I Want to Take You Higher_ The Life and Times of Sly & the Family Stone - Jeff Kaliss [22]
Rich turned to a list of contacts he'd maintained while working with Autumn Records, and picked out Chuck Gregory, the local promotion manager for Columbia Records. Chuck had secured Columbia's first rock act (Moby Grape), as well as a recording of Carol Doda and her backing band at the Condor. For Aretha Franklin, performing at a private party downstairs from the club, Chuck had recruited Sly and some other Condor familiars as backing musicians. Chuck then called Columbia's New York office, at Aretha's request, to propose recording the rising soul diva with Sly and the others. This promising project, conjoining two future superstars, never came to be: Columbia, ready to divest themselves of Aretha, gave it the thumbs-down.
On the night Chuck came to the Cathedral to assess the Family Stone, at Rich's invitation, in March 1967, "Everything that could go wrong went wrong," says the club owner. "Microphones went out, amplifiers went out, strings broke on guitars, it was just a fucking mess." Chuck's reaction came as a relief: "I think we got something." Inspired by this interest, Rich set about cleaning up his star act. "Sly had been in trouble with the IRS and the Musicians' Union," he says, "so we got his back dues straightened out and brought in Sid Frank, my dad's accountant." The band was sent to Don Wehr's Music City in San Francisco to equip itself with proper instruments and amplifiers, and then was sent across town to the trendy Town Squire for outfits. "They came out looking like fucking clowns," laughs Rich. "Jerry with his polka-dot shirt and Sly with his knickers. I said, `What the fuck is going on?' But Sly was right, I was wrong. They were gonna be new, they were gonna be unique, their music was different, they were on their way."
Eye-catching fashion and coiffure remained hallmarks throughout the band's existence and into Sly's career beyond. The bandleader would go so far as to create outfits instantly with a rug and a knife. Though Hendrix's Experience had their towering Afros, Jim Morrison his tight leather pants, and Janis Joplin her hippy bell-bottoms, the Family Stone's group image of garish costuming almost seemed to prefigure the '70s-there were highheeled boots, tight slacks or dresses, luminescent puffy shirts evocative of some gilded age, oversize hats atop oversize dos, and ornate jewelry. In publicity shots, on record covers, and in live performance, the band manifested a new standard of rock royalty.
Back in New York, Chuck Gregory's superiors at Columbia Records were still bedecked in three-piece suits and ties, smoking tobacco copiously while attempting to stay ahead of rapidly changing trends in music. An enthusiastic phoned dispatch from Chuck reached the ears of David Kapralik, who'd lateraled from his position in national promotions for Columbia (succeeding the notorious rock hater Mitch Miller) to managing A & R (artists and repertoire) for Columbia's rock-centered Epic Records. "Now that you're there [at Epic]," Chuck urged David, "come on out and I'll sign a hell of a band for ya." While still at Columbia, David had resurrected the legendary Okeh label and engaged performer and producer Curtis Mayfield and others to broaden the label's R & B catalog. He'd also coined the term "pop gospel" and had signed Peaches & Herb to Epic. Chuck's report about a black DJ with a racially integrated ensemble intrigued David, then in his early forties, and he flew out to San Francisco and slept off some of his jet lag at Chuck's home in Marin County, across the Golden Gate Bridge. "Then we woke up at 12:30 [a.m.] and took a cup of coffee," says Chuck. "My wife drove us down [to Winchester Cathedral] and Sly went on at two o'clock."
"I heard this sound that totally