Well, you can get him Frankenstein, you can get him Frankenstein, you can save that girl of mine, you can get him Frankenstein. Oh, you can get it right inside. Well, here comes a little wolf down the street. She looks so pretty and she looks so neat. A wolfman comes from behind a tree. A wolfman howls and howls. Okay, hello everyone and welcome to episode five of the Replay Monthly Podcast. Today, I have the unbelievable honor to visit with Eddie Adlam on this 50th anniversary replay magazine. And Eddie is the founder. He's the publisher. And I don't remember an industry in my career without Eddie Adlam at the show, taking pictures, writing articles, putting out the magazine. It has certainly become the preeminent magazine of our industry. His stories are endless, and we're excited to bring it to you. That intro music you heard was from the Castle Kings, and that is an early band before Replay Magazine that Eddie was a part of. And the music's not bad, so we thought we'd share it with you. This is episode one of two. The conversation just kept going on and on and on, so this is our first two-parter. Here's episode one. Enjoy. Eddie Adlam. Here we are with Eddie Adlam. I feel like I should call you Mr. Adlam. I mean. Well, please don't. Don't, don't, don't, don't, don't. That was your father, Stan. He was a mister. Yeah, he was a mister. Thank you. I'm just Eddie from the East Bronx. That's it. Well, Eddie from the East Bronx, this is unique. I mean, when I think of you, I don't remember, and I've been doing this since I was in high school. So like a lot of people, I don't remember an industry without Eddie. You've been there for all of it, for all of it. 1964, I came in. 1964. Yeah, that was just after the regular Rummy cut me loose, and I joined the National Guard. So I was a weekend warrior, and five days a week I worked at a magazine called Cashbox on Broadway in New York. Whoop-a-dee-doo, Broadway. And that's where I met some of the earliest fellas from the jukeboxing games business who still stick in my mind, mainly because I was terrified of them finding out. I didn't know what I was talking about regarding coin-op. And the second thing was these guys were, in many cases, rough monkeys. They had a tough job to be a jukeboxing game operator in New York City because it's highly competitive. And, well, it's highly lucrative if you have the right places, you know, because New York is just a packed city. It's like a can of sardines with the lid up, you know. Anyway, you're the interviewer and I'm the interviewee. So that was just a taste of the nonstop motor mouth that you're interviewing today. No, well, that's exactly all this is, is just two guys chatting about your story. And I got to tell you, I read in your bio your Castle Kings experience, your song, You Can Get Him, Frankenstein. Now, that will have been the intro to this podcast because I listened to it. That's really good music. Well, you're very, very kind, Randy. But you have to wash your mouth out with some industrial Lysol if you say that. Because that record went nowhere. I'm full of statistics. If you're ready, we've sold 1,365 copies, I believe, and made no money. and, in fact, lost money because Ahmed Erdogan, the Ahmed Erdogan, maybe the most famous name in rock and roll, who owned Atlantic Records, Ahmed gave me a $25 check for the flip side, which was the rock and roll version of the Scottish hymn, Loch Lomond. We jazzed it up. It came out great, and he got it for $25. dollars. The strange thing about it was I had also sent that side to Dot Records out in the coast. And after Ahmet signed us to do this Frankenstein tune, I got a call from Dot that says we're going to release Lock On. And I said, no, you're not. Why not? I says, we signed with Erdogan. He says, you're kidding. So here we were, a garage band from the East Bronx with a, and one moment, no contract, be the author of two contracts. Absolutely true. Now, let me tell you something that you already know, or if you don't, you're going to find out. There's an uncounted number of young men and girls in this country who would give an arm and a leg to get a contract with a major record label. They just would. The source was like, well, here's my career, and here's my life, you know, and here's my ego. And we got this. Why? Walking down 57th Street on our way to Doc Records to make a couple of demos while singing a dirty song. And the dirty song, we did it on the street corner up in the Bronx. It went, well, here comes my baby walking down the street, and the rest of it I'll leave to your imagination. And as we were singing this in four-part harmony, a man stepped out of 157 West 57th Street with a great, a goatee, a million teeth and a bald head and said, hi, do you guys have a group? And we're standing there with instruments, the complete drum kit. And we're going upstairs to a studio. And I says to him, no, we train elephants. This is what does it look like? And from that moment, he said, my name is Ahmed Erdogan. I own Atlantic Records. And from that moment, he became Sir, because Ahmet is Ahmet. Anyway, we did the record. Phil Spector, the Phil Spector, helped Ahmet write clean lyrics for Frankenstein, shoved us in the studio. And after 37 takes and copious quantities of Seagram 7, which they never saw us doing in the drum kit, we put the record out and it went like nowhere. But you know what? I still look back fondly on that. It was a great, great moment in a young man's life. And we made one more record for Atlantic after that, which went nowhere, and they tore the contract in half. And that was the end of my recording career. Case closed. So was that always – I always wonder what you would have done if the whole cash box to replay thing didn't work out. Was being a musician your passion, what