AT 29 (45 page)

“When did you write this song?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“Who else has heard it?”

“Just Sonny.”

“Play it again.”

After the second listen McCabe opened up. “I'm no expert, but for my money that's the best song you've ever done. How fast can you go on the road?”

“A tour? Alone?”

“You don't have a band anymore.”

“What do you have in mind?”

I'm thinking about something, but I'm not ready to pull the trigger. I'd like you to go solo though, whatever I decide.”

“I'll need some backup.”

“I know. I'm working the numbers.”

Jimmy sensed a softening in Miles. “What's your stance on my name?”

Miles had given the name change a lot of thought. He consulted Cindy and Ellis, getting opposing views. Cindy said it would be risky. “Building a fan base under another name is very hard. Why make more work for ourselves?”

Ellis had a different take. “His name is mud. VooDoo9 made sure of that. Let him start over. His fans will catch on quick enough. Besides, the happier he is, the better his output.”

Miles looked at Jimmy. “I'm leery about abandoning Jimmy Button. How about a compromise? I have an idea about the album title.”

“Shoot.” Jimmy hadn't given any thought to the title.

“I'm willing to gamble on your real name as long as we get Button into the mix. For the cover I'm picturing your real name, Buckman, in block letters, but beneath it, in smaller letters, I want a title like ‘Button's Back'. Inside, we write a narrative about you getting back to your roots.”

“That's what I'm doing.” Jimmy liked the idea. He liked it a lot.

It was another week before the galleys were completed. They huddled in Miles' office, studying the cover depicting a blue silhouette of Jimmy's face on a white background. Above the drawing, JIM BUCKMAN, dominated the foot square sheath in
royal blue. Jimmy ran his fingers over his real name, thrilled to see it associated with his published work for the first time. At the bottom, McCabe's compromise appeared in smaller print:
Button's Back and Blue
. The simplicity appealed to both men.

Jimmy was also pleased with McCabe's openness. He invited Jimmy to collaborate on the cover, debating only over the cost, which he wanted kept as low as possible. He refused to hire an illustrator, so common in the industry and, so expensive. Instead, he sketched out his ideas on a piece of paper, gave them to Jimmy who added a few thoughts, and then sent them to a graphic artist, still a year away from graduation at NYU. The young student, eager to have a paying project, drew up the silhouette from a picture of Jimmy. He used standard fonts for both the Jim Buckman header and
Back and Blue
footer keeping the entire cover in two colors and holding printing costs to a minimum.

“I'm going with an initial pressing of five thousand,” McCabe announced, in a tone that brooked no protest. Jimmy didn't care. He was content to let McCabe handle the details. “I hope it won't be enough.”

“What have you decided about the tour?”

McCabe picked up a single sheet of paper and handed it to Jimmy. “This is a list of countries where you've had some success.”

Jimmy had never seen a document spelling out the sales of his music by country. Such statistics didn't exist during Daisy's time. Albums were produced and released. That was the extent of the business side.

“Sixty percent of your sales are here in the states, but look at the next highest country.” Jimmy scanned the list, then looked up at McCabe. “Surprised? So am I. The next Thirty percent comes from Australia.”

“That's unusual?”

“I planned to start you in Canada. Now, I think our best chance is down under.”

“Australia?” Jimmy couldn't believe what he was hearing. With McCabe's emphasis on cost, he envisioned little more than an east coast run, probably no further than Atlanta. “You want me to go to Australia?”

“That's my thinking. Have you been there?”

“No.” Jimmy was reeling.

“Great country. You'll love it.”

“I thought you were worried about expenses?”

“I am. You'll be flying coach, sleeping and eating cheap.”

“Why the other side of the world?”

“Because I'm telling you that's where you're going.”

Jimmy gave his boss an irritated look. “You have the numbers. Most of my sales are here in the U. S.”

“But you're changing your name. I don't like that one bit. I'm gambling that you can get off to a better start over there, build some name recognition, then come back home for a real debut.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Suppose I flop.”

“That's why I'm only pressing five thousand. I've already made the distribution deal.”

“You want to promote the album exclusively in Australia? It doesn't make sense.”

McCabe knew he was coming out of left field. He had an ulterior motive, but he would not reveal it until he had Jimmy's commitment. After all, finding some elusive singer with a magnificent voice named Whitehurst was secondary. Most important, was rehabilitating the career of Blossom's main source of revenue

“I have a short tour in mind, most of the major cities. Small venues to give you a chance to shake off any rust and see how the music works. Start in Perth, and then circle the coast, Broome, Darwin, Cairns, Brisbane, Sydney and Melbourne. We drop the new album in the stores and let your live performances generate some interest. I don't know much about Australian radio, but I'm sure some of them would be interested in doing an interview.”

“So I'm supposed to drop everything and fly to the other side of the world?”

“They like your music.”

***

“He wants me to do a tour in Australia.” Cindy was on the other end of the line on Canada's Prince Edward Island. “What's up with this guy?”

“It's all business with him. Look at me, first London, now here.”

“Canada's only a few hours. Flying over there takes two days. I checked the schedules. Leave on a Friday and arrive on a Sunday. In the air for almost twenty four hours.”

Cindy laughed, “You could always go by ship.”

“Thanks.”

“How's the album coming?”

“Done. He's pressing five thousand.”

“That's all?”

“It's going out under my real name.”

“Oh.” Jimmy heard the drop in Cindy's voice.

“You don't like the idea?”

“People know you as Jimmy Button.”

“I never liked that name.”

“Doesn't matter. It's who you are to your fans.”

“Well, he agreed to Buckman. This Australia thing is another story.”

“I think you should go.”

“Why?”

