by Berry Gordy
Diana meant more to me than she could ever imagine. It is absolutely true that at one time I was obsessed with her. In the heyday of the Supremes I saw the butterfly emerge from the cocoon and I was dazzled. She was magic and she was mine. Diana was willing to let me make her a star and I knew she had the talent, drive and stamina to go the distance. It was, in retrospect, a perfect arrangement and as long as we were a team we were invincible. We treated setbacks the same way we treated success. They were both opportunities.
I loved her because she gave everything to our mission. She had a willingness to discipline herself, to work like a maniac to get it right. All of a sudden I wasn’t the only perfectionist. I had a wonderful counterpart and she wanted what I wanted and so we set off to get it… and we did.
And along with all of that getting we got each other. The good, the bad and finally, the big good-bye.
We did fall for each other in a way that is more complicated than most relationships. How did it happen? People are always asking me that.
8
THE SUPREMES
1964–1965
CALLING OUT AROUND THE WORLD
With Mary Wells’s leaving, a sullen air had settled over Hitsville. We all took it hard, but Smokey took it the worst. I told him this was the normal reaction in any family when one of its members cuts the cord. “Nothing’s changed,” I said. “No big deal.” I lied. A lot had changed. It would take time to shape a new image, match up new material, build a new star. Smokey had had a lock on Mary’s productions. Now he would have to compete like everybody else to get a record out on other artists coming up.
It was a little after eleven o’clock in early June of ’64. We had just finished our Friday morning product evaluation meeting where, as usual, a group of us had battled hard over which records would be the next releases. Everybody had left my office except Smokey and Mickey Stevenson. Smokey and I were continuing an argument we’d been having at the end of the meeting. Mickey had hung around, supposedly as a mediator between Smokey and me, but the only thing he really wanted to mediate was me changing my opinion about one of his productions, a Kim Weston song that had been turned down for release. Both Smokey and I knew what he was up to, but didn’t mind. We loved an audience.
“How can you listen to Billie Jean?” Smokey argued. “How can you take her opinion over mine? What has Billie Jean ever produced in her life? Nothing! And yet she can tell you whether my record is going to be a hit or not? Bullshit, man. That’s totally ridiculous. How can you do that?”
“I’m not doing anything. Billie Jean is head of Quality Control and gives her opinion just like the others. Nobody else thought it was a hit either, including me.”
“C’mon, BG. I know ‘You’ve Changed Me’ on Brenda Holloway is a smash!”
“Well, if you know it, then why didn’t anybody else know it?”
Smokey was intense. “Because they don’t know, man, that’s why. They just don’t know.”
Edging his way into the conversation, Mickey slung in a fast opinion. “That’s right, the same way they don’t know my record on Kim is a number one record!”
Smokey and I frowned in Mickey’s direction. Giving us a well-you-can’t-blame-a-guy-for-tryin’ smile, Mickey said, “Okay BG, but I do agree with Smokey about Billie Jean. She is ridiculous, always sittin’ there whisperin’ in your ear about something.”
Just then my sister Esther rushed into my office. Seeing we were heavily involved she just stood there, anxiously waiting for an opening. Smokey never skipped a beat. “See, ’cause man, everybody is so political. You vote for mine, I’ll vote for yours. That’s bullshit, man.”
Smokey took a breath.
Esther jumped in. “Dick Clark’s office just called.”
Silence.
Dick’s name was magic. Our attention was glued on Esther’s mouth.
“They want Brenda Holloway on the Caravan of Stars,” she said so much faster and louder than her usual slow, soft-spoken way.
“Great,” Smokey shouted.
We all knew how important Caravan of Stars was. Dick was a great promoter, taking the hottest acts on tour across the country, exposing them to Pop audiences. It was like the ultimate record hop. Dick and his TV show, American Bandstand, had been responsible for building many artists from nothing to superstardom.
Dick loved Brenda’s record, “Every Little Bit Hurts,” and Bandstand had been playing it heavily.
Hal Davis had produced the record with Marc Gordon out of our California office, and brought it into our Friday meeting. The song had a waltz tempo and everybody knew I didn’t like to put out waltzes. Only a few of them ever became big hits. But from the minute the needle touched down on this one I was mesmerized like everybody else. Brenda’s deep, full voice vibrated throughout the room. We all voted it a smash. And it was.
All of our artists were being booked and promoted throughout the country and on television. With acts like the Miracles, Martha and the Vandellas, the Temptations, the Marvelettes, Marvin Gaye and Little Stevie Wonder all having top hits on the charts, Esther and the other managers at ITMI had no trouble keeping them busy. Brenda Holloway was so hot that not only did Dick Clark want her on Caravan of Stars but she would later open for the Beatles on their North American tour. The one act who didn’t have the hit power yet and who needed an extra push was the Supremes.
“What great timing,” I said. “Can you get the Supremes on that same show? It would be great exposure for their new record.”
“I’m way ahead of you,” Esther responded. “They don’t want ’em. They’re not big enough. I just got off the phone with Roz Ross, Dick’s assistant. I pushed all our available acts. They only wanted Brenda.”
