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2 7 4    e y e s o f a n e w y o r k w o m a n American when he came to town, echoed the thought. “He was such an innovative cat on the bass. Very easygoing guy. . . . It was all just like a family.” The Don Crews lawsuit was hurting the family environment of the studio quite a bit, Hayward thought; he was sensitive to the tension around the place and the feeling that something was not right, even though he did not fully understand what it was. Most of the others knew no more details of the lawsuit than Hayward (although, being the new kid on the block, he thought for years that they knew something he did not). Chips seldom talked business with any of the musicians other than Tommy Cogbill, and neither he nor Tommy were exactly the type to confide. “Working for Chips, we were never made privy to any of the higher-ups’ activity. Like it wasn’t any of our business,” said Mike Leech. “On several occasions there would be honcho meetings in the control room. We weren’t told to keep out, but we were never invited in, and we were supposed to be stockholders in the company (never happened).” Both Hayward Bishop and Mike Leech recalled that the siege mentality was in high gear around the studio at the time, and that Crews was routinely demonized. Bobby Wood conceded the siege mentality and the groupthink that was commonplace among the musicians but passed it off as naïveté. “We just basically did what Chips suggested, we were young bucks and didn’t know about the record business,” he said. Chips was making it all up as he went along, too, although the musicians did not seem to be aware of that fact due to the authority with which Chips carried himself, as a king among equals. “You know what I followed???? My nose,” Chips said emphatically. “Wherever it took me, that’s where I’d go.” He had gotten far on his gambler’s instincts, and he had no reason to think his instincts would not serve him well now. He had a new business manager, a new record deal, a new soundman for the studio, and even a new love as a new decade began. And, Chips and the group were all sure, things could only get even better. C h ap t e r 2 1 Just Can’t Help Believing B.J.ThomashadcometoAmericanduringalull in his career, but was now one of the top singers in the country due to his hit recording of the Burt Bacharach movie theme, “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head.” According to Glen Spreen, Chips Moman was more than a little miffed that the man he considered to be his singer had gotten his biggest hit with someone else. The pairing of Scepter’s best-known male singer with the label’s staff arranger/composer made sense from the viewpoint of the suits, however. “Scepter also ran the management company that managed B.J., it was win-winwin ,” observed Glen Spreen amusedly. “Chips was very possessive, and he was also very insecure .” B.J. Thomas was also insecure, and his work with Bacharach in New York ceased abruptly. In B.J.’s memoirs he said that the collaboration fell apart when Bacharach made a comment in the studio about the way recording was done in Memphis that B.J. took as a slur against Southerners. The signs of trouble had been apparent even during the recording of “Raindrops,” when B.J. sang his lilting run on the final line of the song. It was improvised, and according to Glen Spreen, “Bacharach gave him a dirty look.” Chips Moman would not have; he would have been delightedly caught up in the moment and loved the creativity, which is why B.J. was happy to return to American. “Everybody ’s Out of Town,” featuring a Hal David fantasy lyric about being the last person alive after some unnamed disaster, was the last record from the team of Bacharach, David, and Thomas. “We knew it wasn’t a hit; too negative ,” said Glen Spreen flatly. It was also the title j u s t ca n ’ t h e l p b e l i e v i n g    2 7 5 track of B.J.’s spring 1970 album from Scepter, though the bulk of the album’s recording was...

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