100 had a huge stage set up in front of a few thousand people. As I was told, we were judged “second” by celebrity judge Rick Derringer. We ended up winning cash and a free video shoot or something.

It just goes to show that connections can influence your career. Yes, I get it. Morally speaking, we shouldn’t have taken that gig, but my ego got the best of me because I figured we were 150

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probably a better band than any legit winners who probably sent in repeat votes from family and friends anyway.

Advice: I spoke of this before, but I’ll say it again anyway.

EGO can cost you your career, but you won’t stand a chance without it, so use it wisely and don’t let it control you…you control it!

That contest was the last thing our big-time management ended up doing for us, except once they got me a spot with a young Joe Bonamassa singing a tune Gar and I wrote for him at The Bitter End in NYC. Little did we know that he would become quite successful in the blues-rock guitarist genre. After a year, we never re-signed with them, and just like that, we were back to being just another struggling unsigned band.

Twenty years in this business, I’m in the exact spot I was in when we started Rockids: with Gar and an original band with no record deal, but this time we were both 20 years older. I would have never bet on that.

After many hours of contemplation, I decided to take a break from chasing that elusive dream of success to settle down, get married, get a stable job, buy a house, and help raise my daughter.

And that’s exactly what I did for the next 12 years.

Wait! I’m not done yet!

Fast forward six years: Just when you thought you were out, they pull you back in.

Chubb Funk Just a quick shout out to my friend Jordon Singer, who got me off the couch, out of the house, and back on a stage with his classic rock band Chubb Funk. He called me and shamed me into getting back on that horse. Jordon was a Rockids/Olivier’s Twist fan, and a friend. I want to thank him here publicly. I spent around nine months in that band, and it rekindled the flame of my love for the stage.

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Note: I also played with Jordon and an old high school bud, Dave Coriell, in a great cover band called Everybody’s Everything after Chubb Funk disbanded.

While I was in Everybody’s Everything, I separated from my ex and ended up getting a divorce. That was in 2014. I decided to get back on the rock and roll horse and ride it into the sunset. I have no reason to stop now.

Little Jimmy and the Starlites

Well, I have to give credit where credit is due. Add to the flame of playing music again came a phone call from an old bud Jimmy Ferrante. Jimmy was the owner of Stirling Audio Services, an audio company that did live sound for the past Little Jimmy and The Starlites: John 25 years or so. He also was the Croot (keys), Ernie Youngblood (Drums), and Zara Phillips (vocals) founder and leader of the band “Little Jimmy and The Starlites,” which has been around since the Rockids.

Jimmy was a staple in the area, and the Starlites are still playing out, although the members have changed along with the setlist of songs. But I must thank him for keeping it going all these years. Anyway, he called me to ask if I would be interested in “being a Starlite.”

The setlist was mostly one-hit-wonder songs from the ’50s, ’60s, and ’70s. The band was big, with five or six pieces depending upon one or two sax players, and had three backup/featured singers, which included a lot of harmonies, which I always loved and which was, if I do say so myself, my forte. I agreed and am still in the band as of this writing.

I was one of three featured vocalists, along with Jimmy, Susan Brigati, and Joe Cerisano.

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Susan Brigati, who has a huge amount of musical credits of her own, is married to Rock and Roll and Songwriters Hall of Fame ex-Rascals member Eddie Brigati, whom I got to know and became fast friends with over the past few years.

Let me go off-topic for a moment. I got to know Eddie through Jimmy and Susan. Eddie is one of the most interesting, charismatic, make-you-laugh-all-the-time, spiritual (in an American Indian way) rockstars I’ve ever met and a great person to boot. I just spoke to him the other day. He is a big supporter of me and my music, and it fuels my enthusiasm every time we speak. I’m lucky and honored to call Susan and Eddie my friends.

Back to Little Jimmy One of the other singers who came on board the band shortly after I did was an old buddy of mine from the Rockids days: Joe Cerisano. Joe is a founding member of The Trans-Siberian Orchestra and had a record deal with Columbia Records with his band Silver Condor.He was also a huge jingle singer in the ’80s. You would hear Joe’s voice on almost every commercial, including the Army, Navy, Sprite, Coca-Cola, GE, Chrysler, and a slew of others, including Hands Across America.

Joe and I had a blast at gigs singing harmony and making moves together on stage. We became close friends with his wife Marie, a Rockids fan back in the day. We double-date frequently!

Joe left Little Jimmy but recently signed to Deko Records with a new LP called Distant Thunder. He is a total standup guy, and I love him.

