Tommy James

I really enjoyed this thoughtful, humble autobiography from Niles, Michigan rock teen to star briefly eclipsing The Beatles on the charts to redemption from pills and booze. Some of the most interesting parts were in a sense technical - a category of information difficult to make so interesting - including the mechanics of trade journal drive chart positions at the time (Billboard averaging orders and sales, etc.) and vintage studio techniques as heard in "Crimson and Clover" (varying show more voltage to affect speed). Interestingly, the oft heard single version of that song is from a radio station bootleg copy....

...and with all this you get baseball bat-wielding mafiosi, too! show less

ME, THE MOB AND THE MUSIC (2010) was a birthday gift from my older son, and a very thoughtful one at that. One, because he knows that a book is always a good gift choice ('in my book' at least); and two, because he also knew that Tommy James' hit song, "I Think We're Alone Now," was playing on late night radio (CKLW out of Windsor) when I proposed to his mom, making it, of course, "our song."

I enjoyed the heck out of reading this book, even though James had to employ a co-writer (Martin show more Fitzpatrick) to get his colorful, at times sordid story down. Ghost writers are usually a deal buster for me, but Fitzpatrick did a workmanlike job. Tommy James (born Thomas Gregory Jackson, in Dayton), an only child who seemed to get whatever he wanted, grew up in Niles, Michigan, and was drawn to music from childhood. He got his first guitar, a $17 Stella (I thought of Mason Williams' song, "$13 Stella"), at ten and put together his first band at twelve. That first hit, "Hanky Panky," he recorded when he was sixteen, but it didn't break big until two years later, a regional smash in Pittsburgh. In the meantime, Tommy had gotten his girlfriend pregnant, married and was a father before he turned eighteen. He got a manager who peddled the record to all the major labels, but he ended up with Roulette, owned by a minor mob boss, Morris Levy, who ruled his company with an iron fist and rarely compensated his people fairly. Just a kid, James signed contracts he didn't read and it took him years to realize he was getting screwed. He was too busy touring and being Roulette's biggest asset. His wife and infant son, back home in Niles, were pretty much lost in the shuffle. He moved in with another, slightly older woman in New York. Divorce, another marriage. Repeat as needed. Tommy James was a classic case of too much too soon, and certainly way too young. He was a super star in the rock world for several years though, and, judging from this narrative, met nearly everyone in the music biz. Name-dropping rules throughout the book, which I enjoyed, but I wish there had been a bit more of the personal side of his life. He nearly died of a drug overdose, entered rehab and found Jesus. Hallelujah! And there's the Mob stuff in here too, sordid and scary, and the demise of Levy's Roulette and cut-out music empire.

As I said, I very much enjoyed the career side of his life, and the songs and personalities resonated and brought back a flood of memories from my own life. But, sadly, I found myself not liking Tommy James very much by the book's end. James will be 75 this year. Per Wikipedia he's currently hosting a Sirius XM radio show, "Gettin' Together with Tommy James" spinning oldies from the 60s and 70s. I wish him luck. His music enriched my younger years. Highly recommended, especially for pop music fans and historians.

- Tim Bazzett, author of the memoir, BOOKLOVER show less

More interesting than I thought it would be. Tommy James has some stories to tell and doesn't shy away from showing himself in an unflattering light. His relationship with mobster Morris Levy is a fascinating look at the underside of the record business in the 60s and 70s.

Tommy James sang, wrote, or helped write some of the greatest rock'n'roll songs of all time--Crimson and Clover, Crystal Blue Persuasion, Mony Mony, I Think We're Alone Now--and more. This is the story of how he started out, thanks to the support of his parents, who bought him his first electric guitar, his first bands and recordings (while he was still going by his real name, Tommy Jackson), and how one of those early recordings, Hanky Panky, became a breakout hit in Pittsburgh two years show more after it was initially released and after the band (the original Shondells) that recorded it had broken up.

