Redcoats / Sidekicks In 2001, Dionysus Records released a CD titled “Meet The Redcoats…Finally”.  It was rather big news at the time in the ‘60’s garage band world, as it was a completely unreleased album by a very talented group that should have gone on to bigger and better things.  It was shortly announced, however, that the band did go on to “bigger things” - as the Redcoats happened to be an earlier incarnation of the Sidekicks, who recorded an LP in 1967 for RCA.      The Redcoats Are Coming!   By Zach Bocelle   Chapter One: Beginnings   My brother Randy and I were pretty much born into music. Dad (Tony Bocelle) played piano and sang. He even recorded a couple of 78s that he still has around. He used to do minstrel shows for the church, and he wanted us to be exposed to music - all kinds of music. From classical to rock, there was always music in the Bocelle household. I used to sing along with everything.   When I was seven, and Randy was five, our mother (Doris) talked us into taking - now don't laugh - tap dancing lessons. I still don't know how she managed that one, but mothers can talk their children into doing a lot of horrible things. Homework…eating spinach; you know.  Anyway, that was or introduction to show business. The dance teacher heard me singing one day and made me sing at our little recitals. It was all very cute and very innocent.   In 1960, at the age of ten, before it was fashionable, Randy decided that he wanted to take guitar lessons. I still think he did it just to get out of tap dancing, but he still won't admit to that. He was dedicated to that instrument. He would practice from the time he got up in the morning until he couldn't stay awake any longer. And before too long, he became quite the virtuoso. Seriously…he was great. He still is.   In the meantime, I had become the lead vocalist in the school choir. All that meant was that I was allowed to stay up late on Christmas Eve to sing the "Ave Maria" at Midnight Mass. In my freshman year in high school, I was in the school play, and was invited to do a year of Summer Stock Theater.   On February 9, 1964 Randy and I were glued to the television set. The Beatles were to appear on the Ed Sullivan Show. And that's how it started. I asked Randy to teach me how to play the guitar. What could he say? I mean - if he didn't - I'd have told Mom about the time he…well…never mind.   So there we were…everyday. I played rhythm and he played lead. Then we started singing together - mostly Everly Brothers and Beatles songs. We decided to put a little band together. We found a keyboard player, and a drummer. We called the band the Tantrums. We weren't very good, except for the vocal harmony and Randy's guitar playing. But we managed to get a summer job in a bar in Atlantic City. We were underage of course, but it was a different world back then, and Dad always went with us, so it was okay. We worked with a band that called themselves the Rondells. These guys would actually go on to become the Cyrkle, and tour with the Beatles.   The only reason I tell you all of this is because while we were growing and learning in Absecon, New Jersey, about thirty miles away, in Wildwood, New Jersey, a young man by the name of John Spirt, and a friend of his named Mike Burke, were doing the exact same thing. John Spirt had a dream. And that dream would soon bring the four of us together.   Dad came down to the basement one day and told us he'd seen an ad in the newspaper. Someone was holding auditions in Atlantic City. They were looking for singers and musicians, but you had to be 18. We reminded him that we were too young, but he said, "I know when your birthdays are, now come on. It'll be good experience. It'll be fun." So we went.   There were a lot of people there in this club, sitting around and listening to the other performers. All of a sudden they called on my brother and me. We went up and did an Everly Brothers' tune, and it went over pretty well. Then somebody yelled out, "Do you know any Beatle songs?" "Well o' course we do," I said. "Whaddya think…we live in the woods?" Actually, Absecon is in the woods, but hey - they didn't know that. So we did "I Saw Her Standing There," and this guy flipped out. He came over to us with this other guy, and said he wanted to talk to us. They didn't even bother to audition themselves. So Dad, who had just gotten hollered at because we were too young, gave 'em our phone number, and we went home.   John Spirt and Mike Burke came to our house that night, and so the dream began. He told us that he and his cousin, Steven Rappaport had a record out called, "The Martian Hop." He told us, "The Beatles are four English guys trying to sound American. What I want to do is find four American kids who can sound English. We'll be called the Redcoats. They can promote us by saying the Redcoats are coming."   They wanted to pick us up Fridays after school, and take us to John's parents' house in Wildwood. We would stay there on the weekends and practice. They'd take care of us like family, and return us unharmed Sunday nights, so we could go to school on Mondays. He called his folks, and let them talk to our parents. The Spirts’ didn't sound like cannibals or anything, so we were allowed to go.  Cool. Thus began an adventure that would take four young men through the joys of heaven, and eventually the bowels of hell together. Chapter Two:  Our Brian Epstein John and Mike were waiting for us to come home from school that Friday. We loaded up our amps and guitars and headed off for Wildwood. The Spirt household is a story in itself. I will say, that for all their strange quirks and idiosyncrasies, they took us into their home and treated us like family. They were loving parents who were ready to do anything they could to help see their son John's dream come to fruition. John had his drums set up in the living room. We set up our stuff and decided to play a song with which we were all familiar. A simple song: "Twist and Shout." We didn't have a PA system, but John had a reel-to-reel tape recorder, so we sang into that. As soon as the song ended, John came around from behind his drums to play it back. It was very rough. It was very raw. But it was also very magical. We sounded like the Beatles. Randy and Mike were both excellent guitar players, but it was decided, that because Randy's roll in the band would be that of Paul McCartney, he would play bass. There were no arguments. There were no clashing egos. There were only four young kids on a mission. John was thrilled. He put on another tape and started playing songs that he and Mike had written. We immediately went about the business of learning the material. The first song we learned was, "Love Unreturned." It had an Everly Brothers quality to it that Randy and I were quite comfortable with. John and Mike helped us with the most troublesome part - the accents. I