Between a Heart and a Rock Place_ A Memoir Part 10

But while there was no doubt that we'd been on the road too much, it was the confusion at the label that really sank the record and the tour. Chrysalis was in transition; they didn't focus on marketing and promoting the record as much as they should have or as much as they had with past records. This combination proved fatal to the alb.u.m and the tour.

Of course we didn't realize this until it was too late, and we started off the tour feeling as confident as ever. At first we simply kicked back and had a great time with Haley on the road. She loved it-and the "house-bus" was her favorite part. She decorated her bunk and was the little queen with an extended family totaling nearly forty people. Her parents and G.o.dparents were with her every day. Before she was born, I'd sleep until one P.M P.M. when we were on the road, usually because I'd been up 'til four A.M A.M. the previous night. Now, we were up and out the door first thing in the morning, always looking for ways to entertain an energetic three-year-old. Up until this point, I'd led a pretty insulated and reclusive life, but with Haley we had lots of visits to museums, parks, kid movies-even the dreaded mall.

Though only three, Haley was an avid shopper, and I found myself traipsing through places like the Mall of America with a huge African American bodyguard and a three-year-old decked out in a Disney Princess costume (complete with tiara and "sparkle shoes") and trying to blend in. Women would stop us, oblivious to me, but dazzled by the child and say, "Oh! Isn't she adorable? Is it her birthday?"

I'd smile and say, "Yes.... Yes it is," and then I'd get the h.e.l.l out of there.

We spent many days teaching Haley how to swim in pools across America. Spyder taught her how to play baseball in the artist's parking lot of Pine k.n.o.b Music Theater outside of Detroit. Eventually Haley became such an experienced traveler that she would walk into our hotel suite, go straight to the phone and say, "Mommy, I'm going to call room service and see if they have creme brulee." She was incredibly precocious and sweet, and we adored her.

While all this was fun for us, it was not exactly the rock star life that most people imagined. When I was plugging the new record, I went on Howard Stern, who was in L.A. promoting his new radio show. I had met Howard years back in New York before he became the shock jock he is today. I did my interview first; we were talking about how normal my life was, considering my profession. You know, no trips to rehab, actually married to my daughter's father-the usual. Between takes we talked about having kids, and he asked me where he could get a Disney princess costume for his little girl while he was in L.A.

Also on the show was Robin Leach, who was the host of the show Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, and when Howard started interviewing Robin, Robin launched into his stable of great stories about the excesses of the wealthy. When Robin's aristocratic British voice came to a break, Howard chimed in: "Robin, you should have Pat on the show sometime."

Robin deadpanned, "She just spent twenty minutes telling you how boring she is. Why would I do that that?" All I could do was laugh, but I had to admit, the man had a point.

But as much fun as we were having, the actual shows themselves became increasingly lackl.u.s.ter. Venues were undersold; the crowds weren't showing up in the same numbers. "All Fired Up" was flying up the charts, but even that wasn't enough to stop the tour's break-neck downward spiral. Promoters began panicking, and before long, our booking agents for the tour were suggesting that we cancel the tour and cut our losses before there was any more bloodletting. We had to protect our relationship with the promoters for future touring. Spyder and I were reeling; we immediately went into survival mode. Our first priority was salvaging everything we could. We'd put our heart, soul, and blood into this for the last nine years. After all the s.h.i.t and sacrifices we'd made in our personal life there was no way we were going to sit idly as it all went up in flames.

We met with our attorneys and business manager and proceeded with triage. Besides all the damage that had been done to our reputation, there was one truly terrible question to face: we had a crew of forty people who depended on us for their livelihood and if we canceled the tour, what would happen to all of them? The very thing that they'd used to manipulate me on the Seven the Hard Way Seven the Hard Way tour was about to come to pa.s.s. I was sick. We had to do the right thing. Some of these people had been with us since the beginning. Everyone was paid a severance and released from their obligation to us so that they could work elsewhere. tour was about to come to pa.s.s. I was sick. We had to do the right thing. Some of these people had been with us since the beginning. Everyone was paid a severance and released from their obligation to us so that they could work elsewhere.

In the aftermath, I was furious. How had no one seen this coming? The label alone was not to blame. What had our side been doing? Where were our people? How had things gotten so bad? It seemed incredible that everyone was so complacent and hesitant to take a proactive approach to protect all of our interests. We were rife with questions and had very few answers.

GETTING OUR FIRST TASTE of real failure was eye-opening, but we didn't come back from the of real failure was eye-opening, but we didn't come back from the Wide Awake Wide Awake tour to feel sorry for ourselves. We were eager to pick ourselves up and figure out where we'd go from there. As luck would have it, a peculiar chain of events led to a dramatic turn that would reshape our entire career and impact the rest of our lives. tour to feel sorry for ourselves. We were eager to pick ourselves up and figure out where we'd go from there. As luck would have it, a peculiar chain of events led to a dramatic turn that would reshape our entire career and impact the rest of our lives.