“No,” I said, “you don’t understand. Please listen to me. ‘Where Did Our Love Go’ could be an out-and-out smash. The R&B guys are wailing on it already. We need Dick Clark for the white people. I gotta have that tour, and you gotta get ’em on it.”
“No way,” Esther said. “I tried. Roz is tough. They’re already way over budget.”
“Budget! To hell with budget. I’ll pay them if I have to,” I screamed. “If we can get them on his show, he’s got to play their record on Bandstand.” I could see she was starting to get the point. “Roz may be tough,” I said, “but so are you.”
I knew Esther. I knew her pride. She was under pressure but loved it, because she knew if it worked she’d be a hero.
As Esther headed out the door, Smokey went right back to his point.
“See man, remember ‘The Way You Do The Things You Do,’ the Tempts’ first smash, their breakthrough record? You didn’t think that was a hit either.”
“Smokey,” I said, “please, not that story again. We’ve already heard it a thousand times, and that was over six months ago.”
“A thousand times?” Mickey jumped in. “What story?”
He knew damn well what story, but Mickey was an instigator and always got a kick out of seeing me squirm.
“Okay,” I said to Smokey, “we all know you went out and got people that had nothing to do with the meeting to come help us decide on the two records.”
“Yeah man,” Smokey interrupted, “and all ten of them picked my record over yours.”
“No, Smokey, only nine. I voted too, remember.”
Smokey laughed, resting his case.
“Yeah, but what about all them other times when I was right?” I defended.
“I’m not talkin’ ’bout no other times. I’m talkin’ ’bout that time.”
Rebecca stuck her head in the door.
“Barney’s on the line. He wants a meeting with you.”
“What about?”
“He said it’s personal.”
I tensed up. It always bothered me when Barney Ales wanted a personal meeting. By now Barney had become so important to me that I could never casually dismiss his requests. Mickey and Smokey both noticed my change of mood.
“I’m gone, BG,” Mickey said.<
br />
“Me, too,” Smokey added as I reached for the phone.
“Smash, smash,” Barney shouted. “Fantastic. Everything is great. Chicago came in for another five thousand on Brenda. The Tempts’ ‘I’ll Be In Trouble’—fifty-one with a bullet. ‘Where Did Our Love Go’ is getting some action, too. And your record, ‘Try It Baby,’ on Marvin is cooking. We’re hot, my man.”
It was always good hearing this kind of news, but my response to Barney was measured, knowing he wanted to meet with me. I knew the more excited I got the more it would cost me.
“What do you want to meet about?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing. Just get together, go over some stuff, bring you up to date on what’s happening.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”
“Oh, yeah,” Barney said, “but we got to look into each other’s eyes, you know, face-to-face.”
“Okay, Monday morning,” I said, as I sat back in my seat contemplating the meeting. I knew once again our cat-and-mouse game was in play. I wondered what it would be this time.
Reappearing in the doorway, Esther interrupted my thoughts.
“It’s done,” she said.
“You mean you got ’em on?”
“Sure did. It’s done.”
“Great!”
Esther was a hero.
Monday came quickly, but I had a plan. While Barney was waiting for Rebecca to call him to my office, I showed up at his.
“What’s happening, my man?” I cheerfully asked as I sat in the lower chair in front of his desk. I wanted to show I wasn’t afraid to put myself in an inferior position.
He quickly ended a phone call. “I thought you wouldn’t be ready for me for another hour or so,” he said, as he hollered out for some sales figures.
“I couldn’t keep someone as important as you waiting,” I smiled. “What’s up?”
“Like I told you, everything is great. Brenda’s record is out there kickin’ ass and it looks like—”
“What do you want to see me about?”
Grabbing a dart from his desk, he tossed it at the board across the room, missing it completely, hitting the wall. “You beat me the last time,” he said. “Aren’t you gonna give me a chance to get even?”
I had positioned myself well. Barney was off balance. I relaxed, slumping even lower into the chair. “Naw man, I think I’ll just gloat a little longer. So, what’s up?”
“Oh, well,” he said. “I’ve been wondering just how important you thought I was around here.”
I said nothing.
“Selling is the lifeblood of any organization,” he continued, “but you’re always talking about how our creative people are what makes Motown so different.”
“And they are, but I’m always telling them how their records wouldn’t be smashes without sales and promotion.”
“Okay. Then don’t you think I deserve a bonus?”
What! I sat straight up. “A month ago you asked for a bonus for your whole department and I gave it to you.”
“I gave all that to the men.”
“The men? You said it was for everybody, including you.”
“I know, but they’re the best in the business and I have to keep ’em happy.”
Now I was off balance. The pro had regained his footing. I realized what had happened; I had said yes too fast the last time and Barney thought he hadn’t asked for enough.
“Berry, if you want to keep good people you do have to keep them happy, don’t you think?”
“If you gave it all to your men and didn’t keep any for yourself, whose problem is that?”
“I got a better idea,” Barney said. “Forget the bonus. How about two percent of gross?”
“Gross! Gross profit? Are you telling me that you want to make money whether I do or not?”