had already done some acting so it was easier for me. Randy had some problems with it at first, but eventually he got it. And the fact that Mike actually was English helped a lot. John wanted us to speak in English accents all the time. So we did. I can remember going to the diner and everyone thought we were really English. It was funny. Wildwood is basically tourists. Nobody really knew us. We'd go up on the boardwalk, and John would be goofing off like Ringo Starr. Randy was our Paul McCartney and Mike our George Harrison. And me? Well…I was lucky enough to play the part of John Lennon. I always loved John Lennon anyway. Hey! I still love the guy! And very soon we would be introduced to our fifth member. Our Brian Epstein. His name is Steven Rappaport. John explained that Steven would be our producer. Randy and I didn't even know what a producer was, but it sounded good. He came to John's to hear us, and saw something in us. He too believed in the dream. We spent the next few weekends working on John's songs. Steven was always there to offer advice, make suggestions, and help us in any way he could. The five of us were growing closer everyday. We were becoming like brothers; brothers united in the same quest. Steven's help was always greatly appreciated. He was then, and is now, a very dear and true friend. He is also very talented in his own right, and he has a great ear for music. Spring break came, and Mr. Spirt took us all to Manny's Music in New York. Randy and I were in awe to say the least. We'd never seen anything like this before. We weren't there very long. John already knew exactly what we needed. We needed amps. Not just any amps. They had to be Vox amps. The guitars had to be Rickenbackers. It had to be a violin shaped Hofner bass. Everything had to be perfect, and it was. Mr. Spirt even bought us a PA system and microphones. We were excited as anyone could ever be. We couldn't wait to get back to Wildwood to hear ourselves with all this new stuff. It was like Christmas at Easter time. We spent the rest of spring break practicing. We played from the time we got up in the morning until the police would come at night and tell us we had to stop. For all the inconvenience and embarrassment they surely must have felt, never once did Mr. or Mrs. Spirt ever complain. They were very supportive. Even the cops who came by would listen to us for a while before making us quit. And even after they left, there would always be something musically going on. Always. John and Mike would go into the other room to write; Randy and I would work on harmony parts. Always something. We had become like dedicated little music machines, all united in the same dream. John's dream was now our dream, too. Steven came to us with wonderful news. He had arranged for us to have a live audition with a record company in New York. We picked out the songs that we would do, and practiced them until we could play them in our sleep. We were getting better all the time. I don't know if it's okay to mention the name of the company or not, but it was Laurie Records. They liked us a lot, but said that we were too heavy for them; we were too much like the Beatles. They were looking for someone more along the lines of a Herman's Hermits. We were very disappointed. The ride back to Wildwood was pretty depressing. Steven assured us that something else would come up. Mike was downright angry. Randy and I were sure that after spring break was over, the dream would be dead in the water - maybe even out of the water; who knew? John Spirt knew. He didn't say anything all the way home. We thought he was just depressed like the rest of us, but he wasn't. His wheels were already turning. It was very late when we got back into Wildwood. We were exhausted. Normally, John Spirt never got out of bed before noon. But the next morning, he woke Randy and me very early. We thought he was sick or something. He called Mike and told him to come over right away. It seemed he'd stayed up and written a song he wanted us to learn right away. He sang it for Mike, and Mike picked out the chords. He said it was called "The Dumb Dumb Song." Randy and I thought it sounded pretty stupid, but John was our fearless leader, so we went along with it. Again Mike, Randy and I were very young, and it would not be until very recently, that we finally came to the understanding that John Spirt was a musical genius. But that's what he was - and is: An unrecognized musical genius. Well…John sang all our parts for us, and we learned this song. We practiced it and played it, and changed it until John was happy with it. Then he told me to sing it like Peter Noone. "What? Like who, John?" "You know," he chuckled. "The guy from Herman's Hermits." We recorded that song live, on his little tape recorder, right in his living room. Spring break was now over. Randy and I got back into the routine of going to school during the week, and spending weekends in Wildwood. Steven would take that tape to Laurie Records, and they would love it. Soon summer would come and it would be a summer we would never forget. Chapter Three: The Redcoats Are Here! So the next weekend, we went back to Wildwood, and Steven had more good news. Laurie had agreed to give us 'x' amount of hours in a recording studio to make a master of "The Dum Dum Song", and another song, which would be the flip side. Steven and John had both pretty much demanded that it be Columbia, and it had to be studio A. They wanted a specific engineer…a special this…a particular that. We still didn't know what in God's name they were talking about, but they did. They said, "If Laurie agrees to even half this stuff, it means they really believe in you. It's like a test. You gotta have a record company that's going to really work for you." Laurie agreed to meet every request made by John and Steven. Steven even had them deliver food to the studio. It was all very cool. Steven was particularly happy, because they had allotted us more than enough time to record two songs. We were so well rehearsed that we'd probably be able to record five or six. We were crazy out of our minds with excitement. Randy and I had never seen the inside of a recording studio before. We were excited and nervous all at the same time. John was in a drum booth. Mike, Randy and myself were sitting in chairs. They stuck headphones on us while we were tuning up. We could see that Steven had everything under control in the control room so we knew we were safe. John and Steven had recording experience, so they knew what to expect. We three didn't have a clue. We could hear everything - everything - perfectly. It was awesome. We heard Steven's voice through the headphones. We heard John click his sticks, and when Mike started to play the introduction, all the nervousness just disappeared. Even though we couldn't see each other, we could hear each other. Each