Street Player

by Danny Seraphine

  On the band’s earlier European tour, I came up the idea of rearranging a song Hawk and I had written years back called “Street Player.” Hawk had gone on to record the track with his band Rufus and Chaka Khan, but I thought it might be a great tune for Chicago. I wanted to mold it into the ultimate dance song. Rod Stewart had recently released his hit single “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy” and disco was in full swing. I intended to revise “Street Player” in the same rhythmic vein, but give it a higher level of musicianship. I talked the concept over with Phil Ramone, and he loved the idea. We planned to cut it true to the new disco style, with drum loop and everything. The lyrics I had written chronicled my time on the streets of Chicago as a young corner guy. It was basically me trying to make some sense of my childhood growing up in Chicago and making the transition into a working musician:I’ll never forget those aimless years

  Street sounds swirling through my mind

  Trouble was often in the air

  So we fought to forget our despair

  I’m a street player

  And I’ll play you a song

  ’Cause you know, my heart and soul

  Will carry, carry on

  City life’s the only way

  Street corners and billiard halls was our home away

  Lessons learned still help me today

  I’m a street player

  I’ve seen it all

  Hit men, thieves, and many a brawl

  But as you see I still stand tall

  Once again, Peter perfectly laid down the lead vocal in the studio and the song grew into a monstrous piece of music, clocking in at over nine minutes long. After giving the finished mix a listen, the record company thought the track would be perfect for Chicago’s next album. It was a hot new sound for the band and everyone felt it was going to be a smash hit on the dance charts. I was convinced it would give me an opportunity to deliver my first mainstream hit single.

  But it didn’t play out like we thought it would. Despite our hard work, “Street Player” came out and absolutely stiffed. To add insult to injury, it was burned along with a mountain of other disco records in Chicago at a Comiskey Park promotion called “Disco Sucks.” Admission to the event was $.98 and a disco record. Fifty thousand people showed up and our album was one of the featured demolitions. By then, the disco trend was dead and buried. Chicago had missed the party. Our stylistic departure left a lot of our fans scratching their heads. In the end, we were trying to be something we weren’t.

  We had grown into big pop stars over the years and in some ways had trouble holding ourselves accountable for our recent lack of success. As a result, we came to the conclusion that after recording two albums with Donnie Dacus, it wasn’t working out. Someone had to shoulder a majority of the blame for the lull in our career. Overall, at that time our group didn’t have the patience to work out our problems. That’s not to say our scrutiny of Donnie wasn’t warranted, but we probably placed more importance on his shortcomings than we needed to.

  However, there were red flags right out of the gate. Back at one of the first big concerts the band played with him, Donnie had put up his own T-shirt stand down in the concession area. We told him to take it down immediately, which he did, but it still left a sour taste in our mouths. Donnie was used to being a solo artist and had a different mind-set about the situation. He never fully understood why the band made him take his merchandise stand down. Chicago had always been the faceless band of devoted musicians, and it wasn’t too reassuring to deal with image issues right off the bat with our new guitarist.

  It was impossible on so many levels for Donnie to come in and try to fill Terry’s enormous shoes. He was probably destined for failure from the start since we found it difficult to give him the support he deserved. Peter had also gotten into it with Donnie over a songwriting credit issue and had absolutely no interest in working with him after that. For the rest of us, it was an accumulation of incidents. I was nominated to make the call and deliver the bad news. Donnie insisted he would do whatever was necessary to make it work, but the band had made up our minds. It wasn’t my finest moment as a human being. I was becoming colder and more calculated like the business executives I was regularly mixing with. I had the power to go back and lobby for Donnie with the band, but chose not to. What was done was done.

  Getting rid of Donnie didn’t do us any favors with the record company. After the chilly reception to Chicago 13, our relationship became even more strained. Walter Yetnikoff began taking a lot of heat within the record company. He always wanted Chicago to stay on CBS Records and he repeatedly went to bat for us. But the backlash wasn’t because the album was stiffing. The main issue was that it sold around 700,000 instead of a million and a half or two million. The record was successful, just not successful enough, especially to justify the lucrative deal we had signed. Overall, the label was losing money on us.

  Walter was furious when he found out the band had let Donnie Dacus go. CBS soon started scrambling for ways to get out of our recording deal. Back when we had negotiated our contract, Columbia wanted to include what is known as a “leaving member clause.” It meant that the deal would be voided if any of the band left or were fired. When they insisted that that clause include Donnie, we said no way. Ultimately, Walter had agreed not to put it in the contract. Well, we turned around and fired Donnie without even checking with him. Bad move.

  Walt, Peter, the band’s attorney Ken Kleinberg, and I flew to CBS’s New York offices for a meeting with the top executives. We needed to clear the air in order to get everyone back on the same page. I believed that the company realized it had gotten into a bad business deal and was trying to void our contract any way they could.

  The office receptionist led us into a big conference room and we waited until Walter Yetnikoff and executives Dick Asher and Bruce Lundvall eventually joined us. Walter closed the door behind him. He always had an abrasive style, so the meeting wasn’t going to be easy.