It all began shortly after we returned home from our aborted tour for Wide Awake, Wide Awake, when our attorney, Owen Epstein, died of a brain tumor. Newman and Owen had been best friends, and for years he'd represented Newman with the club and many of his comedy acts. Our A&R guy, Buzzard, was close with Owen as well. This strange triangle was a little too cozy for comfort, and it inevitably created a conflict of interest for Newman and Owen. Where did their allegiance lie-with us or the label? For years, we'd looked the other way, but the combination of the when our attorney, Owen Epstein, died of a brain tumor. Newman and Owen had been best friends, and for years he'd represented Newman with the club and many of his comedy acts. Our A&R guy, Buzzard, was close with Owen as well. This strange triangle was a little too cozy for comfort, and it inevitably created a conflict of interest for Newman and Owen. Where did their allegiance lie-with us or the label? For years, we'd looked the other way, but the combination of the Wide Awake Wide Awake disaster and Owen's death meant that we had new incentive to take hold of the situation. disaster and Owen's death meant that we had new incentive to take hold of the situation.

After Owen died, I retained new counsel, a man named Gerry Margolis who had been Spyder's original attorney for a short time in the very beginning, and the first thing Gerry did was clean house. He examined all of our current contracts and a.s.sociations, and as we sorted through the doc.u.ments, it immediately became clear that we had major problems with how our management had been handling things. He sat me down and said it simply and clearly: "The bad news is that there are a lot of problems here. The good news is that they are all fixable."

And then he laid it out for me in no uncertain terms: there were large-scale issues with how our affairs were being handled. For a couple years some things had been going on that we hadn't bothered to take control of; now all that had to change. These problems began with Newman but they didn't end there. Because money was always an issue and Newman was pretty overwhelmed with his various responsibilities to us as well as the club, he eventually took on a partner, a guy named Richard Fields.

Appropriately, this had all started around the time we made Get Nervous Get Nervous. At first Fields didn't actually work with us-he worked with Newman. Fields's job was to help Newman run the business of the club and the comedians that Newman managed, and we were adamant that it stay that way. But Fields wasn't content doing that. All the fun stuff was happening in our world, and slowly he began to infiltrate it. That was when we learned one of the ugly axioms of the entertainment business: if someone works directly with your manager, they are also working with you. Don't dream that they're not.

Spyder and I protested his involvement. We didn't want this guy to just waltz in after all of us had worked so hard together to achieve what we had. But Fields was crafty, making us feel at ease and showing us how much this would help Rick out. Little by little he worked his way in, and we started to see the impact here and there. When we filmed an HBO special, his name appeared as a producer. When decisions were made, he was always there. And he seemed to think he was a Rockefeller. The next thing I knew, our most trusted business manager had been let go. Fields became more involved in everything. Suddenly we had Dom Perignon in the dressing room. We had fleets of limos taking us around town. We were staying at the St. Regis. We were encouraged to spend money as well. At Fields's suggestion I once bought our attorney Owen a DeLorean, as compensation for doing such a good job on the renegotiation of our record contract. Money was being p.i.s.sed away moment by moment.

Millions of dollars were coming in the door, and a lot of it was going out for no good reason. We weren't completely oblivious and we didn't go broke, but we weren't in control as much as we needed to be because everything was channeled through my management. I kept feeling like something was very wrong, that what had basically become a show-business empire was in danger of going in the dumper. The money we got from our writing, for example, we protected. But there was money coming in that we couldn't even track. My management even took out a million-dollar life insurance policy on me, using power of attorney. Apparently this was not illegal, but crazy, nonetheless.

There were other reasons that some of this maneuvering slid past us at first. Fame brought more than money in the door. For a while I had a Winnebago full of FBI agents protecting me from a stalker. Out of the blue one day, some crazy guy's parents contacted our office. It seemed their son had just been released from a mental hospital in Georgia because of some loophole that prevented the hospital from keeping him. During his time there he'd written threatening letters saying that he he was the real Neil Giraldo and that Spyder was an imposter living in his home with his wife and child. The letters claimed he was going to California to set it all straight, even if it meant killing Spyder. Now, I've been around weird people all my life, but the crazies, they're scary. So the FBI was brought in and they lived in our driveway, in a Winnebago, for six months. They finally caught the guy; he'd made it all the way to Denver. was the real Neil Giraldo and that Spyder was an imposter living in his home with his wife and child. The letters claimed he was going to California to set it all straight, even if it meant killing Spyder. Now, I've been around weird people all my life, but the crazies, they're scary. So the FBI was brought in and they lived in our driveway, in a Winnebago, for six months. They finally caught the guy; he'd made it all the way to Denver.