one of us knew that the other four brothers were there. It was like we had been working together from the day we were born. We laid down instrumental tracks, and didn't even have to listen to playbacks. We trusted Steven with that, and he would either tell us to go on to the next tune, or to repeat the one we had obviously just screwed up. There were no hurt feelings. No questions. We knew we could trust Steven with our very lives. We still can, and would. He's a wonderful human being, and he turned out to be one great producer. And now, we knew what a producer was. Live and learn. In the time they gave us, we knocked out seven of the songs that appear on the "Meet The Redcoats" CD. John and Steven took care of the mixing process, so we learned all about that, too. It was truly a wonderful and incredible experience. What made it even more rewarding was the trust we all shared for each other's capabilities. We were friends. We pretty much had the rest of the summer off, but we continued to practice anyway. John and Mike were still writing. We started playing Beatles songs. We knew all of them, and it was just a matter of putting them together. We lived for music. Lived for it. Looking back, I can't help but wonder, if on the long ride back from that failed audition, if John wasn't thinking, "They want a “dum dum” song. And if that's what they want, then that's what I'm gonna give 'em: a dumb, dumb song." Johnny's a funny, funny guy, and he could write at will…anything. Genius! Playing all the Beatle songs helped us get back into character, after our brief excursion into Herman's Hermitsville. We hardly ever played "The Dum Dum Song" - not that it was a bad song. But it just wasn't us. It was just something that was done out of necessity. It was the middle of summer now. Randy and I were full time residents of the Spirt house, and when the cops would stop us from playing, we'd go up on the boardwalk and cavort. Everybody thought we were English kids…everybody. We told them we were "recording artists," but they didn't believe that. They just thought we were four goofy English tourists. That was soon to change. Before the record was even released, Steven arranged for us to perform for a local DJ at an under 21-type room on the boardwalk. It was called the Starlight Ballroom. This was to be our first live performance. Until that time, all we ever did was practice and record. We attacked the Starlight Ballroom that night. We started out playing Beatles songs and the place went wild. We didn't know what was happening. All of a sudden, the same cops who stopped us from playing at nights were now lined up at the foot of the stage to keep us from being ripped to shreds by teenyboppers. Back then, of course, there wasn't that much live entertainment around for the kids, and now all of a sudden, here's this band - and an English band at that. And they sound just like…just like the Beatles. I guess it was just too much for 'em. They loved us. It was crazy. In my very best cockney accent, I announced that we would now play our new single, soon to be released on Laurie Records, and the place erupted again. John clicked his sticks and Mike started the introduction. Those kids were screaming so loud that I couldn't even hear him. I looked over at him, and he shrugged and started laughing. He just kept playing it over and over again, until it finally got quiet enough to hear. We had to wait for two hours after the closing of the club that night, before the police would even think about letting us go outside. It was hysterical. It was a taste of honey; a taste of Redcoatmania!  We couldn’t even go to the boardwalk after that night. The record was finally released at the end of the summer. Laurie Records had a policy of no promotion [even though the label] felt that if a record had it, then it would make it. We didn't care. We each had a copy, and that was all that was important to us. We'd accomplished something - something wonderful – together…the five of us! Summer was over now, and Steven took the record around to local radio stations himself. They played it quite a bit, and it was very exciting to hear our music on the radio. One of those local stations was WOND in Atlantic City, eight miles away from our hometown of Absecon. The DJs found out that Randy and I were part of the group. Life was about to change. Dramatically! Chapter Four: Heart & Soul Randy and I returned to our very parochial school that September, and one morning while we were getting dressed in our nice white shirts and little blue clip on ties, "The Dum Dum Song" came on the radio. I can't even describe that feeling. It seemed someone had called WOND and told them that two of the Redcoats were local kids. I still suspect Dad, of course, but he'll never own up to it. All of a sudden the phone started ringing, and it was the DJ calling, while he was still broadcasting from the station. He wanted to talk to us on the air. We talked to him a little bit, and explained to him that we didn't have too much time because we had to get ready for school. I guess he thought that was funny, but he said okay and played the song again. Randy and I never really thought anything like this would happen, and we never gave it too much thought. We were late for school that day, and found that the Sisters of Mercy were not very merciful when it came to being tardy. They started bugging us about the length of our hair, and they seemed to really get upset, when in my best cockney accent, I said "But we're only tryin' ta look like Jesus, Sister," and tried to look all hurt and innocent. We were told we'd either have to get haircuts, or leave the school. So we gave in and cut our hair. In the meantime, WOND did a telephone poll on our song. It seemed that people liked it, so they started playing it more and more. The more they played it, the worse things got at school. Even the other kids started acting strangely. It was all very flattering and nice, but it was decided that we were too much of a distraction, and that we would have to leave anyway. Randy and I had always been very active in organized sports. We knew all the kids at Pleasantville High, so we'd fit right in - or so we thought. But we weren't Zack and Randy Bocelle anymore. We were the Redcoats. Even the principal of that school said we were a distraction, but at least we could grow our hair back. We thought it was all pretty silly, and John said that things would settle down once they stopped playing "The Dum Dum Song" on the radio. We went to Wildwood one weekend and were very distraught to learn that Steven would be leaving for Europe and then he'd be going to law school. Steven said that John's dad would handle the business end of things from now on. Even John's dad knew that wasn't going to work, so he set out in search of a professional manager. John Spirt was the heart and soul of the Redcoats, but