you wanted to do, or was it always the writing and publishing? No. I studied journalism in Fordham College, and I got a degree in that. I would have to say that I had two wants, and one of them was to be in the music business playing rock and roll. There's a short story that goes with that. And the other was to make movies. I was in love with the idea, but I had absolutely no training. And as you may remember, years later, thanks to money that I raised with the jukebox and games guys, good buddies, by the way, I made the invasion of the blood farmers and then shriek of the mutilated. And then when I found out the dark side of the picture, this is where they'll steal you blind. The right guy. And they sold me blind. I said the end of this. That's it. So, you know, the one business I can tell you right now that I tried, that I succeeded in, was this one. Okay, music and games. And I got the job from the New York Times, just like their ad says. I looked after I got out of the Army, and I saw a little ad that said, we need an editorial assistant at a trade magazine. And I called. And it was a guy named Marty Tooey. We had a magazine called Cashbox. And I says, oh, no kidding, Cashbox. And I reached in and I pulled one out of the desk drawer where I was sitting at home. And I says, I got a copy of that. I says, I used to have a little band with Atlantic and I used to buy these off the newsstand. And he says to me, and this is where you roll the drums. Well, it isn't somebody we need, you know, for the recording part. We need somebody to do the section in the back that talks about pinballs and pool tables. And I said, that's OK. I need a job. that was 61 years ago and I'm still doing the same job anyway to put a cap on that occupation thing I had no talent really for music just a lot of ambition which counts and I had no talent for making movies without any education I couldn't even turn the camera on but we did it anyway and we got him on the screen but there was no money in that And it was a lot of fun, but it wasn't lucrative whatsoever. And I had a wife and two kids. So, you know, what did I do? I stayed with Cashbox until he moved. He, being George Albert, the owner of Cashbox. I stayed with them for 11 years, including after they moved to Hollywood. Hollywood is its own universe. And one day I'll talk to you about that. But in the meantime, from New York, which is an honest, gritty, fun, just insanely busy community. of operators who took me under their arm and said, here comes Eddie. Good, bad, and sideways. You know what I mean? We had all kinds of guys in the business then. From that to Hollywood, where the favorite phrase was when a guy met you, I love you. I mean it sincerely. Let's do lunch. Oh, by the way, what's your name again? You know, so yeah, one was a scrupulously honest, hard-working business run by Jewish guys, Italian guys, a couple of German guys who had gotten out of World War II with one idea in mind, and that was to go into business for themselves. And they founded an art trade, first with gumball machines, then for some phonographs, a couple of pinballs, even though they were, shall we say, illegal in New York then. We had them. We had them. We had a lot of stuff. Anyway, I talk too much. Hey, I didn't know you served in the Army. Thank you for your service. Where did you serve? I served six months in the real Army in Fort Dix, New Jersey, and then five and a half years with the Boy Scouts, as I call them, known as the National Guard of New York State, which we successfully defended New York against the National Guard of New Jersey. That's probably a bigger job than it says. Well, look, the army is a different world. It should exist on the moon. They have their own language. They have their own everything. And it was fun. We used to stand in ranks because most of the guys in my platoon were college guys. And most of the sergeants, you know, they're going to have grade school. And I'm not denigrating them because these are the guys that let us fly an American flag instead of a German or a Japanese one. You know what I'm saying? Oh, you disappeared from the screen. Go ahead. Did I just put a picture up there maybe? Yeah, you did. It's a picture of me, one of the guys that worked for me at Cashbox, and some gentleman from Liverpool, Britain. I guess it's part of Robert Englunds, Liverpool, by the name of John Lennon, who had come up to promote a new album. And since I was in charge in the office underneath George Albert, the owner, I had to take John around. And let me tell you something. At the time, John had a terrible reputation of getting thrown out of bars, up and down Hollywood Boulevard with his buddy, Harry Nielsen. And when he came in with his entourage, I said, wow, what's this going to be like? And I said, hi, John, I'm Eddie, and I'm kind of in charge here. I'll take you around, introduce you to the people and help you out, whatever you need done. And he did. He followed me around, and he signed photographs for the guys, said to me, Eddie, do you want one? I says, well, I have a babysitter who probably would like one. her name is gabriella he's his german name i says yeah he signed the picture john lennon and i don't know if she still has it today thank you very much and then i introduced him to the owner of cashbox george albert who was sitting at his desk and i said george i don't think i have to introduce who this person is do i and he stood up walked around the desk put his arms around him and said Elton John Oh no Oh yeah And Leonard said oh John John John we all sold the same And then George said to me something that will be indelible in my mind forever and ever. He says, Eddie, as long as this man is willing to work, he'll always be a place for him in our industry. And I'm thinking, our