www.chuckblore.com

Okay, Okay I Wrote the Book

One of the things I did during my eighteen month (you can’t work in broadcasting) non-competition sit-out was play golf. One of the guys I played with was considered to be the Number One studio guitarist in the business, Glen Campbell. Glen doesn’t really read music, but he is such a fabulous player nobody cared about that. Everyone doing music sessions wanted Glen. Sometimes, when he played with large orchestras, sheet music was handed out to all the other musicians and on Glen’s music stand would be a large white sheet of paper on which was only one word: Glen. On the first run-through, Glen would sit, guitar in hand and just listen. Second run through, he played along with the other musicians. Then, after the conductor, or producer, gave notes to some of the players, they recorded the various sections on individual tracks. After they decided whether Glen would be with the string section or with the rhythm, his part was recorded with rarely more than one or two takes. So far, in this embryonic state of my commercials company, I had done three spots. Rambler, Rainier Ale and Bekins Movers, all musical. I think Glen was on all three of them.

My next job came from the agency for which I’d done the Rambler stuff. They had a chocolate candy client who wanted to do advertising at a time when tradition said, don’t. Chocolate candy sales were pretty nearly ‘zip’ during the summer months, so advertising chocolate just wasn’t done. Hoffman Candy decided to buck the trend. So did I. I’d had pretty good success with music, so that was kind of a given. But, as advertising chocolate was unusual, I thought the music should be unique as well. Having a candy bar was usually a kind of fun and happy experience. Okay. Fun, happy, unique ... hmmmm ... how about a hootenanny? And a hootenanny tune would determined the tone of the words. I knew I couldn’t use anything like what I called, ‘advertisese’, the kind of language you hear only in advertising. So, instead of ... “Chocolate lovers! Treat yourself to a dreamy creamy, rich chocolate candy bar ...” I wrote, “Aint it time you did somethin’ nice for your tummy? Tell it ‘Thanks a lot’ for all it’s done for you.”

I bounced that first line off the agency and they said, “Go!” So, it started with that line and it ended with “ ... Hoffman’s Candy makes your taster tingle ‘cause it’s made with a lot of good stuff.” I asked Glen if he could write music. He said, “Of course. Unless you mean the classical type.”

“No. This is kind of a hootenanny.”

“Great. What do you need?”

I told him I wanted a thirty second musical intro, over which I could talk about the candy bar and then the last thirty seconds would be the song itself which he could sing. “I can’t sing a hootenanny by myself.” he said, “I’ll get some singers.”

“Well, not more than three. I don’t have a lot of money for this.”
“Don’t worry.” Glen had it all under control, “We’ll over-dub it. Make it sound like twenty people.”

“Great. How about musicians.”

“Don’t worry about it, Chuck. Leave it to me. It’ll be great.”

That was another thing I wasn’t too crazy about ... handing the job over to someone else without my having a very big finger on the “Stop” button.

Five minutes to ten. The morning of the session. Nobody here. God. I wondered if Glen had forgotten our date. No musicians, no singers, no ...
Oh my God. Drums. They were moving in a big drum set. Certainly no drums in a Hootenanny, I must be in the wrong studio. Next they brought in a huge bass. Then Glen, and a guy I didn’t know, came in. Glen with his guitar and the fellow he was with, had what looked like a junior guitar case. “Chuck, this is Roger Miller. Roger, this is Chuck Blore, who’s a terrible golfer.” Glen continued, as Roger and I shook hands. “Roger’s in town trying to peddle some songs. He’s staying with me cause he’s so broke. I figured we could use him on this session. He could pick up some bucks.”

“Whatever you say, Glen. You know what we’re looking for.”

Glen gave me a great big ol’ smile. “Oh, You’re gonna love it.” What I did love was his confidence. “Love it!” he said again.

Roger had taken a banjo out of the smaller case. “I hope you’ll like what we cooked up Mr. Blore.” Then, he started fingering that banjo. My God. This guy could play.

“Where’s everybody else, Glen?” I was getting a little nervous about the time.

“We’re it.” said Glen. “I’m gonna play two or three guitar parts and Roger’ll do the rest.”