Steven Rappaport was the brain and wisdom. Our guidance. Mike, Randy and I, well…we were only the body. And the body had just lost its brain. The Redcoats lost our Brian Epstein. It was horrible, but Steven told us we were great, and that as long as we kept on working toward our goal, he was sure we'd make it. He said he still believed in us, and told us to get back to work, so we did, but we all missed him real badly. He was always one of us. Music has an almost magical quality to it. Every once in awhile you'll hear something that really just grabs you. John and Mike continued to write, and one day they came to us with a song they'd just finished. I don't even remember the name of the song. All I know is there was this piece of music in the middle of the song that just touched my soul. I made them stop and said, "You know what? That should be a song all by itself. It's beautiful." Neither Randy nor I ever had anything to do with the creative process before. John looked at me like I had two heads. I made them play that section quite a few times, and to this day I can't figure out why I was so taken by it, but I was. And I don't know if it's one note, or a specific combination of notes that's in tune to the strings of one's heart, but somehow John had stumbled upon just the right piece of music that just screamed out at me. I had to make them stop. I just had to. And being the true friends they were, they simply said okay, and went back into the other room to try. They weren't gone very long, and when they returrned they had completed one of those songs that maybe Laurie Records was right about.  They had written a song - a beautiful song; a song like no other they'd written before.  As fate would it, this song would help us achieve national recognition.  And as fate would have it, this song would also prove to be the death of out dream.  The song was called "Suspicions." Chapter Five: Suspicions John had been right about the school situation. Once the novelty wore off, everything returned back to normal. We got back into our weekend thing with John and Mike. Without Steven, we were pretty directionless. Mr. Spirt's search turned up someone we would come to know as Uncle Jim. He, too, was a relative, so we felt safe enough. Though he was only a carpet salesman in Philadelphia, he was very outgoing, and friendly. He and his wife, Claire, were once entertainers themselves. They did this mind reading act. It was amazing. One day Jim looked at Claire and asked, "Claire - Do you know what I'm thinkin' now?" Claire went into this trance-like state and said, "Yes." Pretty amazing, huh? Actually Jim and Claire were pretty good. Uncle Jim said we needed to get our hands on some cash so that we could make a demo. He said he knew this very wealthy woman in Philadelphia who, without even hearing us, would be willing to invest $10,000 for us to do so. Not only that, but she was very friendly with this retired record producer, who maintained a studio in Camden, New Jersey. He had been responsible for artists like Frankie Avalon, Bobby Rydell, and Fabian. We'd use his studio to make the demo, and if he liked us, he would consider coming out of retirement. This would be good for us, since he was so well respected within the industry. And we knew we needed a producer. With Steven gone, the body needed a brain. We were all very excited. We decided that we would record "Suspicions." There was always something…different about that song. Jim made arrangements for the studio date, and said that our benefactor had requested our parents to be there. We got to the studio and the engineer got us all set up. We were introduced to the new "brain." This was no Steven Rappaport. This brain ran on alcohol! Man, he was always wasted! Then we were introduced to our mysterious angel, Madam X. From the very first moment, it was right down to business. We should have known that we were in trouble, but we were young and naive to the ways of the business world, and, besides, we were all excited. She had a lawyer with her. We were all taken to the studio office where it was explained to us that, "because you boys are all so young, you are not permitted to sign contracts on your own. And because of the Jackie Coogan law, your parents can't sign for you either. You have to have a court appointed legal guardian to sign for you." Madam X just happened to have all the necessary paper work there with her. You should have seen it. You might have thought we were buying a house! Included in this mountain of paper was a 10-year personal management contract. John was very reluctant about it, but he eventually gave in. Besides a judge had signed all the stuff. A judge would never let anything bad happen now - would he? Of course not! All we wanted to do was to get back into the studio. And finally, after all the paper work, we did. We recorded "Suspicions" in about an hour. We were so well rehearsed it was ridiculous. I sang that song like John Lennon, and I would like to think that even he would have been honored. It came out beautiful - really beautiful. Even our producer managed to come out of his drunken stupor long enough to listen. He wiped the drool from his chin and shouted, "It's a hit!" Then he went back to sleep. John did the mix with the engineer, and we all went home satisfied. All we could do now was wait. Uncle Jim was waiting for me to come home one day after school. He was excited about something, and said we had to go back to the studio. I asked if Randy had to go too. He said no. I asked where John and Mike were, but he told me they didn't need to go either - just me. It was important, and we had to go right away. I wanted to call John at least, but Uncle Jim said we didn't have time for that. When we got there, Madam X was in the control room. "Mr. It's-a-hit" was passed out in the corner, and the engineer sent me to the vocal booth. I put on my headphones, and I heard the engineer telling me to sing it again, but without the accent, and in my own voice. By that point in time, I didn't even know I had a "my own voice." I didn't even like the sound of my own voice, but I did it anyway, and Uncle Jim took me home. I called John as soon as I got home, and he was upset. It seemed that in one of his lucid moments, "Mr. It's-a-hit" had presented the song to RCA Victor. They loved the song, but they didn't like the idea of us sounding so Beatle-like. They wanted to hear it "straight." We went to Wildwood that next weekend, and Uncle Jim told us that RCA wanted us to record the song in their studios. They loved it, and wanted to sign us. We were thrilled. The Redcoats were coming! We went to RCA for a meeting with a gentleman by the name of Bobby Cullen. He was a great guy. Really. He tried so hard to help us. He was then - and I am sure he is now - a good guy. Really. He was our A&R man. He said we were good, but RCA