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

(Amazing) Grace

I met Grace when I moved to Seal Place. Her ex-husband, our landlord, lived in the other half of our duplex. Behind the duplex was a garage (or maybe just a very large shed) that had been converted into a printmaking studio. Grace lived with her daughters a few houses up the street. She used the studio for her artwork, mostly creating silkscreen/serigraphs at the time. I knew her first as a respected Atlanta artist. She generously encouraged me with my own work, even convincing me to exhibit in the Atlanta Arts Festival. (That's another story.) I later learned that Grace was also an accomplished actress and performed in many Atlanta theater productions. At that time she still used her married name, MacEachron.

Cast photo for Stereopticon, by playwright Jim Peck, which premiered August 1976
at the Studio Theater of Atlanta's Memorial Arts Center, renamed the Woodruff Arts Center in 1982.
(I'll write of George Ellis in another post, a beloved character unto himself.)

Grace moved from Atlanta to Los Angeles in 1979. She secured an agent there following her first significant role in a major film—Martin Ritts' Norma Rae—released earlier that year. (It won two Oscars: Best Actress for Sally Field and Best Original Song.) Grace also dropped her ex-husband's name and began going by Zabriskie, her mother's maiden surname.

Grace Zabriskie with David Lynch on the set of Twin Peaks;
personal Polaroid via twinpeaksarchive.blogspot.com.
She kept the robe, pictured, as a keepsake from the final episode. 

Many know Grace from her hilarious portrayal of George Costanza's potential mother-in-law on Seinfeld. David Lynch fans know her best as a member of his longtime troupe of actors, most indelibly in his groundbreaking 1990-91 television series Twin Peaks. She portrayed mentally-precarious Sarah Palmer, wife of Leland, mother of Laura. In a November 2014 interview, Grace confirmed being aboard for Lynch's 2017 reboot of the series for Showtime. In the meantime, she continues accumulating credits in different projects. I admire that throughout Grace's acting career she has continued to create her own artwork in various media. A portfolio that was mostly printmaking in the days of Seal Place has expanded to include photography, collage, sculpture, and extensive woodworking, even furniture. (Some of her creations are viewable at www.gracezabriskie.com.) 

Amazing. 

Sources:
"'Stereopticon' Offers Penetrating Insights," by Helen C. Smith, The Atlanta Constitution, August 20, 1976
"Stereopticon," by Stuart Culpepper, Atlanta Gazette, August 18, 1976
"SLIFF 2014 Interview: Actress Grace Zabriskie," by Tom Stockman, WeAreMovieGeeks.com, November 6, 2014
twinpeaksarchive.blogspot.com

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

Moe Slotin, 1950-2001

Moe Slotin was living on Seal Place when we met. He became a good friend: supportive, generous, funny, and kind. He wrote concert reviews for The Great Speckled Bird at the time, and often took me and other friends along as sidekicks, sharing his backstage passes. Sometimes he'd quote us in his write-ups. He even had me cover a show for him once or twice. I always appreciated his trust and confidence. 
During the altered-state haze of the early 70s, Moe remained grounded, our designated driver long before the title was invented. He didn't drink or smoke, much less partake of controlled substances, and he was the first vegetarian I ever knew. I'd never even heard of brown rice until Moe introduced me to his favorite vegetarian restaurant, the Morningstar Inn, near Emory.

Moe Slotin in Underground Atlanta
sharing The Bird with the Atlanta PD,
1970 photo by Carter Tomassi

On top of Moe's writing commitments, he was part of the road crew for Hydra, one of the South's top bands of the time. Moe and Hydra's bassist Orville Davis shared the duplex on Seal Place. (I joined the household, too, and minded the fort while they were on the road.) The band toured extensively and often opened for major headliners such as Mountain, Procol Harum, and Trapeze. 

Hydra opened for Blue Oyster Cult on a leg of their 1974 tour. Moe accepted a subsequent job offer from BOC, and that was the last I saw him. A life-long mutual friend kept me updated as Moe traversed two decades in music. In addition to BOC, he went on to work with The B-52s, Patti Smith, Talking Heads, Aerosmith, and many others. An accomplished sound engineer, he settled in NYC and designed for the likes of Max's Kansas City and Madison Square Garden. 
After 20 years on the road, Moe left rock-and-roll to work as a licensed journeyman Porsche mechanic. In another abrupt career turn, he returned to school to become a physical therapist, and, no surprise, graduated top of his class. He fell in love, married, and had a child. After several years of professional practice in Manhattan, the family moved to Moe's hometown of Savannah GA, where he continued his work in physical therapy and also became an instructor for Armstrong Atlantic State University in that field. 
It was a shock to learn he was taken by cancer at age 51, especially since Moe had lived such a consciously healthy life. He positively impacted so many people in such varied arenas throughout his life. He was well-loved and is well-remembered. His parents created the Morris Slotin Memorial Scholarship for Armstrong State University. It is awarded annually to an outstanding student of physical therapy who has chosen the profession as a second career. Appropriate, especially because Moe was as outstanding as they come. 

Sources:
"The Two Worlds of Moe Slotin," by Barry J. Ostrow
Armstrong University Donor's Report, Fall 2014

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.