Inside Studio 54

by Mark Fleischman

  In early 1981 everyone was asking me, “Mark, why do you still want to own a disco? Haven’t you seen the ‘DISCO IS DEAD’ stickers plastered all over the city?” It became a mantra, steadily repeated by my colleagues, friends, and family. But I saw Studio 54 as a dance club and I truly believed that people would always love to dance. Frankie Crocker told me, “It’s all going back to R&B-influenced productions like Blondie’s ‘Rapture’ and the sound of Chic sampled in The Sugarhill Gang’s ‘Rapper’s Delight,’” both of which I really liked. It made no difference to me what you called it or what label you put on it—rap, new wave, or euro—I was hearing some great new music on the radio and in other venues and I wanted it played at Studio 54. I was determined to make it happen.

  I asked Denise Chatman if I should give DJ Leroy Washington extra money to buy all the new records I wanted to hear played at Studio, but she said it wasn’t necessary, that working club DJs like Leroy belong to Record Pools. Prior to working for me at Studio, Denise was director of national club promotion at Salsoul Records. She went on to explain: “The term ‘record pool’ was coined by David Mancuso but the concept was conceived of by Tony Gioe while working at Club Hollywood. Tony envisioned it as a service, operating out of a central location in Manhattan, that would provide DJs with free copies of new releases from participating record companies. DJs would listen to the records and if they liked what they heard, they’d play the new releases in their respective clubs. The DJs at Hollywood were paid forty dollars a night to play from ten p.m. to four a.m., if the bar went over a thousand dollars, they were paid an extra twenty dollars. By the time they returned home to get some sleep it was nine a.m. A record pool would save them time and money. Tony organized a meeting at Club Hollywood, inviting all the DJs he knew and some record company executives, to discuss his concept. It took a while, with all the queens and egos involved, but eventually the first-ever record pool found a home with David Mancuso at Ninety-Nine Prince Street, The Loft. Soon after, Record Pools all over the US were organized, serving several thousand DJs across the country and around the world.”

  This made perfect sense to me: before the advent of the Internet and sharing music files, if I was in a club and heard a song that I liked I’d ask the DJ the name of it and then go out and buy it. Record stores were everywhere back then. I was buying albums for my personal enjoyment and they cost me $3.49 and 45s were $0.49 apiece, so I understood how it really did add up to be quite an expense for the DJs.

  Changing the music format at Studio 54 was a must. I met with resistance—much of it from Steve Rubell, who was entitled to some creative input, based on papers we had signed while he and Ian were in prison. They received no money down for the purchase of Studio 54, and they were rightfully concerned about Studio’s future and their payout.

  The friction started when I began spending time with Rick James, giving him and his entourage the super VIP treatment. Steve thought that Rick and his dreadlocked entourage were “too black” for the scene and very different from Andre Leon Talley, Diana Ross, and some of his other guests. I was crazy about Rick’s album Street Songs, which contained one of my favorite dance cuts, “Super Freak,” which had just come out the summer before my reopening. I appreciated what a great talent Rick was. He was also a very smart guy and we’d become good friends, so I refused to budge.

  It all came to a head with Steve on a Saturday night—November 7, 1981. Rick James was the musical guest on Saturday Night Live and Lauren Hutton was the host. Rick got me great seats in the front row of the audience. It was thrilling to be there and see all the set changes and goings-on that are off camera to the audience watching at home. Eddie Murphy was classic as Velvet Jones in his sketch “How To Be A Pimp.” After the show we all went back to Studio 54 and waited for Rick to arrive. I told Leroy to get “Super Freak” ready to go. Rick was “full-blown Rick James” when he made his entrance into the main room—and why not? He’d just rocked his performance on SNL and was ready to party at Studio 54 with his band and thirty-person entourage. They were all about leather and dreadlocks, suede and braids, boots and glitter, and a whole lot of black and white tits and ass. They danced their way into the club and over to the main bar. It was wild. The crowd loved Rick and went crazy. Steve Rubell wasn’t too happy and he told me so. It was so ridiculous that I had to laugh, especially around 3:00 a.m., when Rick was still holding court at the main bar and out of nowhere, my man DJ Leroy Washington played “Love Man” by Otis Redding and Rick went crazy. Rick grabbed my pen, pretending it was a microphone, singing along with Otis Redding about how pretty he was while his entourage went crazy too, dancing around Rick, grabbing girls and other people at the main bar. It was the kind of wild atmosphere Rick brought to any space he was in—which is why jaded Hollywood A-listers and the guys in the street both loved Rick. When the song ended everybody clapped—Rick took a bow and then looked at me and said, “Mark please ask L. J., that Warren Beatty–lookin’ motherfucker over there (pointing to bartender L. J. Kirby) to pour us some drinks. I’m thirsty.”