didn't want an English sounding band. They would record the song, using studio musicians. They would guarantee to release the record, and to promote us. There’d be full-page ads in Cashbox and Billboard. They would send us out on a promotional tour - the whole nine yards. If "Suspicions" hit the top 100, they would want us to record an album, from which there would be another single. The only thing that we had to do was not sound so much like the Beatles. We didn't like the idea, but John said that if we did what they wanted us to do now, sooner or later we'd be able to do what we wanted to do, so we decided to go ahead with it. Bobby introduced us to Jimmy Wisner, who at the time was an arranger, and a very talented songwriter himself. He was also a wonderful human being, and he and John hit it off right away. Everything was happening so fast, but with Bobby and Jimmy in control, we were confident that it would all work out all right. We asked if either one of them would at least be our producer, but they said that Madam X had entered into an agreement with "Mr. It's-a-hit." We explained the situation, and Bobby said to not worry about it. He'd be there, too, and he'd make sure everything was done professionally. RCA treated us like kings. When we went into that studio, we were in awe of the preparations they had made. They sent Randy and me into the singer's booth for a run through. The original plan was that once we were signed, we would do "Suspicions" the way we wanted to anyway. I mean…what were they going to do after going through all of this expense, right? Jimmy was conducting what can only be described as an entire orchestra: horns, strings, and singers. They even had a little guy playing a triangle. We could see John and Mike in the control room. Bobby was running the show because "Mr. It's-a-hit" was already passed out in the corner. The introduction for "Suspicions" exploded in our headphones. They were the same notes we had always played and all, but we weren't expecting anything like that. I remember looking at Randy and yelling, "What the hell was that?!" Jimmy was laughing, and he pointed his baton at me so I started to sing. I started to sing like John Lennon, and was stopped immediately. I heard Bobby's voice saying, "No Zack. Sing it like this." The demo came through the headphones, and then he said, "Okay?" I also heard my mother telling Bobby to ask me to watch my language, and Bobby was smiling at me. So much for Plan A. "Sorry Ma," I said, knowin' I shouldn't have said that. "Okay Bobby." We did the song in two or three takes, and it was over. Madam X was there of course, and she seemed very pleased. Jimmy asked me if I knew the words to "More," and sent Randy and me back into the booth. We improvised some harmony, and traded some lines, and it actually took us longer to record that song than it took us to record "Suspicions." We didn't really like the idea that we couldn't play in the studio. We felt like John and Mike should have been in the studio with us, instead of in the control room, but John said that it was time for Plan B. RCA sent out feelers to DJs and we were called back to New York to be signed. Our court appointed legal guardian was there with Madam X to see that everything was on the up and up. Bobby sent the four of us off to a small studio. They had pre-recorded an instrumental track to "Up On The Roof." It would become the flip side of "Suspicions." John and Mike stayed in the control room with the engineer. That didn't even take an hour. Bobby came in and listened. He said it was perfect. He told us that he really didn't care for Madam X, and her constant demands, but he really liked us. We were good kids, even if we did cuss every once in a while. He took us back to his office and told us that they would change the name of the band to the Sidekicks. "Suspicions" would be released in spring of 1966. We weren't happy about it but we resigned ourselves to the fact that we were well into Plan B. We would do things their way until we were big enough to do things our way. We went back into our routine, and waited. In the meantime, the principal of Pleasantville High asked Randy and I if we would do a concert for the student body in the auditorium. We called John and Mike, and they said "sure." It would be fun. It would be only our second live appearance. It would also be our final appearance as the Redcoats. Pleasantville High was then, and is now, a predominately, black high school. But it was a different world then. We had been raised to believe, and still do believe, that if you turn us inside out, we're all the same. And music transcends all that nonsense anyway. Unlike our first concert, these kids knew us. They knew we weren't English. We started out by doing about a half hour of Beatles songs to help us get back into character, and to help us weave the spell. It worked. The whole place started to go nuts just like the Starlight Ballroom. We were the Redcoats! We started to play "Love Unreturned" and the place erupted. Laurie Records didn't have too much in the way of a distribution department either, but once the record started being played, Steven had seen to it that all the local record stores were well supplied. We did "The Dum Dum Song," and you might have thought the Beatles were in concert. It was almost scary. We finished playing, and left the stage, but those kids weren't leaving that auditorium until we did an encore. I announced that we would do our new single, soon to be released by RCA, called "Suspicions," and of course I sang it like Mr. Lennon. It wouldn't have mattered who sang that song. John had created magic when he wrote "Suspicions." The place went totally nuts then, and Randy and I were never to walk those hallowed halls again until much later. RCA found out about it, and arranged for us to have private tutors. They were pleased, of course, that we'd been so well received. Randy and I couldn't be bothered with such trivialities as schoolwork, though. So we dropped out and went down to Wildwood full time. We had to get ready for an experience that would change our lives forever. The Sidekicks were coming! Chapter Six: Sidekicksmania! "Suspicions" was released as promised – with full-page ads in Cashbox and Billboard. RCA did everything they promised. They were great! The record started to "bubble under," and pretty soon it managed to find it's way into the top 100. Bobby called us in to discuss an album, and we learned about some of the subtleties of the industry. We learned something new every day. It was a whole different world. It seemed that some of the DJs who played "Suspicions" on the air were also budding song writers, so RCA asked if we wouldn't mind putting a couple of their songs on the album. John was the only one who wasn't upset about this. He didn't really want to waste too much of his material on the Sidekicks. In