When I joined Little Jimmy and The Starlites, the keyboard player was John Croot. We hit it off immediately and became fast friends.A few drummers along the way included Ron Howden from the UK progressive band, Nektar, Ernie Youngblood, and Johnnie Rago. Johnnie and I also became friends, and John is the drummer in our current band, The NEW Bardots (pronounced Bar Doughs.)

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Back to Acting I totally forgot to mention my acting pursuit. Ever since Miami Vice, I have wanted to try more acting but never pursued it due to being married, etc. Now that I’m divorced and had an opportunity come my way, why not?

Let me explain, my friend Vicki has a friend Lucille, an actor/comedian in Florida. She emailed explaining that her agent needed extras for an HBO show called Vinyl, produced by Martin Scorsese & Mick Jagger. I sent in my picture and ended up as an extra on the show.

I was hooked. I immediately joined Central Casting in NYC and began getting background work two to three times a week and landed some parts in feature films and TV as well as many background appearances in major films like The Irishman.

Martin Scorsese

Wait, hold the presses; you got to hear this one. While on the set for “The Irishman,” I was fitted for my wardrobe two days before in Brooklyn. Then when I got to the set, they had a huge circus tent for all the extras, where our wardrobe was Me and actor John Polce after a scene in hanging with our names on it.

“The Irishman” This scene was on Randall’s Island, NYC, right under the Triborough Bridge, where they turned a field into an Italian festival. It was quite the sight. I happened to end up standing right next to the actor playing Joe Columbo, who was to be assassinated in our scene. There were over 200 extras in that crowd scene. I just happened to be in the right spot at the right time (that’s showbiz). Anyway, the scene went down. The prop guy came out and showed everyone the 154

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gun and announced, “There will be two shots.” Then the assistant director yelled, “Action.”

Martin Scorsese was in a monitor tent some 30 feet away where he could look at all three camera angles as we shot the scene well. The guy came out and shot Joe Columbo, who was right next to me, so we all had to react to the shooting. We did like three takes then I saw Mr. Scorsese come out from his tent and walk toward Dave, the actor playing Joe Columbo, or at least that’s what I thought. As he got closer, his eyes met mine, and he got almost in MY face and said, “I like your energy, but your eyes are open too wide. I need you not to open them so much. Maybe yell ‘Fuck.’ That might keep them from opening so much. Can ya do that for me?” He smiled. “Yes, sir,” I answered back. Then he disappeared back into his tent. The scene was repeated. I said “FUCK” and tried to be aware of my eyeballs, and then it was over.

Did I just get directed by Martin Scorsese? Or reprimanded? At least he didn’t replace me, which would have been easier. I knew then I would have my face on the screen in this movie, and sure enough, the camera did a close-up of me in the finished film.

Pretty cool, at least I thought so.

I also appeared in The Post with Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep, and the HBO series, The Deuce, Boardwalk Empire, The Black List, Blue Bloods, and many more, including the Bob Dylan movie “A Complete Unknown and The Bruce Springsteen movie...I also co-wrote the title song for the indie Feature “Gone On set of the feature film “The For The Weekend” and landed a part as Post” where I played the News Editor a diner owner..I also co-directed a scene with the writer/director and friend Troy Burbank ….I almost forgot….I got fooled into doing a voice-over job, which turned out to be an episode of the hit show “Impractical Jokers”...Pretty 155

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cool, huh?...anyway...Acting is a passion I’ve had for years, and I will continue to pursue it as a side gig.

Note: Because of my acting gigs, when COVID hit and we were out of work for two years, I could collect unemployment which saved my ass.

The Bongo Boy rock and roll TV show I met Monique, the owner of Bongo Boy Records, through Gar, who was her partner. We put together a cable TV show where I interviewed guests and showed videos and did all kinds of stuff like go to a robotics competition, art galleries, and Heavy weight champion, Larry Holmes, after I interviewed him on my TV show sports events etc. It ran for two years, and I had some cool guests along the way, like Willie Nile, Larry Holmes, Elain Zahack, Pat DiNizio, and many more.After a couple of years, Monique changed the format, so I left.

Rocker, Willie Nile, and his band on my “Bongo Boy Rock and Roll” TV show 156

10 My Inspiration and Motivator I met someone who was on the same page as me. Her name is Vicki. She was my hairdresser for most of my rock and roll days, and now we are together.

She inspired me to write my first single, She’s My Girl, and my first Christmas song, I Love Christmas Time, which I self- Vicki and me released.