In the end, between the fleets of limos and expensive hotel suites, I would guess that the new partner cost us about half a million dollars. We probably wouldn't have ever discovered the full extent of what was going on if it hadn't been for Owen's death.

As Gerry laid everything out for me, I felt like I'd come out from inside a cave. This had all been happening under our noses. We took a serious look around us, and it wasn't pretty. With the exception of everything surrounding Wide Awake, Wide Awake, the last few years had been incredibly good to us professionally and financially, but the rate at which everything had unfolded caused us to commit to things without fully understanding what we were getting ourselves into and what the consequences might be. The music business is littered with these situations. the last few years had been incredibly good to us professionally and financially, but the rate at which everything had unfolded caused us to commit to things without fully understanding what we were getting ourselves into and what the consequences might be. The music business is littered with these situations.

If I was going to be the mother I wanted to be, I needed to be protective. I began to see the future in terms of taking care of a family, of providing for a family's future. All of a sudden it wasn't our money, it was for our daughter, and that realization helped me to see I didn't have to be so nice about things anymore. If I questioned what people were doing, I wasn't being a selfish pig. I was looking out for my child. I became a viper. I ended up marching in and saying, "What the h.e.l.l do you people think you've been doing? I want an accounting. I want to know where every dime is. And if you don't know where it is, you better be able to explain why."

It was like day and night. I'd drawn a line in the sand. I called each and every a.s.shole on the carpet and started heads rolling. People got fired. People got scared off. People realized that we were done bank-rolling whatever they wanted. It was a beautiful thing to see.

While it felt good to take control, in reality this turn brought about one of the saddest points in my professional career. All of the aggravating and tedious experiences we'd been through with the label paled in comparison to what it felt like when we finally had to confront Newman about what had been going on. Newman was one of my oldest friends, going back even farther than Spyder. From the first moment that I stepped off the stage at Catch, he'd been there, listening to my crazy ideas and helping me make them realities. Even when he wasn't sure he agreed or understood what I was talking about, he'd cheered me on. He was my confidante, my manager, and my friend.

Even today, I don't really really know what happened, and I'm not sure I want to. Somewhere, as things progressed, boundaries became blurred, ethics were pushed aside. People justified their actions and codes of conduct were relaxed in the name of compromise. Being forced to see it all in the daylight hurt immensely. Newman didn't do anything out of malice; that much I knew for sure. His intentions were good and his heart was always in the right place, but he was in the horrible position of keeping the peace between all the parties. Something had to give, and unfortunately that something turned out to be us. know what happened, and I'm not sure I want to. Somewhere, as things progressed, boundaries became blurred, ethics were pushed aside. People justified their actions and codes of conduct were relaxed in the name of compromise. Being forced to see it all in the daylight hurt immensely. Newman didn't do anything out of malice; that much I knew for sure. His intentions were good and his heart was always in the right place, but he was in the horrible position of keeping the peace between all the parties. Something had to give, and unfortunately that something turned out to be us.

To some extent, I think he and I were both naive and trusting, and people took advantage of that. I took full responsibility for my part in all of this, but I held everyone else accountable as well. Newman had allowed Richard Fields to play far too prominent a role in our affairs. Fields's actions may have hurt us, but they destroyed Newman.

We parted ways "amicably." It broke our hearts, because Newman was a friend, but for both our sakes, we had to sever the old tie. It was 1988, and I'd been with him for over ten years. Now for the first time in my professional career, I didn't have a manager.

As if that weren't a sea change in itself, there was still one surprise waiting for us. As big as Gerry's discovery about our managerial problems had been, it was not the most shocking thing that he had uncovered when he went through Owen's paperwork. Rustling through the reams of contracts and decade-old doc.u.ments, he made the most important finding of all: our contract with Chrysalis was no longer legally binding.

It seemed that under California law, a person could not legally be bound to a personal service contract for more than seven years. Though the original doc.u.ment was signed in New York, which didn't have that law, when we had renegotiated our contract with them in 1980, it was done in California, so the law applied. It was now 1988, meaning that more than seven years had elapsed. They had been so caught up with everything happening in their company and focused on pushing us back into the studio that they hadn't realized their mistake until we brought it to their attention. Just like that, we could walk-no lawsuit, no lawyers. We simply could walk away with no repercussions. It was crystal clear; we were free. free.

CHAPTER NINE.

ALMOST OUT.