Roger was quick to explain, “I’m gonna play the banjo and the bass, Mr Blore. Maybe some more guitar if you think it needs it.”

“Okay. Fine. Good. Let’s hear it.” I loved it. Just as Glen had predicted.

About half way through the music session, a pretty girl came in and sat in the back of the control room. We were all having such a great time, no one noticed her come in. She was going to be the chorus. Or at least a third of it.

I can’t remember the girl’s name, although I found out later she was one of the top studio singers in the business. In a couple of minutes, the happiest sound in the world was coming out of that studio. In another couple of minutes, I started to worry. I opened the talkback and asked Glen to come into the control room.
“”It sounds very up ... and fun ... but, that’s not the melody you sang to me. I liked your original melody much better than this.”

Glen looked at me as if to say, whaddanasshole! What he did say was, “Chuck. Relax. We’re laying down the harmony tracks first.”

And he was right, when it was finished, it was great. As he had predicted, I loved it.

Glen and Roger wanted to hear the song all mixed down so they waited around, while I started to record some little comedy things to do as a lead in to the song.

I went into the studio, and using my best phoney country accent started to read, “Ah was jes sitting aroun’ lickin the last traces of my Cup O’ Gold Candy Bar off my forefanger ...”

Suddenly I heard Roger’s voice over the talkback. “Hey, Chuck. How’d you like that done authentic? I can sure talk country better’n you can.”

“Okay smart ass!” says me, “Let’s see!”

He was right. He did three spots. At the end of the session, he asked, “How much money do you reckon I made today?”

‘Gosh, Roger. Three spots. Fifty bucks a spot. I reckon you made like ... a hundred and fifty dollars.”

He looked me right square in the eye, and with a bit of a plea in his voice said, “You reckon I can get it quick.”

I wrote him a check right then and said, “Thanks for being so great.”

“You can call me any time.” Said Rog, “I’ll come a runnin’.” I, of course, told that to the agency.

During the next year big things happened to Roger Miller ... things like, Dang me, England Swings, Chug-a-lug and ... King Of The Road. And the Cup O’ Gold Candy Bar commercials were now being introduced on the radio with, “Now, here’s Roger Miller for Cup O Gold.”

The client called the agency one day to ask if we could change the little comedy intros. They called me. I said I’d call Roger, although I hadn’t seen or talked to him since the day we recorded. The phone number I was given by AFTRA went directly to his new agent. “Oh, I’m sure he’d love to do them again.” said Mr. Pompous Agent, “For about Fifteen thousand dollars.” When there was no response from me he added, “Each.”
I told they agency, They told the client. The client said to the agency, “You told me he said he’d come a running!” The agency called me. I called Glen and got Roger’s personal number. I called Roger and told him what was going on. He said, “How much did I get last time?”

I was almost embarrassed to say it, “Uh ... Uh hundred and fifty dollars, but ... ”

Roger said, “I said I’d come a runnin’ and I will on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You pay me exactly what I got before.”

Roger and I became best friends after that, and we stayed that way till the night he died, many years later. The last few days of his life, Roger’s wife Mary asked me not to visit him, “He wouldn’t want you to see him like this, Chuck. Remember him the way you loved him.”

My wife Judy, and Mary, had become the closest of friends almost as soon as I met Jude. She was there with Mary the night Roger died. Roger had been too sick to move at all, but when Judy and Mary were on the balcony which looked out over the Pacific the ocean, they heard Roger’s voice behind them. “Mary” he said, “I want you to meet my angel.” Roger looked as though he was holding someone’s hand. “Mary, this is Nancy. Nancy, this is my wife Mary, and her best friend, Judy.” Then there was a pause. “Well answer her, Mary!” said Roger, “Don’t be rude.”

Mary said nothing.

“Damn it, Mary. You’re embarrassing me.” He looked toward his angel. I”m sorry, Nancy.” Back to Mary. “Mary, please.”

“Roger,” Mary whispered, “I didn’t hear what she said.”

“She said, that I’m gonna be fine and you’re not to worry. Well, Mary, answer her.”

After a long, long moment Mary said, “Thank you Nancy.”

And Roger went away.