The Garth Factor

by Patsi Bale Cox

  At first, Garth had no plans to make a video for the album. But then came the morning of Wednesday, April 19, 1995, when a rented Ryder truck was parked in front of the Alfred P. Murrah federal building in downtown Oklahoma City. At 9:02 A.M., five thousand pounds of explosives detonated a blast that was felt for thirty miles and damaged over three hundred buildings. The attack killed 168 people. Nineteen children were killed and thirty were orphaned. Eight hundred and fifty people were injured.

  The Oklahoma City tragedy put the world’s spotlight on countless American heroes, with over twelve thousand volunteers and rescue workers participating in the rescue and recovery. In large part because of these heroes, over one thousand people survived the attack.

  Utilizing the message contained in “The Change,” Garth attempted to find a new way to deal with senseless tragedy. In the horror of the day he discovered heroes, proud Oklahomans who, when faced with terror, refused to be terrorized. Finally, he decided to make a video as a tribute to the victims, survivors, and the people who acted so courageously on that day.

  IN AN EFFORT TO pull the new and old staff together Hendricks decided to hold an all-employee weekend at Tims Ford Lake near Winchester, Tennessee. People were excited, anticipating that this lake sojourn might help develop a close-knit crew. It was an opportunity for everyone to interact in a casual setting, not to mention a chance to stay in lakeside cabins with free food and free beer.

  The afternoon that people started arriving looked promising. The revelers included more than Capitol staff members: friends, producers, writers, and others connected to Hendricks or his executives. The mood was genial, welcoming, and open. People water-skied, fished, and soaked up sun and suds. But it turned out to be a little too casual.

  As the day turned into night and the liquor level rose to high tide, two worrisome trends emerged. First, there were some highly suggestive and public sexist comments that circulated, to the extent that some worried about the potential for harassment charges. Second, it became very clear that some newcomers very high in the organization had sizable chips on their shoulders. Some began making derogatory remarks about several of the artists already signed to Capitol, including its biggest artist, Garth Brooks. Why? From the comments made, the artist’s biggest crime appeared to be that he didn’t “hang” with the new executives, that he’d actually declined an invitation to go out drinking in Nashville. By morning, after stories were traded among the cabins, some employees packed up and drove back to Nashville. “Oh good,” one female staffer said sarcastically on the drive back. “The frat boys are in charge.”

  After the shaky start, Garth worked with his own team and virtually ignored the label. Some of the executives began publicly deriding him, holding court late nights at Nashville’s Sunset Grill, talking down Garth as well as other artists, including Tanya Tucker. The tales were told all over town.

  Most of Capitol’s rank and file took the Sunset Grill insults personally, because in the end, they were on Garth’s team. The overwhelming majority of them loved Garth. He knew everyone’s name, the names of their spouses and children. He somehow knew about—and asked about—a son who’d suffered a football injury, a recently deceased pet, a friend in Minnesota who’d been unable to get concert tickets. They liked the fact that he didn’t bring a “star” aura with him during label visits and that small things still seemed to excite him. Once, during the days when he and Sandy were living in a trailer while their home was being renovated, an employee had asked him how things were progressing. Garth suddenly lit up. “Can you believe it—this is the first house I ever lived in that has a doorbell!”

  The trashing of Tanya Tucker also angered many. They felt that her latest album, Complicated, had received short shrift. One of her finest efforts, it produced only one charted single, the Top 10 “Little Things.” In some meetings it became obvious that the record label was counting on her best-selling memoir, Nickel Dreams, and the marketing prowess of its publisher Hyperion to pick up Capitol’s slack.

  As time went by, Hendricks settled into his role as president of the company, making inroads with most of the original staff. In truth, many felt sorry for him, figuring that part of the aloofness they had felt involved his deteriorating relationship with fiancée Faith Hill, whom he’d begun dating while producing her first Warner Bros. sessions. On tour now with Tim McGraw, the rumors about Faith’s affections, and lack thereof, flew fast and furious. And Scott Hendricks often appeared ghostlike as he walked through Capitol’s halls.