THE NEWS THAT WE were no longer obligated to Chrysalis came as a complete shock. We'd been waiting for this moment for so long, we almost didn't know what to do with it. But as monumental as it was, it was almost overshadowed by another, equally dramatic development. were no longer obligated to Chrysalis came as a complete shock. We'd been waiting for this moment for so long, we almost didn't know what to do with it. But as monumental as it was, it was almost overshadowed by another, equally dramatic development.

Unbeknownst to us, while we'd been on our problematic tour for Wide Awake, Wide Awake, Chris Wright had been busy laying the groundwork for a deal that would give the international record giant EMI full control of the U.S. division of Chrysalis, with Chrysalis selling 50 percent of the company to EMI/Capitol. Chris never discussed his plans with anyone from our camp, and we didn't know what was happening until it already had. When the news was announced, we were in disbelief. As bad as things had been, after ten years of being with one company, we were being sold to a group of strangers. Chris Wright had been busy laying the groundwork for a deal that would give the international record giant EMI full control of the U.S. division of Chrysalis, with Chrysalis selling 50 percent of the company to EMI/Capitol. Chris never discussed his plans with anyone from our camp, and we didn't know what was happening until it already had. When the news was announced, we were in disbelief. As bad as things had been, after ten years of being with one company, we were being sold to a group of strangers.

At this point, we were without a manager, and while it was extremely liberating, it was a little unnerving as well. We weren't set up to take care of the huge responsibility of running our careers. We went on the hunt, interviewing several people for the job and ultimately deciding on Danny Goldberg. Danny was well respected in the industry and had an eclectic roster of successful artists such as Nirvana, Bonnie Raitt, and the Allman Brothers. He was a talented, decent man, which was crucial because he had a challenging job ahead of him: fixing the mess we were in and restoring our status.

With Danny signed on, we all went to work repairing the damage that had been done. The first order of business was straightening out our relationship with the record company, and we went in with every intention of crucifying them. As free agents we were in a position to decide if we even wanted a relationship with them anymore. We went with a hard line: If If we decided to work with them, we decided to work with them, we'd we'd choose the kind of record we were going to make, and it would occur under the conditions and terms that choose the kind of record we were going to make, and it would occur under the conditions and terms that we we dictated. It was a very big "if." It was unfortunate, but they were going to pay for the sins of their predecessors. dictated. It was a very big "if." It was unfortunate, but they were going to pay for the sins of their predecessors.

Once the deal was finalized, the two new presidents-Joe Kiener, who was the former vice president of A&R and marketing for Adidas, and Jim Fifield, who was with EMI-came to L.A. to meet with us. The company was "under new management" and they wanted to show us this by having our first face-to-face sit-down. Right away, it was clear Kiener and Fifield were both affable, decent people-a far cry from the people we had grown so used to dealing with. These new executives were actually gracious and amiable people, but they clearly had no idea about our history with the label. They were completely unaware of how contentious things had been and the h.e.l.l we'd been put through. Chris Wright hadn't bothered to fill them in on our turbulent relationship. Neither of them knew about the discovery Gerry had made about our contracts. They had signed on to Chrysalis thinking that they were getting us along with the company, and I was all too happy to tell them this was not the case.

When we finally got down to business, I was incredibly blunt. I told them in no uncertain terms that we did not owe them another record, and that if we decided to do anything with them in the future, it would be on our terms. We were free to dictate everything that we wanted. They were not going to tell us how to make records.

They were stunned. Not surprisingly, they had no idea our contract was up. They'd a.s.sumed we were locked in and were astonished to learn we were no longer under contract. While our last two alb.u.ms had not measured up to our previous sales and Chrysalis had recently hit it big with Sinead O'Connor, we still had a history as one of the original artists on the roster. We were no longer the lead artist, but we had been responsible for much of the earlier success that had helped build the label into what it was.

Regardless of what our recent sales had been, they made it clear that they wanted us to be a part of the label going forward, and speaking to our specific concerns, they made it clear that they'd never even thought about interfering creatively. "We would never tell you how to make a record," they told us. "We're businessmen. You make it, we'll sell it."

THOUGH MY GUT REACTION was skepticism, their overtures seemed genuine. There was nothing about their approach that seemed calculated to placate us or kiss our a.s.s so that we'd stay and they could screw us over later. Still, we proceeded with caution, agreeing to do another alb.u.m with them, but only was skepticism, their overtures seemed genuine. There was nothing about their approach that seemed calculated to placate us or kiss our a.s.s so that we'd stay and they could screw us over later. Still, we proceeded with caution, agreeing to do another alb.u.m with them, but only one one. We had options for more alb.u.ms, but those would only happen if we all agreed to continue. Spyder and I would wait and see how well they did their job, then we'd decide whether more alb.u.ms were in the cards. On this next alb.u.m as well as any subsequent alb.u.ms, they increased our advance and royalty rate. Going forward, we would now own 100 percent of our publishing, beginning with our next alb.u.m, which would be called True Love True Love. There was also a provision that increased the royalty rate for all our previous records, both retroactively and on any future sales, to make up for the increased rates that our previous attorney had failed to negotiate on our behalf.