industry? I says, this gentleman standing before you with the dark sunglasses on, could buy Hollywood Boulevard with the money in his wallet. Our industry? But at any rate, Leonard was nothing but a gentleman, and it was just great. He was one of many recording stars I met up there when I worked at Cashbox because I was the managing editor and also the ad salesman, which I hate, but I did it. You're looking pretty svelte in that picture too, Eddie. Yeah, well, you know, we had the sideburns and stuff then going. Bo in the middle is still a buddy of mine. He bounced around all over the place, ended up with MCA Records, made an album, didn't go anywhere. Bowie, as I call him, is a dear, dear, dear friend of mine who's had ups and downs, starting with getting blown out of a foxhole in Vietnam and fighting the establishment ever since to get some sort of recompense for that. But he is on, I forget what it's called, but he gets money every month from the government. And he's got about 500 things wrong with him. Great friend. Oh, great story. You know, I'm not sharp as knife in the drawer, but I think you put out 600 issues of Replay Magazine. Oh, gee, I never did the math. Yes. Is that seen possible? Well, I missed one issue in there in the beginning. I did. So there's 11 issues for the first volume. That's how you measure magazines. Oh. And, of course, 12 for each one of them. So if you can do head met, multiply 12 by 50 minus one. And that's how many books we put out. In the magazine business, by the way, they're called books. Books. Yeah. 599 books. Yeah, we have our own jargon, you know, such as I'll give you a sentence. You'll say, I don't know what that means. And I'm forgetting, too. I once said something to my first wife, Tippi, who was my partner in replay, that we needed some supplies. She says, there's something more important on the table, Eddie. So backburn the ruby with. Now, just find eight other people on the earth that know what backburn the ruby with means. And I'll say, this guy's over 85. Yeah. But that goes way back. I swear to God, Randy, I've been in this business so long that I remember when we worked at Cashbox, we printed in Meriden, Connecticut, and they used a linotype machine to make the headlines. A linotype machine is the most outrageous piece of equipment ever invented by man or beast. It operates, first of all, it weighs as much as a Antonio Cruz ship. Second of all, it makes headline type, like the pinball comes, all right? Each one of those is a punched out letter. Each one of those is filled up with hot lead fed by the linotype machine into reverse type and then cooled and then dropped into a tray and then taken by a typesetter who picks that up and puts it on the page. So it was insane. It was about maybe, oh, maybe about a week development ahead of Gustav Gutenberg. You know what I'm saying? I mean, it might as well have been a wine press, but it was a very primitive way of making magazines and newspapers, which has been replaced today by, of course, digital printing and so on. Today we print in Pontiac, Illinois, and we never go to the printer. I used to go to the printer all the time when it was local. They used to say, Eddie loves to put his hands in the ink. And I did. Of all the jobs, and there's lots of them associated with being a publisher of a magazine, I would say nothing appeals to me as much as what we call production. Today, of course, Keith Snodgrass, who, you know, is the editor and so many other things, is the production manager as well. She should be three people, but for some bizarre reason, God has given her the ability to do those three things in one body. and along with Barry, my sales guy, and Ingrid, of course, who does the charts and the subscriptions, and Matt Harding, who is an editorial assistant and just travels everywhere for us. We have a small but really excellent staff run by a guy who lives in the past but struggles to stay in the future and manages to operate all the elements of a computer that he finds necessary and nothing else. Well, it did take Key and I about a year to figure this out. It wasn't pretty, but we did. And she's been fantastic. She's my partner here in crime and keeps me with all the right information, gives me some great feedback. So this doesn't happen without Key. So no surprise to you. Right. I'll give you some space to think because I never shut up. I warned you. Oh, you're good. We could talk for three or four hours when I got written in front of me. Yeah, I also look at the screen here on my computer, and I see a guy who's very old. I have to tell you a funny thing. I don't think I'm that old. I think I'm 21, and I guess that's why I live past 86, you know. But, yeah, I'm looking at a gray-haired fellow who has bushy eyebrows and is very happy to see you again, especially in this environment. Well, I tell you what, it's certainly attitude is everything, and age is just a number, and you obviously, you just got such a magnetic, great attitude that served you so well, and so many people have enjoyed. I go through the roster of people that you just know everybody in this industry. But I do want to ask you a specific question. So when replay was – when you first went from cash box to replay, I'm going to see if this cigarette jukebox industry could actually support it. Who were the early people who you look back and go, this doesn't happen without him, him, him? Who are those people? It's very easy to answer that question, and I'll try to be brave. Lenny Schneller who gave me the very first operator list from U.S. Bigots A.D. Palmer from the Wurlitzer Company who gave me his operator list and I can't even remember who it was but some friend, I think George Hinker from Rockola, who gave me their operator list and we spent a ton of time combing