  To the extent that it was possible, Garth left his own marketing in the hands of Joe Mansfield and the New York office. Once the three-year tour started in 1996, he had no other option. With a schedule that would include playing over 350 shows, he had no time to fool around.

  A Capitol promotion executive who had been with the label since 1989 told about Garth’s tour launch. “From the time the new team came on board there was a split between the old and the new. We thought Garth was the biggest thing in the business, and the new guys acted like he was over. When Garth started the 1996 tour in Atlanta, I was the highest-rank person at the opening night. Garth asked me if anybody else was coming to any of the Atlanta shows. I had to say that I was pretty much it. Then I got on the phone and asked Scott Hendricks and the general manager, Walt Wilson, to try to attend. After all, this was our biggest act and the beginning of a three-year tour. So the next night they came backstage and that’s when Garth was handed a CD of Trace Adkins with this line: ‘Here is our new lead horse.’ Garth didn’t act arrogant or angry. Just shocked at that statement. Then, I was told, Walt and Scott left the arena. It was stunning.”

  In 1996, Joe Mansfield accepted the presidency of Asylum Records. Joe had been with Garth for the past six years. After leaving Capitol, he had formed the Mansfield Group, marketing records by artists including Garth, Mark Chesnutt, and Willie Nelson. In 1994, he expanded, joining forces with former CBS Records VP Mike Martinovich, another of Nashville’s most respected marketing minds. Mansfield/Martinovich quickly became the hottest company in town, working with companies like Anderson Merchandisers (Wal-Mart), and Movie Tunes, as well as with Garth, Wynonna, John Berry, the Charlie Daniels Band, Toby Keith, and others. When Joe took the job with Asylum, it was under the condition that he be allowed to continue advising Garth and Wynonna.

  Scott Hendricks was far more effective with some other careers. His tough takes on various albums turned out to be spot-on in some cases. Hendricks reviewed Deana Carter’s album and determined that she needed one big smash single. They found it with Matraca Berg’s poignant “Strawberry Wine,” which stayed at number 1 for two weeks in 1996. A second Berg-penned song, “We Danced Anyway,” also hit number 1. Her debut album, Did I Shave My Legs for This, also had hits with two of Deana’s songs: “Count Me In” and “How Do I Get There.” The album sold 5 million copies.

  Trace Adkins was a strong Hendricks signing, yet another of the college-educated country singers Time had written about, a singer/songwriter who started working in the oil fields following his graduation from Louisiana Tech. After a rig accident, Trace moved to Nashville to play music full-time, and it was at a local honky-tonk that Hendricks saw and signed him. Trace combined a big country voice with a shrewd wit and larger-than-life personality that made him attractive to both television and print media. His Hendricks-produced debut album, Dreamin’ Out Loud, produced three big hits, including the number 1 “(This Ain’t) No Thinkin’ Thing.”

  But the most important act Hendricks signed was a young New Zealand native named Keith Urban. Keith was already a signed artist with EMI in Australia, charting four number 1 records before he moved to Nashville in 1992. A top guitarist, he played with Brooks & Dunn and others, formed his own group, The Ranch, and eventually went solo. Capitol attorney Ansel Davis was the person most responsible for the Capitol signing. Although Hendricks would not be around to develop Urban’s career, it would be one of Nashville’s biggest by 1999.

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  ON MAY 21, 1996, Garth was the guest of honor at a 1960s theme party held at Nashville’s Sunset Studios, attended by family, friends, and members of the music industry. The event celebrated a new milestone, sales of over 60 million of his albums since 1989. As EMI chairman Charles Koppelman said, “To sell 60 million albums in seven years is an extraordinary accomplishment, even for a performer who has made a habit of breaking records. Garth has proven that a great artist with talent, vision, and dedication can achieve the unfathomable.”

  What was unfathomable to his long-term associates was that the Garth Brooks who showed up that night was pretty much the same one they had gotten to know years earlier. In a celebrity culture where artists like Elvis and Michael Jackson were so overwhelmed by megastardom that they retreated into a form of isolated madness, insulated by troops of paranoid bodyguards and handlers, Garth had come through damn normal.

