Bert continued. “It’s going to be a little rough, I’ll warn you. This won’t exactly be luxury living.” His eyes fixed on each musician, one by one, as he assessed their resolve. “Is there anything else we need to talk about?” No one responded. “Okay, then. I’ll call Charlie when I’m ready for you to join me and he’ll let everyone know.”
Silence ensued for a few moments. Then Abe spoke up. “What is it exactly that we’re going to do in Los Angeles?”
Bert wasn’t really sure just yet. He just knew that he needed to get to the hub of the music industry and quickly, while the band was still riding its wave. He’d have time to work out what to do in L.A. on the long bus ride. “I’ve got some contacts in the industry who can help us,” Bert answered, purposely vague.
“Uh huh,” Abe responded skeptically.
* * *
After the band members headed off in their separate directions, Charlie approached Bert. “Bert, I thought that you and I were sort of, like, a team within the team. Why can’t I come with you to L.A.?”
“I wish you could, Charlie, but I need you to hold things together here. Keep the band practicing, and make sure everyone stays together and gets down to L.A. when I call. I need you here more than I need you there.”
Charlie felt a warm glow. Bert was entrusting him to be the caretaker of the band.
* * *
Bert arrived in Los Angeles on Monday afternoon after a long and tedious bus ride. He used to come down to L.A. regularly on business, since the Sapphire Record Company headquarters and executive offices were located here. It had been twelve long years since his last trip, but he still remembered his way around. I wonder how much has changed, he thought. He sure had.
Bert spent his first two days back in the City of Angels making logistical arrangements. He knew he was putting off the visit to Sapphire Records, feeling anxious over whom and what he would find there after all these years.
He had found a hostel in Leimert Park, where he managed to negotiate a low per-day rate with the owner by committing for the band to reside there for a month. The hostel owner also agreed to allow the Redeemers the usage of a large storage closet for their equipment. Over the years of panhandling, and without much in the way of fixed expenses, Bert had managed to scrape together enough money to keep the band afloat for awhile. Nonetheless, he needed to keep expenses to the bare minimum.
Bert had also used part of the two days to acclimate himself to the big city once again. Several times throughout his wanderings, he found himself strolling past the twenty story mirrored glass building that was home to Sapphire Records, almost hoping that by chance, something magical would happen. It didn’t. After the fourth pass on Wednesday, Bert took up residence on a bench in a park along Wilshire Boulevard, just across from the building.
Tomorrow needs to be the day, he thought to himself. He fished a folded piece of scrap paper from his pocket on which he had jotted down all the names from the company he could think of during the bus journey. Hopefully at least one of the six would still be there and of a mind to talk to him.
At 10:00 the following morning, dressed in his finest attire--navy blue dress pants, a blue and white striped dress shirt slightly wrinkled, a maroon tie without pattern, black shoes that had just been shined on the streets that morning, and the gray fedora--and not without a little trepidation, Bert entered the offices of Sapphire Records.
He approached the young, overly made-up woman seated at the circular desk in the center of the building’s lobby. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he started, taking the piece of paper from his breast pocket, unfolding it, and handing it to the woman. “I’m trying to locate some former colleagues of mine. Would it be possible to tell me if they still work at this office location?”
“Sure,” answered the receptionist, taking the paper. “Did you used to work here?”
“Actually, I worked in the San Francisco office. But I’ve been down here a few times previously. Is the hall of gold records still up there on the seventh floor?” Bert asked, hoping to add some legitimacy to his story. From his past life, he had remembered an almost shrinelike display of the company’s gold records.
“Sure is,” she answered cheerfully. She gave the paper a quick scan and then looked up at Bert. “Mr. James’s office is on the sixth floor,” she said, referring to Edgar James who Bert remembered all too well. “I don’t recognize any of the others. Do you want me to look them up in the corporate directory?”
“That would be really nice of you,” Bert answered.