his heart - and in all our hearts, really - we were still the Redcoats. That's why only four of John's songs appear on the Sidekicks album. And those songs were by no means his better material. So that was okay. Jimmy Wisner had written a song for us called "Sight and Sound." We'd do anything for Jimmy. He was great. And Bobby liked an old Hollies song called "Fifi The Flea" so with three songs already recorded we were ready to go. They sent us out to the Village with another A&R person, and told us to buy outfits. They paid for everything. Everything. "Suspicions" was moving slowly up the charts. RCA located markets they thought we needed to break into, and they flew us all over the place. We were doing local television shows, making promo tapes for radio stations, and playing live with acts like Neil Diamond and Paul Revere and the Raiders. RCA would actually have our equipment set up and waiting for us - all tuned up and everything. All we had to do was play "Suspicions," and from then on they said we could play whatever we wanted. So we did Beatles songs, and John's songs. We were havin' a ball. It was all very exciting. There was always a limo to pick us up at the airports, and area RCA Reps to take us to our rooms and show us around. It was wonderful. They were great marketing people, and before too long, "Suspicions" was in the top 50. We were called in from our little promo tour to do the album, and to discuss a second single. Bobby seemed aggravated, and he said that Madam X had called him several times and demanded that we be returned to Philadelphia at once or she'd sue RCA. She was having some of her wealthy friends over and they wanted to hear us play to see if we were good enough to play for their daughter's wedding. One time she called because she simply wanted to introduce us to some of her friends. She said she wanted to show off. Madam X had some strange ideas. I'm sure she had her good qualities too, but none of them ever manifested themselves in our dealings with her. RCA was so well organized that we cut that album in two days. We went back to Philly and stayed at the City Line Motor Lodge. It was right across the street from Madam X's place. We had pretty much decided with RCA that the next single from the album, should either be "Out of the Dark," "Sight and Sound," or possibly even one of John's songs called "Not Now." RCA always included us in matters like that, and made us feel like we played a part in any decision. One night, Madam X called us and told us that out of the kindness of her heart, she was going to start giving us each $25.00 a week. The next day she took us out to lunch and pretty much embarrassed us with her little portable tape recorder. She kept playing "Suspicions" over and over again, and screaming, "This is my group!" A real egomaniac was good ol' Madam X. "Suspicions" had been #1 in Philadelphia for a few weeks. She wanted it to stay that way. She presented us with our $25.00 and an itinerary. It was a solid two months of bookings. She told us RCA had set up another promo tour, and we had to go out and promote the album now. She said that it wasn't going to be like the last tour. We'd have to drive to these places, and set up our own equipment. We'd have to take care of our own sleeping and eating arrangements, and that's why she was going to help us out with the weekly allowance. We loaded up our VW Bus and took off. It was real rough out there. There were times we didn't eat. There were times we had to sleep on the bus; but, we were always playing music, and we were always together. That's what got us through it all. We figured if this is what RCA wanted us to do, then we'd do it. The final engagement was the Detroit State Fair. We were playing with Smokey Robinson, Dionne Warwick, and the Beau Brummels. At least they had a trailer for us, so that was okay. We were to do three shows a day, for seven days. That was cool, too, because it gave us a lot of time to goof off. We were still kids too, you know. And through it all we managed to have a lot of fun together. We were just real glad the two-month thing was finally going to be over. Toward the end of the week, the talent coordinator came to us and said, "I really love your song 'Suspicions,' and I love the way you kids sound just like the Beatles. But, man…you're expensive." "Whaddya mean?" John asked. "We're on a promotional tour." And this poor guy got a funny look on his face like he said something wrong and just left. John finally got mad. He called Bobby Cullen, and demanded to know what was happening. Bobby was just as shocked as we were. "Promotional tour! Promotional tour! Why would we send you out on a promotional tour? 'Suspicions' is top 40 now! You're not on any promotional tour. We told Madam X that it was time for you kids to go out and make some money. For the last two months, you've been booked by William Morris." We never even knew a thing. We didn't have to sign contracts or anything like that. We had a court appointed legal guardian to look out for our best interests, didn't we? He'd been sending financial statements to us showing that there was no money coming in, and showing us our $25.00 allowance. That was it! John called Madam X and told her we knew what she was up to. She in turn called Bobby and threatened to sue him for speaking directly to us. She said he should have gone through her. There was a lot of screaming and yelling then. Bobby called us in and sent us to RCA's legal department. They would even let us use one of their lawyers to try and get us out of our contract with Madam X. It would prove fruitless, and the only information we were able to attain was the fact that our legal guardian was actually one of Madam X's factory managers. So much for being protected by the courts. It just made no sense to continue. RCA, still living up to their end of the agreement, released "Fifi the Flea" without the enthusiasm they had shown for "Suspicions." They released the album knowing that the Sidekicks would soon be dead in the water. Bobby felt horrible, but there was nothing anyone could do. The Sidekicks had one remaining performance left. It was the WIBG Big Blast at [the] Philadelphia Convention Hall. It was a bittersweet, gut wrenching performance. Jimmy Wisner brought his orchestra to play for us. The Four Seasons, Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels, Barbara Mason and a whole lot of class acts [were involved]. We went out on the stage and shook hands with Jimmy. We took our places, and when that beautifully powerful introduction began to play, the place erupted. Fifteen thousand people loved us that day. And for the first time, we actually got to play our song with the orchestra. It was beautiful! When the song concluded, I remember looking down and seeing a young girl no more than 12 or 13 years old. She was crying and screaming, "I