WORD OF ADVICE: Surround yourself with people who support your creativity, ESPECIALLY your significant other or companion. If they don’t believe 100% in you, it will cause a subliminal block in your will to succeed—get rid of them.

Vicki also pushed me to record my first full-length LP, Eclectic Mind, in 2017, with the help of my old pal Dan Caruso producing and Gar helping with some guitars and songs. The LP got some critical acclaim and airplay across the country. A song I wrote with Gar from the Olivier Wilde days was remixed and released along with a video called I’m a Musicman. It got over 100,000 views and reached No. 18 in the national radio play 157

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My Inspiration, Vicki

charts. It turned out that it didn’t recoup the money for the album but gave me some bragging rights.

With that, I put a band together to do a headlined show at the Stone Pony.

I called Dan Skye (Olivier’s Twist), who helped put together the band, and a local guitarist/songwriter, Patrick Bamburak.

The rest I hired. But because there was no band to tour with, the record died

on the vine.

I didn’t feel too bad because the record did so well and got many great reviews. I was satisfied but needed to keep going and felt the need to start a band once again.

The NEW Bardots (pronounced Bar doughs) Right around the time my solo LP was out, Gar approached me and asked if I wanted to start a straight-up, no-nonsense rock and roll band. Once again, we are back writing together with a band we are calling “The NEW Bardots” (bar doughs). It was My solo LP performance at The Stone Pony 2018 and we recruited my old pal Dan Skye (Olivier’s Twist) on base, Johnnie Rago on drums, John Croot from Little Jimmy and the Starlites. Since that time, we have recorded and released two full-length LPs, “French Kisses” and “Turn your Head And Cough,” two EPs, “Already Been Chewed” and “Singles Night,” and 8 singles…along with 10 videos. As of this writing, we headlined the Stone Pony, played with national acts, and are playing out again.

You can find us on YouTube and all major download sites, as well as on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

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Our video, Corporation Businessman, has won numerous “Best Music Video “ awards in over 18 film festivals around the world and is being played in 20,000 locations in Europe and Roku TV. We have had airplay in Europe and Asia and the US with every new release as of this writing…but unfortunately, in today’s music business, that doesn’t pan out to loads of money if you’re not constantly touring …which we are not due to everyone having Mortgage payments and good full-time jobs. Who buys CDs or downloads anymore, and Spotify pays us .003 cents per play…do that math…LOL…It is cool to have all the airplay and video kudos but it’s so ironic that my music career has achieved more credits in the past 6 years than in the 20 before I dropped out.

Although the record industry has changed and there are no more “Record Deals” except for maybe two big companies, the big thing for bands now is the Indie market, which I think is a good venue to move your career forward.

Newfound Advice: Beware of the dream money thieves.

These are all those who promise you airplay, streams, press, etc.

There are so many out there I can’t list them all. But remember, don’t ever pay to get your song played on any playlist or internet radio. If they are legit, they will do it for free.

Don’t pay a so-called “record company” to publish your single or EP/LP. All they are doing is taking your money. Don’t “buy” YouTube views. It’s just fooling yourself.

Being in a band I thought I had to include this in the book because it’s part of why I stayed in the biz so long. There is nothing more satisfying to the rock and roll soul than being a part of a tight band. When I say “tight,” I mean as a family as well as musically.

A band is a bond between brothers/sisters, a bond that is hard to explain. It’s almost like being in a gang. You get to know 159

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one another intimately, you develop trust and understanding of each other, you bond closer with each other over time, you get excited together when you go on stage, and while you’re on that stage, it doesn’t matter if it’s big or small or even just on a floor in the corner of a bar you perform together you notice mistakes, and you notice exceptional individual performances.

You critique the show afterward, and you compliment each other on a job well done or sometimes not so much, but no matter what, you are a part of something special that most will never get to experience, like being on stage. That is the ultimate reward for me. That feeling of performing, especially in a big show with a huge audience, can’t be explained. You have to experience the empowerment of your existence, your years of sacrifice and rehearsals, your fear and ego joining hands to a singular cause to perform. Aside from true love, it’s the greatest feeling I have ever had. As I get older, I find the recording studio to be my new sanctuary…where we (the band) enter and put down our wellrehearsed creations and watch them come to musical life as we drop guitar tracks, keyboards and I get to sing and put down harmonies on my musical compositions I created…that also is one of the greatest feelings of accomplishment that keeps me in the game…especially when you hear your song being broadcast over the rock and roll airwaves…it never gets old…and it keeps you young.

