Johnny Greer’s Blues - Part 2

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Johnny ended up spending that first night on a couch at the apartment Pete and his wife shared near the Silver Palace. Pete was happy to have him stay; his wife, Ruth, was less enthusiastic. But, Pete explained it was just for a few days until Johnny could find somewhere, and that seemed to prevent a major fight.

The next morning, Pete told Johnny he could find work for him at the bar. Nothing fancy and nothing that paid much, but something to at least put some food in his belly.

“You going to call that dude that gave you the card?” Pete asked.

“I don’t know. Should I?”

“Well, he’s probably going to be looking to rip you off. Most of these people saying they’re agents are. But, it can’t hurt to talk to him. Just don’t agree to anything that doesn’t make sense and damn sure don’t sign anything until someone else can give it a look.”

Johnny asked if he could use the phone. He picked up the avocado green receiver and dialed the number on the back of the card Gold had given him.

“Hotel Tulip Poplar, how can I help you,” a listless male voice answered.

“I’m looking for Mr. Gold. Howard Gold,” Johnny said.

“Hold,” the man said not waiting for a response as Johnny listened to static-laced silence.

Not too long after, a voice came over the line. “Howard Gold speaking…”

“Mr. Greer, I don’t know if you remember me from last night, but…”

“Johnny Greer! Glad you called! What can I do for you, son?”

“Well, if you have time to meet, I guess it can’t do any harm to hear what you have to say.”

“No harm at all, Johnny. You know where the Hotel Tulip Poplar is?”

“No sir, but I can find it.”

“Meet me here as soon as you can. I’ll be here until around 2.”

“Sounds good, should I bring anything…”

“Just your ears, Johnny, so you can hear how I am going to change your life. See you soon.”

Johnny told Pete about the call and asked if he knew where the hotel was.

“Near Downtown. Didn’t know it was even still open.”

“How long will it take me to walk there?”

“Too long. I’ll give you a ride. Ruth needs me to pick up some things anyway.”

“Is it out of your way?”

“Yeah, but it’ll keep me out of the house longer. Come on, let’s get you to your meeting.”

***** 

Pete’s old, patched and faded black Continental pulled up in front of the Hotel Tulip Poplar. The hotel wasn’t much to look out. Its weather-beaten limestone exterior was nearly black with grime and age. The hotel had opened in the 1920’s and had at one time been a somewhat exclusive oasis for well-to-do travelers who preferred staying somewhere smaller than The Peabody. The Tulip Poplar was still quite something even into the 1960’s. At night, a neon sign with a dancing Tulip Poplar once lit up the street, but it had stopped working a few years before, and the place seemed to lose its luster and clientele. If someone drove or even walked past the hotel, they could be forgiven for assuming it wasn’t open to guests anymore.

“You sure this is where he said to meet him?” Pete asked, eyeing the old hotel with a suspicious eye.

“Yeah. That’s what the man said.”

“Alright. Look, just be careful, Johnny. If the man shoves a contract at you, don’t sign nothing and don’t agree to nothing until we can have someone give it a look.”

“Yeah, ok. Thanks for the ride.”

Johnny got out of the car and began to walk towards the hotel.

“I’ll be back in about an hour,” Pete said through the open car window. “Just wait for me here if I’m not back. And, Johnny, just, well, be careful in general.”

“I will,” Johnny said, hunching his shoulders against the chill. It was March, but the Memphis weather hadn’t yet decided if it was time for Spring, or if Winter needed to stick around for just one more drink.

Pete paused, then nodded. “Knock ‘em dead, son.”

*****

 The inside lobby was bigger than Johnny would have thought. Sunlight streamed in through the dingy, yellowed windows creating muted buttresses of light pooling on the checkered black and white tiled floor. There were couches and chairs scattered around the lobby in a pattern that may have made sense at one point, but Johnny couldn’t discern it. Across from the lobby door was a wooden desk with carvings of flowers that must have once been fine, but that had now been rubbed smooth by guests and time. Flanking the desk were two sets of curved staircases with threadbare red carpets leading up to the second floor. Behind the desk was an office door, and beyond the desk area, Johnny saw a hallway that led to a dining room and ballroom, according to the signs with faded gold lettering.

Johnny approached the desk.

“Um, hello,” he said.

No one answered.

A brass bell sat on the cracked black marble top of the desk. Johnny rang the bell and it echoed in the empty lobby.

For a while there was no response, but just as the ringing faded, the office door opened, and an older man in a gray uniform that had seen better days emerged.

“Yes?” the man said in the same laconic voice he had heard earlier.

“I’m Johnny Greer, here to see....”

“Mr. Gold is waiting for you upstairs. Room 217. Just go up and down the middle hall.”

“Thank you,” Johnny said, barely getting the words out before the man retreated back into his office.

Johnny took the left stairwell and climbed to the second and highest floor. When he reached the top he noticed it was warm, almost hot. An iron radiator hissed at him from the wall.

Johnny followed the instructions and made his way down the second floor hallway to Mr. Gold’s room.