Another man approached the desk and waited to the side of Bert. The receptionist took a few minutes, typing key strokes into the computer in front of her. “John Stapleton is coming up, but it says he’s located in the London office. Is that possible?”
“I suppose so,” Bert responded. He really had no idea where anyone might or might not be.
“I’m coming up with nothing on the other four. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” replied Bert. “You’ve been a tremendous help to me. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
As Bert walked away, she turned to help the other man. Bert wandered over to the elevators, wondering if she would call out to stop him, but she didn’t.
* * *
Bing. The elevator doors opened on the sixth floor and Bert emerged into a small foyer with glass doors to one side. He approached the receptionist, looking to his left and right, both to see if there was anyone walking about whom he recognized as well as to gape at the well-appointed offices.
“Hold on please,” said the receptionist into the telephone, pressing a button and placing the phone in its cradle. She looked at Bert curiously. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am. My name is Bert Ingram. I’m an old friend of Edgar James. Is he in today?”
“He’s in, but he’s tied up in meetings all day. Is he expecting you, Mr. Ingram?”
“No. I was just –”
“Is it something urgent?”
Bert smiled. “Oh, no. Thanks for asking. We used to work together and I’m back in the business now, so I wanted to reconnect with Edgar.”
“I could leave him a message to call you, if you’d like,” responded the receptionist, who seemed to be trying to be helpful without being too helpful. Bert wondered if she had been trained to screen out any meetings not initiated directly by Edgar or one of his superiors.
Bert was sure Edgar would remember him--after all, his departure from the company would be hard to forget. On the other hand, the nature of the split made Bert fairly certain that Edgar would not return a casual phone call from him, or possibly any other kind. He didn’t seem to have a choice at the moment, though. “Sure,” he said finally, and gave her the number of the cell phone he had recently purchased.
Back out on the street, Bert thought about his next steps. He really needed to see Edgar James. He needed someone to hear the Redeemers play and take a personal, emotional stake in the band. Edgar was well connected, and with just a word could set all the machinery Bert needed into motion.
Bert spent the remainder of the morning and the early part of the afternoon killing time around the city, impatiently waiting for his phone to ring. Periodically, he took it from his breast pocket just to make sure he hadn’t missed a call. Nothing. Around 3:00, Bert’s impatience got the best of him and he placed a call to Edgar’s office. He asked the receptionist for Edgar’s voicemail, and once connected, left a more specific message, describing the band and the great opportunity he would like to present to him. He again left his cell phone number.
Over the course of the next two days, Bert obsessively checked his cell phone as he traveled around the city. At one point, his hopes jumped as a call came in, but it was merely Charlie checking in to see how Bert was doing. The two spoke briefly, and Bert didn’t let on of his difficulties in reaching his former colleagues. Bert continued to place calls to Edgar’s office every few hours on that Friday and the following Monday, but he wa
s consistently greeted with the response that Edgar wasn’t available and the receptionist would see to it that he received Bert’s message.
By the third day of this, Bert was ready for a new approach and decided to try to catch Edgar walking into the building. He took up residence in front of the Sapphire Records headquarters at 6:30 A.M. to make sure he’d be there first, even if Edgar was an early riser. For the better part of an hour, Bert paced in front of the building, sizing up the pedestrians to make sure that Edgar didn’t slip by him. He didn’t think that Edgar would necessarily recognize him right away, but the reverse was also true.
Nearing 7:30 A.M., Bert spotted a broad-shouldered, distinguished-looking man with a graying beard and mustache walking south along the street toward the building. He wore what appeared to be an Italian cut, gray pinstripe suit, with a white shirt and yellow silk tie. Bingo! Bert thought. That’s got to be him. The man Bert was looking at was a little heavier than Bert remembered, and certainly more gray, but the strong jaw line, deep set eyes, and athletic build had not changed. And he still dressed sharply. He was accompanied by a younger man, dressed in a crisp, navy pinstripe suit, royal blue shirt and gray tie. The two were talking as they walked purposefully toward the building. Bert stepped in their path as they approached the glass doors.
