Longtime Beatlefan contributor Dave Hinchberger wrote the prologue for Bill King’s new book “LARGE TIME: On the Southern Music Beat, 1976-1986.” Here is an excerpt from it. …
When I was 14 in 1976, my family of seven moved into my grandmother’s home on the outskirts of Atlanta. Living in a small Southern town, with no way of getting around on my own, I had to entertain myself at home, either with family, friends, TV or music.
Music took me away, energized my soul and made me feel the world was at my feet every time I turned on the radio. Radio was all I had then, but it was grand. Southern rock permeated the radio waves, along with national hits. The bands that I grew up with — Mother’s Finest, Atlanta Rhythm Section, et al. — I later learned were not familiar to some folks outside of the South. This was surprising, but I eventually discovered bands well-known in their parts of the U.S. that I’d never heard of, either. Music was everywhere; all you had to do was listen.
I always looked forward to The Atlanta Journal-Constitution weekend papers, a breath of fresh air in this small town, containing pop culture I craved — music, TV and film. It was always the music articles and reviews that I went to first. I was already a Beatles fan, listening to 8-track tapes and radio my parents played in their Opel station wagon. “Help!” and “A Hard Day’s Night” … I distinctly remember traveling and singing these powerful anthems with them. My grandmother worked at the local five and dime, and they had this two-album set, “The Beatles Rock ’n’ Roll Music,” a collection with gleaming foil printing, the band on the cover. Man, I wanted that album. The Beatles were everywhere in my life as I was growing up.
In 1976, I also became a Kiss fan after hearing “Kiss Alive” and “Destroyer” at a friend’s house. The music was powerful, harder, and, well … alive! Being a teenager, that driving rock spoke to me. Music … I was energized by it all.
It was during this time I began noticing that most of the music articles in the weekend paper were written by this fellow Bill King. There were many pieces on The Beatles, Paul McCartney and Wings, John Lennon, George Harrison and Ringo Starr. When I started reading Bill’s articles, The Beatles all had solo and/or band careers, and there was plenty going on, with new album releases, tours (Paul with the Wings Over America tour, a big deal that year), The Beatles’ Hollywood Bowl live performance on vinyl, Beatle cons, all of this and they hadn’t been a band since 1970?
After fervently reading Bill’s pieces all year, I got up the courage to write to him, to tell him how much I appreciated his work and what it meant to me as a music fan, and, especially, a Beatle fan! It was a first for me; I was 14 and writing a letter that began an almost 50-year friendship that continues to this day.
We moved into Atlanta on Tuesday, Aug. 16, 1977. Yes, the day Elvis died. Writing this now, it seems to be a portent of sorts, considering the career I was going to have. I began 10th grade at Northside, a performing arts high school, which exposed me to more of the arts (“Fame” was released in theaters my senior year).
Bill invited me to come see him at The Atlanta Constitution, located downtown. Finally, the Martin Luther King holiday (which was only an Atlanta holiday at the time), offered me a day off from school and Bill set it up for me to come down and take a tour, Jan. 16, 1978. The bus dropped me right in front of the AJC. I saw my first newsroom … and Bill took me down to see where they printed the paper (loud!). It was all fascinating and a grand day.
Bill would receive a pair of tickets to review concerts for the paper. I assumed his lovely wife, Leslie, went with him to these shows. I soon discovered she only went to certain shows, and most of the time the extra ticket wasn’t used! From that point on, I would get in touch with Bill to see what shows he would be reviewing, and he was a good man to let this teenager tag along.
A concert I distinctly remember was The New Barbarians (May 1979), which included Keith Richards, Ronnie Wood (my first Rolling Stones!) bassist Stanley Clarke (big fan), Ian McLagan and Bobby Keys. What a show! It was the first time this young man saw a woman stand up on her seat, turn to the crowd before the show, and take her top off! Arms raised high and waving around with the lights on. I remember looking at Bill, amazed, and he said, “Yep, at these shows anything can happen.” You might say it was my first introduction to the “sex” part of “Sex & Drugs & Rock ’n’ Roll” (nod to Ian Dury).
I began working for Oz Records as a senior in high school — a dream job, not only because the whole place was decked out with yellow brick roads, flying monkeys, and a video screen setup as the Great Oz theater, but I was working … in music. My friends all were jealous that they worked fast-food and other retail jobs while I was involved with in-store appearances by The Ramones, Johnny Rotten (he had us play the new Dolly Parton record), Philip Lynott of Thin Lizzy, Molly Hatchett, etc. I was 16 and having the time of my life.
