Capricorn Barbeque & Summer Games, August 1976

[This maybe should be a Milledge Circle (Athens) post, but the groundwork was laid during Seal Place days.]

It was the best birthday I ever had. I pretended the party was mine. It was actually the Capricorn Records Annual Barbeque & Summer Games, a company tradition held just outside Macon at Lakeside Park. In 1976 the event happened to fall on my birthday. I was in my last year at UGA in Athens, majoring in graphic design, and had been trying to settle on a senior thesis/project. My attempt to affiliate the project with Capricorn did not pan out, but art director Keith Crossley remained supportive and encouraging, and kindly sent me an invitation to the label's annual party.

Invitation, 5th Annual Capricorn Barbeque & Summer Games,
Lakeside Park, Macon GA, August 19, 1976

I was allowed to bring two guests. Cousin Hal agreed to drive, and our friend Dave came along, too. (They were both active Atlanta musicians and veterans of several local bands.) It was in the pipeline that then-Presidential candidate Jimmy Carter would be in attendance. Capricorn founder Phil Walden was a key Carter supporter, and they had become good friends. Cousin Hal had a 1960-something black Cadillac Fleetwood land-yacht at the time. We secured small, flapping American flags at each front quarter panel in an effort to make as Presidential an entry as possible. Many heads did turn as we pulled into the parking area.

It was a beautiful day, with a comfortable breeze off the lake and cool shade under the trees despite being in the dog days of August. Trails lead through the park past random open bars scattered along the paths. The barbeque feast was laid out buffet-style in the covered pavilion along the water's edge. Picnic tables were in another pavilion a short walk from there. That's where we ran into Andy Warhol and his business manager Fred Hughes. We had linked up with my friend Mike Duke and his Wet Willie bandmate Ricky Hirsch by that time. The photo below predates the term "photobomb," but qualifies nevertheless.

Andy Warhol (center) flanked by Fred Hughes (L) and Rick Hirsch (R).
Rick slid into the photo frame at the last second.
Andy, no surprise, was fiddling with a camera.
Cousin Hal (in hat) and friend Dave are just behind Fred.
[personal photo]

Jimmy Carter arrived, too, along with his Secret Service contingent. He had attended a previous Capricorn barbeque while serving as Georgia Governor, and was casual, friendly, and laidback in the best sense. It was a day to enjoy good food, good music, and good people. It was not about campaigning and pressing the flesh.

1976 Democratic Presidential candidate Jimmy Carter
walking alongside Capricorn Records founder Phil Walden.
[personal photo]

A stage was set up a bit further into the trees, and jams unfolded throughout the afternoon. Many Capricorn musicians were there, and players stepped on and offstage in endless combinations. Again: casual, friendly, and laidback. There was a strong contingent from Atlanta. Around nearly every tree we ran into someone we knew.

Alan Walden (L) and Michael Duke
[personal photo]

It was a birthday party I could never have imagined. Not a care in the world. We said our goodbyes as the sun began to set, and headed back to the city. It was, as the late Lou Reed would sing, "Just a perfect day...such a perfect day."

The Marshall Tucker Band

Living on Seal Place, I spent a large amount of time at Richards around the corner on Monroe Drive. I didn't work there, but was sort of a family member, friends with many of the club's team. In retrospect, I might have driven them a bit crazy. The club was closed during the day. They kept a grand piano at the far left side of the stage, and sometimes I'd carry my stack of sheet music from the house over to practice my mediocre musical skills during the afternoon. A bit of Mozart, Bach, Debussy, mixed with lame attempts at Procol Harum. My apologies to anyone who had to listen, and thanks to those who indulged me. I digress.
Richards launched on February 1, 1973. February 12-16, Spartanburg SC's Marshall Tucker Band opened for Bo Diddley. When Marshall Tucker returned to the club for another week in mid-April, they were the headliners.

