We drove to the Galleria (totally!) and walked around the mall through a stunned crowd as the DJ and the nearly naked rock star shopped for brunch-worthy attire to replace the barely-there towel that she wore so well.
That laughter was gone now. Terri took one step, then doubled-over as tears exploded from those gorgeous eyes.
I turned to Peter and barked, “Take Karen back in the car. I’ll find my own way home. Go!”
Peter scooped Karen up in his arms and ran with her to the waiting limo. I turned and pushed through the confused crowd. If I can just make it to Terri . . . I sprinted towards her as fast as I could run. Her door slammed shut when I was just a few feet away from my love.
I was banging on her window as she started the car. I could see her hunched forward over the wheel as the tears flowed down her face and sobbing racked her body. I hit the window again.
“I love you,” I yelled.
She looked up at me with a huge emptiness in her eyes and dropped the car into gear.
“I love you!” I pleaded again.
She turned her head away and jammed her foot down on the accelerator. It was the last time I would see her for more than seven years.
The limo was gone and Terri was gone. I stood there in the parking lot stunned. As Terri’s tail-lights disappeared into the darkness they took my dreams with them. The crowd knew something big had happened but weren’t sure what exactly. Overhead, the plane continued to mock me as it circled with its message of a never-to-be future still scrolling across its wings and lighting the night sky.
A buzz went through the group. “Was that Terri Nunn from Berlin?” I could only nod. It was hard to form words.
I continued to stare in the direction that Terri had driven off. I realized that this was a major turning point in my life. It marked a chapter that would never be written, a destiny that would never be fulfilled.
There was a deep secret we had between us that I have never revealed to anyone until now and all these years later as I type these words to share it with you, that moment still resonates through me.
Months before, I had gone over to Terri’s apartment to pick her up for another memorable date but almost immediately that evening became more unforgettable than I could have imagined. As soon as I arrived Terri asked me to sit down and then quietly explained that a few days before she had found out she was pregnant with our child and didn’t know how to tell me.
She had thought carefully about the options and everything that was happening with us, then made the decision to end the unplanned pregnancy.
“I did it this morning. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first. I hope you’re okay with it?”
I stood up, pulled her into me and held her tight. “Are you all right?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. A little sad.”
I was lost for words. This was a lot to take in all at once. I had never thought of having children because I had been so focused on pursuing my dreams but now, holding Terri, I felt such a great loss sweep over me as my mind raced through scenarios of the two of us growing old together as the parents of our loved child.
“We’ll have plenty of time to have another,” she told me. “After all of this (our careers) is established.”
But for once she was wrong. We had no more time. There would never be another child for either of us. And it was entirely my fault. Terri was blameless. She had wanted to make our relationship work even as both of our careers skyrocketed.
This girl had fought for me, had battled one-on-one with no less than David Geffen, who had called her into his office and ordered her to stop dating me because I was a radio DJ and that could be bad for her career. But Terri didn’t flinch. This diminutive girl went toe-to-toe and faced down the billionaire mogul and told him to go ahead and drop her from the label, Geffen, if he wanted, but she was not giving up on me.
It was too much. Tears began to form. I remember saying to someone, “Tell Toddy I’ll be down in a minute.” I wandered aimlessly across the parking lot until I crumbled to my knees behind a van and cried like a newborn baby for what could have been. And above, the plane continued to blink out its message of a promise that would never be fulfilled.
I’M READY TO JUMP. MARRY ME. TERRI.
Eight months later Berlin’s second album Lovelife was released. In the liner notes Terri dedicated it to Joyce, her wonderful mother, and to me. The biggest hit on that album, “No More Words,” contains the lines:
“You’re telling me you love me, but you’re looking away.
No more words, no more promises.”
VIDEO (nearly) KILLED THE RADIO STAR
As 1983 drew to a close I was not in the best place. In a little more than twelve months I had not only lost my father, but a great love, Terri Nunn, who I could not get out of thoughts no matter how hard I tried, and my two TV shows, MV3 and MV Network, which had fallen apart and been taken off the air.
Slowly things began to look up when I was approached by Mick Kennedy, who ironically had previously worked with Steve Poole and helped create MV3. Now Mick was prepping to launch a weekly music and interview show across Southern California called L.A. Music Guide. The format was perfect for me and I signed the deal with Mick, Larry Namer and Dick Brooks and the series was set to debut that winter on multiple cable systems covering more than 400,000 viewers.
Less than a month later a producer from Japan contacted me about shooting a series of commercials for them playing a DJ called Mr. Doughnut. I wasn’t quite sure how they picked me for that as doughnuts were definitely not a part of my diet but I was more than happy to cooperate and be their spokesperson.
They had me draw out a layout of a radio booth and then gave me the shooting schedule for the following week to film six commercials. When I showed up to the studio I was stunned that my chicken-scratch drawings had come to life and their custom-built studio looked more authentic than KROQ’s real on-air booth.
Shooting Mr. Doughnut commercials for Japan
We shot for fourteen hours non-stop and I think they were pleased with the results as they signed me for a second campaign to air over Christmas.
