"In Which Spinal Tap Emerge with the Story of My Life..."

I received a call from my mother, telling me that her best friend's son was making a movie and was looking for a publicist. The son turned out to be the brilliant satirist Harry Shearer, whom I had known back in the days when we were promoting records at KRLA. Harry had been with the Credibility Gap, a radical radio-comedy group that did social satire, and wonderfully skewed commentary on KRLA as the Rose Bowl Parade aired on TV. Now, Harry had teamed up with fellow Gap-ster Michael McKean, along with Christopher Guest and first time feature director Rob Reiner for a rock'n' roll spoof which they had called "This is Spinal Tap"

Their goal for publicity in advance of the release of this film was that it not be perceived as a "medical movie." I totally got it, feeling that they had written the story of my life. Harry even told me that he based the character of New York publicist Bobbi Fleckman on me (loosely), and I secured the most fun project of my career. Thus, I got to work with what I considered The Beatles of Comedy, as they outlined for me, and subsequently the Rock'n'roll press, the history of this British band, who were preparing their "Tap Into America" tour.

There I was one day, with a video tape excerpt of the film, which I had brought up to the office of Rolling Stone to show the scene to their West Coast editor, Steve Pond. The scene was of Tap's efforts to use the theme of Stonehenge in their stage show. The Stonehenge pillars had been created according to a crude drawing, and instead of being 18 feet, they were built 18 inches tall. For those not familiar with how ingeniously Tap's management tried to make the most of the mistake, a midget was hired to dance next to the 18" pillars, which were lowered to the stage in the midst of the band's show. Steve Pond was appropriately impressed, and then showed me a faxed press announcement from Black Sabbath that he had received that day. Seems they were going on tour that summer with the theme of their stage show being-- Stonehenge. Life Imitating Art, or was it the other way around??

The meetings with the guys in Tap were a hoot, as ideas were thrown back and forth as to how to position this film, and as the rough cut was finished, and the "word of mouth" screenings began, the press were nearly unanimous in their delight. The vignettes of life on the road with The Tap became the major buzz of the music business. However, not everyone was convinced it was comedy; many musicians thought Reiner & Co. had ripped off the story of their lives. We knew it was brilliant, and it has become the standard for rock comedy, a classic of our time. I felt that my life was complete, and although Embassy Pictures didn't keep me on after the picture was released, the work was done, the buzz we had created worked, and Spinal Tap's audience found them. Almost 20 years later Tap played Carnagie Hall, raised tons of money for charity, and is considered god-like in the theology of Rock 'n' Roll.

David and Donna Langer were an incredible couple I had met through my association with Kip Morrison, and through their efforts to create the first celebrity event to bring attention to the World Hunger Project. They had been early associates of Werner Erhart (est), and were early pioneers in presenting relationship workshops. They had opened a PR/marketing office on Melrose Avenue, and asked me to come in and work out of their office. They specialized in health and Foundation clients, worked with a Dr. Gary Alter, who did the first penile implants, and took on fun projects like the first electric toilet seat, and the first talking teddy bears. My kind of people. Together we worked on The Great Peace March, an aborted attempt of a couple hundred dedicated but misguided souls to march across the U.S. for Peace.

"More and bigger Changes, My Pacific-Rim Shot!"

Again, I was ready for a change, and this time, it was a life change. I made up my mind after the 1984 Olympics, in which the world came to L.A. (and nobody left), that it was time for me to take a break from the business, so over the next couple of years, I plotted and packed, and in 1987 moved to Maui. I felt that having spent the first half of my life in LA, I was determined to spend the second haslf in Maui. I had hopes of landing a job in one of the hotel P.R. departments, thinking, quite mistakenly, as it turned out, that my resume and vast experience would mean something. Not so, and, blessedly, I lived a Non-PR, Stress-free existance for almost five years, selling activities to the thousands of tourists who were coming to that island in search of whatever. Back then, Nirvana meant a week on a Maui Beach. I highly recommend it, to this day. I came home after almost 5 years, when the tourist economy in Hawaii soured at the outbreak of the Gulf War.

February 1991, I returned to L.A., a changed (and much mellower) person, back to a much crazier city. Fax machines, freeways full of people on car phones (some of whom were shooting each other), and I had to get used to a pace suited to gerbils on endless treadmills. Within the first month I landed at Rhino Records, publicizing what I had been told was Harold Bronson's favorite band, Big Daddy. These 8 guys took the songs that were current chart toppers, such as Madonna's "Like a Virgin," "Graceland," "Born to Run," and "Money For Nothing," and arranged them in the styles of the '50's and '60's. Very funny stuff, very clever guys. Their live show was wonderful, but due to the economics involved (and no management),they were only able to perform in L.A. We tried to get Rhino to put up some video money for them, but it was not to be. The album,"Cutting Their Own Groove," received great reviews, even Time Magazine and People loved it, and Rhino did its best to secure some radio for the brilliant tracks. But they weren't used to dealing with a live group, as most of the albums (CDs now) Rhino was releasing at this time were of groups and artists who had retired, or had long since shuffled off this mortal coil. So, something this off-beat was relegated to the Dr. Demento Show and a bit of play on morning radio shows. Anyway, these very talented guys made a total of four albums, including a 25th anniversary tribute to "Sgt. Pepper." In 2000, Oglio Records released "The Best of Big Daddy", but alas, hardcore fans of The Band couldn't bring 'em back alive. Today, Big Daddy is just a memory, and I cherish their friendship and the time we spent together.

Later, some of Big Daddy were to regroup, and were reincarnated into Rhino's version of the Chant craze, on "Chantmania," an album by the Benzedrine Monks of SantA DiMonicA. These monks chanted their way through "Hey Hey We're the Monks," and "Do You Think I'm Sexy," among other memorable tracks. It became one of Rhino's biggest selling albums.