through that to get out the duplicates and the obvious, this guy's dead this guy this, this guy that. And we came up with a list. And that was the list we used to mail out our first issues. Now, besides those guys, publishing isn't cheap. But I had some money. I saved it from Cashbox. I get a little bit of a severance check from the boss when we split company. And Tippi and I, that's my wife's first name, my first wife, we threw the dice. and because you want to know something and I'll be very candid about this. George and I won't cash much. We didn't park friends. Okay, if you follow my drift, we just didn't. And I won't even say why because he's gone now and if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have replay because working for him showed me how to do a magazine from the public side, going out and shaking hands and selling ads and covering concerts and those kinds of things to the private side, in the office and down at the printer, the part that I really love the best. You know what I'm saying, Randy? So if it wasn't for George and his cash box, which is, you know, gone, I wouldn't have replay. So that said, I put, I think, $18,000 of my own money into the project, and then I called my friends. And one of them was Al Rodstein, Philadelphia distributor, and one of the finest, smartest men that ever walked this earth, Millie McCarthy, the president of the New York State Operators Guild. And with that money, I made the first issue. And I got Freddie Fender, who had the number one hit in those days. It was a record called Wasted Days and Wasted Nights. People won't remember it, but he did real good with that. And he sat on an old relative, and I got a couple of operators from San Diego where Freddie happened to be performing, Dap Dot and Bill Worthy, Star Services they were called. She was called Miss Vanilla because she also operated on ice cream machines in those days. Anyway, the two of them flanked Freddie sitting on the world with Sarah and we had our front cover. And off we went. And then the rest of it is one after the other after the other. or as they say in the 12-step world, put one step after the other, and eventually you'll get there. And here we are at the 50th year. Go figure. You've seen it all. I read you've got some people that you made numerous references to. So I'll mention a couple names, and you can kind of talk to them about them. Let's start with our mutual friend Al Kress, who I think is one of your very close friends. Al Kress was, I suppose, without bending anyone else's nose, my best friend. I got a notice from the Westchester, that's a county in New York City, just above New York City, the Westchester Operators Guild, an association that's long gone, run by a guy named Paul Pavese, who every operator up there mispronounced his name and called him Pavese. His name was Pavese. He was, believe it or not, an Italian with a German accent. And Carl sent me this notice that says they were going to have their Christmas party. So I just went up there with my wife and ran into Cressy and his wife, Donna. And the first thing I was told was from Pavese, who says to me, you know, just because I sent you the notice about the party, it wasn't an invite. I says, oh, sorry, I'll go if you want. No, you should stay. Not that you're here. I says, okay. So I sat with Al and Donna and Tippi and me, and lo and behold, we became fast friends. He operated in a small upstate town called Peekskill. It was a rough and tumble place, and he told me he was armed when he'd go into some of those places because they were rough. You had to back out of those places with the collection bags, if you follow my point. Maybe you had to do that too once in a while. I don't know. But I know that Al did. And I used to go with him sometimes and bring in the cash. And then we decided we were going to sell pool tables to the home market. We've got tables from Sol Lipkin over at American Shuffleboard and drove them around and sold them. They did $100 a piece, maybe on. And I also got pool tables from a gentleman by the name of Bert Betty, who had a little distributorship in North Bergen, New Jersey, right on Tonnelly Road. which doesn't mean anything to anybody except people who come from New Jersey. It was right near the bridge, namely the Washington Bridge, made famous by Chris Christie when he pulled his stunt. Anyways, bottom line is Bert took me under his shoulder, and his brother, Yui, did the same. The difference between two guys couldn't have been wider. Bert was the oldest in the family, and he was wise beyond his years. He was a dreamer, a schemer, an absorber of knowledge who knew all sorts of things about New Jersey and the trade up there. Who did what to who and so on and so forth. He was just the guy. Yui was a hands-on guy. Yui used to do the manual stuff. And I remember one of the pool tables was what was a used Fisher pool table. Fisher, by the way, predated Valley with a coin operator. It was made out of Tipton, New Jersey, by a guy named Evald Fisher. Yeah, another gentleman. So, bottom line, I go out there to pick up the Fisher because I had a customer in the end of Long Island in the Hamptons who was minored from me. And Bert came down. It was a Saturday. He didn't work. So he came down, and so did Yui. And I walked into the showroom there in the original Betson Distributing, and Yui is shining the shit out of this pool table with a rag. And Bert says, Yui, knock it off. This one's a deal. And that was my beginning with the Betson family the Betty family That the way Bert said his name My name is you Betty He always hit the Betty Yeah Yeah Not Betty Betty So anyways years went by and we always stayed close. He taught me so much. He taught me, and I'll just mention one thing. People are going to say, oh