The Marshall Tucker Band in 1972;
(L-R) Toy Caldwell, George McCorkle, Jerry Eubanks, 
Doug Gray, Paul Riddle, Tommy Caldwell

My disjointed spiel about piano practice leads here: sometimes I was asked by day manager Diane to handle the phones as they attended to other business. The one call that has stuck in my head for these past decades is when I picked up the receiver and Doug Gray* was on the other end of the line. The Marshall Tucker Band's eponymous debut album had been released by Phil Walden's Capricorn Records only a couple of weeks prior. It was getting massive radio-play, particularly their first single "Can't You See," as well as "Take the Highway." Doug was positively giddy. He kept saying "I can't believe it!," "We worked so hard!," talking a mile a minute, and was simply blown away by their accelerating success. It remains one of the most insanely unbounded enthusiastic celebratory phone conversations I've ever experienced. We were all thrilled for them, and the band received a hero's welcome when they returned to Richards the next week. Beginning in June that same year, the band went on tour with the Allman Brothers. In 1974, MTB continued to tour, the album went platinum, and they earned top billing.
Fast-forward forty years, and Doug Gray is still humbly amazed at Marshall Tucker's success. In 2014, contestant Patrick Thomson performed "Can't You See" on NBC's The Voice. A contestant on American Idol also covered the song. Doug spoke with Billboard:

"When Toy Caldwell wrote that song, none of us knew that it was going to be as popular forty years later. We had no idea that any of us would make it past the weekend. So, to watch those guys do it, and all the emails and calls, was amazing."

In 1973, it was the wonderful circumstance of truly great things happening to truly good people (who realized their talents and knew the value of hard work.) In the many years since, Doug Gray has held the band together throughout its losses and changes. The Marshall Tucker Band continues to tour and retains a devoted fanbase while bringing their music to new generations. Good on them. As their friend Gregg sings, "the road goes on forever." Check out MarshallTucker.com for details on their history, evolution, discography, tour dates, and other information.

*Doug Gray was, and still is, founding member and lead singer of The Marshall Tucker Band.

Sources:
Billboard.com, Artists, The Marshall Tucker Band
Billboard.com, "Marshall Tucker Feels the Love on Both 'The Voice' and 'American Idol,'" by Chuck Dauphin, April 21, 2014

Discovery, Inc.

Booking agencies have always navigated the often tricky waters of coordinating artists with promoters and venues. In Atlanta's late 1960s and early 70s, there were several operations handling such business. Discovery, Inc., founded by Steve Cole in 1968, within a few years became the busiest and largest of the local agencies, at least in the rock-and-roll marketplace. Cole was part of the Atlanta music scene from which emerged the Southern Rock genre. He played a key role in mobilizing the legendary Piedmont Park free concerts (which propelled the Allman Brothers Band), and supplied clubs, colleges, and other settings throughout the Southeast with talent as required. Big name national tours, when in the region, often turned to the local talent pool for opening acts. Discovery provided.

Steve Cole (left) and promoter Alex Cooley at Piedmont Park, Atlanta GA,
photo by Carter Tomassi

From the outset, Discovery marketed the agency's presence, profile, and mission. They also promoted their bands' appearances, bolstering any advertising that club and concert promoters might provide. By 1974, Discovery handled about 20 acts. The Hampton Grease Band was with them from the beginning and, in 1970, landed a recording contract with CBS/Columbia. Discovery represented Lynyrd Skynyrd early in the band's career, also Mose Jones (formerly Stonehenge). In 1972, those two bands became label-mates for Al Kooper's Sound of the South, the first acts Kooper signed. Hydra likely logged the most road miles of any band in Atlanta back in the day, and signed with Phil Walden's Capricorn Records by early 1973. A point could be reached when range and volume of requests for a band outgrew the size of the agency. As happened with those mentioned, the time came when an agency with larger reach and capability was required. It was a good problem to have, and reflected success for both artists and agency.

Discovery, Inc., 1973 roster sample,
(click to enlarge)

In 1974, Discovery, Inc., merged with Holliday Group, another agency in the city. They retained the Discovery name and secured their standing as largest agency in Atlanta. Search results past the merger return very little information. A posting at thestripproject.com indicates that Steve Cole has since passed. Longtime Atlanta musician Darryl Rhoades wrote that Cole "understood the possibilities of the music scene way before other promoters actually acted on it. He predicted that one day bands would be playing huge venues to packed audiences." Atlanta's musical past owes much to Steve Cole.