Although I no longer have that overwhelming want for fame and fortune, I feel very fortunate that I experienced all that I did and got through the crazy times with minimal brain damage and a semi-healthy body. Although it would be nice to be able to drop 20 pounds as easily as it was when I was 35…I’ve been blessed in other ways. I still can’t get the music out of my head and will continue to write, record, and perform…mostly for the love of it all and to keep sane…but I wouldn’t mind if one of our songs caught the ear of a music supervisor or two…just saying…

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It would help pay the rent…I guess you can say I’ll be going down singing!!!

Anyway…To all of you starting out, I hope you learned something from my words. For those of you who have been pursuing your dreams as long as I have. I salute you.

That’s right, I’ve made it to the end of the book. It was a long process that intermittently consumed 19 years of my life.

It goes to show that nothing can stop you from pursuing your dreams if its written into your DNA. It’s both a blessing and a curse but what the fuck?!! It’s only rock and roll, and I like it, like it, yes, I do!

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Final Word Now that you have read my book (or at least skimmed through it LOL) I’d like to say that I want to acknowledge ALL musicians who have been at it for years (and those who are just starting out), whether you are in a copy band, solo guitarist, or wedding band.

We all had our dreams at one point, and we ended up where we were. I, for one, have made peace with myself after all I’ve been through to be happy where I am…. writing songs, recording songs, and still being able to sing and front a band in my sixties.

I no longer expect to have the fame and fortune I once craved.

Well, I still don’t mind making some money with my songs...It’s just that after some deep thought, reflection, and retrospect, I think that God, the Universe, or whatever you want to call it, knew better than to allow me to have the fame and fortune I chased all those years, knowing that most likely, I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

I am very fortunate to have had a relatively normal life and still do with just enough recognition and the taste of it all to keep me happy.

My creative motor keeps running and I can still produce products I’m proud of for an audience of fans that I can relate with. With the NEW record business…people are streaming songs and not buying any CDs, downloads, or anything. It’s almost impossible to make a lot of money, even though it might 162

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look really cool to be number four on the worldwide Indie chart or to have all kinds of reviews and writeups. It’s really not monetarily overwhelming, but this is the modern-day Music biz. Now, we do it for the love and the creative outlay of energy, which would only turn into weirdness if not spewed.

I have accomplished what I set out to do because I love creativity and camaraderie with my bandmates. I hope to make just one person feel a positive vibe when they listen to one of our songs.

Peace…out Wayne O

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Photo Album

Joe Cerisano and me recording our Christmas song

With good friend Myke Scavone (Yardbirds, Doughboys, Ram Jam)

One of Rockids first write ups The Newark Star-Ledger, front page, entertainment section

In SkyLab studios with my daughter Madison recording one of her songs

Oliver Wilde at Stone Pony

Our home studio, early days

Bozak, Gar, and John Croot relaxing at “On Our Own” video shoot

Fun at video shoot

Videotographer, Rich Hall, shooting my close up for “On Our Own” video

Gar and Me, NYC 2016

Joe Cerisano and me on air with comedian, Lulu Braha at her show

My friend and band mate, Ron Howden (Nekter) RIP

Back in vocal booth

My family: Geno, Wanda, Gary, me and Tod

Gar and Monique Grimm President of Bongo Boy Records

Go DEVILS!!!

My home club

Video crew, George McMorrow, Larry Gress, me, and Rich Hall, from my “Mucicman” shoot for solo LP

The NEW Bardots on green screen set for “Do It In The Road” video

Author, Businessman, Motivational Speaker and Friend, Barry Habib

Video shoot for “Gotta Work” solo LP

Vocalist and friend, Susan Brigati

My friend Eddie Brigati (Rascals)

Me, Artemis Pyle (Lynyrd Skynyrd), Rich Koar (bass), Michael Squalis (sax)

On boom for feature film “Steps”

Dirt the Cat (RIP) posing for cover of my single “Shes My Girl”

The NEW Bardots

The New Bardots, present day, Stone Pony concert

My mob look

Producer, Jim Bonefond and me, 1984

Jim Bonefond and me, 2020

Friend and bandmate, Jordan Singer (Guitar)

Singer/Bandmate, Dave Coriell and me, before show with Everybodys Everything

Jimmy Ferente, Zara and me, Little Jimmy And The Starlites

In booth changing lyrics Bardots LP

Creating

Oliver Wilde, 1994

My first Christmas single

Me behind the camera

Putting down a vocal

Me and Alan Parsons London

4 years old with aspirations. Along with Older bro, Gary (aka Bozak)

Cover shot for my solo LP Eclectic Mind (photo John Cregar)

The NEW Bardots live Christmas show, Wonder Bar Asbury Park, NJ 2023

Putting down accordian track fot New Bardots LP

Me in my favorite place: The Vocal Booth

Comedian friend, Gary Delena, Vinnie Brand (Stress Factory Comedy Club Owner) and me

Bass-man, Mike Caruso (Doughboys)

Sax-man, Vic Cappella, laying down a track for Bardots LP

The NEW Bardots first gig, Roxy & Dukes, Dunellen, NJ

On set of feature film “Gone For The Weekend” with photographer Mark Weiss

Me in Morocco (just thought I’d throw that one in LOL!)