There was so much going on with The Beatles, too, with new music collections, biographies, solo releases, etc. So much was going on that, in 1978 Bill and Leslie King had created Beatlefan, now the world’s longest-running Beatles magazine! They both worked after-hours to put out this informative and magical publication, and I would stop by the Beatlefan offices in Decatur in the late ’70s and early ’80s and help Bill and Leslie with whatever needed doing. There was always plenty of Tab (the diet cola) and snacks on hand, to keep us going.
Meanwhile, I became a store manager at Oz Records, and then I was hired to work at Polygram Records, starting on Jan. 4, 1985.
I was all of 22, and my life suddenly had changed forever. I spent almost 10 years working for a major record label. These jobs aren’t advertised, so the fact that I even was able to interview was sheer luck. The fact that I was hired out of so many that wanted to work there was akin to winning the lottery — not in funds, but in experience.
Within six months, Polygram had released Tears for Fears’ “Songs From the Big Chair,” which became a big hit, selling almost 5 million albums — an exciting time. I also was working with Kool and the Gang, Sting, Deep Purple, Bon Jovi and, yes … Kiss!
Hey, we didn’t have a Beatle, but Polygram had plenty of bands I enjoyed and was able to spend time with. So many stories, wonderful times, as I tell my wife LeeAnn. I’ve been out of the business over 30 years, but those stories are still so fresh — I mean, this was the time of my life!
Speaking of stories, Bill has blessed me with a few over the years. Like the time he spent three days with Charlie Daniels up on his farm in Tennessee, visiting and interviewing him for a major article. Then there’s the trip to Augusta: He’s with James Brown, cruising down the road, eating fried chicken along the way. Here’s Bill interviewing, and James is speaking in between bites and licking his fingers. What a story! (Actually, Bill tells me, they ate the fried chicken before they got in the car, but I prefer to picture them eating it on the road — what an image!)
Another time, Bill was at an interview session with Paul McCartney for his film “Give My Regards to Broad Street.” When the interview concluded, Bill introduced himself. It turns out that Paul already had heard of Beatlefan. Wow! We make our own luck, and Bill, working diligently on the magazine for years, certainly made his, and wound up sitting next to a Beatle at a conference table.
What I took away from working at Polygram has helped me in so many ways today as a bookseller, a writer and especially as a publisher. See what happened there? I went from my life in music, to a life of publishing, just like my good friend Bill. Who could have seen that coming?
I’ve been a fan of Stephen King since “The Shining” paperback was released in 1977, so much so that I named my company The Overlook Connection, based on the hotel from the novel. I collected his work and would sell off my extras in Stephen King’s newsletter, Castlerock. Eventually, I began selling books through my own catalog and then started publishing other writers’ work. In fact, Stephen King wrote an introduction to one of our titles in 1996. Stephen King has 7.2 million followers on Twitter, and he follows 165 — one of which is our Stephen King Catalog account. I now write and edit the “Stephen King Annual,” a full-color production with articles, interviews, art and photos.
Does this sound familiar? It should, because Bill King’s influence on what I’ve done for the past few decades can be felt in every corner of who I have become. Bill’s encouragement made quite the impression on this young man — in music and in publishing. I’ve always admired and respected his accomplishments. Although I’m sure he didn’t realize it at the time, he certainly was a mentor to me.
Here’s the catch to what I mentioned above about luck: Some things in life are chance, but, for the most part, we make our own luck. It all began for me at 14, writing to Bill. I wrote that appreciation because he showed me a wider world with his reviews and views on music; he made a difference. Now, I find myself at my writing desk working on this prologue for Bill’s book, almost 50 years later. Someway, somehow, Bill King has influenced my life all these years.
I received a package one day, not long after I sent that first letter to Bill as a teenager. The return address was from The Atlanta Constitution, a complete surprise. It was from “the” Bill King, with a note thanking me for the kind letter. Along with it he had sent an actual 8×10 print photograph, taken by an Atlanta Constitution photographer, of Gene Simmons of Kiss performing at Atlanta Stadium earlier that year.
As a 14-year-old who couldn’t afford much (I didn’t even own a Kiss record yet), I was stunned beyond belief. What a generous soul to make this young man smile.
Years later, Bill told me that my note to him was the first fan letter he ever had received. He’ll bring this up in company sometimes, me grinning and shuffling my feet. I’ve always been proud of that letter. Who knew it would lead to this moment?
Here I am, writing the ultimate “fan letter,” now at the grand age of 61. You’ve come a long way, my friend, and it’s an honor to write to you again, Bill, albeit with a wider audience this time.
So, when’s the next show?
With much affection,
Dave Hinchberger
The full version of this essay appears in “LARGE TIME: On the Southern Music Beat, 1976-1986.”
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