  Rick was a great talent and so much fun to be around. I just couldn’t understand why Steve Rubell was giving me shit.

  But that was all about to change.

  The next day Steve decided to consult with someone whom he had great respect for and he called David Geffen, founder of Geffen Records, one of the hottest and most successful record executives in the music industry back then and to this day. David listened and then he told Steve, “Rick James is a huge talent—his album Street Songs just sold three million copies.” Steve backed down. Steve thought Studio 54 had a lot of soul under his watch, but it was about to get a whole lot more soulful under mine. I extended VIP treatment to include friends like Jimmy Cliff and Soul Train creator Don Cornelius. I welcomed promotions with WBLS Radio personality Frankie Crocker and the young, up-and-coming urban promoter, Dahved Levy, of present-day Caribbean Fever fame, whom Denise Chatman introduced me to.

  Bringing a very talented DJ back from earlier Studio days and the Virgin Isle Hotel was important. Steve tried to get my business partner Stanley to nix it, referring to my chosen spinner—Leroy Washington—as a “shvartze” (Yiddish for black person). I know Steve didn’t mean it in a racist way because he personally chose the DJs for Studio 54’s reopening night in ’81 and they were both black. I don’t have a clue why he made that remark. Leroy had played at Studio under Steve’s reign back in 1978. He and Richie Kaczor were friends, and Richie had agreed to let Leroy play at Studio if Leroy could find him a much-needed copy of Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell’s “If This World Were Mine” on a 7.” Leroy found it, and he got to play the following night at 4:00 a.m. It worked out perfectly for Leroy. He would hit Studio after playing from 10:00 p.m. to 3:00 a.m. at Marco’s on Forty-Third Street on the East Side. From that night on it was agreed that Leroy would play at 4:00 a.m. and Richie was free to leave and hit the other clubs.

  Leroy was from Detroit, Michigan—a Motown Man—and he became my DJ of choice. His record collection, purchased from DJ Jonathan Fearing, and from owning High-Tech Records on Bleeker Street, was unlimited, as was his knowledge of and appreciation for every genre of music that might be needed at Studio 54. It was in his brain and at his fingertips at a moment’s notice—and I knew that I could count on Leroy to go with the dance floor—not his ego. That was crucial to the success of my plan. Leroy came through for me night after night for over three years. If I asked him to play a special occasion on a Monday night, he would. My instincts proved to be right on. Our early evening straight crowd loved Leroy’s selections and they packed the dance floor, taking breaks to go to the bar and spend money. There’s an old saying: “If you’re sober enough to drive you’re not drunk enough to dance.” It all worked together and our bars started doing more business. Leroy had the music under control and now I could get as fucked-up-high as I wanted.