Steve Cole, Discovery, Inc.,
photo from Billboard, May 24, 1974

Acts represented by Discovery between 1968 and 1974 include: Albatross, The American Cheese, Applejack, Armon, Atlanta Vibrations [later, Vibration], Avenue of Happiness, Axis, The Bag, Booger Band [later, just Booger], Brick Wall, Brother Bait, Buster Brown, Caliban, The Celestial Voluptuous Banana, Choice, Clear, The Coconut Confetti, The Daze After, Dear John, Dogwood, East Side Blues Band, The Electric Collage Light Show, Fifth Order, Flint, Foxes, Gingerbread, Glass Menagerie, Hampton Grease Band, Heat, Hydra, Interprize, Kudzu, Leviathan, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Micropolis, Milkweed, The Mud Child, The New Explanation, The Night Shadows featuring Little Phil, Orpheum Circuit, Pale Paradox, Papa Doc, The Peppermint Confederacy, Perpetual Motion [later, The Motion], Protrudamus, Radar, Resurrection, Rude-Frye, Russian Butt Broil, St George and the Dragonlite Show, Scald Cats, Smokestack Lightnin', The Soul-Jers, Soul Support, The Spontaneous Generation, Stillbrooke, Stonehenge [later, Mose Jones], Stump Brothers, Sweet Fire, Sweet Younguns [later, just Younguns], Traktor, Warm, and West End.

I promise I did not make up any of these names.

Sources:

"Bookers See Southern Bands Still to Be Recorded, Allman Brothers Success a Continuing Momentum," Billboard, May 24, 1974
"Inside Track," Billboard, October 26, 1974
The Great Speckled Bird, advertisements, 1968-1974

Lynyrd Skynyrd & Sounds of the South

"Along come Mister Yankee Slicker, sayin', 'Maybe you're what I want.'"
-- Lynyrd Skynyrd, "Workin' for MCA," Second Helping

(follow-up to 12/31/14 post)
In Summer 1972, Al Kooper was working with his back-up band Frankie & Johnny at Studio One in Doraville, just outside Atlanta. Session-work during the day, downtown club scene at Funochio's into the night. (A fellow childhood summercamper ran the place.) First week of his visit, Boot was playing. Kooper sat in. The second week, July 17-22, a band from Jacksonville FL was booked. They were a familiar presence at Funochio's, having already played week-long gigs there in March and May that year.

Lynyrd Skynyrd at Funochio's, 1972, Atlanta GA,
view from the upstairs bar;
photo by Carter Tomassi

Kooper's initial encounter with the no-nonsense music of Lynyrd Skynyrd in the edgy, volatile* environment of Funochio's was a pivotal moment. He'd been on the prowl for "three-chord" bands to fill what he perceived as a void in the prog-rock-laden music environment of the early 70s. At the same time, he was well aware that Phil Walden was onto something, and that Walden, at the time, pretty much had a monopoly on the emerging genre of Southern Rock. In his autobiography, Kooper recalls:

"My business plan was thus: No record company but Phil Walden's Capricorn Records based in Macon, Georgia, understood that something was going on in the South. If Capricorn turned a band down, they were pretty much doomed, because no other label understood this phenomenon. I decided I would start my own label as an alternative to Capricorn and base it out of Atlanta." 

By the end of that week, Al Kooper was sitting in with Lynyrd Skynryd at the club. On Saturday night he offered them a recording deal which included him as producer. Without any commitments in place, he then managed to convince MCA Records in LA to distribute his yet-to-be-launched "Sounds of the South" label. Kooper settled into his new home in Sandy Springs, another suburb of Atlanta's sprawl. At last, Lynyrd Skynyrd's manager contacted him. Small world, their manager was none other than Alan Walden, Phil's younger brother. Capricorn had already passed on signing the band. It took a couple of months, but a deal was eventually hammered out. In the meantime, Al Kooper signed his first band for Sounds of the South: Mose Jones, a popular, well-respected, extremely talented Atlanta group. (They changed their name from Stonehenge in 1972.) Kooper had a plan:

"In my mind, stylistically speaking, Mose Jones were my Beatles, and Skynyrd were my Stones." 

Mose Jones was first in the studio, and first released. (Another post will discuss their story.) On July 29, 1973, Al Kooper hosted his Sounds of the South launch party at Richards, Atlanta's famed club-of-the-moment. The label's first two signings were showcased to radio, press, and industry honchos. Lynyrd Skynyrd's first album (Pronounced Leh-nerd Skin-nerd), produced at Studio One in Doraville, was released two weeks later on August 13, 1973. "Free Bird" was the closing track.

