“O K, white it is.” Alan said and then asked the stage manager to get busy on the trusses removing the colored gels.
As the night wore on and show time approached, I sensed a true air of professionalism in the guys who were getting ready, most notably Nikki. Mick was rather quiet, strumming on an acoustic guitar, Tommy was joking around with some friends who had joined him and Vince seemed only slightly anxious.
Alan on the other hand was noticeably nervous and while the band and crew were sipping a few beers Alan kept ordering shots of Jack Daniel's from the backstage waitress and was becoming more than a little sloppy, even by my standards.
I decided to go downstairs and check out the crowd during Dökken's set. It was an enthusiastastic, sold out show and walking outside the club to catch some fresh air, I observed a line of people on the sidewalk reaching almost to the Whiskey, which was a good two blocks away, hoping to get inside the Roxy to see the Crüe.
It was impressive so far.
I went back upstairs as Dökken was finishing up their final song as Alan was shouting “Everybody except the guys out of the dressing room now!”
While girlfriends, buddies and roadies filed out, I went to leave and was tapped on the shoulder. Turning around, I see Alan.
“That doesn't mean you, Mike.”
I stayed and Alan went into a ‘sports coach’ like pre-show pep-talk not unlike the one I had given in the very recent Images days.
After that session, I told him I wanted to see the band from the audience in a fan's perspective, so I would meet him back in the dressing room at the end of the show.
It was time. The guys opened with ‘Take Me to The Top,’ went into ‘Piece of Your Action’ and then slowed things down slightly with ‘Merry Go Round,’ before a blistering version of ‘Live Wire.’ It had, unlike the W.A.S.P. show, a very good sound mix and their music came through the house system perfectly.
My first impression of the band was exactly what I had hoped for.
The musicianship, while still very good, was
actually not all that different from the hordes of other bands playing the strip. What was different, very different in fact, were the catchy songs. Lot's of great hooks, strong melodies and anthem-like lyrics that in my opinion would work well on radio. Good stage performances too and Nikki was right about the lighting. It looked fantastic.
The audience responded as you might expect.... they went insane. After the encore ended with ‘Helter-Skelter,’ I made my way through the crowd back to the dressing room where Alan was grinning like a proud new parent.
The guys too returned backstage, sweaty and jubilant over what was obviously an extremely successful show, changed into street clothes and then the backstage party began.
Shortly though I was approached by Alan who had obviously become upset about something.
“Mike we have a very serious problem!”
“We?” I asked. I hadn't officially joined the team yet
“What's up?”
“It's Vince's ex girlfriend, Lee. She's at the bottom of the dressing room stairs hysterical and refuses to leave until she sees Vince. We've got to get him past her somehow. She's threatening all sorts of shit, and there's no back stairs to escape.”
“That's a problem?” I said “Just get security to toss her ass out.” It seemed like a simple enough solution to me.
“No way will that work Mike, I don't want a big scene here and you don't know this bitch... I do! She's vicious!”
Thinking momentarily about the wretched wench that I had just broken up with and remembering how ‘douche by flash pot’ hadn't even fazed her, I was beginning to relate to the problem at hand.
“Well, Vince could sleep here in the locked dressing room overnight and we can pick him up in the morning after she gets tired of waiting and goes home or.....”
I had a brainstorm.
“Where's your car parked Alan?”
He told me he had rented a limo for the guys that evening and it was parked in the rear lot.
“Is there a sunroof?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Here's what we do. Have the driver pull the car underneath the dressing room window and open the sunroof. Then get a couple of the roadies to put the guitar cases in the back seat and leave the rest to me.”
I went down the flight of stairs and it wouldn’t have taken a Sherlock Holmes to figure out who Lee was, standing outside the locked stage door.
Indeed, she had that venomous ‘woman scorned’ look on her face and she was there for Vince's blood. I went into the kitchen where I knew I'd find Mario Junior, who was the Roxy manager and son of the owner.
“Mario, we need some rope immediately!”
With a wink he said, “Hmm... parties getting a little kinky upstairs huh?”
“No, no. It’s nothing like that. I'm serious, we need a sturdy rope, at least twenty feet.”
“Wait here, Mike, I'll see what I can find.”
While waiting I peered out the kitchen door which afforded a good view of the locked dressing room access and sure enough, Lee was still there, laying in wait for Vince's exit.
A few minutes later, Mario returns, successfully having found a coil of rope saying “Good luck, whatever you need this for.”
“I'll tell you later Junior... if it works.”
Meanwhile I'm thinking that if it doesn't work he'll be hearing the sirens within a couple of minutes.
Rope in hand I made my way past Lee who obviously knew by now I was with the band as she saw the bouncer unlock the stage door for me immediately.
Back upstairs, I found Alan who was even tipsier than before.
I went to the dressing room window, looked out below and sure enough, the car was in place directly below as I had requested, sunroof open.
Bingo.
I securely tied one end of the rope to an overhead pipe, tossed the other end out, scoring a perfect hit thru the open sunroof.
“Alan, tell Vince to put his stage gloves on and get in here.”