Holding open the door for them, Bert addressed Edgar as he was about to pass in front of him. “Hello, Edgar,” Bert said, extending his right hand while holding back the door with his left. “It’s me. Bert Ingram.” Bert flashed a wide smile.
Edgar’s puzzled expression turned into a smile of recognition as he stepped through the door while Bert followed. Edgar then halted and faced Bert. “Bert, my god, it’s been a long time. I got some messages that you called, but I haven’t had time to call you back yet.”
Bert suspected that Edgar had no genuine intention to call him, but it didn’t really matter now. Edgar looked toward his companion, who had continued walking, and called out to him. “Jim, I’ll give you a call in a few minutes.” Jim gave a quick wave and headed toward the elevator bank.
“How’ve you been, Bert?”
“I’m terrific. You seem to be doing well for yourself.”
“Thanks. It’s a living,” Edgar said in obvious understatement. “Listen, I’ve got to run to a meeting. It was good to see you.” Edgar tried to move away, but Bert put his hand on his shoulder.
“Edgar, I need a few minutes of your time. I’ve got this great band and --”
Edgar laughed. “I know, I know. You always have this great band. You know I can’t do business with you anymore.”
“Please, Edgar, hear me out.”
Edgar hesitated for a moment. He then pulled a Blackberry from his breast pocket and checked his calendar. “Okay, tell you what. Can you stop up today at 2:30? I can squeeze you in for half an hour.”
“That would be great,” said Bert beaming. “You won’t regret it.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” Edgar laughed uneasily, gave Bert a light slap on the shoulder, and headed over to the elevators.
Bert and Edgar had once been peers, scouting and managing bands, Bert based in Northern California and Edgar in the Phoenix area. A competitive thread had run through their relationship, but there was an animosity beyond that. It was largely a matter of style. Edgar was the slick, highly polished mover and shaker. Bert was the working class, grind-it-out, street hustler. Eventually, a run of successes led Edgar to the corporate headquarters as the Director of A&R responsible for finding new acts in the Western U.S. This group included Bert.
As Bert’s fortunes began to tumble some time later, Edgar had repeatedly pulled Bert aside and given him warnings regarding the path down which he was heading. When the day arrived that Bert had finally exhausted his chances, it was Edgar who had called Bert in to tell him the news.
Bert had pleaded for a reprieve, but Edgar had held firm. Bert’s behavior, he was told, was becoming too costly and embarrassing for the company. Bert threatened to sue and ultimately settled for a six-month severance package. He hadn’t spoken to anyone at Sapphire since. Until today.
* * *
Bert arrived a few minutes early for the 2:30 appointment and absentmindedly flipped through one of the Billboard magazines that sat on a table in the reception area. At 2:35, he was summoned.
“Okay, Bert,” began Edgar, skipping the conventional pleasantries. “What brings you back here?”
“Like I said on the message, Edgar, I’ve got a great band that I think you ought to hear. Seeing as you and I used to work together, I wanted to give you the first opportunity to --”
“Let me cut you off,” interrupted Edgar. “You know that when you left before, you signed an agreement to stay away from Sapphire Records. I couldn’t work with you even if I wanted to.”
“You wouldn’t be employing me. I just happen to be the manager of an act that you could sign onto your label. This is an act that can’t miss.”
Edgar gave a long, hard laugh. “Can’t miss. Can’t miss. C’mon, Bert. You know that you and I never saw eye to eye. And after what happened, how could I feel comfortable working a deal with you?”
“This isn’t about me any longer. It’s about this band --”
“No, Bert. I’m afraid it still is about you. Too many of your deals crashed and burned. I can’t take that chance.” He paused and lowered his voice which had steadily crept louder. “I’m sorry, Bert. I just can’t help you.”
Bert started to object further, but caught himself, realizing that this line of discussion was not going to yield anything positive. He decided to pursue another avenue. “What about the others? Tom? Linda? Sebastian? Are any of them still around?”