  “We don’t understand why you are acting this way and trying to void our deal, Walter,” I told him. “Everything we did was right there in the contract. The band didn’t break any clauses.”

  Walter looked up and made eye contact with me. “Well, frankly, I don’t give a shit,” he announced to the room.

  I traded a quick glance with Ken Kleinberg, who looked almost as surprised as I was. Walter didn’t care about the terms of the contract? What was he talking about?

  “Why did you guys fire Donnie?” Walter asked, leaning back in his chair.

  We told him that Donnie had an ego problem and there was no way of getting around it. The band had tried to make it work, but in the end it didn’t happen.

  “Well,” Walter said, pushing back from the desk, “I think there are some people in this room that have an ego problem. A very big ego problem.”

  “Don’t forget that the band has a legal, binding agreement with the record company,” Ken chimed in. “And what you’re doing is breaking that contract.”

  Walter whipped his head around and glared at Ken. “Well, too bad. Sue me!”

  Walt, Peter, and I were speechless.

  Walter got up from his chair. “Sue me,” he repeated. “And I will enjoin your career and put an injunction against you for five years. At that time, my successor can handle it because I really don’t care anymore.”

  The guys and I shuffled out of the New York offices with our tails between our legs. Talk about getting it with both barrels! Walter had fought hard for us in the past and deep down I knew the band had made a major mistake.

  On our flight back to Los Angeles from our meeting in New York, the plane was literally struck by lightning. Twice. The experience was terrifying and at one point I was convinced we were going down for good. Luckily, we made it back to the West Coast in one piece, but I was still shaken by the series of events. When I got home, I wrote scathing lyrics to a song titled “Thunder and Lightning.” It gave me an opportunity to vent my frustration over the situati
on with Walter and the record company. After all, we were only trying to do what was right for us as a band.

  I took the lyrics to Bobby and Peter, who helped compose the music and come up with a structure for the tune. In the end, Bobby did a complete revision of my lyrics and changed it around to take on the feel of a love song. Instead of being about a fight between our band and Walter Yetnikoff, it turned into a lover’s quarrel. I wished I’d stuck up for my writing, because after the revision the song lost its meaning and impact in my eyes. At least some of the lyrics concerning the meeting we had with the label after letting Donnie go made it through to the final cut.

  In Donnie’s place, we decided to bring in a skilled guitarist named Chris Pinnick to play recording sessions and live performances. Chris had played on Herb Alpert’s hit single “Rise” and reminded me a lot of Terry. They had similar mannerisms and both played guitar with plenty of fire. The band went into the studio to record Chicago XIV with the best intentions of rebounding after the mediocre showing of our previous record. We needed to right the ship. Although we worked well with Phil Ramone, we weren’t exactly lighting up the pop charts. We made the decision to go in another direction.

  We were at the low point of our career creatively and commercially. Something had to happen. In Phil’s place, we brought in a legendary producer named Tom Dowd, who previously worked with Eric Clapton, the Allman Brothers, Rod Stewart, and Aretha Franklin. I had the greatest respect for Tom, but I also felt we needed a stronger-willed producer to set us straight—someone who wouldn’t be intimidated by our celebrity or musicianship. Tom was an amazing producer, but not the right producer for Chicago at that point in time.

  The band tried to move on without the dance club style that influenced some of Chicago 13. We wanted to streamline our sound, and for the most part we were successful in doing that. But despite everyone’s best efforts, Chicago XIV didn’t fare any better. In fact, it was even worse. The record company was shocked at how bleak the sales were. Not long after its release in July 1980, it was a certified commercial flop and became the band’s lowest-selling album. Although the song “Thunder and Lightning” came close, Chicago couldn’t manage to notch a hit single on the charts. The record only reached No. 70 on the Billboard charts before fading. I was disappointed with the outcome. No matter what we did, we couldn’t break out of the hole we had dug for ourselves.

  It seemed like a good opportunity for the band to take a break, and I started spending more time at home in Westlake. I decided to redecorate my house and hired Laudir’s sister-in-law, a beautiful girl named Teddy, to help me. We had met a few years back at a club in Hollywood just after she moved out from Chicago to get into modeling. Teddy had been married to a good singer-songwriter friend of mine, Angelo Arvonio, but they had recently separated. She had been working part-time at Bobby’s boutique Zazou and interior decorating on the side. I was absolutely taken by Teddy’s gorgeous blond hair and deep green eyes. When she came over to my house to look at some of the rooms, sparks started to fly. We were somewhere in between discussing paint color for the living room and deciding on carpet samples when suddenly Teddy and I were all over each other.

  I fell in love with her and that was that. A sudden and powerful attraction took hold of both of us. Teddy was an intelligent and feisty woman who came from a family of seven sisters and two brothers, and spending time with her and her two-year-old daughter Ashley was a welcome change from bachelorhood. Over the past five years since Rose and I had separated, the single-guy routine had become exhausting. I desperately needed someone like Teddy in my life.

