James William Guercio and Carl Giammarese — September, 2011

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Any musician who's had the opportunity to be involved in nationally acclaimed recordings, some call them simply 'hit records', has two perspectives on those experiences. First, is when you were 'in it' and second is the perspective you get after you've matured and have the time, and wisdom, for reflection.

As part of the journey in revisiting my career and experiences, good and bad, I see the early days of The Buckinghams as a whirlwind of learning and excitement. We were young kids with a #1 hit record and a lot of potential, yet unrealized, when we chose Jim Guercio as our manager. He also became our producer at the same time, which was a rarity in the day.

We knew little to nothing of the music industry or how to make a hit record when we were in Chess Studios, on our way to Columbia Recording Studios. We knew that "Kind of a Drag" was a winner from the start. It had such a special quality to it. I just knew it was going to be a hit. The overnight success gave us such a rush of adrenalin. In February, 1967, when we saw our names on the #1 spot on the Billboard charts, that feeling was virtually unimaginable, the ecstasy. For me, it was validation. I felt like I truly belonged in the music business. And it felt damned good.

When you're young, though, you also think you know everything. Or, if you don't feel that way at the start, you will soon enough. In those days, I knew how important it was to have a producer who had 'ears' for a hit. George Martin, "the Fifth Beatle", was a perfect example of that. Mickie Most, who produced all the hits for The Animals, was another. Over the years as I've become a producer myself, my respect has grown immeasurably for the talent and ears of Jim Guercio.

Jimmy (before he became James William) was only two years older than we were, but back then, that was a world of difference. He'd been a bass player on Dick Clark's Caravan of Stars for a year. He'd played professionally since he was 14 years old and he'd played with just about everyone. Jim's bass playing was good, but what he was even better at was being smart enough to learn from everyone around him how to get to the next level.

That was the difference between the band and the producer. All we had to do was show up and know our instruments, and have the looks to go with our sound. A good producer hears the entire song in his head before a single note is recorded. It would be Jim's challenge to take our strengths and weaknesses, create our best work, and preserve it on vinyl. We, in turn, had to learn how to take direction. Some of us were better at it than others.

Two years earlier, Jim had been where we were then. In 1967, we connected with Jim and Garrick Ebbins, to discuss the future of our band. Our contract with Quill Records and the USA label had run out. We'd parted company with Carl Bonafede, our former manager and co-producer with Dan Belloc of "Kind of a Drag", and we had a number 1 hit record in the country. We also wanted to be a band that made it out of Chicago. Even then we knew that New York and Los Angeles was where the music was really happening.

Our meeting came about with the help of our roadie at the time, Burton Jesperson, who was also a good friend of John Poulos. Jesperson knew our situation and suggested that his cousin "had done pretty well and maybe we should talk to him". We had a meeting, and at the time we had just brought Marty Grebb into the band. Dennis Miccolis had left to go to college. We'd had another keyboard player, Larry Nestor, who'd been there for about a minute, and then Grebb.

The impression Ebbins and Guercio made is unforgettable. Here were two guys who wore Brioni suits, and carried real leather briefcases. Their business cards sported a Beverly Hills office address, and they had an attitude that convinced us that we could have even more hit records, and become national touring artists as well. At last, we'd be out of Chicago and the Midwest with a chance to reach the next level.

Jim did most of the talking in the meeting that day, but we didn't sign right away. In retrospect, The Buckinghams were maybe a little unique, in that there was never just one leader of the band. We all contributed input, voiced opinions, and made decisions together. Everyone had a say. We were also smart enough to consider other opportunities for band management and career direction. In fact, we were a pretty hot commodity and enjoyed a little of the being wined and dined by some prestigious people in the business.

We didn't take too long to decide because we were anxious to get on with our career, quickly. But, soon after we'd signed with Ebbins-Guercio, that team decided to go their separate ways. We chose to go with Guercio, because after recording "Don't You Care," we believed in him as a producer. We knew we could continue making hits with him.

Jim knew exactly where we were at the time. Not that much earlier, he was 'just' a bass player when he was asked to assemble a touring band for Chad and Jeremy, and he did. He wrote a national chart hit for the duo, "Distant Shores", and decided to get further into songwriting, producing, and management. He learned fast and, though he didn't always make friends along the way, as he was eager to learn and impatient with those who didn't move as he did, he was a sponge, absorbing everything he could from the talents he met with every day's new experiences.

In the time that Jim Guercio managed The Buckinghams, we experienced a series of chart successes such that we parted company with a portfolio of singles and albums that remains vital and in demand today. Nick and I have been on the road fulltime again since 1982, so that formula has endured for 45 years. With great compositions by James Holvay and Gary Beisbier, Guercio produced "Don't You Care," "Hey Baby, They're Playing Our Song", and "Susan". Guercio had also played bass with The Meadowlarks and had heard Johnny 'Guitar' Watson and Larry 'Bad Boy' Williams' version of the Josef Zawinul hit, "Mercy, Mercy, Mercy". Those songs were the core of who we still are today and the songs the fans want to hear, particularly on the "Happy Together" tours.

The Watson/Williams version of that song featured their great lyrics, "My baby, she's made out of love, like one of those bunnies out of the Playboy Club". Guercio knew that was the version to go with. His instincts, and ears, were right. When Jim and I first reconnected a few years ago, I wanted his own words to use in my book, for balance and fairness—his perceptions and mine. That first conversation lasted almost three hours, as we reminisced, laughed, and covered some of the areas that had driven the band to part from him.

The split was acrimonious on paper, with lawyers, law suits, and a lot of resentment that lasted a long time. In fact, some people never got over how they felt. Nick and I talked about Jim a few years ago. I came to realize that how we felt then was different than how we feel today for one reason: we'd all grown up. When life takes its toll on you, disagreements over rights, money, and the upper hand doesn't mean a damn thing after a while. If you have your health, you have everything. Money does matter, but in the end, you'd give it all away to have good health.

But before we came to that grand place of healing, Jimmy and I had a heart-to-heart conversation where we basically put all our cards on the table. I can honestly say that we both made our points, called some things for what they were, and after that first conversation, I knew then, it wouldn't be the last. Here's a summary of that first chat in 2009"....

Excerpted from "Reinventing The Buckinghams: My Journey",

by Carl Giammarese and Dawn Lee Wakefield © 2011, all rights reserved.