For Skynyrd, timing and luck intervened when Kooper ran into Pete Townshend and The Who's manager Peter Rudge at MCA. Kooper sold them on Lynyrd Skynyrd as opening act for their upcoming North American tour promoting Quadrophenia. It was a huge leap of faith for all involved, being Lynyrd Skynyrd's first experience in such enormous venues. Kooper stepped in to mix their sound in the quirky context of The Who's unusual set-up. The band and crew were fine with that, and everyone rose to the occasion. According to Kooper:

"Somehow it all fell into place, and Skynyrd began to do what no opening band for The Who had ever done–they got encores!"

Previous bookings for small venues were cancelled as the band's popularity and record sales surged. The Atlanta club scene became a receding image in Lynyrd Skynyrd's rearview mirror. The rest, as they say, is history. Enormous success was commingled with enormous tragedy, a story well-documented elsewhere. 

*Business as usual included a couple of stabbings, a couple of shootings, open drug use, rivalrous drug dealers, and drunken bad behavior of all sorts. I once witnessed a drag queen at the downstairs bar beating up a guy with a shoe.

Sources:
The Morton Report, "New Music for Old People: Rarities From the Sounds of the South Label," by Al Kooper, September 14, 2012
Backstage Passes and Backstabbing Bastards, by Al Kooper, published by Billboard Books, 1998, and Backbeat Books, 2008
Rolling Stone, 100 Greatest Artists, 95/Lynyrd Skynyrd, by Al Kooper

The Hampton Grease Band

While compiling information for these early 70s Atlanta venues and events, a common link recurred throughout: The Hampton Grease Band. Formed in 1967, they were on the Atlanta scene before the Allman Brothers, before Lynyrd Skynyrd, before the pop festivals, before record companies came sniffing around for "Southern Rock." Various incarnations of the Hampton Grease Band [HGB] morphed over time, but its central figure remained the "Colonel," Bruce Hampton.

The Hampton Grease Band
Bruce Hampton, Glenn Phillips, Jerry Fields, Mike Holbrook, Harold Kelling

Founding member, guitarist/composer Glenn Phillips documented the eclectic history of HGB online. It's a great read. You can't make this stuff up. The band's stage performances were unpredictable, at times chaotic, always artistic (albeit Dada and surreal), ultimately entertaining, and they cultivated a dedicated following in Atlanta and beyond. Live performances were the keystone of their fanbase.

According to Phillips:

The stage was frequently filled with friends doing anything from watching TV, doing a duet with the guitar on a chain saw, or sitting at a table eating cereal. Hampton, who at one point sported a crew cut with an H shaved in the back of his head, would tape himself to the microphone stand while talking to the audience about the supposed Portuguese invasion of the U.S. through Canada. At an outdoor show, Bruce slept through our set under a truck, while at another show, he turned around in the middle of a song, jumped in the air, and kicked Mike [Holbrook, bassist] in the chest. Mike flew back into his amp, which he knocked over and short-circuited. Holbrook recalls another time when "we got the idea that we wanted to put mayonnaise all over our friend Eric Hubbler. We got a gallon of mayonnaise and Hubbler came out and sat down in a chair while the band was playing. I stuck my hand down in it and glopped it all over his head."

The Hampton Grease Band adapted to any venue, from the tiny room of the 12th Gate to fields full of hundreds of thousands at the Atlanta International Pop Festivals. They were already playing free concerts in Piedmont Park on Sundays before the Allman Brothers Band started doing the same in May 1969. Columbia Records got wind of HGB's unique act and contacted Capricorn Records chief Phil Walden to try to track them down. Long story short, Walden brokered a record deal for HGB with Columbia (CBS). Music To Eat, a double LP, was released in 1971. It notably became Columbia's 2nd worst-selling record ever. (The very worst was a yoga instructional record. Unsurprisingly, Music To Eat is now a collectors item.)

Decades later, Julian Cope's headheritage.com declares:

[W]hile the temptation is there to view the Hampton Grease Band as a possible answer to the trivia question "what is the silliest hippy-shit record ever released on a major record label?" in truth it's actually damn near a masterpiece that almost exists outside of history.

