Read Online Homeward Bound by Peter Ames Carlin - Free Book Online

on their own; Prosen would have to clear it with their parents first.
    A few nights later, Prosen turned up at the Pierre Hotel ballroom, where the Lee Simms Orchestra was performing, and when the band took a break he introduced himself to Louis and showed him the contracts he had written up for his talented son and his friend Arthur. Louis was delighted, and even more so when Prosen asked if he had a recording deal for his own terrific orchestra. No? Well, how about recording some sides for Big Records? Rock ’n’ roll was fine for the kids, but someone still had to make music for the grown-ups, right? So let’s toss in a deal for you, too. They shook hands on that, then read over the as yet unsigned agreement committing Paul and Artie’s services to Prosen as both recording artists and songwriters. As promised, Prosen would record a new master of “Hey, Schoolgirl” and release it with a freshly recorded B-side within thirty days. His song publishing company, Village Music Inc., would retain the rights to publish the boys’ original songs. In exchange for this, Prosen would pay a small advance on the eventual royalties for all copies sold. And make no mistake, copies would be sold. It was a terrific little tune, for one thing. And he knew what went into getting a record played on the radio, particularly when it came to winning friends and influencing certain disc jockeys. Louis took the papers home, Prosen cleared the deal with the senior Garfunkels, and on October 18 they all signed the contracts.
    From that moment things happened with velocity. On October 29, Paul and Artie, with Louis and his bass in tow, met Prosen and a session drummer at another recording studio and recorded finished versions of “Schoolgirl,” “Dancin’ Wild,” and a new tune they called “Our Song.” At the same time, they set to coming up with a stage name for themselves. That made it feel even more real: this was the stuff of professional showbiz; they weren’t just playing the neighborhood anymore. They would need to choose a name that would make them flashy and, at the same time, beyond the reach of the disc jockeys and record salesmen determined to keep ethnic voices away from the tender ears of middle America. Prosen had already given the matter some thought. Did they know the Tom and Jerry cartoons, the ones with the battling cat and mouse? The show was on television every day; everyone had heard of them. Sure, Paul and Artie said. So Tom and Jerry it was. Charged with coming up with faux last names, Paul chose “Landis,” after his then-current girlfriend Sue Landis, while Artie played off his mathematical whiz kid reputation with “Graph.” With that settled, it took exactly a week for thousands of copies of the single, with a slight title alteration, “Hey, Schoolgirl (in the Second Row)”/“Dancin’ Wild” to be pressed and shipped to record stores and radio stations across the country.
    When the first box of “Hey, Schoolgirl” singles got to the Big Records office in Midtown, Sid Prosen tucked a few copies into a manila envelope, added two hundred dollars in cash, and took it to the WABC-AM offices of star disc jockey Alan Freed. Just like Martin Block with his Make Believe Ballroom , the big band radio show that drew Paul’s attention to the Crows’ “Gee” in 1953, the rock ’n’ roll–crazy Freed * ruled the scene like a Mercury of the airwaves, a speed-rapping potentate made from equal measures of faith, flimflam, cigarettes, and whiskey. Getting his start in Cleveland during the early 1950s, Freed followed his taste for high-velocity jazz and jump blues to rock ’n’ roll, and as the music got louder and more popular, so did Freed. Launched into the New York City airwaves in 1954, the disc jockey was an instant hit. He soon went national, and by 1957 he had become the go-to radio man for any