Johnny Greer’s Blues - Part 22

Generated Image

The letter was short and barbed with honeyed poison.

A bigger label was ready to give him wider distribution and next level support. He’d get advertising to an extent he had never imagined, including radio interviews that wouldn’t just be heard in the South. He’d go national. The letter whispered at the possibility of television, but made no promises.

But there was a catch. He wouldn’t be recording at Delta Sounds. He’d be working out of a studio around Muscle Shoals, Alabama. That meant Bones wouldn’t be producing this one.

But more importantly, it meant Goose and Honi would not play on the album.

Johnny stared at the letter. Anger and frustration roiled inside him.

He didn’t show the letter to Honi, or even tell her about it right away. Instead, he waited until she left the house and he picked up the phone to call New York.

“Johnny Greer, things seem to be going so very well for you,” Gold’s secretary said in her siren song voice. “You must be so very happy.”

Johnny’s mouth ran dry as he stammered that he needed to talk to Gold.

“Of course, don’t go anywhere.”

The phone clicked over shortly.

“Johnny, please tell me you are as excited as I am,” Gold said. Johnny could practically see the smirk over the line.

“How could you do this?” Johnny asked.

“It’s what I do, Johnny,” Gold said, pausing for a moment. “I make deals for my clients that move them ahead on the game board.”

“You know that’s not what I mean. You want me to leave Honi out of this? You want me to stab Bones in the back?”

Gold let out a sigh. “Sometimes artists have to play by some rules they don’t like. But it’s all part of this game. I’m sympathetic, of course. But this is the way this has to go.”

“They are all part of my sound, Mr. Gold. You change up this combination and you take away what made the sound work.”

“Johnny, please don’t take this the wrong way, but as good as your team is, there are talented musicians and producers all over this country. Some of whom are locked in a symbiotic relationship with the labels. Fact is that Miss Davis and Mr. Stevens are fine studio musicians, but they aren’t critical to your sound. I think you’ll find that the talent pool is deeper than you realize.”

“You can’t say that to me. They are like family.”

“Part of growing up is leaving your family and making your own way.”

Johnny was flustered. He wanted to scream about how much he needed Honi with him in the studio. He wouldn’t betray her or Goose. But he took a different tack.

“Even i there are good musicians out there - and, man, I know there are - I need Bones to produce. He gets what I’m doing. He makes me better.”

“I know you feel that way. But the boys in Muscle Shoals are damn good. You’ll be fine. And by late ’74 you’re going to be breaking in the Billboard top 100. Not a special category. I’m talking the Hot 100.”

“I won’t turn my back on them,” Johnny said.

“Johnny, how many times do we have to go through this? You can walk away, but you lose the deal. You lose me as your manager and all that goes with that.”

“And what goes with that?”

“My protection. Let’s leave it at that.”

Johnny took in a breath, but didn’t respond. He felt his heart pound in his chest as a light sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead.

“So, we’re good, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“They want you at the studio in three months. Bring new material and be prepared to work with some stuff they help you write. A few covers will fit in nicely too.”

“Okay.”

“Johnny, talk to your friends. I can assure you they will understand. It’s how this business works.”

“But does it have to?”

“Talk to you soon, Johnny.” The line went dead.

Honi got home an hour later. Johnny sat with her on the couch and told her about the deal. He was prepared for shouting and threats of walking out. Instead, Honi held his hands and gave him a smile while a hint of sadness played in her eyes.

“Baby, I’ve been a session musician for a while now. This is what happens. No one is going to be mad at you about this. Would I like to play on your next album? Of course. But, as much as I want that, I want you to take the journey you need to take.”

“How can you be so understanding?”

“Look, baby, I’m disappointed as all hell. But I get how this works. And I can be this understanding because I love you, you big fool.”

Johnny brought her into his arms and began to cry.

“I was so scared to tell you.”

“I know.”

“Come with me to Alabama,” Johnny said.

“You know I can’t do that. I’ll have gigs here.”

Johnny pulled away.

“You don’t need to do that. Come with me. I’m making good money now. I can cover both of us.”

“I still want to play, Johnny. No matter how big you get.”

“Marry me,” Johnny said. “Marry me before I leave.”

Honi looked down. “Johnny, don’t do this. You’re just scared. I love you, and you should know I ain’t going anywhere. We don’t need to make anything legal. It’s better with the ride you’re on that we don’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Let’s see if Johnny Greer survives getting famous. We need to know that before we know what happens to us.”

Johnny looked at her.

“I’m not going to leave you Johnny,” Honi said. “Not as long as you are still you.”

Johnny sat in silence. He didn’t know how long that would be the case.

The next part will follow.

If you want to support my writing, one of the best ways to do it now is to subscribe to my Substack or buy one of my books. For now, I will keep putting stuff here for free, but will pull the pieces down after a month or so. I’ll keep the full archive of ongoing work available on Substack for paid subscribers. So, if you think this is worth a few bucks and you like receiving the content as a newsletter, give it a shot. You can get a seven-day free trial to see if it’s worth it to you.