As we signed our names to the new deal, I felt the most tremendous sense of freedom. At last it was there in writing. We'd won. We were calling the shots. We were the ones making informed decisions based on personal comfort and artistic merit as opposed to financial gain. We were finally able to put our best interests, desires, and pa.s.sions above all. Our contract gave us complete creative control. We could play whatever we wanted, do whatever we wanted, tour whenever we wanted-and there wasn't a d.a.m.n thing anyone could do about it.

THE IMMEDIATE IMPACT OF our new deal with Chrysalis was that we had downtime. There was no one rushing us back into the studio, no one asking when we were going to get back on the road. With the fallout from the our new deal with Chrysalis was that we had downtime. There was no one rushing us back into the studio, no one asking when we were going to get back on the road. With the fallout from the Wide Awake in Dreamland Wide Awake in Dreamland tour still fresh in our minds, we knew that we had to be shrewd about where we went from here. We wanted to tread carefully, but we also were not interested in recording anything right away. tour still fresh in our minds, we knew that we had to be shrewd about where we went from here. We wanted to tread carefully, but we also were not interested in recording anything right away.

This break enabled me to donate some of my time to things I really cared about-children and family. Ever since writing "h.e.l.l Is for Children," I had been advocating for children. Controversy aside, the song and its response had a profound impact on my life, leading me to do whatever I could to improve the lives of children. Becoming a mother myself only deepened my commitment. Any time an event, benefit, or recording that was attached to a children's organization came our way, we partic.i.p.ated.

It was around this time that we were approached to partic.i.p.ate on the second record of Marlo Thomas's Free to Be... Free to Be... series. The original series. The original Free to Be You and Me Free to Be You and Me came out in the early seventies, and it used songs, poetry, and sketches to teach kids essential values. This sequel, came out in the early seventies, and it used songs, poetry, and sketches to teach kids essential values. This sequel, Free to Be a Family, Free to Be a Family, was in much the same vein, but for an entirely new generation of children-Haley's generation. was in much the same vein, but for an entirely new generation of children-Haley's generation.

Growing up, I loved Marlo Thomas. I was a devotee of her TV show That Girl, That Girl, and I'm pretty sure my rabid affection for heavy, long bangs can be attributed to her. I also had fond memories of her dad from and I'm pretty sure my rabid affection for heavy, long bangs can be attributed to her. I also had fond memories of her dad from Make Room for Daddy, Make Room for Daddy, and I'd always loved the story of how he created St. Jude's Hospital, where no sick child is ever turned away for the inability to pay. The idea that one man's heartfelt prayer turned into a safe haven and lifesaving facility for the world's children touched my soul. and I'd always loved the story of how he created St. Jude's Hospital, where no sick child is ever turned away for the inability to pay. The idea that one man's heartfelt prayer turned into a safe haven and lifesaving facility for the world's children touched my soul.

Because of all this, the prospect of working with Marlo Thomas on Free to Be a Family Free to Be a Family was incredibly appealing, and we happily signed on. The alb.u.m consisted of material taken from the book of the same name, and like the first one, it empowered children by tearing down the stereotypes about boys and girls. Marlo asked us to record "Jimmy Says" we'd never done anything like that before, and it was a great experience and a positive message for kids. was incredibly appealing, and we happily signed on. The alb.u.m consisted of material taken from the book of the same name, and like the first one, it empowered children by tearing down the stereotypes about boys and girls. Marlo asked us to record "Jimmy Says" we'd never done anything like that before, and it was a great experience and a positive message for kids.

Another project I worked on during this time was especially important to me, because it gave me the opportunity to meet one of my inspirations, Elizabeth Glaser. It's been so long now since Elizabeth died in 1994, and I hope people haven't forgotten her and the important work she did. She was the wife of actor Paul Michael Glaser and was one of the first and most visible victims of the AIDS epidemic. In 1981, while receiving a blood transfusion during childbirth, Elizabeth was infected with the HIV virus. Her newborn daughter, Ariel, contracted the virus through breast milk, and the Glasers' son Jake, born in 1984, was also infected. It was not until 1985 that any of the family underwent testing and learned they were HIV positive.