Soon, Tommy was in New York attracting interest from all the major record labels--but it was Roulette Records and its mob-connected owner Morris Levy who made Tommy an offer he couldn't refuse. For the next several years, as Tommy made hit after hit, Levy raked in millions in royalties that should have belonged to Tommy, his band, and the other songwriters. James (the name he had taken for his first New York recording) was making a nice living from concert money, which Levy didn't control, and being only 19 when he signed with Levy, it took him some time to realize how much he was been taken for. His relationship with Levy was love-hate at its best. At the same time he was being robbed, he still appreciated Levy's knack for knowing and promoting a hit record. But any mention of collecting what they were owed only earned James, his accountants, and lawyers threats of physical violence that they knew Levy was more than capable of carrying out.

Meanwhile, Tommy's personnel life was a bit of a shambles. He had gotten his high school girlfriend pregnant and married her at age 17, only to leave her and his son at home six days a week while he traveled the Midwest with one of his early bands to make enough money to scrape by on. When "Hanky Panky" became a huge hit, James started spending more time in New York, where he became involved with one of the secretaries at Roulette. The secretary, incidentally, introduced him to Richie Cordell, his most important songwriter and songwriting partner. Soon, James asked his wife for a divorce and re-married. Along the way, he had started drinking too much and taking enormous quantities of pills--pills to stay awake at night so he could write songs, pills to overcome his constant stage fright, pills for pretty much anything he could think of.

James' success continued for several years, but finally he couldn't put up with Levy's thievery any more and confronted him in his office, resulting in a monumental fight. James' only weapon was just to stop recording and walk out. Levy continued to release what was left in the can as long as he could. Finally, James was released from his contract--but Levy retained the publishing rights, including those to new James compositions, through 1979. But even after freeing himself from Levy, James still missed his advice. Other than discussions about money, he could talk to Levy about things better than he could talk to anyone.

There was one more hit in the early 1980s, and James also produced other acts, but his glory days were over. Soon he was divorced and re-married again--but this third marriage would be a lasting one. James checked into the Betty Ford Clinic in 1986 and successfully kicked his alcohol and drug habits. By this time, the royalties he had long been denied, were started to roll in (six- or seven-figure checks).

This is a fascinating, page-turner of a story that I devoured quickly, but it is still rather incomplete. It could use another hundred pages or so to flesh out James' own story better and to provide a little more background and detail on how Levy was able to get away with what he did for so long. James' recollections are also just a little too clear for someone who spent much of the time in a drug-induced haze, and he writes of his career, even the latter part of it, as pretty much one success after another, if not commercial, then at least artistic. But there was perhaps a darker side he doesn't delve into deeply enough.

The only time I saw Tommy perform was about 1974 in Montgomery, Alabama at an "Oldies" show headlined by the Four Seasons. After (I think) performing one song, he started speaking to the crowd, telling them that the promoters only wanted to hear the hits and not any of his new stuff. He rambled on for a few minutes while the band played the memorable opening of "Dragging the Line" over and over again. Finally, the police came to the front of the stage and Tommy's part of the concert was over as the obviously drunk or pilled-up James was led away (not arrested). Ironically, the same night Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons introduced a new song, "My Eyes Adored You" that went on to become a huge hit and spark the band's second period of success in the 1970s.

Although James doesn't shy away from talking about his addictions and his abandonment of his first wife and child, even calling himself "a flaming asshole" at one point, his descriptions of his performing career seem to gloss over this dark period. Obviously things weren't going quite that well if he was playing second bill to The Four Seasons at an Oldies show only a few years after he was at the top of the charts.

So to conclude, I thoroughly enjoyed this book, but it doesn't provide a really objective view of James' considerable success, his accomplishments, or his trials and tribulations. And there is certainly a lot more to be written about the life and career of Morris Levy and Roulette Records. In the meantime, I'm going to crank up some Tommy James on my MP3 player. After all these years, it still sounds great. show less