Johnny knocked on the beige painted door, and he heard a muffled “Come in” from the other side. Johnny opened the door and looked inside. There was an empty living room set up with matching green brocade sofa and chairs surrounding a dark wood coffee table. A red folder with gold lettering saying “GOLD” sat on the table. Across from the chairs and sofa was a small four-person table with four wooden chairs with wicker backs. A small bar and kitchen area was next to the table set up. Mr. Gold was not in the room.

“Grab yourself a drink if you like and have a seat. Be there in a moment,” came Gold’s voice from behind the closed door opposite the entry door.

Johnny sat in one of the green chairs. He’d hold off on a drink. The light in the room was dim and dull. The fabric lampshades cast an almost sickly yellow light.

Johnny waited in silence for a few minutes. The heat was almost uncomfortable. A radiator in the room banged and creaked as Gold’s door opened. Johnny picked up the folder and saw a list of six names. He recognize all of them as major music talent. He even owned a couple of albums from the musicians on the list. Gold walked out in a perfectly tailored black suit and an open throated white shirt, as Johnny set the folder down. Gold’s outfit looked the same as the one Johnny had seen last night, but not exactly. Maybe a different fabric? Or maybe it was the same. Johnny just couldn’t tell.

“Thanks for coming, Johnny,” Gold said, extending his hand. Johnny rose to shake it. Gold had a hell of a strong grasp.

“Sure you don’t want anything. I got beer or harder stuff if you like.”

“No sir, I’m fine.”

Gold smiled. “Good for you. Well, sit down,” he said as he sat on the couch.

Johnny followed suit.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, I had some business to tend to. It’s a good thing you came by when you did, I’m going to have to fly out of here in...”

Gold paused as he consulted his very flashy and very obvious Rolex. “Three hours. So, if it’s okay with you, let’s get right to it.”

“Okay.”

“Johnny, how’d you like to be a star?”

“Never really gave it much thought.”

“Well, you should. You’ve got what it takes.”

“That’s kind of you, Mr. Gold, but how do you know that?”

“It’s what I do. I want to sign you as a client, Johnny,” Gold said, reaching into his jacket pocket.

“Here’s a contract. Don’t sign it now. Look it over. Pay someone to look it over for you. But, it’s a better deal than you’ll get anywhere. I’m not going to steal your rights. I’m not going to steal your songs. What I am going to do is take 20% of every penny you make, however you make it, with the music you make while you are with me.”

“Wait. So if I do sign with you and I leave…”

“You won’t. But if you do, you won’t owe me a nickel for anything you do after we part ways. Now, I’ll still get my percentage from anything you make up til then. Fair is fair.”

“Is 20% a lot? See I don’t know.”

“Johnny, it is a higher percentage than some agents get. I won’t lie. But there’s no hidden costs here. I know you don’t know about rights yet, but I’m not going to take those from you. Publishing rights stay with you. Mechanical rights too.”

Johnny felt sweat trickling down his forehead, and he wiped it with his sleeve.

“Yeah, they don’t know what to do with the heating this time of year. You’re either going to freeze or boil. Boil it is, it would seem,” Gold said. He wasn’t sweating. His slicked back black hair was still perfectly in place.

“So, if I do agree to this, what can you do for me?”

Gold smiled. “Give you the world, of course. “

Johnny shook his head. “Can you tell me who you represent?”

Gold nodded. “Fair question. You already know. You just read a list.”

“The folder?” Johnny asked.

Gold nodded. “Here’s how it would work. I’ll start by getting you in a studio here in Memphis within a few weeks. That’ll give you time to pick five or so songs you want to put your touch to. Go with old blues songs and add your flavor.”

“What about original tunes, I have…”

“Not yet,” Gold said, holding up a palm towards Johnny. “Once you get those songs laid down, I’ll shop you to some labels. Maybe local. Probably. We’re in a good town for that. Once you get a label, it’ll move like a freight train from there.”

“I can’t afford to go to a studio.”

“Of course. I’ll pay for that until we get you with a label. Don’t worry. Oh, and I’ll also give you this,” Gold said reaching again into his pocket and pulling out a manilla envelope. He tossed it to Johnny.

“What’s this?”

“A show of good faith.”

Johnny opened it and found ten twenty dollar bills inside. He looked up at Gold.

“Why?”

“Call it an advance. I need you feed with a roof over your head so you can get this train out of the station. Use some of it to hire a lawyer to look over that contract.”

“This seems so crazy, Mr. Gold. I mean, I can’t believe this, you know?”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Gold chuckled. “Sleep on it. Call me with an answer in a week or so.”

“But the money….”

“If you say no, you keep it anyway. No strings. See, Johnny, I do have that faith you are lacking.”

“Okay. Yes sir,” Johnny said, standing up.

“Oh, one more thing, Johnny,” Gold said, motioning Johnny to sit back down.

Johnny sat down, a scowl of concern crossing his face.

“I do get something else other than the 20%. We won’t put it on paper. A gentleman’s agreement is all this will need.”

Johnny laughed nervously. “I don’t have to sell you my soul, do I?”

The radiator hissed and Johnny flinched at that.

Gold grinned. “Of course not, Johnny. I’m not the devil.”

And Johnny wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he would have sworn that Gold put an odd emphasis on “the.”

Part Three will follow in the next installment.

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