no. And I'll say, oh yeah. Bert taught me the benefit of competition. I went out there once to cover some open house that he had. And I walked in and there was Vic LeVay from Vending Times, which used to be exclusively for commodity vending machines. But they were adding a section. And the section was on jukeboxes and games. And boy, did that get my attention, you know, because Vic LeVay, who ran the magazine, and Tiny Weintraub, who owned the thing, they were good. They were good. They knew what they were doing in publishing. So I go out there to cover it. And Bert said, thanks for coming. You know, you wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Vic LaVey. I says, what do you mean? He says, Eddie, be honest. You wouldn't have come out for this. But the competition is here, isn't it? I says, yeah, they're here. He says, that's all I'm going to tell you. Competition is good. See? And I believe he's right. You know, competition makes people improve, improve, improve, improve, improve. And then sometimes, you know, which is what happened to me. At the height of this business, we had Tiny and Vic, many times, as competition. Ralph's Magazine, Ralph Lally had Play Meter. There was other things that have come and gone since. And there was Replay. And then there was, of course, the Ghost of Cashbox. They had still like three pages, but it wasn't the same after I left because nobody had the background I had. I had 11 years, believe it or not, Randy, doing that coin machine section at Cashbox. I would come from, like George and I, we would come from an Elton John recording session, right? That's a story in itself. In the middle, we took a break. It was all set up like an AA meeting with folding chairs. And Elton John stood in the front doing his deal with a bottle of wine in his hand, right? And he's swaying back and forth as the music is playing. And we're all swaying back and forth in the chairs as Elton John, the Elton John with a pork pie hat and a bottle of wine is swaying and everything. And now it's time to take a break. And we go up and Elton John says to George Albert, the owner of Cashbox, he says, what do you think of the music, George? And George says, F you, you're hogging the booze. And he looks at me and he says, who are you? and George says he's my boss George talked like a jukebox operator he's my boss and he says I thought you owned the cash box and I says that's some of his shit I says don't listen he says what do you think of the music I says I think it's autobiographic it was the Captain Fantastic album and he says you know that I says I guess that he says it was and that was the last time I ever spoke to Elton John or he spoke to me but George was just delighted because he loved celebrities. Love them. Oh, my goodness. That's a fantastic story about Elton John. But ask me something about the 50s records and I'll tell you. Well, favorite band of all time. Is that Bill Haley or who is it? Who do you listen to today when you want to put on music? I don't. You don't? Please don't. No. I'll listen to the jukebox once in a while. But, of course, if you want to know the favorites, of course, it's Little Richard. Good golly, Miss Molly, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, don't knock the ball. Right? Love this guy. Love this guy. I went to the Ventura County Fair once where it was appearing in the later days of his career. Right? And I'm sitting out there in a place where they used to have the pig races. They put up folding chairs. Again, like an AA meeting, right? And I'm sitting on the folding chair and I'm looking up at this makeshift stage. And there's maybe another hundred people sitting there waiting. and then the guys come out and set up the instruments and they start doing their deal warming up for himself who was still backstage and i'm listening everything great and out comes little richard peniman himself he shuffled out like he was just getting out of bed and he was wearing pajamas and of course i clap my hands raw and i'm looking and he says don't my band sound good and we all went yay and then he says I wonder what the piano sounds like and he went and I rose off the seat they say you can't levitate but Randy I'm telling you I rose six inches off the seat and I heard the voice of God little Richard Kahneman one of the greats anyways Yeah, those are the guys that still populate my Who Were the Best, you know, and Chuck Berry, of course, and so on and so forth. Some of the best music ever. No question about it. Hey, Randy, when they take my box down the aisle at church when I die, right, I want Good Golly, Miss Molly. I want that so bad. It is really. Anyway, my daughter Ingrid, who is the apple of my eye, among other things, and a very vital part of the replay magazine more than most people know. She at the bar mitzvah. Ingrid is a Jewish lady and she, her sons are, of course. And Jamie, her youngest boy, had a bar mitzvah a couple of years ago. and Ingrid worked it out with the guy that was running the show to put on Frankenstein. And, you know, we're there. We're having a good time and music and the kids are dancing and their parents are dancing. And she comes over and she said, you want to dance with me? And she puts out her hand. I said, sure. And I took her hand and on comes boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. The beginning of Frankenstein, which is Phil Spector. God bless him. Phil Spector's signature. He loved that boom, boom, boom. And guess what? Go ahead and try to do that with your foot on a drum pedal. You can't. Your whole leg seizes up in a muscle spasm. So my drummer, Jimmy Walker, he laid on the floor of the Atlantic Recording Studio, took the hammer in his hand, and played the drum that way. No way. Yeah, that's how it is. Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, where you can get it, Frankenstein. Go. You're up. That's awesome. That is awesome. man you've met a lot of famous people in your career any others we should talk about? We've got Elton we've got Willie, you've got Phil Spector we haven't talked about him but that had to be an incredible encounter the truth is Phil had we went up to see him after we met Erdogan we went up the very next day, I was in a big hurry to get this novelty record out so we went up to Atlantic Studio on 57, we're 57th street 5th floor and there was this guy, young guy with a Buster Brown haircut. And we immediately, we're four slobs from the East Bronx. Now remember that, okay? I'm serious about that. You know, spitting in the street, smoking cigarettes, yelling at the cars going by, hey girls, you know, the whole thing, drinking beer, having nothing but fun. I had a great teenage. Anyways, we see this guy, Phil Spector, with this strange looking man, Ahmed Erdogan. And Ahmed says, we're going to write clean words for your song but sing this dirty song for Phil so we sang the dirty song for Phil Spector and don't you know about a week later they called us down and they had all clean lyrics written pretty clever too but behind his back we called Ahmet Erdogan Omelette Republican until he tore our contract up then he became Mr. Erdogan it was too late anyway that's it Speaking of growing up in the Bronx, who's Crazy Leslie? How did you know that? I researched this. This is a big deal for me. A guy, Leslie's a shit magnet, too, like my friend Bo. He's got everything wrong with him, Leslie. We were born like nine days apart. He's also 86. Leslie Carl was legitimately mad. And we had nothing but fun when we were teenagers burning down the East Bronx. We're the guys that invented subway surfing. We would get on top of a subway train when it was above ground going toward the tunnel in New York, leaving the Bronx, go to Manhattan. The IRT was called Interborough Rapid Transit. We used to go between cars, climb up on top and balance as the train was rocketing along down the tracks. and see how close we could get to where it entered the tunnel at Whitlock Avenue. And I'm telling you, the guy, he come up with the craziest stuff. It's a miracle we're alive. A miracle we're alive. There was a sanitation building in our part of the Bronx, which had been shut down by Mayor Lindsay because of the fumes it was sending out. They used to burn the garbage. Then they decided, let's bury it. And they used to create, like, you know, a fill in front of the water. New York City is surrounded by water, everywhere you look. Anyway, they used to create land with the garbage, but before they did it, they used to burn it. Now it's burned. Now it's gone. And they're working on the center stack, which went up about 150 feet in the air. Leslie and I climbed it. There was a wooden ladder tied onto the Carl Weathers vane, the lightning vane, and we went all the way up to the top. Randy, this is a true story. When we got to about 20, and I was in front of Leslie, crazy Leslie. When I was about 20 feet from the top, the thing snapped off the lightning rod and leaned out into the air. You could hear the air blowing. You could hear the thing going creak, creak, creak, and then it stopped. And it was pointed, here's the tower, like this, and I'm up here. I grabbed the vane, I pulled it back center, and we continued up until we got on the top. and I looked at him and he looked at me and we knew we had crossed the line this time but we did get down obviously and we were teenagers yeah teenagers yeah yeah we did a lot of stuff but uh no nobody was not here then Leslie Carl yeah yeah Leslie anyway that's that's good he'll listen to this and he'll say that was nothing do you remember when we did this you remember when we did that do you remember what we did here do you remember like we walked through the subway tunnels from 14th Street to Times Square. That's a lot of blocks in the tunnel on the catwalk as the trains went by. More fun. You come out of there filthy dirty, but you had a memory. Randy, Chad, you can cut this and throw it on the floor if you want. You got me crying. I'm laughing so hard. That's hilarious. You have to need a psychiatrist to do a thing like that, to walk through the subway tunnel. Anyway, we did it. Hey, let's go back to your first – I wonder when I first saw you. Your first MOA was Conrad Hilton, 1974, 5, 6? Four. 74. Yeah, but it was at the – what do you call it? What's the name of that other joint? I don't know. I thought – Sherman House. Sherman House. Oh. But I only came in for the last day. I came in because the vending show, NAMA they called it, was segued with the MOA in a different venue. They were in McCormick Place in Chicago. I think it was the Sherman House. If it wasn't, it certainly was the Conrad Hilton. My first full show was the Conrad Hilton, and that's the one I brought the magazine out in. But I went to one show before that. I only saw a bit of it. But what I do remember was all these stars that the record business had thrown out, including the Supremes. When I first walked into the, it was the Sherman House. When I walked in, the night they had the banquet show. Do you remember those days we had entertainment would come for nothing to entertain the jukebox guys? Remember those days? Oh, yes, I do. And all you heavyweights from the M.O.A. would wear tuxedos and you'd march in. And it was just great, you know. And at any rate, I attended one of those that had the Kim sisters from Korea. Of course, the war hadn't been that far before that. And the Supremes. Now I walk into the hotel and I don't know where I am. I'm in Chicago, never been there before. I got my suitcase looking around like a kid would you know big wide