Redemption
Home Up Walking with Destiny


 

 

MYSTERY OF THE TEXAS TWOSTEP

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

REDEMPTION

Written by Rick Archer 

 

 
 
 

Rick Archer's Note:  

One of my favorite stories about Saturday Night Fever was the L.A. premiere party on December 7, 1977.  Faces in the crowd included celebrities such as Farrah Fawcett, Jim Brown, Chevy Chase, Michael York, Kristy McNichol, Carly Simon, John Travolta, Robert Stigwood, plus the cast from the movie. 

Nik Cohn was there too.  He was accompanied by his date, the glamorous Yvonne Elliman.  Ms. Elliman had a Number One hit on the soundtrack titled "If I Can't Have You."  Things like this happen when it is your Brightest Day. 

Sitting at home that night was Clay Felker.  He was not invited to the premiere.  Why not?  Because he did not have a single thing to do with the movie.  Felker was not in a good mood.  For one thing, he was unemployed.  In addition, Felker was astonished at the enormous success of Stigwood's movie.  Stunned to find this unknown, lightly-publicized movie turn into something special, Felker's mood grew worse.

Nik Cohn.  Half a million.  Date with Yvonne Elliman.  Robert Stigwood, fame, fortune and national acclaim.  That's Hollywood, baby. 

Meanwhile Clay Felker was an unemployed has-been who had somehow missed the chance to take credit for the event of the decade. 

 

I can imagine Felker feeling humiliated by the overwhelming success of Saturday Night Fever.

Disco was the cultural phenomenon that defined the Seventies.  Seething with anger at missing out on the gravy train during his Darkest Hour, I have to believe Clay Felker became obsessed with getting the chance to set things right.  Given that Rupert Murdoch was a powerful man, there probably was not much Felker could do to even the score.  However Cohn and Stigwood were a different story.  More than likely, Clay Felker wanted Redemption.

It was Felker's mistake to print the fake story in New York magazine that launched Cohn's joyride to Destiny.  Given that Felker never made a dime, I would imagine he felt badly used. 

As for Robert Stigwood, the man with the Midas Touch, I do not know if Felker had animosity towards him.  However, I can imagine Felker experienced tremendous envy.  I also can imagine Felker's competitive instinct kicked in.  Okay, so Stigwood got rich off his mistake.  Good for him.  Now it was Felker's turn to get rich off Stigwood.  Not only did he know how to do it, he had the power to pull it off.  Let's make a Sequel. 

 
 
 

POWER OF THE SEQUEL
 

Once upon a time Movies ruled the land.  Movies were once the third largest industry in the country.  The average American saw four movies a month.  Then came television.  Uh oh.  Now the average American saw four movies a year.  This made the business of making movies much riskier.  The cost of a mistake was astronomical.  There was so little room for failure that one bad movie could cost a producer or a star their career.

Unfortunately it isn't that easy to predict winners and losers.  So 'Sequel' became the movie industry's favorite word.  Sequels are important because there is a built-in loyal audience.  The countless James Bond films are a perfect example.  Sequels are the safest bet in Hollywood, especially if the star is willing to return.  For example, John Travolta's dance legacy was a type of Sequel similar to the tradition of the Fred Astaire movies. 

Grease was the Broadway musical that accidentally led to Saturday Night Fever.  Robert Stigwood was an avowed fan of musicals.  Stigwood was so convinced Grease would be a movie hit that he quickly got the rights to it.  Next came Stigwood's epiphany that John Travolta was born to play Grease.   However, the moment Travolta was signed, Stigwood got the bad news.  The Grease project had been delayed.  Uh oh.  Then someone handed Stigwood the script to Saturday Night Fever.  Bad luck turned into good luck. 

Or should we say 'Dumb Luck'?  When you are having your Brightest Day, you can do no wrong.  Even your mistakes turn into a pot of gold. 