“The better question is why not? You haven't been on a stage in over seven months. Atlantic City has died down, but if you come out of the bushes in the states with a new name it's all going get dredged up. The trades will be all over you. Buckman will be portrayed as an attempt to evade the past. The album will get lost in the noise.”

“I think he's worried about that, too.”

“That explains the paltry five thousand.”

“Have you heard from Ellis?”

“I should be asking you?”

“We're on the outs at the moment.”

“He told me. Something about the new contract.”

“He threatened to walk out on me if I didn't sign.”

“He said you tried to fire him.”

“Heat of the moment.”

“You should call him. I'm sure he wants to patch things up.”

“What have you heard about the English groups?”

“Ellis has them in their old clubs, one night Rebellion the next Weak Knees. Both albums are in the stores. They go up to Glasgow and Edinburgh next week.”

“Is Eugene holding up his end on bass?”

“As far as I know.”

“He needs to get up to speed before they come back to the states.”

“I'm sure Ellis has that on his agenda.”

“Do you really think Australia is a good idea?”

“Yes, Jimmy. Miles has a sixth sense for business and it's only a month.”

***

George was on a stepladder, paintbrush in hand, when Jimmy pulled into the driveway. He came down from the ladder and approached the car.

“What d'ya think?” he asked, waving his hand at the house.

“Better than I expected.”

“I've been havin' fun. Did some things inside, too.” George went back and placed the wet brush on the paint can. “How long are you back for?”

Jimmy pulled an overnight bag from the trunk. “Just tonight. Back to New York tomorrow then to Australia for a month.” George followed Jimmy inside.

“Australia! Wow, that's a long ways away.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You back singin'?”

“That's the plan. I'm releasing a new album with a tour over there to see what happens.” Jimmy stood in the living room. Everything sparkled. “You've been busy.”

“Yep. Started by clearin' out all the old clothes and papers. I brought your mother's things to charity and put all the old papers in boxes out in the garage. Once that was done I got to paintin' the inside. Now, I'm workin' on the outside.”

“Looks fabulous.”

“A month you say? Figure I'll be near done by the time you get back.”

Jimmy went into the kitchen, sliding slightly on the freshly waxed floor. He crossed to the door leading into the garage and opened it. The red Chevy Impala sat regally in the center, shining brightly under the light from the ceiling. A dozen boxes were stacked around the sides of the car.

“I didn't know my mother kept this much stuff.”

George smiled. “Most of it was up in the attic. Canceled checks, medical papers, old bills from the year a the flood.”

“Why didn't you just take it to the dump?”

“Waitin' for the word from you. Thought you might want to go through it first.”

Jimmy closed the door. “Cleanup and we'll get something to eat.”

They ate dinner at the Chillingham Diner. George was fascinated with Jimmy's account of all that had happened upon his return to New York.

“So, this guy's tough?”

“He's got me on a string.”

“He's lettin' you sing again, that's good, ain't it?”

“Yes, and he's enthused about the new album. The big question is my name. I'm not going by Jimmy Button anymore.”

“I like that. People should be honest ‘bout who they are.”

“It feels better to me.”

“That's what counts.”

“He's concerned about name recognition. Fans don't like to be jerked around. If they know you by one name, they aren't likely to be fond of another.”

“Like we decided, you're startin' over.”

“That's the point with Australia. Build some momentum then if all goes well, come back here for a bigger splash.”

“Good.”

Jimmy spent the next morning going through the house. Overall, he was pleased with the way George had brought it into shape. George was happy to see the satisfaction on Jimmy's face. He spent another hour rifling through the boxes in the garage, finally deciding that it was a waste of time.

“Take it all to the dump.”

“It'll all be gone by the time you get back.” George hesitated, looking at his feet as if preparing to say something else.

“Something on your mind?”

“I found her.” He lifted his eyes.

“Your wife?”

“Yep. We talked on the phone and she wants me to come to Germany.”

“You're not sure?”

“It's one thing thinkin' and another thing doin'.”

“Did she say why she didn't answer your letters?”

“Ashamed, just like me.”

“Did she meet anyone else?”

“Nope.”

“George, she wants to see you. What are you afraid of?”

“What if we meet up and it ain't the same?”

“If I can go back to New York you can go to Germany.”

“I don't have no one else to talk to about her.”

“Like you told me, whatever happened in Florida is over and done. Maybe it won't be the same and maybe you won't be able to pick up the pieces, but you will never be sure until you see her again.”

“I guess that's what I gotta do'. Good to hear someone else say it, too.”

The new album hit big. Peg, the beautiful song he wrote for my sister, made him a star. At the time of its release he toured briefly in Australia. Going all the way down there had us scratching our heads, but it proved fortunate
.

- Alice Limoges

The Jimmy Button Band had traversed the 70s music minefield only to crash and burn in a typical haze of addiction and infighting. As he exited the airport, Jimmy found himself second-guessing everything he had done for the last decade. He began his career as a solo performer and, to that moment, despite all the years onstage with his band, still felt most comfortable when performing alone. He wondered what his life would have been like if he never became Jimmy Button, if he never took the stage as the front man of a band, even if that band toiled under his fictitious name. Sure, The Jimmy Button Band had its successes, even a few hit records and a following that warranted occasional paragraphs in the trades, but he never felt comfortable catering to the whims of a fickle industry.

Perth, Western Australia is one of the most isolated cities on earth. Adelaide, its nearest Australian neighbor of similar size, is two thousand kilometers away. In between, is a bare, but beautiful landscape little changed from the time, forty thousand years earlier, when Aborigines first wandered its expanse. That his biggest audience outside the U. S. was also here intrigued Jimmy. On the long flight from Los Angeles he tried to familiarize himself with Australia's music scene. Perth was building a reputation for innovation with clubs springing up in the Northbridge district, venues that featured local groups with a unique sound. He wondered how he might fit in.