  The music varied, depending on the night and the time. It was always
different, determined by the event and the crowd invited. On the designated straight nights from 10:00 p.m. until about 1:00 a.m. the music was up for grabs. Usually the early evening crowd was happiest when dancing to what they heard on pop radio, such as ABBA, Human League, The Go-Go’s, Devo, Van Halen, Men At Work, Eurythmics, and Blondie, with a couple of disco classics thrown in. The crowd loved it. The emphasis changed from formulaic disco and R&B to pop-oriented dance music. New Wave, which some well-known DJs didn’t like very much, was in heavy rotation. At around 1:00 a.m. the music became decidedly more R&B with the sounds of James Brown (past and present) in heavy rotation along with The Temptations; Ashford & Simpson; The Detroit Emeralds; The Gap Band; Earth, Wind & Fire; Marvin Gaye; and Ray Charles, though Leroy always managed to throw in some Rolling Stones too. I’ve always loved the saxophone and it doesn’t get any better than Bobby Keys on The Stones’ “Brown Sugar” to get me going in the wee hours at Studio 54. Whatever else Leroy knew the late-night crowd would like he’d put on the turntable. We continued to make room for some Studio 54 disco favorites, like Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive,” of historical significance to the club and its founders, but disco was no longer the emphasis for hours at a time. I was always pushing for more R&B to be mixed in late at night, and that worked, so I was happy, but Leroy did what he had to do and kept the popular music of the day on the turntables to keep the crowd happy. I know for a fact that Leroy’s emphasis on the New Wave sound early in the evening and Motown late in the evening was one of the reasons so many rockers enjoyed Studio during my reign. Keith Richards once told me he could never get enough of Motown. Studio 54 went from a disco to a dance club.

  Thursday night—our popular gay influenced “models and fashion photographers” night—still needed an influx of new blood, so I brought in DJ Frank Corr from Crisco Disco, and he completely lit up Thursday nights. Once or twice Larry Levan from the Paradise Garage played on a Thursday night; he and Joey Madonia liked to hang out on Sunday nights. Robbie Leslie played a couple of times as well; he currently hosts a slot on Sirius XM Radio’s Studio 54 channel, keeping the memories of Studio 54 alive. He recently shared this, and I quote, “Can I tell you what it was like to be at the controls of one of the best sound systems in the world? It was like having your finger on the red button somewhere in Washington and Moscow.”

  Music was important; it was the essence of the club. Studio 54 may have started out as a disco, but as I ushered it through a change in direction, it became a dance club just like my favorite, Small’s Paradise in Harlem. I was gratified when I spotted the December 22, 2003 issue of New York magazine’s cover story: “100 Years Of New York’s Hottest Scenes,” on which Studio 54, Small’s Paradise, and The Copacabana were featured in the top ten.

  A major innovation was introduced to Studio 54 when I had a giant video screen installed in late 1982. Seeing Michael Jackson play out on the big screen dancing to “Billie Jean” at Studio 54 created quite a stir. Music videos and MTV were a huge deal at the time and we were the first club to present music simultaneously with video images on a big screen. But nothing prepared us for the joy and pandemonium that broke out one night in December of 1983 when we showed Michael Jackson’s thirteen-minute video “Thriller” for the first time. We were the first club to show it, and the night it premiered at Studio 54 Michael Jackson made a surprise visit. Frank Corr was on the turntables that night and remembers it this way: “The crowd went ‘dancing crazy’ when the video appeared, but when someone screamed ‘Michael!’ and pointed to the DJ booth and everyone saw Michael Jackson in the flesh, it was as wild as wild can get in a very happy way. Everyone was cool, but I had to tell the tech crew to move the bridge back to the DJ booth when it came time for Michael to leave. There was no way to take him through the crowd in the club.” Michael then danced on the bridge and out the back door. Every night after that, the screen would be lowered three or four times per night to show “Thriller” and the crowd would go out of their minds, screaming and dancing along with Michael, and they always wanted more. The video presentation was always a real showstopper. In addition to the large screen, we installed several video monitors at the main bar making it one of our most exciting visual effects.

  I also tempered the prerecorded music and video wall with live performances by Lou Reed, The Temptations, Four Tops, Chubby Checker, and The Beastie Boys, to name a few. Stevie Wonder recorded on our dance floor, taking advantage of the great acoustic quality once we were able to drill a hole and connect to Charlie Benanty’s recording studio, Soundworks, located below Studio. I was happy with the events we had on our schedule as a result of my new hire, Denise Chatman.

  Studio was “the” place to have a party, so Ford Modeling Agency decided to host their “Face of The Eighties” party at Studio 54. The Ford Agency had been number one in the industry since the 1950s when they discovered Suzy Parker, Dovima, and Carmen Dell’Orefice, who is still stunning and modeling in her eighties. She had no choice but to continue with her career, as she was another casualty of Bernie Madoff, with whom she invested her life’s savings. In the 1960s, Ford signed the luscious British import Jean Shrimpton, and then Ali McGraw, and remained number one in the world into the 1970s representing Cheryl Tiegs, Christie Brinkley, Jerry Hall, Lauren Hutton, Rene Russo, and Kim Basinger, and in 1975 they signed nine-year-old Brooke Shields.