First thing I see is this gal sitting on the couch in the lobby all dolled up with makeup and hair And I says that must be a hooker I wonder there must be hookers here. And it was Diana Ross. Oh, no. Yeah. And I walked up to check in, and there was Irving Kay, the pool table man, Irving Kempner, sales manager for Runyon Sales, big distributor in New York and Jersey, and a couple of other guys who knew me from New York, and they welcomed me. Eddie, hey, how you doing? What are you doing here? You come out? You're going to the show tonight? I said, yeah, I guess so. And I met a guy, Bill Kordler from Long Island, huge tall guy like you, who had a big route. And he just fed me beers and stuff. and I went to it. It was just great. I was just great. It was a great way. First impressions. First impressions count. And you can have a bad period of a show, the beginning of a show, afterwards, but that's what you remember. So I always had a warm spot in my heart for the MOA shows. And the show itself was great. Of course, 1975 comes. Tiffy and I bring out our brand new magazine called Replay. Fred Granger, who was running the association then, who the heck was president? A guy from, help me, Nebraska. Ted Nichols was the new president. Yeah, very stern looking chap. One of these prisoners, which M.O.A. had a lot of in those days. Harry Snodgrass was the first. He was the second president M.O.A. ever had after George. Help me! Come on. I wasn't around then. I should have done my homework here. Well, George. And not George L. I remember Lou Patasik was up there somewhere. He was a Kansas guy. Well, yeah, I remember. He came from Oakland. He had a route up there. There's a story about him. At any rate, bottom line is I knew Harry Snodgrass a little bit. And then the presidents, as they went along, there was a period, Randy, where maybe even 30, 40 years into this industry, I could tell you the name of every single president that MOA then became a MOA ever had. And I enjoyed the shows. I enjoyed them. most of the ones in the beginning were in the Conrad Hilton. And it was an old creaky hotel, but it was a, it was a monument to the founder, Conrad Hilton. Lots of stone, lots of ornamentation, you know, gargoyles, all kinds of crap with a cupola on the top of it. And what the best part of the show is for me, you'd go in the basement and you'd take pictures of the exhibit booths. Okay. And there was only a handful, maybe 20, 25. the four jukebox guys ruled the industry they ruled the industry there was Wurlitzer with A.D. Palmer and Bob Bear and Rolfing old man Rolfing never came to the show because he was ashamed of making jukeboxes how's that? true story then there was Rowe which was those days called Rowe Automatic and I forget who oh Fred Pollack Jack Harper Pat O'Malley, canteen, big guy. And then there was Rockola, George Hinker, old man Dave Rockola, who later years I wrote a letter to President George Bush, the real George Bush. And I said, you know what, even though he's a Canadian, you got to send him a presidential letter because this man is huge in American entertainment. He built Rockola jukeboxes all these decades. And he's also named Rockola. So I says, how about getting a letter out to him? And don't you know he did? Really? President Bush signed it. Very nice letter. I was shown a copy. Donald Rockola called me up. He says that my father was tickled to death. And there's a picture of him with the letter. But at any rate, the reason I bring it up is I ran into Dave Rockola, the Dave Rockola, a few years after that. And he says, no pictures. No pictures, Sonny. No pictures. Yeah. and his son was with him. He says, dad, dad, this is the good guy. Oh, and God love him. He's gone. But those were the days, rock all over. Then there was one more I miss and it was called Seabird and Seabird ruled the roost. They were number one. They were the first ones out with a 45 RPM jukebox and in the late 50s. And Seabird, Seabird made great machines. Everybody copied them. Everybody copied them. And for reasons that I will say, financial, a little pushing around, a little buying and selling, disappeared. Disappeared weird. Just everybody would say, is this still a Seabird? And when all of those guys folded, like Ralph and Close were over too when they had a bad year, it left to Rockola and Rowe. and then it left when Glenn Streeter went kind of to the home with the Dracola machines it left Rowe and an upstart from Canada who came to my office with a facsimile of a machine they call Touch Tunes and they says Eddie you got to look at this thing I says okay it's a couple of Italian boys from Canada Marzio oh my god I can't remember these names Randy I'm sorry and they says here's what it does and they showed you pictures of Almanac and Records. He says, touch the screen. Oh, hey. I says, this has got promise. The rest of its history. One of the great disruptors in the history of the coin machine business. That, the electronic pinball, the six pocket pool table, which was illegal back in my time until because they wanted you to buy a pool table, a pool hall license to put one pool table into a bar. And Millie McCarthy, the lady from New York, she got that changed. Opened up the state, the country opened up, Valley came along with a piece of wood that just lasts forever. And I've had the privilege of being in many factories, but the one I liked the best was the Valley Factory, which they still have up in Bay City, Michigan. And well, we make them down in Texas, but I remember that real good. The VNEA, which is a league that their president, Chuck Millen started with Dick Hawkins, another friend of mine from MOA. And there's another dark story there. They caught him with, I think, six bogus counterfeit video game boards on a route of, you know, that