love you. I love you." I thanked everybody in the audience and waved. I turned to Jimmy with the microphone in my hand and thanked him for everything. He just sadly lowered his head. He knew. I looked down at that little girl and looked her square in the eye and said, "Thank you. We love you too." And that was the last official announcement I made for the Sidekicks. Chapter Seven: Changes Well...the four of us went out behind the convention hall, and tried to figure out a plan… anything. We even went to ask Mr. Madam X. (her husband) for help. It turned out he was more afraid of her than we were. Randy went back to school in September of '66. I just couldn't bring myself to go back so I started working. John was trying desperately to hold things together. He called William Morris to see if they could find us any work. All they could do was get us some club work in upstate New York, and a couple of fashion magazine shows. We tried to do that stuff, but our hearts just weren't in it. Mike got offered a job with a Philly band called the Soul Survivors. "Expressway To Your Heart" was already on the charts, so we gave him our blessings, and said goodbye. That was a tough day. We picked up another guitar player to finish up the few gigs William Morris had contracted us for, and once we were done with them, we all went back to our respective homes. Bobby Cullen called one day to see how Randy and I were doing. He said he'd like to sign me to a singles contract. I thought that was a good idea; maybe I could get the band back together. Unfortunately, RCA's legal department had made a mistake. Instead of sending the contracts directly to me, they sent them to Madam X. She forwarded them to me, of course, but only after she called Bobby, and reminded him that she was still my manager. I still have those unsigned contracts lying around somewhere. John called us that winter and said he wanted to try to put the band back together again, but Mike was gone. We'd seen him on the Joey Bishop Show with the Soul Survivors, and that was the last anybody ever saw or heard of Mike Burke. It was like he vanished from the face of the earth. John asked if we knew anybody. We knew a keyboard player, the same one from the Tantrums, so we grabbed him, and started rehearsing. We did everything. Everything but "Suspicions." We changed the name of the band to the Words of Wisdom, and got a summer job in Margate, New Jersey. John was still writing. We didn't know how that was possible since he didn't have Mike around anymore. That was when we found out that it had been John all along. He'd start singing something to Randy. Randy picked out the chords and that was it. His material had changed. It was much deeper and much more meaningful. He was into meditation now. He was in touch with his inner self, and he projected it in his music. He was a genius. We wanted to record again, so John borrowed some money from his dad and we found a cheap studio. We practiced like crazy then, and even when we played live - it was funny - we used to do entire Beatle albums live as a set. In the middle of the set, we'd stick one of John's songs in, and nobody even knew. We did the session at the end of the summer, and Randy went back to complete his senior year. During that winter, John would call with unbelievable news. The Redcoats were gone. The Sidekicks were ruined. But now…the Words of Wisdom were coming! Chapter Eight: Words of Wisdom We would practice on the weekends in my parent’s basement that winter. John came down one Friday night, and said he'd contacted the president of Elektra Records. He'd gone to New York and played him our tape. He said that this gentleman wanted us to record a master in their studios. John hadn't told him anything about the Sidekicks, of course, and with a new band named Words of Wisdom we thought that Madam X would never find out. John told Elektra that he wanted total creative say as to the production. They wanted one of their staff producers to be in charge, so John gave in. I will not mention the producer's name, but I will tell you that he was a member of a very well known rock band. He showed up to the studio two hours late. In that time we had already laid down the instrumental track to "Words of Wisdom." The only reason it took us that long was because John was doing everything. He was back and forth between the studio and control room. We had to wait for him to listen to the playback. When our new producer did show up he was stoned out of his mind, and totally useless. He piled drums up in the middle of the studio floor, and started banging on them with his bare hands until his fingers started to bleed. There was no way John was about to entrust his future, or ours, to the hands of this lunatic, so he went back to the president and complained. The president came to the studio the next day and verified John's horror story with the engineer. He listened to the few songs we had finished, and decided we didn't really need anyone in the studio. John seemed to have everything under control. We were in heaven again. Unfortunately, in the weeks to come, he would find out about our experience with RCA. He would call Bobby Cullen, and be told all about Madam X. He really liked us, but he was afraid it would all just end up in some horrible legal battle, and that was strike three. We played one more summer together, and went our separate ways. I joined a hard rock band in Scranton, Pennsylvania, Randy joined a horn band, and John retired to Wildwood. We eventually lost contact with each other for a few years, until one day when Madam X, actually had the nerve to call me at home. I was married to my present wife, Joyce, as a matter of fact, and I can remember at the time, we were really struggling. Madam X told me she had a royalty check for me from RCA and, because I'm 21 now, she can't cash it. She told me that if I'd come to Philly and sign it, she would give me half. I hung up and called Randy. She'd called him, too. We called RCA and told them that if those checks came back with our signatures on them that they had been forged, and we'd want her arrested. I joined a local club band after that, and started writing myself. We were offered a contract with Columbia. But I just didn't want to go through all of that again. Randy and I put a bar band together with our younger brother, Greg, who's an excellent keyboard player. We got a job as a house band in a local club, and played together for about five years. We never discussed our experience. One day I received a package in the mail. It was from John. It was a tape, and attached to it was a note. It said, "Sing this like 'Suspicions' and take it to Elektra." The tape was blank. I didn't understand then, but I do now. It was John's own special way of saying that he was finally giving up. He was empty...just like that tape. I tried to contact him, but nobody