Despite their calamitous vinyl debut, HGB maintained a fiercely loyal fanbase, one of whom, Duane Allman, recommended to his friend Bill Graham that he book HGB for the Fillmore in NYC. Graham did exactly that. He perfectly paired the band with Frank Zappa & The Mothers of Invention the weekend of June 5-6, 1971. HGB performed brilliantly, and Fillmore East manager Kip Cohen sang the band's praises to then-CBS head Clive Davis:

Dear Clive:
As you know, this is the first time I've ever written a letter like this one to you--but even though John Lennon and Yoko Ono guested on our stage last night, my memories of the past weekend will reside exclusively with the Hampton Grease Band.
Aside from their totally delightful, unique brand of humor, and the obvious fact of their being good people, there is a musical intelligence within that band that truly excites me.
I can only hope that they enjoy the total success they deserve. They were one of the most pleasant surprises we have had on our stage in many, many months.

That was likely the high point for the Hampton Grease Band. Unfortunately, the label relationship did not survive, nor did the band. For whatever reason, CBS/Columbia dropped them. Frank Zappa's Bizarre/Straight label stepped in and signed them, but the band crumbled before a record could be completed. It all fell apart in 1973 when Bruce Hampton left for California to audition for a spot in Zappa's band. The audition was unsuccessful, and the rest of the band had gone their separate ways by his return. Years following, various configurations would resurface. Glenn Phillips tells this story best, and I'll refer you back to his site for the rest of the story.

Al Kooper in Atlanta

By the early 1970s Al Kooper was well known in the music business not only for his musicianship and songwriting talents, but also as a skilled, influential producer. He had been a founding member of The Blues Project and Blood, Sweat & Tears. He released solo projects as well, but Kooper was perhaps most revered for his collaborations with Mike Bloomfield, Stephen Stills, and Shuggie Otis, along with a goldmine of backup players. (Famed illustrator Norman Rockwell notably created the double portrait for 1969's "Live Adventures of Mike Bloomfield and Al Kooper," a personal favorite.) Atop all these credentials, Kooper is cemented in music history for not only having played organ on Bob Dylan's pivotal "Like A Rolling Stone," but for presenting Lynyrd Skynryd to the world along with eternal chants for "Free Bird."

The Live Adventures of Mike Bloomfield and Al Kooper
Columbia Records, 1969

In March 1972, Al Kooper was in Atlanta for performances at The Music Connection in Underground Atlanta. He caught up with friends there, musicians who had been members of Roy Orbison's back-up band The Candymen. The group, known and respected for their quality session work, had recently stepped out front to present their own music as the Atlanta Rhythm Section [ARS]. They worked out of Studio One, their own recording facility in Doraville, an Atlanta suburb they would make famous in song. Kooper sat in with ARS one night at the studio and, suitably impressed, booked a month's time at the facility that summer to record his own backup band Frankie & Johnny. In a 2014 interview with Huffington Post he recalled:

"In 1972, I had been in the studio in Atlanta for several weeks with another band, working really hard during the day and then going out with the guys at night to unwind... We were going out pretty regularly to this place called Funochio's and there was this band there."

"This band" was Lynyrd Skynryd. 

I was already immersed in the Atlanta music community by the time Al Kooper showed up at Funochio's. Admittedly, I was a fangirl. The Blues Project had played the Christmas dance my sophomore year in high school. I'd been collecting his albums ever since, so when I saw him at the upstairs bar in Funochio's, I walked right over and asked how his sister Alice was doing. I deserved the unamused smirk in return. In the last week of his Studio One session work, Kooper decided to stay in Atlanta. He sent for his things in NYC and began steps toward launching his own label to compete with Phil Walden's burgeoning, only-game-in-town, Capricorn Records. [Will write more about Sounds of the South in another post.] Time passed. Goals were accomplished. In 1974, Al Kooper pulled up roots again, this time headed for LA. I was happy to attend the small going-away party that Richards' management threw for him. As a parting gift, they gave him the latest hi-tech toy of the time: a slimline pop-up Polaroid camera with leather details. 
Then *poof*, Kooper was gone.  

Sources: 

www.huffingtonpost.com/billrobinson/backstage-pass-two-stones_b_4324840.html

Backstage Passes and Backstabbing Bastards, by Al Kooper, published by Billboard Books, 1998, and Backbeat Books, 2008

Support Southern Music

In the early 1970s, Capricorn Records founder Phil Walden created the simply-designed "Support Southern Music" promotional button. It purposefully read "Music," not "Rock," to extend inclusion to all styles, although "Southern Rock" would emerge as the catchphrase describing the burgeoning music genre of that period. The button served as a wink and a nod amongst Southern music insiders and supporters with belief that something of epic proportion was happening, beginning with the success of the Allman Brothers Band.