  Loyalty was a trait that had defined Garth’s career, and it was evident in his choice of a master of ceremonies for the 60 Million Party: Gentleman Jim Foglesong. Applause for Foglesong was deafening, because he was still a much-beloved and respected figure in the business. However, the shadow that hung over this event was long. In January Joe Harris had passed away at his Nashville home. His experiences in Vietnam had been problematic for years, but his death was unexpected. He’d been driving through snowstorms for two days, returning from the Northeastern Convention of Fair Buyers in Syracuse, New York. He returned home exhausted, sat down in his chair, and did not get up.

  In terms of his life and career, Joe Harris died with his boots on, doing the job he loved. Many artists attended his final service, with some, including the Oak Ridge Boys, performing. Per the family’s wishes, Garth sang “The Dance” at the memorial service. Joe Harris would have loved the 60 Million sales event. He was one of a small cadre of professionals who had helped most to make it possible.

  Billboard’s Eric Johnston later wrote about the sales numbers and the viewpoint with which many on Music Row saw Garth. “Frankly,” Johnston said, “the Garth Brooks phenomenon baffled the hell out of most in Nashville.” What’s he really like? Is he a marketing genius? Is he setting the bar too high for other artists? Is he a megalomaniac consumed with a desire to control? And what is going on with this new Capitol regime?

  But, Johnston said, the success that Garth enjoyed was due in large part to the fact that he had taken control of his career at a crucial time, and doggedly held on. Johnston summed it up:

  “Brooks is one of the few artists who fully understands that he alone is ultimately responsible for his career, and therefore, he better oversee what goes on during his watch. He’s frequently criticized for being involved in the business side of things, but the roadside is littered with artists who were screwed out of every cent they made because they focused only on their art.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Who the shit is paying for all this?”

  It was the end of July 1996, and Garth had just finished playing three nights at the Rose Garden Arena in Portland, Oregon, where ticket sales had broken records set earlier that year by Neil Diamond. The tour was beginning a Canadian run that would last through September. All those shows had sold out in unprecedented numbers, too. The first show scheduled was at the General Motors Place in Vancouver, British Columbia. Tickets there had outsold AC/DC’s recent appearance.

  Garth sat on the bus, waiting to cross the border. When he turned and looked back at the lines of buses and tractor-trailers all transporting concert personnel and equipment, he was suddenly alarmed at the enormity of it all. Speaking to no one in particular, he asked, “Who the shit is paying for all this?”

  IN 1996 GARTH LAUNCHED a three-year tour that Amusement Business said was “easily the top country music tour of all time.” Between March 1996 and November 1998, Garth played to over 5.5 million fans at 350 shows in 100 cities.

  Just prior to tickets going on sale, Garth worried that he might face a tepid market. Fresh Horses had sold 2.5 million since its release, and had fallen out of the pop Top 10 after seven weeks. And it wasn’t because country music was out of favor; in 1995 country had twenty-seven platinum and seventeen gold albums. As usual, Garth was candid about understanding that celebrity is a fleeting commodity. “My dad has always warned me that what you get fast can disappear fast,” he said. “I’ve stayed off the road for over a year, and it’s a new world out there.”

  Garth’s biggest single of 1995, “She’s Every Woman,” was only number 24 on the year’s top impact singles: Tim McGraw, Alan Jackson, Pam Tillis, Collin Raye, and Wade Hayes headed that year’s list. Mainstays like Brooks & Dunn and Wynonna were at the top of the charts. The biggest news of ’94 and ’95 had been Tim McGraw, and by 1996, Shania Twain and Kenny Chesney.

  McGraw’s 1992 self-titled album on Curb hadn’t generated any hits, but he was a favorite among songwriters who believed that the singer could be a star if he could just catch a break. The A&R man who came with Bowen to Capitol, James Stroud, turned out to be the break Tim needed. In 1992, Stroud, who had left Capitol to work with Clint Black, was chosen to head the newly opened Giant Records. Part of Stroud’s agreement included producing outside acts, and Tim McGraw was the beneficiary of the deal. His first project with Stroud producing, Not a Moment Too Soon, contained McGraw’s breakthrough single, “Indian Outlaw,” and was the biggest-selling album of the year. The soulful follow-up ballad, “Don’t Take The Girl,” went to number 1, proving that McGraw could deliver far more than novelty tunes, and making him a star. Not a Moment Too Soon topped both the country and pop charts and won McGraw the ACM Top Album and Male Artist awards.