  Early in my reign, Eileen Ford asked Joey Hunter, President of Ford Modeling Agency, to contact Studio 54 and see if we could get either the Four Tops to sing their big hit “Sugar Pie Honey Bunch” or The Temptations to sing “My Girl.” I was thrilled. Joey Hunter was a standout in the world of modeling. A handsome, hard-working guy who, to this day, takes his profession very seriously, earning him a stellar reputation in a cutthroat business. He was instrumental in the development of Model Wire, the software used today at most modeling agencies. I liked and respected him. Roy Cohn hosted Joey’s fortieth birthday bash at Studio 54. I was determined to get one of the groups Eileen Ford requested, as the relationship between Ford and Studio was of paramount importance to me.

  The Ford Agency was legendary for the lengths to which Eileen and Jerry Ford would go to protect the models. Most girls lucky enough to be signed by the Fords were very young and not from Manhattan, so they were eager to experience New York City at night, and that meant one thing—Studio 54. Some girls actually lived in the Ford family townhouse and had to abide by strict rules and curfews and some of the girls were legendary in their determination to party while Eileen believed in good manners and white gloves. Joey Hunter told me the girls living with Eileen and Jerry would hide their dancing shoes in a downstairs room used by the housekeepers next to the back service entrance. They’d then put on their pajamas, yawn, and fake a “goodnight, I’m going to sleep now,” and after Eileen and Jerry were tucked in bed and sound asleep, the girls would tiptoe back down the stairs, change clothes, stash their pajamas, and head to Studio 54, hopefully returning to their bedrooms before the Ford family awoke. I was familiar with Eileen’s rules, and anything I could do to please her other than babysit, I would try to do, but I also had a club to run.

  Ford had a lot of competition by the time I reopened Studio. Elite, Zoli, Wilhelmina, Sue Charney, Click, and other boutique agencies were all in the game now. At Ford, it was all about eating your vegetables and getting your beauty sleep; over at Elite Models it was about drinking champagne and hanging out with the very handsome John Casablancas at Studio 54 into the wee hours of the morning.

  John defected from Ford to start Elite Models and he was a force to be reckoned with—and so the model wars began. I remained neutral, hosting parties for all the agencies. John developed his girls into celebrities and pitched them very successfully as the new stars of music videos and presenters on MTV. He guided the careers of Iman, Heidi Klum, Paulina Porizkova, Cindy Crawford, Linda Evangelista, Claudia Schiffer, and Gisele Bündchen, making the successful ones very, very rich. John is credite
d with turning models into idols and creating the supermodel moment by driving modeling rates to a new high. It was said that he acted more like the manager of a rock band, encouraging his young charges to embrace a lifestyle of champagne, wild parties, and massive paychecks. Linda Evangelista summed up this new attitude when she was quoted in Vogue: “We don’t wake up for less than $10,000 a day.” I have many good memories of partying with John, and I was very sad to hear of his passing in 2013.

  Booking The Temps or The Tops would not only please the Fords, it would also fit in perfectly with the changes I was making to the music. My plan was to present more live R&B music in addition to performances with prerecorded music tracks. I asked Denise Chatman to make some calls, and within a few days we were booked with The Temptations. The night would be a huge success with gorgeous models everywhere dancing to the tune of “My Girl.” When Rick James found out about the upcoming Ford Models party he got very excited. He planned to surprise everyone, especially his uncle, Melvyn Franklin, the famous deep bass voice of The Temptations, and suddenly appear on stage and sing “Super Freak” live with The Temps, just as they did on the original album recording. We will never know how Eileen Ford might have reacted to Rick singing about “a very kinky girl, the kind you don’t take home to mother” because, just as we were about to go to print on the invitations, we were informed that The Temptations were embarking on a European tour and due to schedule changes in Europe, they would be ever so grateful if we could change the date.