The company came back to me and offered me another sponsorship to be a spokesman for cigarettes in Japan. I thanked them but turned it down flat. One thing I refuse to do is endorse a product that’s known to kill, so cigarettes were out for me. Mr. Doughnut was one thing, but Mr. Smoker? Never!
At the beginning of November I was asked to go to the headquarters of KCBS in Los Angeles. The program director there, Mary Kellogg, had seen some of the footage from the ill-fated CBS network show, MV Network, and asked if I would like to host a year-end special for them called CBS Music Video Countdown.
We met in her office at KCBS and hit it off immediately. Mary wanted me to be very hands-on with the project and asked if I knew anyone who could help with the videos, both obtaining them and clearing the rights. Did I know someone! One phone call and Peter Facer and I were working together again. The boys were back in town.
We came up with a format to spotlight the year’s top twelve albums and created a set that featured the album covers blown up to a four foot by four foot size and printed on glass. That way we could hang them and hit them from behind with a backlight and I could walk between the glowing covers talking about the bands and introducing the videos.
The two-hour show aired the last week of December 1983 on CBS. Mary was thrilled by the huge overnight ratings the countdown achieved and without hesitation offered me a contract to do a second retrospective for them the following year.
It seemed my budding TV career was getting back on track; the big question was how to maintain this momentum. I met with Peter and suggested that we start producing our own video shows and get financial backers to underwrite them. I had been signed by an amazing agent, Eric Gold, and he said that if I came up with the programming concepts he’d find the investors.
I sat with Peter at a coffee shop in Los Feliz and we spent four hours hashin
g out ideas for a show on the back of a napkin. We came up with a thirty-minute weekly program that would be heavy on interviews and shot on location. We would cut the interviews with the latest music videos and try and use our editing techniques to match the concept of the video itself; if it was letterboxed then we would shoot in that format, if it was in black and white then we would go monochrome, if it was filmed at the beach or at night then that’s how we would shoot the interviews and my host wrap-arounds.
Peter and me on the set of our second CBS Music Video Countdown
It was an ambitious format but Peter and I knew we could do it. We set ourselves a deadline to shoot and edit the pilot and Peter got to work calling the record companies.
We picked a day in early January 1984 to shoot the interviews for the pilot. Peter had found out that a number of groups and artists were in Los Angeles that week and had booked five interviews in one day. It was the craziest, most impossible schedule imaginable.
We hired a three person crew to work with us: one for camera, one for sound and one for lighting. We met with them ahead of the shoot and explained that we were going to be running all day and into the night. Peter and I would help carry the equipment. Spare batteries were a must as there would be no time for recharging and backup gear was a necessity in case anything failed during the shoot. I brought several changes of clothes with me so we could make it look as though the footage were shot over multiple days and rented a van so we could all travel together and not get separated by the notoriously bad LA traffic. At 9am that morning we all met up in Hollywood.
Our first stop was a hotel on Wilshire Boulevard where we interviewed Boy George and Culture Club. I knew Boy from the radio interviews I’d done with him months before and we slipped back into the rhythm we’d had together on mic instantly. Boy was funny, articulate and played to the camera. He was everything that an interviewer could hope for, the perfect guest.
Then we hustled our gear into the van and met up with a British rockabilly band called Roman Holliday. They had two hits, “Stand By” and “Don’t Try to Stop It.” That second song’s video was shot as if they were on tour in a van so that’s how we filmed the video with them in the van. That way we could cut back and forth from the clip and make it look as if the interview were actually a part of the video itself.
Next it was the turn of The Gap Band, who were having huge success with “Party Train.” That video was shot at Venice Beach so naturally that became the setting for our interview as it matched the video footage perfectly. After we wrapped with The Gap Band I shot a series of host intros there with an eclectic crowd on roller-blades, along with beach babes and body-builders to complete the fun visuals.
There was still no stopping for Peter, me or the crew. We grabbed the gear, raced back across town to Sunset Blvd. to do an interview with Nick Heyward from Haircut 100, who was having a solo hit with a single, “Blue Hat for a Blue Day.” Nick was gracious and talked not only about his current music but went back to the days of Haircut 100 which allowed us to air “Love Plus One” and “Boy Meets Girl.”
Our final interview of the day was at 9pm, outside on the rooftop deck of Le Parc Hotel in Beverly Hills with my friends in Spandau Ballet. Their manager, Steve Dagger, knew how important this was for us and made sure all five of the band were there. It was a cold night and in the footage you can see our breath freezing in the chilly night air.
With Boy George
With Nick Heyward
We finished the shoot and were back at our cars in Hollywood around 1a.m. the next morning. It had been total madness attempting to do what we did but somehow we pulled it off. It was guerilla TV-making at its finest. They said it couldn’t be done so we went ahead and did it anyway.
For the next two weeks we edited the pilot and while doing that Peter and I realized we had so much footage that maybe there were other things we could use it for. We kept that in the back of our minds as we locked picture on our demo tape and got ready to try to sell the series.