stretch from the moon to Weehawken. They busted in. They busted in while we were out at an AMOA meeting. And they made a big stink out of it when he was president of the association. and I got them all together. Yeah. You know, the hawk is, he's a hawk, you're kidding me. You know, I just wanted to, you could eat off his face, he was that clean. I'm saying, what is this all about? You're going to have shit ending up on the route once in a while and then you say, oh, I didn't know that. You know, throw that away. Well, the hawk was fingered by the FBI when Frankie Ballou was president of the, what was now called AAMA. and I got them all together in a room and they said what are we doing here I said you want you to squash the charge and they said why I said it's the MOA president and I said this guy this is Dick Hawkins didn't you notice it you know who that is I do don't you and Frankie looked and they looked and everything looked and lo and behold it went away but in the process of that I became bad Vascom because I used to run editorials and say, how can you blame an operator for operating a used circuit board, used in Japan, packaged up, and mailed to the States, then put into a machine? Those are the days we were converting videos, remember, before it went on the States? Is this the parallel boards? That's the one, buddy. Nobody called Randy a dummy. That's exactly right, parallel circuit boards. And these were legitimately made products that were illegal in the States. Why? Because the American subsidiary of the Japanese parent had a patent on the game. And they said, we didn't okay that. We okayed only the ones we sell. Well, you know, and I would, I would, I got a little hot about that in print, you know, many times. And Gene Lipkin, and Gene Lipkin, Gene Lipkin, okay, him and a bunch of other manufacturers got me in a room. And they says, you know, you're pretty well biting the hand that feeds you, you know, you live on eggs. I said, I know I live on eggs, but I have, I certainly have enough integrity to remember one thing. my constituency are the jukebox and game operators. They're the ones who are putting down $65 a year to buy replay. And I says, if you want to know, tell me the truth. I says, I know why you're doing this. And I don't blame you for doing this because this is business. But you know what? It makes no sense. Can you do it in a different way? You know, is there a better way to do this? These are legitimate ones. And by the way, in case you don't notice it, you're cheating out the Japanese operator who has no more use for this space invaders board, who wants to sell it to a guy in Texas, and he can't because he's breaking the law over there. So the whole thing was just distinct. And if I remember correctly, George Bush, the real George Bush, was president at the time. I believe he okayed it and said, let's just stop doing this, this parallel circuit stuff. Yeah, so that became a piece of history that was kind of painful, and it did pit the operators against the matter. And that took a while to heal. But today I think it's healed. I hope it's healed. We have two associations. One of your questions that you told me about before we interviewed was what did I think we needed, one or two associations. Bill Cravens used to say, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Right now it seems to be working. We have AMOA, which predominantly serves route operators, and the AAMA, which predominantly serves manufacturers, distributors, and FEC owners. So you have these two. Is there overlap? Yes, there is, of course. It's a good idea to belong to both, but, you know, one's enough right now. And they're doing a job. They're watching out in D.C. for stuff. There isn't anything too nutsy right now. You know, on that note, people don't know this, but maybe they do. The AAMA was founded by Joe Robbins, one of the great figures of Koyan, because of the silly thing about radio waves being interfered with by video game boards. It was doing something. And the government or whatever the department of that government had contacted the powers that be, like Atari, wanted them to put him in some sort of cages, put the boards in the cage. It was more money and more work. And, you know, and Joe said, let's fight this thing. So he started the AAMA with that in mind. And like so many other things, it went away. But it left this association. And Joe was responsible for many things. He was once president of Atari. He, of course, was empire distributing. He was also full of ego, and he was a short man. The joke was that Joe sued the city of Chicago for making the sidewalks too close to his ass. And he used to ball me out repeatedly. Where did you get an ad from that guy? I says, what's wrong with him? He sells phony boards. I says, I didn't know that. What do you mean you didn't know that? Everybody knows that. Well, I didn't. Well, you should have. I said, Joe, what's my aunt's name? What? What is my aunt's name? I don't know. Her name is Florence. Now you know her name, right? Yeah, and so? So now I know so-and-so is selling illegal boards, and I'll stop the ad. We had great conversations like that. My old friend Bill Beckham was in the middle of that, and he educated me. Oh, my God, he was my pal, too. Was he your friend? He was a great human being. He was a lovely, lovely man. And he just picked up on that and ran with it. Yeah. God bless him, wherever he is. I guess he got out of coin-op, right? Well, he ended up passing earlier than he should have. But, yeah, good man. Oh, yeah. Good man. Oh, yeah. Anyway, there's that. Thank you for listening. I hope you enjoyed Episode 1. Episode 2 promises to be just as entertaining with more stories from Eddie Adlam of Replay Magazine. Thanks for listening. We'll see you on the next one.