  In 1996, while Garth struggled to get Capitol behind Fresh Horses, Tim, touring with Faith Hill, released his next album, All I Want, which produced hits including “I Like It I Love It” and “All I Want Is A Life.” Five top-charting singles in all. Faith finally broke off with Scott and married McGraw on October 6 of 1996.

  Shania Twain was making news and hits with her first Mutt Lange–produced album, The Woman in Me. Propelled by slick and sexy videos, the hits just kept on coming in ’95 and ’96. “Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under?” “Any Man Of Mine,” “(If You’re Not In It For Love), I’m Outta Here!” and “No One Needs To Know” transformed the Mercury hopeful into an international superstar.

  With 1995’s “You Ain’t Much Fun” and 1996’s “Me Too” Toby Keith was showing glimpses of the powerhouse he would become. Kenny Chesney, too, stood poised for stardom with breakthrough singles coming from his 1996 BNA album, Me and You. A Nashville-based group named Lonestar had its first number 1 in 1996 when “No News” stayed at the top of the charts for three weeks. One of the biggest stories in country music was the seemingly overnight stardom of Capitol’s Deana Carter. Labelmate Trace Adkins also hit big with “Every Light In The House” and “(This Ain’t) No Thinkin’ Thing.”

  LeAnn Rimes had an auspicious Top 10 debut in 1996 with “Blue.” LeAnn was just five years old and had won her first talent show when Garth got to Nashville in 1987. Her astonishing vocals had been well known around Nashville for years, but even given the success of child stars like Brenda Lee and Tanya Tucker, many were skeptical of signing someone so young. After first hearing her sing, Jimmy Bowen had said, “Great voice, but she’s too young to sue.” Mike Curb took a chance and introduced a monster talent to the world. Her second 1996 release was the number 1 career-builder “One Way Ticket (Because I Can).”

  And because in 1996 the hottest country tour on the road was Tim McGraw and Faith Hill, for all intents and purposes, Garth Brooks was coming out of his time off as an underdog. To make up for it, he was determined to make each show a mind-blowing experience. It was also a study in contrasts.

  Over the years Garth’s stage show went from busting the occasional guitar to flying over the audience in a harness to the high-tech spaceship special effects of the late ’90s. But lest people think he was attempting to turn the Garth Brooks s
how into a KISS concert, in 1996 he came up with an unusual show opener.

  “Did you ever see Rod Stewart’s show when he was having a three-piece bagpipe group open for him?” Garth asked a friend, who hadn’t the vaguest idea about Rod’s pipers.

  “It got me thinking,” Garth went on. “I love picking guitars around a campfire out on the farm. Why not open the tour that way—a couple of guys sitting around a campfire playing acoustic guitars and singing.”

  “It sounds pretty low-key. Will your audience go for that?”

  Garth grinned. “I think they will. We already gave it kind of a test run in 1994 at the Hollywood Bowl, and people seemed to love it. I think the contrast is the reason they’ll go for it. I’ve already talked to Bryan Kennedy about him and Dan Roberts coming on the road with me. Bryan said, ‘I guess you know it’ll be like your old uncle pulling his guitar off the wall and asking if you’d like to hear a tune.’ I said, ‘That’s exactly what I want, your old uncle.’ ” And so country’s most rocked-out tour opened with a couple of cowboys with guitars. It was unexpected, unscripted, and overwhelmingly accepted.

  Raising the stakes for a series of shows in Texas, Garth decided to sail over the audience strapped into a harness with guide wires and have a face-to-face with fans on the back rows. He planned for the show opener, “The Thunder Rolls,” to include thunder, lightning, and rain. A robed choir was to make an appearance on “We Shall Be Free,” and Garth had been taking lessons from the legendary Jim Horn so he could play saxophone on “One Night A Day.” But the big spectacle would come with “Standing Outside The Fire,” when flames would billow from the stage.