In 1987 the Food and Drug Administration approved AZT as a treatment, but only for adult patients. Elizabeth and Paul fought to get Ariel the drug that might have made a difference, but it was too late, and Ariel died in 1988. Elizabeth then founded the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation, working to raise awareness and research funds. Her story is heartbreaking and heroic. She told it in her 1991 book, In the Absence of Angels In the Absence of Angels.

I had just read this gut-wrenching book and was still reeling with emotion when I was approached to partic.i.p.ate on the alb.u.m Disney for Our Children: To Benefit the Pediatric AIDS Foundation Disney for Our Children: To Benefit the Pediatric AIDS Foundation. We could choose any song that we wanted, and I remembered that a dear friend of mine, Michita, who was a fellow mom at Haley's school, had once mentioned that she'd love to hear me record the hymn "Tell Me Why." When they asked us to do the record, I immediately thought of Michita's suggestion; it was perfect. Spyder and I decided to record the song in its simplest and purest form, like a lullaby.

All the artists who had signed on to do the record were invited to New York to hear Elizabeth speak, and when I met her in person, it was almost spiritual. I don't have a lot of experience with the metaphysical side of this world. I haven't had those kinds of encounters. I don't even know how I feel about them, although I do keep an open mind. But on that day, I felt like I was seeing another plane of existence.

I walked into the large banquet hall that had been set up with a podium and rows of chairs. It was packed with people mingling before it was time to take their seats, but I could see Elizabeth at the far end of the room. We had spoken on the phone but never met each other in person. I made my way to where she was standing. I could see this glow around her. I kept thinking, What is that? My G.o.d, this woman is surrounded by light What is that? My G.o.d, this woman is surrounded by light. It was truly astonishing, and I couldn't figure out if I was hallucinating. I found myself staring around at other people to see if they were seeing the same thing. Did anyone else see it?

It was a beautiful, soft, warm light. It made you want to be closer to it. Not only that, but there was a powerful vibration coming off her body that was so intense I could actually feel and hear it. It made a humming sound, a low mmmmmm mmmmmm. When I finally reached her and we said our h.e.l.los, I took her hand, and it was like an electric shock, a jolt-the most wonderful feeling. Her very being simply radiated energy. We both looked at each other and smiled. I knew I was in the presence of an angel. I felt blessed to be there with her, to stand in a s.p.a.ce close to her.

And I was blessed again when they asked me to come back so that along with former president Reagan, I could present a check to the foundation. Spyder and I went with Danny Goldberg. While we were waiting in the greenroom for the presentation, President Reagan, the former first lady Nancy Reagan, and a bunch of Secret Service people were there with us. The two of them were just a darling old married couple. As we waited, President Reagan perused the dessert table and he grabbed a couple of chocolate-chip cookies. He began eating them and turned to Nancy, saying, "Aren't these delicious?" with chocolate all over his mouth. Just then Nancy noticed his face and looked like she was ready to faint. She rushed over to wipe his face with a napkin.

I've never been one to be starstruck, but I had never been near a former president before and I figured I might never be this close again, so even though it was completely out of character for me, I walked over to him and said, "Mr. President, would you sign an autograph for me?"

"Sure, sure," he said with a smile. "What's your name, dear?"

"Pat," I replied. I knew he had no idea who I was, so I said, "Just sign it to Pat, please."

"What?" he asked.

"Pat."

"Cat?"

"No, Pat!"

The first lady chimed in with a little frustration in her voice. "Pat! P-A-T!"

You just had to smile because she was both exasperated and protective. It reminded me of the kind of exchanges Spyder and I, and most married couples, have from time to time. It made them human to me. It substantiated what I'd always thought-that people are all the same. I don't care what heights you get to-you're not that much different from the next guy. We all get chocolate on our face sometimes.

I did a few other public-service and charity type things during that time, but mostly we kept out of the public eye and out of the recording studio. The bottom line was that everything from the last few years had caused a lot of emotional stress. Between the problems with Wide Awake in Dreamland, Wide Awake in Dreamland, the backlash from our tour, the messy end to our relationship with Newman, and the management change at Chrysalis, I just didn't know how much more I had in me. This downtime allowed me to feel that recording was something I could live without. The c.u.mulative effect of ten years of s.h.i.t had taken its toll. I began thinking that I was ready to hang up my tights and throw in the musical towel for good. the backlash from our tour, the messy end to our relationship with Newman, and the management change at Chrysalis, I just didn't know how much more I had in me. This downtime allowed me to feel that recording was something I could live without. The c.u.mulative effect of ten years of s.h.i.t had taken its toll. I began thinking that I was ready to hang up my tights and throw in the musical towel for good.