Vince comes in and immediately sees what I had in mind... and was ready to rappel to his escape.
Alan was worried. “What if he breaks a leg?”
“It’s like this Alan. I don't know the history of the relationship or exactly what the fuck is going on, but from the look I just saw on that girls face downstairs, it's a sure bet she'll break his legs. Now you go downstairs and when Vince is in the car, have him lie on the floorboard and put the guitar cases on top of him. I'll meet you two out there.”
Vince, who I must say had no fear of heights that night, shimmied down the rope past the rear wall of the Roxy and through the sunroof perfectly.
Realizing that time was of the essence and by making the trek down the stairs through the crowd and around the building to the parking lot would take me precious minutes, I knew I had only one option, and due to my fear of heights it wasn't a very pretty one....
Shit.
Perhaps it was the wine I'd consumed that night that gave me courage to do it, but I grabbed the rope and re-enacted Vince’s descent perfectly. Landing in the back seat of the limo through the sunroof opening I carefully avoided crushing Vince who was now safely concealed from his evil-ex under the pile of guitar cases. I swung over to the back seat where Alan was waiting.
“Move it!” I yelled to the chauffeur. As the limo pulled out of the narrow driveway between the Roxy and the Rainbow onto the Strip, Alan asked me “Mike were you in the Green Berets or something? Damn. That was brilliant!”
“Nah, I’m just creative. I think we can let Vince up now.”
Heading East on Sunset, Alan began to explain that he had rented a small two-bedroom apartment for the guys. Vince, Nikki and Tommy were living there while Mick opted to live near the Marina area with his then girlfriend, ex-Runaways ‘Wendy.’
The apartment was located on North Clark Street, about two blocks behind the Whiskey and just a short stroll to all the Sunset Strip clubs.
; I didn't want to say it in front of Vince, who by this time had crawled out from under the cases and was enjoying the limo ride, but I later told Alan I thought that it was a very bad idea.
“You should have put'em in some nothing shit-hole area like Santa Monica or Culver City. There are too many temptations for them in here in Hollywood.”
It wouldn't take long before Alan would come to see my point.
Arriving at the apartment which by this time was packed with friends of the band, it was obvious that the backstage party from the Roxy had simply relocated.
Soon, I glanced at my watch and it was 3:30 am. Given the late hour, the amount of alcohol that had been consumed by everyone, as well as the noise of the revelers, this was not the place or time for a serious business discussion.
I told Alan that I was going home but let's get together someplace quiet the following evening, to which he agreed.
After saying my goodbyes to the guys and the others that I had met that night, I started to leave when I realized my car was still parked at the Rainbow. It had been a long night.
Don the photographer offered to give me a lift.
During the ride back to the Rainbow, I jokingly said “I wonder if Lee's still waiting at the Roxy for Vince, Don?”
Sure enough, as we passed the now darkened Roxy, there she was sitting on the sidewalk, still waiting.
I never found out what that whole episode was about, and I regret not asking. It would have been interesting I'm sure.
So much has been written about the original ‘Mötley House,’ generally describing it as a ‘toxic waste dump’ that it's almost become a legend, even a tourist attraction. (The building has recently been torn down to make room for a new condominium development) Although I did see the infamous beer-can decorated Christmas tree and I'm sure the place would have never been featured on the ‘Martha Stewart's Living’ TV show, the place wasn't really all that bad, sparsely furnished and a bit messy, but I'd seen far worst College dorm rooms.
However, there did seem that there was a party there almost every other night and on one occasion I asked Nikki what happened to the glass in the kitchen window
He said it had been strategically removed so as to allow a quick rear exit of guests when the Sheriff's knocked on the front door, which was quite often due to noise complaints from the neighboring tenants.
I understood, as quick exits were becoming a big part of my Mötley experience.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Alan called me around noon the next day and we made plans for a dinner meeting that night at Casa Cugot, a quiet family style Mexican restaurant close by on LaCienega Boulevard.
Alan was right on time. After ordering a pitcher of margaritas he asked me “Well, interested?”
“Very much so, count me in. I have a lot of ideas for marketing the band especially after last nights show. We do need to discuss business though as I'll be devoting whatever time it takes to make this project successful, taking energy away from other ventures. What did you have in mind financially?”
Alan began to explain that Coffman & Coffman Productions was a partnership between he and his wife Barbara and for ‘legal reasons’ he could and would not dilute their management interest.
However, Leäthür Records was a partnership entity between himself, his wife and the four guys. His offer to me was a flat 20% equity position in Leäthür Records.
“That will dilute each of the existing partners share,” was my response. “Is everyone agreeable to that? Has it been discussed among yourselves?”
“Yes, and we're 100% in accord.”
“My next question is this, Alan. What if Leäthür Records goes forward and signs other acts? I’m gaining twenty percent ownership of the entire Company, not just Mötley Crüe, right? Let's make sure we understand each other here.”
“Absolutely, in fact Nikki said he wants to talk to you about RATT as he has some ideas for them that frankly he hasn't gone into details with me, but I trust his judgment.”
“And the financial obligations on my end are what?”