 
 

SEEKING REDEMPTION
 

1977 had been a tough year for Clay Felker.  First he had been outsmarted by Nik Cohn.  Then he had been outfoxed by Rupert Murdoch.  Adding to his pain, Felker's beloved magazine had been ripped out of his hands.  Heart-broken, devastated, out of a job and out of luck, Felker was forced to watch helplessly as Robert Stigwood got obscenely lucky thanks in large part to Felker's negligence. In slang, 'one up' means to gain an advantage or superiority over someone, often by doing something slightly better or more impressive.  It's a way of trying to outdo or outshine another person.  Robert Stigwood did not directly exploit Clay Felker, so it is unlikely there was a personal grudge.  But there had to be a giant blow to his pride to see Stigwood soar at the same time that Felker was falling.   My guess is Felker began looking for a way to 'one-up' Stigwood.

The thing to understand is that Clay Felker was not helpless.  Yes, he had been guilty of complacency, but after taking time to grieve, now he had his game face back on.  Felker was not Rupert Murdoch-rich, but he was reasonably wealthy in his own right.  So the first thing Felker did on the comeback trail was purchase Esquire magazine in August 1977, then install himself as editor.  This would turn out to be a shrewd move.

With Step One completed, next in his gun sights were Nik Cohn and Robert Stigwood, the men who had humiliated him.  Felker's idea was to beat them at their own game.  Felker realized that Saturday Night Fever was just begging for a sequel.  Still smarting after seeing the Nik Cohn story turn into the event of the decade, Felker became obsessed with finding his own sequel to Saturday Night Fever before Stigwood did it himself. 

Unfortunately, this was a tricky proposition.  How do you steal a Sequel?  Good question.  Stigwood owned the legal rights to Saturday Night Fever.  No doubt Felker would be sued to oblivion if he tampered with Stigwood's invaluable property.  Felker decided his only choice was to make a 'Disguised Sequel'.  Easier said than done. 

How does someone make a Sequel that isn't a Sequel and persuade everyone into believing it is a legitimate Sequel? 

Looking for the answer to that question became Felker's burning obsession.  Felker knew if he could find the right vehicle, he had the contacts and the skill to pull it off.  After all, Felker had just as many show business contacts as Stigwood.  In addition, Felker knew the Saturday Night Fever formula by heart.  Now that he was unemployed thanks to Murdoch, Felker had the time and opportunity to watch Stigwood in action during the filming in Brooklyn.  Indeed, Felker occupied a catbird seat which allowed him to study every move Stigwood made.  Fortunately, finding gold nuggets in obscure locations was Felker's greatest skill.  If the master trend spotter could track down something similar to the Disco story, Felker was certain he could emulate Stigwood's success. 

After taking control of Esquire in 1977, Felker began his search.  Felker knew whatever he was looking for would need to include dancing.  Did anyone know what he was up to?  Perhaps his wife Gail Sheehy and a few close friends, but Felker had learned his lesson the hard way... Keep your mouth shut!!!  No more handing the farm to people like Cohn, Stigwood and Murdoch. 

 

So why the need for silence?  If Stigwood had the slightest idea what he was up to, the game would be over.  Felker smartly kept his cards close lest this opportunity slip away.  Even so, Felker was not terribly optimistic.  Racing to beat Stigwood to the coveted Sequel, Felker knew his secret plan was a long shot at best. 

The thing about Darkest Day is that one's Brightest Day may be right around the corner.  Just remember to be patient.  The craziest thing happened.  Indeed, just as Felker's Brightest Day was about to begin, Robert Stigwood's Darkest Day kicked in.  Instead of filming Saturday Night Fever II like he should have, Stigwood proceeded to make one of the worst movies in cinematic history.

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was a 1978 musical mishmash starring the Bee Gees and pop singer Peter Frampton.  The Bee Gees had reached mega-stardom.  They sold millions of records, had their faces plastered on countless magazine covers and played sold-out concerts to venues across the globe.  Casting the Bee Gees and Frampton as stars of the movie seemed like a sure winner.  What better way to sell billions of records? 