“All I can say is other companies give gross participation to their top people. Gee whiz, Berry, two percent of everything that comes in is not the worst thing in the world.”
“How much was that bonus you said you wanted?”
“I didn’t, but let’s put a pencil to it,” he said.
I paid him the bonus that day, but I had a feeling I had not heard the last of that gross business.
When Esther got back to me with the details of the Supremes’ deal, I realized she had taken me literally when I said I’d pay them if I had to. She agreed to a deal where Dick Clark would only pay the Supremes six hundred dollars a week. Diana’s mother went along as chaperone, which meant that the money had to be split four ways.
When Diana, Mary and Florence left on that thirty-six-day tour with the Caravan, they were on the bottom of a bill of seventeen acts.
Then “Where Did Our Love Go” began to move up the charts. They had no idea what was happening. All they knew was that each day they were getting more and more applause. By the end of the tour they were getting ovations. The Dick Clark people had to reprint the posters over and over again, moving the Supremes further up toward the top. At the end of July the girls came rolling back into town as stars—with their record on the way to #1.
By late summer of 1964, we were beginning to explode. Hitsville shook with excitement as more and more people’s dreams were coming true. Shimmering Cadillacs lined West Grand Boulevard in front of our door. I couldn’t wait to get to work in the morning and hated to leave at night. Inside, in every corner and cubbyhole, hits were being made.
That summer the song that seemed to tie everything together for me was Martha and the Vandellas’ “Dancing In The Street.” It was written by Mickey Stevenson, Marvin Gaye and Ivy Joe Hunter, and produced by Mickey.
Paul Riser, one of Motown’s all-time great arrangers who was becoming known for his string and horn arrangements that merged classical traditions into Motown funk, was the one who created the brilliant horn and rhythm arrangements on “Dancing In The Street.”
My goal to hook people in the first twenty seconds was never accomplished better. The intro was a hit before Martha even opened her mouth. And when she did it was devastating.
Calling out around the world
are you ready for a brand new beat?
Summer’s here and the time is right
for dancin’ in the street.
They’re dancin’ in Chicago,
down in New Orleans,
up in New York City;
all we need is music, sweet music,
there’ll be music ev’rywhere
There’ll be swinging and swaying,
and records playing,
they’re dancin’ in the street…
When I later asked Mickey how he got that tremendous backbeat, he looked at me and laughed. “Well, BG, there’s some things I just got to keep for myself.”
“Mickey, were there two drummers on that session?”
“BG, there’s just some things—”
“Forget it, Mickey. Whatever you did, just keep on doing it.”
While the Supremes were still out on the road, we had been gearing up for their return. I was only concerned about one thing—their next record. I couldn’t wait to get them back in the studio. Neither could HDH. They had been writing and cutting tracks like mad. As soon as the girls returned, they went on to complete the Where Did Our Love Go album.
Their next single was going to be “Baby Love.” I liked it but told Eddie it didn’t have enough life and the opening wasn’t catchy enough.
They took it back in the studio and recut it, giving me what I wanted and more. Speeding up the tempo just a bit gave it life and the seductive “Ooo-ooo-ooo…” they added was just the right gimmick to make the beginning ring out with its own identity. Brilliance. Releasing it in September, we didn’t have to wait long to see it climb to #1 in America. By November of 1964 “Baby Love” had gone to #1 in the U.K. as well. We had had big hits internationally before, but this was the first to top the British charts.
As much as I preferred Creative to Business, with this level of success there were
many times Business had to come first.
One day I got a call from a man in the London office of the Beatles’ manager, Brian Epstein, telling me the Beatles wanted to record three of our songs for their next album entitled The Beatles’ Second Album. The songs were “Money (That’s What I Want),” “You’ve Really Got A Hold On Me” and “Please Mr. Postman.”
I had met Epstein only a few months before, when he paid a visit to Hitsville and expressed his and the Beatles’ excitement about the Motown Sound, telling us of the great influence it had had on them. Now, as the man from his office explained, they wanted a discount rate on the publishing royalty. Rather than pay us the standard two cents per song, they only wanted to pay one cent and a half.
I told the man how happy I was with the prospect of the Beatles doing our songs, but I didn’t want to give a rate. He said that was customary in the business. I said no.
The very next morning the same man called again. He said they were sticking firm to their demand and I had until twelve o’clock noon that same day to wire them an answer.
I looked at the clock. It was 11:30. “Fine,” I said, hanging up the phone.
I quickly called in anybody I could find to help me with this heavy decision—Smokey, my brother Robert, my sister Loucye, Billie Jean, Ralph Seltzer and Barney all came to my office. Once I told them the story, everybody had an opinion, all talking at the same time.
Billie Jean: “Don’t do it.”
Robert: “What if they’re making up their minds at this very moment as to what is going on that album. You could lose a lot.”
Barney: “Do it! It’s done all the time.”
Ralph: “Stick to your guns. We’ve got great songs.”
Loucye: “Special rates aren’t that unusual. Other publishers do it, especially if they do more than a couple of songs.”