I was not in a position to obligate myself to any commitment of cash, great opportunity or not as I was walking a very tight personal financial high-wire at that moment.
“Not a dime, nothing what-so-ever. The out-of-pocket expenses you incur, well, just bring me the receipts and I'll reimburse you immediately.”
To my chagrin I soon found that he and I had very different definitions of ‘immediately.’
In the normal practice of business, I would have held out and negotiated for at least twenty-five to thirty percent of the pie, but given the lack of a necessary financial commitment on my end, and an ‘everything to gain nothing to lose’ opportunity, I reached my hand across the table.
We shook.
“It's a deal.”
I requested a copy of the original Leäthür Records partnership agreement and preferably the Coffman and Coffman Productions management agreement.
“Certainly, the Leäthür Records contract is no problem Mike, that will be inclusive to our written agreement and I'll give you a copy of the management agreement, but I will not allow the management document to be read by any attorney.”
I didn’t bother asking ‘why not?’
Overall though, Alan’s offer made, in my opinion, pure hard-core business sense, a near perfect situation. I was being handed a percentage of what I knew could become a valuable commodity with zero cash exposure. I was confident enough in my own promotional and business talents to know that I could make the project successful and was anxious to get it rolling. Besides, I liked Coffman and the thought of having an associate in what I was quickly discovering was an insane business to share the overall burden was very much welcomed.
Over dessert, I said “I need tools Alan. Physical elements, marketing tools that I can get into the hands of agents, promoters and club owners. I’ll need a case of cassette tapes and 45s. Anything else that you can give me you might think is worthwhile like T-shirts, buttons, bumper stickers.. Mötley Crüe panties or pasties?
Only half in jest I also suggested we create ‘Mötley Crüe-doms’ for audience tosses. That probably wasn’t such a bad idea as twenty years later Gene Simmons actually developed the KISS Condoms.
My mind was full of ideas and I went on... “When it's complete, how do you plan to distribute this first LP on Leäthür?
Original Coffman/Flaherty contract equaling 20% of Leathür Records.
Self-distribution is very hard if not impossible.” “What about radio airplay? In my opinion our timing is perfect as people are sick of the Blondie shit and ‘Rock the Casaba.’ Perhaps the market is ready for something different, like that New British metal band Def Leppard who seem to be getting some U.S. airplay with ‘Watch Out For The Rock Brigade.’ That’s a good sign and maybe the programmers will listen to my pitch, but what are your thoughts?”
There was no answer except a deep sigh and “We'll have to wait and see on that one, Mike.”
The evening ended with me asking what the current schedule was for the band. There were several shows booked including a two-night gig at the Whiskey, an upcoming Country Club show and a radio interview with CSN radio, a popular college station based at Cal-State Northridge University. As important as these dates were, priority was finishing up the album as soon as possible.
“I'd like you to attend this Friday's RATT show at the Whisky with Nikki, too. I want your opinion on them too Mike.”
The next morning I got the ball rolling early. Business cards and stationary were ordered, a new phone line installed, and that afternoon I dropped into the studio to have Alan review a draft of the media kit I had envisioned. He agreed and gave it the green light. I took a quick drive to the Valley to purchase a copy of Billboard's ‘Talent and Booking Directory,’ the agents ‘bible’' which lists virtually every major club and venue in the country. I was determined to get a Mötley Crüe tour together immediately.
Later that week, Alan ca
lled to inform me that he had to fly back to Grass Valley to take care of an urgent matter that had come up in his construction business.
“Look after the guys and take care of anything that may happen. Call me if it’s urgent.”
Meanwhile, I remembered that I still hadn't gotten back to Blackie. It had been several weeks since that first W.A.S.P. show and I felt bad that I had neglected to give him even the courtesy of a phone call.
I decided to drop by his apartment and explain in person.
“That was one hell of a show, Steve. I'd like to hear a demo of the music as I'm very big on hooks and melodies. Blood, fire and rats are great live but that won't come across on radio. I'm not saying the song dynamics are not there but frankly I couldn't hear them due to the volume.”
“Second problem is our timing's bad. I would really like to get involved with your project but I've just made a commitment to Mötley Crüe.”
He smiled. “Nikki is a very good friend of mine and in fact we were in ‘Sister’ together.”
“Any relation to White Sister?” I asked, remembering the opening band on that ill-fated Images Country Club date.
“No not at all.”
Steve went on to explain that he had within the last day or so had signed a management agreement with a fellow named Rod Smallwood who was Iron Maiden's manager from England.
We congratulated each other on our respective deals, shook hands and promised to keep in touch. Once again walking out together past the classic Jaguars, he invited me to the following Saturday's W.A.S.P. Troubadour show. “I'll leave a backstage pass at the box office for you.”
“I'll be there.”
Driving home I remembered that like the Roxy, the Troubadour dressing rooms are on the second floor of the building, I made a mental note to put some rope in the trunk of my car. Just in case.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Friday, I picked Nikki up at the studio and we drove to the Rainbow for an early dinner before the RATT show.
Metal, Madness & Mayhem - An Insiders Journey Through The Hollywood 80s Page 6