Unfortunately the movie was so awful it became a laughing stock.  A glance at the reviews gives a clear picture.

•  "the film is humorless"
•  "a film with a dangerous resemblance to wallpaper"
•  "ranges from barely tolerable to embarrassing"
•  "it just doesn't work"
•  "quite possibly the silliest movie ever conceived"
•  "mind-bogglingly awful"

 

When asked about the film in a 1979 interview, George Harrison expressed sympathy for Stigwood, Frampton and the Bee Gees.  He acknowledged they all worked hard on Sgt. Pepper only to see their efforts bomb miserably.  Harrison went on to say of Frampton and the Bee Gees:

"I think it damaged their images and their careers, and they didn't need to do that.  It's just like the Beatles trying to imitate the Rolling Stones.  The Rolling Stones can do it better.  Now that I think about it, I don't think me and my mates could have saved this movie if we did it ourselves."

As they say, "Talent and intelligence will not inoculate anyone against the Caprice of the Fates." Robert Stigwood, previously considered a genius, had stumbled badly. That's what happens when it is your Darkest Day.

Stigwood's mistake left the door open for Clay Felker to make his move.

 
 

JUNE 1978: GILLEY'S
 

Given an unexpected reprieve by Stigwood, Felker scoured the land for some sort of idea.  Locating the right opportunity was not as easy as he had hoped.  It took Felker almost a year to find what he wanted.  In June 1978 Felker was invited to Houston to give a Journalism speech at a Rice University symposium.  As the plane touched down, Felker was feeling dejected.  Ever since the debut of SNF in December 1977, Felker had spent the past six months scouring the land for a solution to his 'Sequel' problem without success.  The clock was ticking and so far nothing had caught his eye. 

Visiting Houston's airport made Felker's bad mood worse.  Now that Saturday Night Fever was the reigning talk of the land, every mention of the Disco Inferno raging through America reminded Felker of his shame.  As he walked through the terminal, Felker was surrounded by a neverending stream of Disco merchandise in every shop he passed.  No doubt Felker cringed each time he saw a picture of smiling Superstar John Travolta to remind him of his oversight.  Wouldn't it be nice if he could produce a Travolta movie of his own?  Then he would be the one to sell airport merchandise.  Gritting his teeth, Felker vowed to find a way to even the score or go nuts trying.  Little did he suspect his dream was about to come true that very night.

 

Felker was met at the airport by Bill Broyles, editor of Texas Monthly magazine, and Mike Levy, the publisher.  They were sponsors of the media event being held at the Rice University School of Journalism.  First the men took Felker to dinner.  Then Levy and Broyles asked him what he wanted to do next.  It was a Friday night, 10 pm.  Would Felker like to go back to the hotel?

Felker shook his head, adding that he had never visited Houston before.  Would the men mind showing him around the city?  Broyles and Levy were more than happy to oblige.  As the men got into Levy's car, Broyles suggested they visit élan, Houston's fanciest Disco.  élan was just blocks away from Felker's Galleria hotel.  Visit a Disco?  Felker nearly vomited.  That was the last place he wanted to go.  After Felker said he could not stand Disco, Levy decided to give Felker a different look at Texas-style nightlife.  On impulse, the men drove Felker to the wild and wooly Gilley’s, a giant beer hall in neighboring Pasadena.

The moment Felker walked in the door, his eyes grew wide as saucers.  This vast honky-tonk featured a country band, country dancing, a mechanical bull, punching bags, pool tables, and scores of hungry cowboys on the prowl for pretty cowgirls. 

This was it!  The moment Felker saw dozens of couples dancing to western music, the tumblers fell into place.  Felker had just found what he was looking for.  Felker's instincts said Gilley's was the honky-tonk equivalent of the Disco featured in Saturday Night Fever.  Clay Felker had just hit the Jackpot. 