  She and I developed a strong bond over the next few months and eventually I asked her and Ashley to move in with me. Shortly afterward, Rose decided to move back to Chicago with Krissy and Danielle to be closer to her family. I wasn’t too happy about the move, but I understood that Rose needed to do it for herself. I had officially moved on with my life and she had done the same with hers.

  When the band played Chicago, I got an unexpected call from Elsie at my room at the Ritz-Carlton. I hadn’t talked to her in ages and was surprised to hear her voice on the other end of the line. She explained that our daughter, Maria, who was now sixteen, wanted to meet me. The reunion was long overdue. Over the years, my guilt had built up to the point where it turned into a major obstacle I couldn’t bring myself to overcome. I ran from it rather than turn and face it head-on.

  The situation was always a major source of anxiety. I struggled to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t around in Maria’s life. Over time, it became more and more difficult to find the strength to take the first step and initiate contact. To make matters worse, my relationship with Elsie had always been virtually nonexistent. I wasn’t going to get any help from her. Elsie stayed very bitter toward me no matter what I did. Her behavior bordered on complete hatred.

  “For some reason,” Elsie told me over the phone, “your daughter wants to meet you. I don’t know why, but she does. If we do this, you have to promise me you will be nice to her.”

  “Of course I will be nice to her, Elsie. What do you think I am?” I asked. I knew exactly what she thought I was, so it was probably a stupid question.

  I arranged for Elsie to bring Maria over to my hotel in downtown Chicago the next afternoon. I had mixed feelings about reconnecting with Maria. I wanted to make amends, but I had a lot to make up for and no idea where to start.

  I hadn’t laid eyes on Maria in years, but with her deep brown hair and dark eyes it was obvious from the moment she came into my hotel room that she was a Seraphine. It was incredible how much she looked like Danielle. Fighting back the tears, I took her in my arms and gave her a long hug. I didn’t know what to say or how to act, but just being with her was a step in the right direction. I took complete responsibility for not being in her life, and I wanted to make a change for the better. I had made some mistakes, big mistakes, and I alone was to blame for losing contact. I finally understood how important it was that we form a relationship.

  We sat together for a little while and I answered all the questions Maria had stored up over the years. There were so many issues that needed to be brought into the open and set straight between us. We couldn’t get to everything at once, but this day could at least be a starting point. I felt terrible for overlooking her and carrying on with my life. But what was done was done. I promised to bring her out to California to visit and spend time with the children. At least it was a step in the right direction.

  17

  Into the ’80s

  Everything was running on all cylinders and things were only getting better for Teddy and me. In September 1981, she gave birth to a son we named J.D. Seraphine after my father, John. After three girls, I couldn’t believe I finally had a son! A few months after J.D.’s arrival, Teddy and I married on New Year’s Eve at my house in Westlake in front of our family and friends. It was a glorious time.

  Unfortunately, just when I had gotten my personal life back on track, Chicago was going through some hard times. Chicago XIV was the final album the band recorded for Columbia Records. Because of poor sales, the label finally wanted out of our deal. It wasn’t producer Tom Dowd’s fault by any means. He inherited a dysfunctional band and the politics he had to deal with while recording the album were ridiculous. Eventually, Tom threw up his hands and left us to our own devices, and it showed in the final product. Shortly after the record came out, the company released Chicago’s Greatest Hits Volume II (also known as Chicago XV) and bought us out of our contract for around two million dollars.

  The band’s dealings with Columbia weren’t the only thing that became strained over time. Our business arrangement with Jeff Wald had also run its course. Jeff had done some great things for our band, but overall it wasn’t working out. He was better suited to managing single clients as opposed to groups of artists. Chicago needed a change.

  Needless to say, it was yet another tenuous period. Nobody had any idea what to do or where to turn for
answers. We had always had a solid working relationship with Howard Kaufman in the past, so I reached out to him about coming in to manage the band. After being let go by Guercio, Howard had gone on to do well for himself and partnered with a successful manager named Irving Azoff. Together, they were overseeing the careers of acts like the Eagles, Steely Dan, and Boz Scaggs. It was a logical choice because Howard knew Chicago inside and out. He had been with us from the early days in Hollywood and understood what made us tick. Fortunately, he and Irving agreed to represent us and we set out to get a new recording contract with a major label. After a short round of negotiations, Irving signed Chicago to a deal with his Full Moon Records imprint on Warner Brothers.

  Although Chicago’s career looked like it was on its way to revitalization, some of the guys’ personal lives started going in the tank. Bobby had hit rock bottom and struggled to get straightened out. His performances suffered greatly because of his extensive cocaine use. His voice was shot and his playing was inconsistent—there were nights when he had trouble just putting phrasings together on the keyboard.

  My frustration with the situation finally boiled over one afternoon when we had a layover in Chicago. On the way to the airport, I glared at Bobby as we sat in the back of the limousine together. Although he told me otherwise, I had the feeling he had just scored some coke. I couldn’t be sure, but I wasn’t going to take it anymore. As we continued down Chicago’s Michigan Avenue by the lakefront, I reached my breaking point. At a stoplight, I threw the limousine’s door open and jumped out in the middle of traffic.