seemed to know his whereabouts, and that was the last I ever heard from John. Randy and I were way too young to recognize his genius. We lived with him, laughed with him, and cried with him. We were simply children, and as children will always do, we took his companionship, friendship, and leadership for granted. He protected us from the harsh realities of life, as though we were his little brothers, and shared with us his dream…his music. Listening to John's music after all these years brought back many painful, and many wonderful, memories. I have finally come to the realization, that in listening to John's lyrics, he was not writing about boy/girl relationships. He was writing about his relationship with his one true love - his music. The last song John wrote for us was "Sing a Song." If you listen closely to those words, you will hear a young man asking himself, as he so simply stated, to find the strength within and start again. In the final refrain of that song, the voices you hear are the voices of our parents, brothers, sisters, and friends. John had surrounded himself with all the people he loved, and all the people who loved him, in an attempt to help him find that strength. I hope and pray that he did find it, and that he is out there somewhere right now, writing and creating his beautiful music. It would be thirty-five years later that I would receive a phone call. A friend from the past would thankfully force me to relive that experience. It was a friend from the past who had never forgotten us, and had found a buried treasure. It was our missing brother…our Brian Epstein. It was Steven Rappaport. Chapter Nine: Meet The Redcoats…Finally! I came home from work one night, and there was a message on my answering machine. I couldn't believe it. It was Steven Rappaport. I called him back and it was like I had just spoken with him yesterday. It had been over thirty-five years. He told me he had never forgotten us. He said that he'd been going through some old stuff, and found some of the old recordings we'd made. He said they still sounded pretty good, and that he wanted to try to put a CD together. At first, I thought he was only kidding. But he started naming song titles, and I was shocked! After all these years of blocking the whole experience out, I'd forgotten that we recorded all that stuff. He asked me if I had any copies of anything, and I told him I didn't even have a Sidekicks album. He asked if I had any old pictures, and it was funny, because I had just been straightening out some old junk myself, and had found some photos taken during the RCA recording sessions. I told him I used to have a scrapbook. It had everything in it. All the Cashbox and Billboard ads, reviews, and weekly charts, but that Madam X had borrowed it from me. That was about thirty-five years ago, and I'm still waiting for her to return it. I don't think that's gonna happen. I don't know, but it seemed that there was some kind of a synchronicity thing going on, because a couple of days later, I received a call from a local gentleman by the name of Al Zentmeyer, and he thanked me for all the wonderful music. He said we were the reason he went on to become a musician himself. He said we were his inspiration. He'd found a Sidekicks album on the web, and it was still sealed. He bought it and burned me a copy. He'd also found the sheet music for "Fifi The Flea," and he gave it to me. I couldn't thank him enough for these things. But the greatest gift he gave me was the realization that, at least for someone, what we had done had not gone unnoticed. With John's music, we had actually touched someone. We were too young to even consider anything like that. Steven asked me to tell him exactly what happened to us after he left. It was funny; I had to actually think about it for a while. Even Randy and I never discussed it. When I was finally able to tell him, he was shocked. He ran me off a CD of the Redcoats music, and when I listened to it, well I gotta tell ya, it was quite an emotional experience for me. All of a sudden I was with John and Mike, and Randy, and Steven, and we were all together in the studio. Until I listened, I'd forgotten even recording the songs, let alone all the hard work and love that had gone into each one. I wasn't angry, or bitter. I don't think we were ever bitter. More hurt. When it was going on, and in the aftermath, I was upset by the fact that any one human being, with the help of the legal system, could actually do so much to destroy the careers of young people who were truly dedicated to what they were trying to do. We'd all heard other horror stories, of course, but none quite like this. And looking back, I know the only thing that got us through it all was the fact that we cared so much about each other; that somehow we got each other through. And we learned so much.  So very much. Like we never recognized the genius of John Spirt until this year. To us he was always just John. We never realized how much this young man respected and loved us. John Spirt didn't belong in the bar scene. But he made that sacrifice, just to stay with Randy and me. It was his dream that had kept us together.  Randy still plays on weekends, and he's still a monster singer and guitarist. I still write, and record my songs on a portable (I don't know how they can call that thing portable, because I can't lift it. Maybe I should sue 'em for false advertising) eight track recorder. I don't play my songs for anyone, not because I'm bitter, but simply because I do not choose to enter that battleground where the heart and soul of an artist could possibly come in contact with yet another Madam X. I write for my own self-satisfaction. The only regret I have is that I was not able to work and play with those guys for the rest of my life. If I do ever get the opportunity to speak with John someday, and I hope I do, I would like to tell him that I understand him now, and I respect and admire him. I'd thank him for all he did for us, and all the wonderful music he shared with us. I'd tell him he's still my big brother and I love him as such. And you know what else? I'd do it all over again.  Because in the final analysis, we were four kids who shared an experience that few others have shared.  Through all the heartache we managed to have a lot of fun together and we made a lot of really good music together.  So, in some ways, it is a happy ending.  Because it seems it hasn't really ended after all.  And when Steven Rappaport came east to hand deliver copies of the finished productto me it was like I had found one of my long lost missing brothers.  Talk about an emotional reunion!  It was beautiful!  And thanks to Steven Rappaport and Mr. Lee Jospeph of Dionysus, the poeple of the word get to "Meet The Redcoats...Finally." The "Meet The Redcoats...Finally" CD is still available for ordering at Dionysus' website.