 
Previously Nik Cohn had been in the right place at the right time.  Now it was Clay Felker's turn.  Gilley's promised to give Felker the second chance he prayed for.  Give the man some credit.  Right now four thousand people were participating in what had to be the most alien environment imaginable to Felker's elitist Eastern sensibilities.  It took some genuine creativity to see the next 'Saturday Night Fever' amidst this beer-fueled honky-tonk madness.   Fortunately, Felker was not put off by the strange sight.  Not at all.  Felker's vision was filtered through a rose-colored lens known as dollar signs.  Felker smiled.  He had missed on Disco, but he would not miss on Western.  Clay Felker was back in the Game. 

Here is what I like about this story.  How many people have the ability to see a run-down, hot, smelly beer hall like Gilley's and visualize the second coming of Xanadu?  Don't ask me how he did it, but Felker threw Ugly into his spin machine and made Badass come out Beautiful.  Felker was about to singlehandedly create a nation-wide Country-Western Trend out of THIN AIR based on perhaps the nastiest, raunchiest honky-tonk on earth. 

 
 

TEXAS MONTHLY
 
 
 

Urban Cowboy at 35 -- John Spong, Texas Monthly, June 2015

Aaron Latham, writer of the Urban Cowboy article:  

Texas Monthly asked Clay what he needed for an honorarium.  Clay said he didn’t want one.  All he wanted was a tour of Houston by night.

William Broyles Jr, editor of Texas Monthly:

I took Clay to Gilley’s. I’d hung out there multiple times.  It was so much a part of the world I came from that I didn’t see it as a story, whereas Clay saw these people coming in from the country with their cowboy cultural map still fresh in their head.  That’s why we drive pickups in River Oaks, right?  So we walk through acres of parking lot, past a fistfight or two, and as we got closer, we could hear the sound of it.  Once we got inside, it assaulted us: people hitting the punching bag, two-stepping to the house band, hundreds of drunks at the bar and a herd of cowboys gathered over at the mechanical bull.

Clay was in his New York suit and handmade English shoes trying to make sense of it all.  I could see Clay's eyes get really wide.  I thought, “This is great, glad he's having a good time.” 

I had no idea that Felker was in the midst of his grand Urban Cowboy epiphany.

Aaron Latham:

When Clay saw the bull, the punching bag, and four thousand people dressed up like cowboys, he could hardly contain his excitement.  He had finally found what he was looking for.  Clay deliberately hid his excitement from the Texas Monthly people.  Then at three o’clock in the morning, my phone rang in Washington.  Clay told me to get on the next plane to Houston. I was there the next night.

 
 


Looking for Love: The Urban Cowboy Rides Again
 
-- written by Gregory Curtis, Texas Monthly,
 Nov. 1998

Gregory Curtis:

Clay Felker was the editor of Esquire.  Our publisher Mike Levy and Bill Broyles, my predecessor as editor, invited Felker to Houston that summer to speak at the Rice University Publishing Program.  Instead of an honorarium, Felker wanted to be shown around the famous boomtown.  So they ended up at Gilley’s late one night.

Felker saw the mechanical bull and the cowboys dancing with a beer bottle in their back pocket and their girlfriend’s thumbs hooked in their belt loops.  He was so struck by the place that back in his hotel room late that night, he called writer Aaron Latham.  Latham had been born and raised in Spur, Texas, but was living in Washington, D.C.  Felker told him to get out of bed and catch the first airplane to Houston.  The rest is history.

At Texas Monthly, we had discussed writing about Gilley’s but hadn’t done it yet.  One of the aggravations of journalism is that you can be so familiar with something that you miss a story that is right in front of your face. That was what we did with Gilley’s

Felker saw it and we didn't.

 
 

JUNE 1978: AARON LATHAM
 
 
"If a pickpocket were to see a Saint, he would only notice the man's pockets.

If I visited Gilley's, all I would see would be the mechanical bull, beer bottles galore, drunken cowboys, lame dancing and ubiquitous brawling.  Clay Felker was said to have a gift for spotting things others missed.  Give Felker some credit.  His instant recognition of Gilley's as a substitute for the Brooklyn Disco club that inspired SNF was the perfect example.