At video switchboard, Count Basie Theater, Red Bank, NJ

JR on green screen during The NEW Bardots “Policy Of Truth” Video

Good Rats Guitarist, Micky Marchello, wearing a Rockids Tshirt in concert

Dave Bryan (Bon Jovi) and me after show

The NEW Bardots (Masks On)

With Legendary DJ, Lee Mrowicki, Stone Pony 50th Anniversary, 2024

Harmonizing with Joe Cerisano (TransSiberian Orchestra, Siver Condor, Distant Thunder)

On air with co-host Dan Caruso. My podcast (Waynes Podcast “A Little Bit Of Everything”)

Me and Jon Bon Jovi on stage with Bruce Springsteen and members of the E Street Band & Cats On A Smooth Surface, Stone Pony

A rock and roll hall of fame sandwich, Eddie Brigati/ Ricky Byrd

Me and Gar in studio, 2024

Me on “Jersey Spotlight” TV show

On-set with actor/friend, Gary Toresco. We were both playing gangster hitmen in the indie film “Orbiting Without Sugar”

Wayne’s music from his solo LP and current band, “The NEW Bardots” music /videos can be found on ALL download sites and YouTube on Bongo Boy Records.

Facebook: “The NEW Bardots” Wayne’s Facebook Fan Page: “Wayne-O Wayne Olivieri” Instagram: @TheNewBardotsOfficial and @WayneOlivieri Twitter: @wethenewbardots @WayneOlivieri Band’s label website: www.bongoboyrecords.com/TheNewBardots

A trip up the rock and roll ladder filled with advice, success, disappointment, betrayal and encounters with top industry executives and celebrities including a revealing 17-year close friendship with one of the world's biggest rock superstars!

“An often-used phrase in entertainment is ‘he’s the hardest-working man in Show Business.’ One of the few people who deserve that title is Wayne O of The New Bardots… he’s creative, talented, and relentless in his pursuit of great music and entertaining the masses.”

—DENNIS MALLOY | Dennis & Judi Show, NJ 101.5 “Songwriter, author, and front man on a rock n roll stage, I’ve known Wayne his entire career, and he is still rockin' and rollin' with the best of them! The book will tell it all!”

—CRAIG GOETSCH | VP Production Livenation - Music-NY Northeast Regional Wayne Olivieri has been a vital part of the Asbury Park music scene for a couple of years longer than I’ve been writing about it. Live, he’s an exciting and passionate performer. In the studio, he’s a fabulous singer-songwriter. It’s been fun Makin Waves with him all these years. New Jersey is proud to call him our own.

—BOB MAKIN | Asbury Park music writer since 1980

A True Story

“Whether it’s with the New Bardots or anything he’s done solo and otherwise, Oliveri has always been innovative, aggressive, and an underlying force in the Jersey music scene.

His art and contributions go above and beyond the normal realm of creativity; he has never had boundaries or a ceiling in his career.”

—DANNY COLEMAN | “Danny Coleman’s Rock On Radio” on The Ed Sullivan Show. Growing up in Plainfield, NJ, he sang in the Saint Mary’s Boys Choir and joined bands by 7th grade. At 17, he played iconic NYC venues like CBGB’s and Max’s Kansas City with his band Rockids, sharing stages with The Ramones, Talking Heads, and Blondie.

In Asbury Park, NJ, Wayne formed Oliver’s Twist, performing at The Stone Pony and The Fast Lane alongside acts like David Johansen, Huey Lewis, and Billy Idol. In 2017 his solo LP Eclectic Mind produced the single “Music Man” which reached the top 20 on the national radio airplay charts. By 2019, he co-founded The NEW Bardots, charting multiple releases on the International Indie charts.

Almost Famous

WAYNE B. OLIVIERI

WAYNE B. OLIVIERI fell in love with rock & roll after seeing The Beatles

of Being

WAYNE B. OLIVIERI