Tommy James

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 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… (mer)

"Things had died down a little in New York, literally. There weren't that many people left to kill."

An interesting and worthwhile account of the music business in the sixties. It was made notoriously disreputable by mobsters like Morris Levy who used the business for money laundering. Like many of Levy's artists, Tommy James and the Shondells rarely shared any of the royalty proceeds. James had some big successes, but in my experience as someone who grew up in the sixties, they were a small part of the music scene. James' frequent references to The Beatles gave the impression that he was a little envious of their avant-garde status and success. Towards the end he relates his experience of finding God after a stay at the Betty Ford Clinic, which unfortunately came across as trite, laughable even. Obviously words about faith are unfamiliar. Still, this was an entertaining and very enjoyable story. Martin Fitzpatrick provided an excellent narration of the audiobook version.… (mer)