On the drive back to his hotel, Felker said nothing to Broyles and Levy about his vision for fear his Texas Monthly friends might spill the beans.  Now that he had found his pot of gold, Felker understood that stealth was mandatory. 

Apparently this search had been on Felker's mind for a long time.  I base this conclusion on the fact that Felker instigated his plan the moment he returned to his Houston hotel that night.  Preparing to beat Robert Stigwood to the punch, Felker wasted no time.  Minutes after entering his room, Felker called his writer friend Aaron Latham at 3 am. 

 

"Aaron, get on a plane and get your butt down to Houston pronto!"

Aaron Latham was a Washington DC resident married to long-time 60 Minutes correspondent Leslie Stahl.  Although Latham was born in West Texas, he went to college at Princeton.  After graduation, Latham remained on the East Coast to begin his career.  Latham had been Felker’s primary Watergate reporter at New York magazine in the early Seventies.  Developing a close rapport, Latham and Felker became amigos.  This was good because Felker needed someone he could trust.  If one word of his Sequel plan leaked out, Robert Stigwood might cut him off at the pass.  

Aaron Latham had never heard of Gilley's, but that didn't matter.  Latham understood his mission.  Felker needed a country-western story pronto.  It was his job to cut and paste Nik Cohn's Disco story into the C&W environment at Gilley's  and stick boots on it.

 

When Latham got to Houston, Felker introduced him to Sherwood Cryer, co-owner of Gilley's along with Mickey Gilley.  As the two men walked around the club, Cryer advised Latham on various angles for the upcoming Esquire article.  Sherwood Cryer had a big smile on his face.  Cryer enjoyed walking this stranger through the cavernous building because Felker had confided in him.  After swearing Cryer to secrecy, Felker confessed he intended to make Gilley's the C&W equivalent of Saturday Night Fever.  Based on that conversation, Cryer crossed his fingers.  It was crazy to believe, but if Felker's hype was legitimate, Latham's story might just put Gilley's on the national map.

During his tour of the club, Latham met some interesting Gilley's regulars including the colorful operator of the mechanical bull.  Unbeknownst to Latham at the time, the bull operator was an escaped convict hiding in plain sight here at the club.  The convict somehow persuaded Latham into riding the mechanical bull.  Latham was a brave man.  Since beginners were sure to be thrown, it took real guts to get up on that violent machine.  Sure enough, Latham was quickly thrown off the bull.  Now Latham was hooked.  Undeterred, he spent the rest of the day trying to master the mechanical bull.  Bruised, beaten, sore all over, Latham laughed at how seriously he had taken the challenge.  He vowed to make this mechanical beast the surprise star of his story. 

Latham hung around Gilley's for a month.  He interviewed everyone in sight and rode the bull every chance he got.  The more people he talked to, the more he realized many of them had grown up in the Texas countryside just like he had.  They had moved to the big city to chase factory jobs created by Houston's booming economy.  Most of these young men were chemical plant workers who spent every spare evening trying to impress women by riding the mechanical bull and looking for love on the dance floor.  Latham noticed the Gilley's regulars had brought their country ways with them, boots, cowboy hats, trucks, Wrangler jeans, and a love of country music.  Indeed, these young men were straddling two worlds. They had one foot in the country and one foot in the city.  Latham smiled.  He had his theme... these uprooted kickers were Urban Cowboys.