“Tom’s over at EMI. Linda went to Arista. I’m pretty sure she’s still there. Sebastian retired a few months back. I heard he left the area. I don’t think he’s stayed connected. But I’d be surprised if any of them told you anything different from what I have.”
“I’d like to give them a shot anyway. One of them might remember some of the good things I’ve done.” Bert was now testing the depth of Edgar’s animosity.
Edgar bit. “Look, Bert. I remember the good things too. They’re just more than offset by the bad things. You know this industry. Image is everything. I really wish I could help you more.”
“That’s okay. I appreciate your being forthright with me. And your time. I know you’re a busy man.” Bert stood up and extended his hand. With a genuine smile, knowing that he might still need Edgar’s assistance before it was all over, he said “Edgar, it was good to see you again.”
“Good luck to you, Bert,” returned Edgar, and the two men parted ways.
Bert’s meetings with Tom and Linda produced similar results. He hadn’t expected otherwise, given that his previous relationship with Edgar, albeit strained, was deeper than his relationship with the others. Tom and Linda were the two most likely second-tier hopes, but Bert’s dealings with them had been less frequent.
It was clear from his discussions with them that his past had followed him and that he had been labeled: Difficult. Unpredictable. Erratic. Linda, now a talent scout at Arista, had been willing to hear out Bert’s story and actually seemed to find it interesting. However, between his personal reputation and the band’s small and concentrated fan base, she wasn’t willing to take a flyer on it. “Give me a call once you’ve created more of a following,” she had told him. She was probably just keeping an entrée in the unlikely event, in her mind, that the Redeemers ever started to make a name for themselves, he thought. Nonetheless, she had given him her business card, which was more than Tom had offered.
Frustrated, and truth be told, feeling a bit lonesome, Bert wandered the streets evaluating his next move. While he had been on his own for many years and developed a shield against the effects of solitude, the recent companionship from the other band members had created a new warmth. He needed that warmth now. And he had an idea, though it was kind of a long shot. He would summon
the band to Los Angeles.
Chapter 12 – The Posse
When the Redeemers piled off the bus in L.A., looking ragged and pleased to have arrived, Bert was waiting for them at the depot. He hailed a couple of taxis and gave the drivers the address of the hostel. Bert rode with Dave, Charlie, and Abe.
“How did Ann and the kids handle it when you told them about our trip, Dave?” he asked as they headed out.
“Ann’s pretty supportive,” answered Dave. “She wasn’t crazy about the idea, and she thinks I’m chasing rainbows, but she understands. She knows I haven’t been happy in awhile and she sees the positive change you guys have brought out in me. It’ll be tougher for the kids, but I’ll call every day.”
The hostel was a two-story whitewashed building that had been converted from a recreation center several years back. It featured a small reception and common area in the front, with a dining area off to the right, consisting of nothing more than a few long tables and a couple of vending machines. A hallway behind led to the guest rooms and the stairway to the second floor. The room Bert had let contained eight cots (one more than the Redeemers needed), a small table with four chairs, and a bathroom. The floors were covered with gray vinyl tile. The walls were devoid of decoration.
That night, when everyone was settled into their squalid accommodations, Bert pulled Charlie and Gene aside. He had told the band members that afternoon that he had connections at three of the major record labels. However, he chose to omit the specific details of his conversations in favor of telling the band that there was a level of interest, but the record company executives would need some more persuading. Bert assured the band members that Los Angeles was exactly where they needed to be right then. The city was ripe with the opportunity to be discovered. They just needed to make their presence known.
Bert felt he could confide in Charlie and he wanted Gene’s counsel, so he had asked each of them to meet him in the hostel’s common area once the others were in bed. Gathered on couches which had long lost their spring, Bert filled in Gene and Charlie. He limited the detail of his travails in L.A., but through the whispered conversation, Bert made it obvious that things hadn’t gone as well as he had hoped. Over the course of the next hour, the three men sat quietly and devised a plan of action.
Ladies and Gentlemen...The Redeemers Page 14