The more I considered it, the more I realized this wasn't just something I was kicking around in my head. This was real, and I meant it. Finally I told Spyder in no uncertain terms that I intended to quit. He could continue on his own-producing, writing, and playing-but I was finished. I was going to stay home and raise our daughter. A few years earlier I would have been shocked to think those words, let alone say them out loud or actually mean them. But I meant them. I meant every syllable. I was exhausted physically and emotionally. For a decade, I'd given my career everything I had-twenty-four hours a day, seven days week. In that time we'd accomplished more than most artists do in their entire career. We didn't have to prove anything to anyone, least of all ourselves, and it wasn't enough fun anymore to do it for its own sake. It hadn't been for a long time.

In many ways, the final straw had been the way everything ended with Newman. To know that the team that had helped make it all happen had also played a role in its near destruction was difficult to face. The people who'd shared our success had managed to taint the experience so badly that retirement seemed to be the only logical solution. There was too much in the way, too many obstacles that over-shadowed the joy of making music. To have worked so hard, to have struggled with the rampant s.e.xism, to have kept a marriage intact when everyone was h.e.l.l-bent on destroying it, to have found a way to balance motherhood and a career-to have done all that only to be done in by my own camp was heartbreaking. I didn't see any way to salvage it once that had happened. It simply wasn't worth it. I was done.

AND THAT WOULD HAVE been the end of it. Truly, the story would have ended right there if it hadn't been for the man I married, the man who always knew how to push me into ideas that initially seemed completely ridiculous and probably were. But he also knew how to be pretty persistent. been the end of it. Truly, the story would have ended right there if it hadn't been for the man I married, the man who always knew how to push me into ideas that initially seemed completely ridiculous and probably were. But he also knew how to be pretty persistent.

One day in 1990, he came to me with exactly this kind of idea: he wanted to make a jump blues alb.u.m. I was incredulous.

"Absolutely not," I told him. "There's no way we're doing that."

Spyder and I had loved the blues all our lives. It was the music we played at home, for personal enjoyment. Big Maybelle and Sonny Boy Williamson are my absolute favorite singers. Spyder knew that. And he also knew enjoying that music as a listener was one thing, but singing it was something else entirely. He was convinced we would make an amazing record, but I was pretty sure that he'd lost his mind. I didn't want to be one more white chick trying to sing the blues, and Christ, who was whiter than me? It seemed like a recipe for disaster, but Spyder was adamant-just like he always is when he knows he's right about something.

He was right about one thing: with total creative control, now was as good a time as any to roll the dice. I mean, honestly, since I was already thinking about quitting, what difference would it really make? We had a chance to make whatever record we wanted to make. Why not use that to try to remember why the h.e.l.l we were even making records in the first place? I wasn't completely sold, but Spyder has this wonderfully annoying habit of never totally hearing me, especially when he's trying to persuade me to challenge myself. In the end, even though I wasn't 100 percent convinced, he'd planted the seed in my head, and he knew that was all he needed.

He set out to find the people who could make it work. He started out by approaching our friend Chuck Domanico, a great upright ba.s.s session player. Chuck was unbelievable and had played with everyone, including Frank Sinatra and many of the blues players we loved. He was a big guy with this big belly and ma.s.ses of curly black hair. He was Italian, but he definitely sported an Afro. And he was constantly smoking, coughing, and telling stories. We knew that with Chuck, not only would we make some great music, we'd have a great time in the process.

With Chuckie on board, Spyder then went about putting the rest of the band together, eventually securing the group Roomful of Blues. They were tremendous players out of Providence, Rhode Island. They'd released their debut alb.u.m in 1977 and had been playing constantly ever since. Respected and revered, they're widely considered to be responsible for paving the way for artists like the Fabulous Thunderbirds and Stevie Ray Vaughan. Spyder loved their work and knew they were exactly who we needed to make this record swing.

"I'll just cut some tracks," he said, trying to entice me. "Then you can see what you think."

"Okay. Just a few tracks, though."

"Right, first we need to pick some songs."

And so we listened and listened. I picked some of my favorites and he picked some of his. The band came to Spyder's Soul Kitchen, and in eighteen days we ended up making a record. The recording was unlike anything we'd done before, a completely unique experience. With few exceptions we recorded without overdubbing, and if something was messed up, we went in and redid the whole thing. Everyone was in a terrific mood all the time, and Chuck set the tone. He was an endless source of irreverent humor that came out no matter what was going on. And he was strictly a union guy. We'd be on a roll recording, and then out of the blue, he'd stop us and say, "Lunch break!" We'd do two or three takes at a time, and then he'd stop us again and say, "That's enough." He'd then blow on his hands, kiss each of his fingers, and say, "You gotta let 'em know when they done good," before laughing uproariously. There wasn't a single moment during the making of that record that wasn't pure delight.

