Carvello - Anything for a hit: an A & R womans story of surviving the music industry

Ahmet ErtegunFounder and Chairman of Atlantic Records

Doug MorrisPresident of Atlantic Records

Jason FlomA&R Executive, Atlantic Records

Joey CarvelloDirector of Promotion at WTG

Craig KallmanPresident and Owner of Big Beat Records

Irving AzoffChairman of MCA Music Entertainment Group

Charlie MinorExecutive Vice President of Promotion, A&M Records

Joe GalantePresident of RCAs Nashville Division

Randy GoodmanSenior Vice President of Marketing, RCA Records Nashville

Frank DiLeoManager, Michael Jackson

Bob BuziakPresident of RCA Records

Donnie IennerPresident of Columbia Records

Tommy MottolaChairman and CEO of Sony U.S.

NEW YORK CITY, 2006: MY phone rings. Its Ahmet Ertegun, founder of Atlantic Records.

Come visit me, he says. Im lonely.

Ahmet is perhaps the most revered man in the music business. If the word legend has any meaning, Ahmet is a legend. He started his career in 1947 with an interest in jazz, blues, and R&B. He signed acts such as Professor Longhair and Big Joe Turner, and he wrote several blues classics, such as Sweet Sixteen and Chains of Love. In the 1950s, he signed a young Ray Charles and wrote Mess Around, Charless first hit on Atlantic. In the 1960s, he made a deal with Stax Records to distribute genre-defining albums by Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett, and Solomon Burke, and he snatched Aretha Franklin from Columbia Records and took her back to her gospel roots, resulting in landmark albums such as I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You and Lady Soul. In the late 1960s, he turned his gaze to rock music. He signed Crosby, Stills & Nash and convinced them to add Neil Young; he signed Eric Clapton, Yes, and Led Zeppelin; Zeppelin recorded four diamond records for Atlantic (awarded for ten million sales or more, this designation has been given to only ninety records in history). In the early 1970s, he made a label deal with the Rolling Stones, and they rewarded him with Exile on Main St.

He is more than just a record executive. He is a visionary. He created the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, and his acts largely populate it. He is a statesman, fostering ties between America and his native Turkey. His friends include world leaders in art, finance, and politicspeople like Henry Kissinger and Oscar de la Renta. He has earned a Grammy Trustees Award for lifetime achievements, an honorary doctorate from Berklee College of Music, and a Living Legend award from the Library of Congress. None of that keeps him company, though.

He has a wife, Mica, but she was always more of a front than a spousea respectable veneer to hide the depravity within. His infidelity has long been an open secret. He even took a date to his own wedding. He also has an ex-wife, but he never speaks of her. I did see a picture of her once. Ahmets longtime assistant Noreen Woods was busy one afternoon cataloging his files when she found a photograph of the woman and slid it across my desk.

Look, she said. The woman looked like Ulla from The Producersa total blonde bombshell.

Whatever happened to her? I asked.

I dont know, Noreen said. But I met her. I was with Ahmet at the Plaza Athne in Paris when this beautiful blonde came up and started talking to him. I realized it was his ex-wife. When they finished talking she gave him a hug and a kisswhat youd expect from an amicable ex-relationship.

I cant believe you met her, I interrupted.

Wait, this is the best part, Noreen continued. When she walked away, Ahmet said to me, Who was that?

Classic Ahmet.

Thats why hes alone. Its Classic Ahmets fault. Classic Ahmet was the guy who played with himself under his desk while dictating letters to his secretary. Classic Ahmet was the guy whose nightly routine included four lines of cocaine. Classic Ahmet was the guy who couldnt be bothered to remember peoples nameshe called Jann Wenner, cofounder and publisher of Rolling Stone, That Faggot, not to be confused with Paul Cooper, general manager of Atlantics West Coast office, who was That Fucking Faggot in L.A.

Classic Ahmet had power and influence, which kept people close to him even while he abused them. Now his power and influence have waned, and those people have nothing to gain by coming to visit an old man. And so, hes lonely.

I feel the need to be there for him. When I enter his double townhouse in Manhattan, I see the man I still revere despite everything, the man who gave me my first job in the music business and remained a trusted adviser during my two decades working for Atlantic and other major labels. Hes also the man who verbally, physically, and sexually mistreated me.

Hes worse for wear, blind in one eye and hobbling on two fake hips, yet hes still the very picture of posh cosmopolitan life. He wears custom pajamas from Savile Row, velvet slippers, and a silk robe with an ascot. His apartment is littered with the works of masters like its the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He leans on his cane and hobbles past his Picasso, past his Degas, past his Pollock, and past his Hockney, to greet me.

Show me your pussy, he says. For old times sake.

Hes never seen my pussy. Thats just more Classic Ahmet.

I sit down and we reminisce. Hes bitterbitter about selling Atlantic to Warner CEO Steve Ross for $17.5 million in 1967, when he should have gotten more; bitter that his company is now privately owned; bitter that his perks have been cut back; bitter that he lost his grip on the awesome power he wielded for half a century.