After Anne Murray became a client in 1971, I was frequently in Nashville and often wondered if I’d have an opportunity to meet my guitar idol, Chet Atkins. It never occurred to me we would become friends; but in the late 70s that’s exactly what happened.
Anne received a demo tape from a young Nashville songwriter by the name of Randy Goodrum. She realized it was a great song and played it for her manager, Leonard Rambeau, and her record producer, Jim Ed Norman, who both agreed it was a hit; but there was a problem. Because Anne had just finished an album she wouldn’t be able to record Goodrum’s song for quite a while, and they were concerned another artist might beat her to it.
When a song is written, no one can record it without the writer’s permission. But once the writer allows the first recording, anyone can record it provided the applicable royalties are paid. An industry practice developed by which an artist could pay the writer a negotiated, non-returnable advance against royalties, thereby gaining, for a limited period, the exclusive right to record the song. This practice is called a “hold.”
Leonard and Anne decided I should go to Nashville to meet with Goodrum and negotiate a hold. Jim Ed tracked him down and arrangements were made for me to meet him in the late morning a couple of days later at a Nashville recording studio where he was playing on a session.
When I arrived at the studio I gave my name to the receptionist and told her I had an appointment with Randy Goodrum. She made a phone call and then told me someone would be right out. Imagine my surprise when the “someone” turned out to be Chet Atkins.
Chet extended his hand, quite unnecessarily saying, “I’m Chet Atkins, nice to meet you, Lyman. Randy is putting down a couple of tracks right now but we can have a coffee in the Green Room and watch them work.” (“Green Room” is the name given to guest lounges that overlook recording, radio, and TV studios.)
With coffees in hand we sat down to watch and listen to the musicians, who I learned were laying down b. ackground tracks for a Chet Atkins album. I asked Chet which one was Randy. “He’s playing piano,” Chet answered.
After a few minutes of watching and listening, Chet said, “Jim Ed tells me you’re Anne Murray’s business manager. Do you know she and I have the same birthday?”
“Yes,” I replied, “but you’ve had a bit of a head start on her.” He chuckled politely and then asked, “Do you know Lenny Breau?”
I told him I did. (Lenny played guitar in Anne’s band for a while before she had to let him go because of his drug addiction.) “What do you think of him as a guitar player?” Chet asked. I was able to truthfully say, “I think he’s an unbelievable talent.”
“Well,” drawled Chet, “I think he’s the best guitar player in the world. I’ve never seen anybody play like him.”
“Then I guess you’ve never played in front of a mirror,” I quipped, relieved when Chet again chuckled.
“Speaking of guitar players,” I said, “one of the best I ever saw was a young guy I saw many years ago in Toronto. He was backing up the Louvin Brothers, George MacCormack and Lee Emerson......” but I got no further because Chet interrupted me exclaiming, “You’re familiar with George MacCormack and Lee Emerson!” I said, “I’m even familiar with Doc Williams, Riley Puckett, and The Light Crust Doughboys.” Chet smiled and said, “Well, you’re one helluva country music fan. Anyway, about that young guitar player.”
“His name was Paul Yandell,” I continued, “And I can’t believe I’ve never heard of him since. He was really good.”
Chet broke into a wider smile, pointed to the studio, and said, “See the guy playing the Telecaster? That’s Paul Yandell. He’s been playing with me for over twenty years.”
We chatted about country music, guitar players and guitars until the musicians took a break. Chet took me down to the studio and introduced me to Randy and Paul, telling Paul about my seeing him in Toronto over twenty years ago. Chet, with a twinkle in his eye, said, “Lyman thought you weren’t too bad, Paul.” He then looked at his watch, turned to me, and asked, “Would you have time for lunch after you do your business with Randy?” A question that fell squarely within the “Is the Pope Catholic?” category.
We had a long, enjoyable lunch talking about the music business and the people in it. And until I left the business in 1995 we had occasional similar get-togethers
Two follow-ups to this story:
One day I asked Chet how many tunes he knew. “How many are there?” he answered. “Are you serious?” I said. “Yeah,” he replied, “if I hear it, I can play it.”
And, yes, I got a “hold” from Randy Goodrum on the song he’d sent to Anne. You’ve probably heard it. It was her monster hit You Needed Me.