Latham fast-tracked the script that would give birth to Felker's precious 'Sequel in Disguise'.  Now it was time for the Wizard of Oz to go to work.  In September 1978, a mere two and a half months after Felker's Gilley's revelation, the Ballad of the Urban Cowboy and America's Search for True Grit appeared in EsquireSurely this was the most pretentious title in literary history, but so what.  The important thing was editor Felker had the good sense to place a powerful subtitle on the cover of his magazine: 

Saturday Night Fever, Country-Western style

Clay Felker's headline worked like a charm.  The moment Esquire published the story, he made a phone call to the same guys at Paramount Pictures who had released SNF.  The moment the movie moguls got the hint 'Disguised Sequel', they took the bait.  Next came Irving Azoff, business manager of the rock band Eagles.  He saw the chance to do for his country music artists what Robert Stigwood had done for the Bee Gees.  Azoff won the soundtrack bidding contest and began producing Urban Cowboy

Then came the big scoop.  In a blinding stroke of good fortune (hint: Fate in Action), John Travolta was available.  The movie featured a hard-hitting story of directionless youth with John Travolta starring as the Dancing Cowboy.  On the verge of pulling off one of history's great rip-offs, Clay Felker's Redemption was at hand.

 
 
 

Rick Archer's Note:  

In 1977 Clay Felker was kicked to the curb by Rupert Murdoch.  That same year, Felker's wife Gail Sheehy wrote a tell-all article about her husband's losing battle in Rolling Stone.   Ms. Sheehy concluded her story with this observation:

A week after having his life kicked apart, Clay awoke on a Caribbean island with a shudder.  He turned to me and said, "I realize how fragile my life is."

Clay rested against the headboard and began reading the history of Napoleon and Talleyrand.  However, he was actually deep in thought.  I watched in sadness as my husband fought the panic of age, fat, and self-doubt.

What was he supposed to do now?  Would the stamina be there to start all over again?  Was there still time to dream the great magazine of the Eighties?

Ms. Sheehy mentioned Felker's self-doubt.  In addition to his humiliation at the hands of Rupert Murdoch, he had let himself be taken advantage of by a hustler named Nik Cohn.  Clay Felker was the man who prided himself in spotting trends before all others.  And yet the one time his talent could have really paid off, Felker missed it. 

How on earth did Felker miss this Disco phenomenon?  After all, wasn't he supposed to be the Great Trend-spotter?  The most embarrassing part was knowing that Cohn had placed the 'Disco Trend' right under his nose.  Did Felker pick up the scent?  No.  All Felker had done was sniff with contempt.  Now everyone around him was getting rich and Felker had absolutely nothing to show for it except humiliation. 

 

Looking at things with Fate in mind, it strikes me that Robert Stigwood and Clay Felker were on alternating Brightest Day-Darkest Day cycles.  Ironically, Felker's plane touched down in Houston at virtually the same moment as Stigwood's Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was being released.  When Stigwood's movie became one of the great cinematic turkeys of all time, this led to a weird seesaw-like coincidence where Stigwood's star fell at the same time that Felker's rose. 

On a personal note, my Brightest Day coincided with Felker's Darkest Day, the Saturday Night Fever Era that launched my career as a Disco teacher.  Now Felker's Brightest Day as the Wizard of Oz led to my Darkest Day.  Felker's grand scheme to steal Stigwood's precious Saturday Night Fever sequel with a copycat put a premature end to my career as a Disco teacher.  Very curious how this seesaw effect works.  Up-down, up-down.

In her article about the battle for control of New York magazine, Gail Sheehy offered this insight.

"A week after having his life kicked apart, Clay awoke on a Caribbean island with a shudder.  He turned to me and said, "I realize how fragile my life is."

Clay rested against the headboard and began reading the history of Napoleon and Talleyrand."

I was curious about the book, so I looked it up.  Talleyrand was Napoleon's Foreign Minister.  In the beginning Talleyrand helped Napoleon consolidate his power.  Their relationship deteriorated when Talleyrand began to disagree with Napoleon's aggressive military campaigns.  Unable to persuade Napoleon to cease fire, Talleyrand betrayed him by secretly working to secure the Emperor's overthrow.  Considering the story of Felker's downfall involved Murdoch secretly working behind the scenes to secure the editor's overthrow, it becomes obvious why Felker was drawn to this particular book. 

He was already plotting his revenge.

 
 
 

 


THE TEXAS TWOSTEP

CHAPTER Sixteen:  WALKING WITH DESTINY

 

 

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