The last song we planned to record for True Love True Love was "I Feel Lucky," which was going to be an up-tempo, swinging rave in the style of Louis Prima. Spyder and Myron had written the lyrics, and when it came time to write the music for the song, to get in the mood, Spyder would start drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes first thing in the morning. He never was much of a coffee drinker because it just made him a wired maniac. He'd have an occasional espresso after dinner, but that was the extent of it. But when he was creating the music for "I Feel Lucky," I'd find him at the piano, jacked up on caffeine, working out this was "I Feel Lucky," which was going to be an up-tempo, swinging rave in the style of Louis Prima. Spyder and Myron had written the lyrics, and when it came time to write the music for the song, to get in the mood, Spyder would start drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes first thing in the morning. He never was much of a coffee drinker because it just made him a wired maniac. He'd have an occasional espresso after dinner, but that was the extent of it. But when he was creating the music for "I Feel Lucky," I'd find him at the piano, jacked up on caffeine, working out this boom, boom, boom boom, boom, boom progression. He was the Mad Hatter on steroids, but he wrote one h.e.l.l of a song. progression. He was the Mad Hatter on steroids, but he wrote one h.e.l.l of a song.

"You are nuts!" I'd tell him. "You're flying! What do you think you are doing?"

"You gotta hear this song! It's gonna be great!"

The song was this fast-paced swing number that was unrelenting from the first note. He showed the horn guys what he was doing, and they jumped all over it. Those guys just rocked it. When they finished I shook my head and said, "Spyder, you are a maniac. I hope you know that."

"Oh yeah, I know it," he said with coffee-induced glee.

You can hear the fun we were having in every bar of True Love True Love. This recording was joyous for many reasons, not the least of which was that we felt like we were being reborn. Spyder called it a cleanse, cleanse, an event that turned the tables on the old mistakes and grievances. an event that turned the tables on the old mistakes and grievances.

When it came time to do the video for the t.i.tle track, "True Love," the idea was to show the beauty in all the ways that people experience love. That included the love between a parent and a child, between brothers and sisters, between a preacher and his congregation, between friends. This was about true love in its many forms. We filmed scenes of a young couple holding an infant, beautiful laughing children-and the label wanted it all cut out and replaced with me...being s.e.xy. Yawn. It was ridiculous. And it didn't happen; in the end they came around and the result was a tender, beautiful, and sensual video. Compared to our past dealings on creative issues, their initial opposition to the video ended up being just a small b.u.mp in the road.

We did a short tour to promote the record, convincing Chuckie and the entire Roomful of Blues band to go with us. Unfortunately promoters were still a little nervous after the disastrous Wide Awake Wide Awake tour. Rather than take the chance that audiences might not want to hear us playing the blues, they covered their b.u.t.ts by billing the show with the ambiguous moniker "An Evening with Pat Benatar." As a result, there were occasionally disgruntled audience members who'd come to hear us play our bigger hits and would get unruly from time to time. tour. Rather than take the chance that audiences might not want to hear us playing the blues, they covered their b.u.t.ts by billing the show with the ambiguous moniker "An Evening with Pat Benatar." As a result, there were occasionally disgruntled audience members who'd come to hear us play our bigger hits and would get unruly from time to time.

"Play 'Heartbreaker'!" they'd call out.

"Darlin', you're at the wrong show," I'd call back.

We were playing songs off the record, like B. B. King's "Payin' the Cost to Be the Boss" and "I've Got Papers on You," and Albert King's "I Get Evil." There was no question we rocked, but there was also no mistaking the fact that "Hit Me with Your Best Shot" was not happening at these shows. We tried to get the advance promotion changed so that people knew what they were going to be hearing, but there wasn't enough time. The main thing that happened was that a few marquees read "Rock and Soul."

Even with that small glitch, we had a blast. Chuckie entertained us with his endless stories, and traveling with Roomful was like having all your crazy brothers over for Sunday dinner at once. We had a lot of laughs, but most important, it wiped the tour slate clean. It was like starting over; we'd been given a gift, a second chance.

There's no doubt that as an alb.u.m True Love True Love wasn't as commercially successful as the earlier records, but it was a completely different genre. It had absolutely no radio support. It was like comparing apples and oranges. Blues records can't be held to the same sales standards as pop and rock records. wasn't as commercially successful as the earlier records, but it was a completely different genre. It had absolutely no radio support. It was like comparing apples and oranges. Blues records can't be held to the same sales standards as pop and rock records. True Love True Love sold 339,000 copies in the U.S., and for the blues, that's a d.a.m.n good showing. sold 339,000 copies in the U.S., and for the blues, that's a d.a.m.n good showing.