Chapter - 9 - Deal or No Deal

SUMMER WAS DRAWING to a close and soon Raffi would have to go back to AmherstCollege in Massachusetts. He left his Porsche 914 with BJ; it was kind of a good faith gesture, saying he could drive it while he was trying to sell the car. After all, BJ did arrange the sessions and Raffi had come away with two master recordings in the process. There were many nights we cruised up and down Sunset in that orange sports car but as time went on, the car began to deteriorate; in fact the transmission was going and all we had was second gear. One time we were driving it down Ventura Blvd. and the front   driver's side wheel came off the car then rolled all the way across the busy street and miraculously managed not to hit a thing. Somehow it made its way into a K Mart coming to rest near the checkout counter. Stunned into action, BJ managed to pull the car over to the curb. I hopped out of the car then traversed Ventura, retrieved the missing wheel, and reattached it to the Porsche. Eventually the car sold for much less than it was worth and if Raffi ever saw one dime of it, I would be surprised. But back then I believed that everyone would be paid back, and BJ would come through for us, but in the back of my mind I was starting to have doubts creeping into the forefront.

Living right across the street from Miguel at the time was the president of Warner Brother's Records, Joe Smith. The same Joe Smith who we auditioned for the year before with Cheryl Ladd. BJ had put together this booklet made from this denim material with pictures of Silverspoon, Rafael and himself. It was BJ's brainchild to start his own record label and call it Taylormade Records. He imagined Joe Smith would sign all three acts and distribute us for his little label. Soon there was a meeting, the presentation was made, and weeks went by without an answer.

          One night after not hearing any concrete news the guys in the band cornered me in Rosemary's kitchen. They had me backed up against the sink coming at me with knives and forks saying, “What's happening with the deal?” and “what is this guy BJ doing, he is full of shit!” or “he's your friend Jimmy, you are the only one who thinks he is on the level.” It was true, I did always have loyalty to friends that sometimes blinded me to the truth. But I felt in my heart that BJ was going to come through for us.

           Warner Brothers eventually passed on our project. I will never know why, but some people think maybe Silverspoon was offered a deal separate from the package, but BJ had turned it down. I don't think this is true because if there was a deal, any deal kind of deal at all, BJ would have grabbed it and grabbed it fast. Stephen didn’t think so, and he grew to have a tremendous animosity toward BJ.

Rosemary was becoming increasingly reclusive until one day she was offered a singing engagement at the Balboa Bay Club in San Diego and asked Silverspoon to back her up as well as doing a set of our own original material. It was one of those cheesy dining room gigs where the PA system was small, and the speakers were installed in the ceiling; maybe 20 or 30 ten-inch speakers that sounded horrible. It was a nightmare to say the least. Joey was stiff and the band was sloppy. We did one more gig with Rosemary, but I can't remember where, probably because we were so bad I've blocked it out of my memory.

   One terrible day at Rosemary's there were a bunch of us rehearsing and generally fooling around. Something must have set her off because she bolted down the long spiral staircase, stormed into the kitchen, opened the drawer and grabbed a rolling pin. She eyed the blue Volkswagen parked in her driveway behind her precious Corvette Sting Ray. Then next thing we knew she was smashing Jon Marr's headlights out. I knew then it wouldn't be long before we'd have to find a new place to rehearse. It was nice while it lasted but it was time to move on.

We needed a place with a piano, and it looked like it was going to have to be back at Oakhurst Dr. That is where Stephen and I started writing some good songs together. We really imagined we were a Lennon/McCartney type team because we concentrated on melody and lyrics. It wasn't until one day later I bought some video tapes on the internet, even before eBay I think, and I was going to use then to re-cord on my ADAT recorder. They were all Bob Dylan tapes. I was into Dylan back then ever since 1963 when my sister had a copy of The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan and I would sit for hours listening to it on my dad's Fisher tuner. There was nothing like it in the world. My other favorite record she had was Johnny Rivers’ Live at The Whiskey, the one with Memphis on it. All the rest of her records were Barbara Streisand and show tunes. I think she redeemed herself from utter unhipness since there was a Beach Boys record in her collection as well. I remember back then we would have a battle of the bands in our adjoining rooms. She would play Streisand and I would play Beatles. She would turn Barbara up and I would notch up the lads and it was an all-out war. My mom or dad usually came in to make us turn it down after a while. There's only so much you can take.