With the pilot complete it was my turn to get on the phone. My first call was to KTLA channel 5. They aired Casey Kasem’s video countdown on Saturday mornings so I knew they had a good understanding of what video shows were all about. Within fifteen minutes of leaving a message for the program director of the station, David Simon, I received a call back.
David was a fan of my radio show and was happy to meet with me, so two days later Peter and I walked into David’s office at Tribune Broadcasting in Hollywood and after a few minutes of pleasantries slipped the VHS of VideoBeat into David’s tape machine.
The seven-minute demo flew by and even as I ejected the tape I heard David saying, “How about if I give you the Saturday morning 10am slot? You can be the lead-in for Casey.”
It sounded great to us and David explained he’d have his programming department draw up the contract.
“I’d like you to start mid-March. I’ll get you the exact date,” he said. “We’ll start with a four-episode commitment. We’ll be going into ratings sweeps. Can you be ready by then?”
No problem, we told him, and we left his office in a daze.
Peter and I didn’t speak until we were away from the building and outside on Sunset Boulevard. Then we turned to each other and screamed. We’d done the impossible. We’d sold the show “in the room.” That’s the stuff of Hollywood legend. Normally you receive a polite, “Oh, I really like it. Let’s see if we can find a place for it. I’ll call you.” And then you hear nothing. Zilch. Silence.
The rule is that in Hollywood no one ever says yes or no. Everything is “really good” and “Let’s talk soon.” Which is code for “Get the fuck out of my office.” In Hollywood you can die of encouragement. But we had walked away with a deal. This was almost unheard of.
We’d dreamt up the concept, we’d shot the show and now we’d sold it. And as we walked back to our cars filled with euphoria little did I know my problems were just beginning.
As executive producer, host and director of VideoBeat I was wearing a lot of hats. I met with Eric Gold, my agent, and told him the good news and now it was his job to put the awkward little bits together, like finding the money to do the show and a place to partner with to shoot and edit it.
Eric brought in a major video facility in Hollywood to be the production house for VideoBeat and found a small, independent record company who wanted to underwrite the funding of the show, depending on the budget.
Eric, Peter and I crunched the numbers, and I do mean crunched. The video facility wanted $4,000 an episode for which they would provide two days of editing and access to camera crews. We would also bring a lot of our acts to shoot at their facility so they could use that to advertise their services and offset their costs.
Peter would book all the artists, obtain clearances for the videos and be the line producer for the shoots, both in studio and on location. I would write the show, host it and direct it. Peter and I would both be there for the edit sessions. It was a lot for us to do but it meant we could keep the costs way down. Our salaries would be $1,000 each per episode. With a $500 pad for unexpected costs we came up with the incredibly low cost of $6,500 to deliver a thirty-minute TV show. The investor agreed and we were ready to rock.
The word was in all the trade magazines that Richard Blade had sold a show to Tribune broadcasting and very quickly other stations were coming to me. KCOP channel 13 asked if there was any way I could produce a one-off special for them on their leap-year night, Wednesday, February 29.
Peter and I had a lot of footage left over from our crazy day of shooting the VideoBeat pilot, plus I had a huge event coming up with the hottest band in the world, Duran Duran, so I knew we could do something spectacular. I signed to produce and host a two-hour special called SuperStars of Video and to match the name I sat down with Peter to line up an all-star cast.
What KCOP forgot to tell us was that they wanted us on the air on February 29 because America—and the world’s—number-one TV show at t
hat time, Dynasty, was airing a very special episode to follow the previous week’s cliff-hanger ending which had Fallon Carrington hit by a car. “Is Fallon dead?” screamed all the newspapers, “Tune in and find out Wednesday, February 29!” That was the competition that SuperStars of Video was facing. But amazingly enough, even though we had our asses handed to us in the “adult” ratings we were number one with teens and number two with 18–24-year-old viewers. As a result KCOP was thrilled, and unknown to anyone at that time, across town at KHJ channel 9, the former home of MV3, they saw the numbers and began making their own plans.
With SuperStars of Video done we returned our attention to polishing VideoBeat and making it the very best it could be. We were elated when it debuted on KTLA Channel 5 on Saturday, March 17, 1984, to huge ratings. We more than doubled the previous show’s audience and gave Casey Kasem’s America’s Top 10 its biggest lead-in ever and its highest ratings in eighteen months. The following Monday Casey had a magnum of Dom Perignon champagne sent to my apartment with a wonderful thank you note.
Our second show on March 24 was rated even higher and set a record for the time slot. David Simon called me into his office and gave me a revised contract. It was no longer for just four episodes; it was for a full twenty-six week commitment with the station having the option to renew for another twenty-six weeks. VideoBeat was locked in for an entire year! The trade magazines reported:
KTLA has ordered up a 26-week run for “Video Beat” the Saturday morning music vid show, which the station initially had commissioned for four weeks. KROQ DJ Richard Blade hosts and coproduces.
It was so exciting to read that in the press, but who knew that just a couple of weeks later I would regret signing that deal as I watched my bank account empty.
World in My Eyes: The Autobiography Page 30