Once A King, Now A Prince:

Where Work Started Before Life Did When I think about the time of my life, I don’t picture a stage or a deal or a big moment in the music business. I picture a candy store. That’s where I first understood what work was, long before I understood what life was supposed to be. My father ended up in the candy store business after being thrown out of my grandmother’s fur operation on Flatbush Avenue. He had married into that business thinking it was his way forward, but six months later, he was out. That left him with a wife, a child, and no direction except to find something else. Candy stores became that something. I grew up around them. Behind the counter, around the shelves, in the back rooms. It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t inspiring. It was just what was there. Learning From What Didn’t Fit A story about…

I cannot tell you a story and give you a picture of my life in rock and roll, from my rock and roll memoir, without first telling you how I grew up and what led me into the world of music. I’ve never claimed to be an author. That’s for others to decide. But I can tell a damn good story… and this is one of them. My name is Ira Blacker, and this is my story inside the rock and roll world. Every Picture Tells a Story… Don’t It? A rock and roll memoir is not just about the music, and it’s not just about the names people recognize. It’s about the road that led there, the moments that never made the headlines, and the reality behind what most people only saw from the audience. Every picture tells a story, don’t it? In this rock and roll memoir, those…

Up On The Roof: Where The Music Found Me I started to seriously listen to rock and roll following our family’s move to Glenwood Road in Brooklyn, just down the road from my father’s candy store. I was about 14 and listened every chance I could to WWLR in New York and WNJR in New Jersey, both rhythm and blues stations, with WNJR leaning more toward blues, along with the major New York City stations. Around that time, I also began purchasing records. My earliest recollections include Fats Domino, Shirley and Lee, The Paragons, The Jesters, and Earl Lewis and the Channels. This music, along with much of the doo-wop era, is still what I listen to today, and it became the foundation of my music memoir. One of the chapters in my music memoir is titled “Up On The Roof.” On warm days in New York City, I would…

Thinking back over the years I spent in the music business, there were many strange occasions and weird things happening. In any music business memoir, those are the moments that stay with you. I will add a few here that may provide some laughs, insights, or whatever you take away from this music memoir, which is, in many ways, all about the music business as it really was. HOW TO RUIN A CONCERT: GOOD MATERIAL FOR A MUSIC BUSINESS MEMOIR One of the most awful concert endings took place at C.W. Post College on Long Island, New York. I was able to sign The Doors and had put together their first tour since Jim Morrison died. After he passed in 1971, the remaining members of The Doors were Ray Manzarek (keyboards), Robby Krieger (guitar), and John Densmore (drums), and they remained as a trio with Ray singing lead. They recorded…

If you’ve ever wondered what life behind the spotlight really looks like, my music autobiography gives you the front-row view. I’m Ira Blacker, and in Once A King, Now A Prince, I take you behind the stages, into the tours, and through the highs and lows of rock and roll life. This is the side of the business most people never see. In my autobiography I share how we built some of the first rock package tours featuring Rod Stewart and The Faces, Savoy Brown, and The Grease Band. It wasn’t just about filling seats. It was about creating shows fans would never forget. Trips to London opened doors to Uriah Heep, Nazareth, Deep Purple, and more. Signing these bands and navigating contracts, personalities, and chaos is the heart of a real music autobiography, where risk and reward went hand in hand. Music Autobiography: Rod Stewart, The Faces, and Unforgettable…

Human nature tells us that essentially, we are all the same. That is mostly true as a general rule. But then we have the subclasses within that, and they include people like me, who fall into two basic categories: those seeking celebrity, fame, and fortune, and those who love the music. Those lovers of music mostly cannot play an instrument or sing worth a damn, so rather than stand onstage, they gravitate to be close to it inside the music business. Lacking the creative brain to perform, write, or play, many of them move into the business side of inside the music business, recording, management, agency work, sales, and promotion, except for Barry Richards, who could listen to a record and, better than anyone I ever knew, tell you on the spot whether that record could be a hit or not. Me, I have a celebrity sister who got all…

My first ride on an airplane was on a DC3, in the 1950’s, from LaGuardia Airport in Queens, New York, to Boston. I made the trip with my best friend, Steven Duke. We didn’t really see or accomplish much, nor was there anything that warranted writing about in past or future rock and roll stories. We saw the wooden sail ship in the Boston harbor, and we ate at what was purportedly to be the best seafood restaurant on the wharf, having a large bowl each of some amazing Boston Clam Chowder, the white version, with Manhattan Clam Chowder being the red, tomato-based one. The only other site we visited on our one-day, non-stay-over trip was to view where Paul Revere lived. In other words, we came, we ate, and we went home, not yet worthy of my later rock and roll stories. My next memorable trip, and probably my…

What is the age at which someone should lose their innocence? How old were you when you lost yours? Were you able to deal with it as a young adult, or was it thrust upon you way before you were ready or knew what to do with this incredible and traumatic loss? Psychological experts have stated that a person develops approximately eighty percent of their personality by the age of six. I do not doubt that these early years shaped my worldview. 

How does a four—or five-year-old not only lose his innocence at such a ridiculously early age but also survive the anger, beatings, punishment, and rejection of a rage-filled parent? I’m glad you asked: Fantasy! As other children use their fantasy lives to play and dream of wonderous things, I used mine to escape my world and, in my meager fashion, control that world before it extinguished me. Interestingly enough, a silver lining perhaps is that the University of Harvard and other prestigious universities have linked imagination with entrepreneurial spirit and ‘genius’ to avoid a lack of structure. In other words, a forced adaptation to my environment.

I felt safe in the back of Uncle Dave’s old light green, four-door Plymouth. My mother and I occupied the entire back seat, and I had the “catbird’s seat.” I could not see anything, as my head was well below the window line, buried in my mother’s lap. This was luxury. This was living. This was comfort. This was safe.

I should never have trusted a Canadian, as my father was from Canada. There was a small-time promoter from Toronto, Canada, named Ray Daniels, who contacted me because one of my agents, Wally Meyrowitz, would not sell him acts for his venue. The venue was the 1,000-seater Victoria Theater, an old burlesque house located next to one of the world’s greatest Jewish delicatessens, renowned far and wide for their “baby beef” brisket, made from veal rather than beef. With a Canadian father and a love for Canada (and its “baby beef”), I took on dealing directly with Ray Daniels.