And Party Every Day: The Inside Story of Casablanca Records by Larry Harris, Curt Gooch, Jeff Suhs

corporate mentality. Working for Warner was a dream come true for most Warner employees because it made them part of the WEA (Warner Elektra Atlantic) Corporation, and while the prestigious labels Elektra and Atlantic had great acts, the Warner roster was cooler and hipper.
    By the middle of January 1974, we were ready to begin work, but then we were sidetracked when Warner invited us to its convention in Acapulco. This was a major event within Warner culture. The company would fly in its entire promotional and sales staff from around the country and present them with all kinds of awards, but the event’s primary function was to bolster morale. Dinners were massive events, and the convention hotel, the Acapulco Princess, was the height of tropical opulence.
    The convention was my indoctrination into Warner Brothers, and it was there that I first met many of the staff members who would play a large role in our day-to-day operations. I was particularly impressed with Warner’s cochairman, Joe Smith, a gregarious and likable man who had a remarkable ability to remember the names of everyone he had met in the industry, and even the names of those he hadn’t met. In the conference’s initial reception line, through which everyone was funneled into the room, Joe greeted his guests, and although I was not with Neil or anyone else from Casablanca, he knew my name. Joe was the kind of person who immediately put you at ease, and since he, and not Warner’s president, Mo Ostin, was actually responsible for us being there, I felt a certain warmth toward him.
    Three key members of the Warner staff were Ron Saul, the promotions director; Bob Regehr, who ran marketing, publicity, and artist relations; and Eddie Rosenblatt, who was the head of sales. We immediately developed a good rapport with Regehr, but our relations were considerably cooler with Saul and Rosenblatt. Rosenblatt, who later left to become president of Geffen Records, thought that we weren’t good enough for Warner. But Saul was far worse, and he seemed to be doing everything he could to ensure that his promotion staff gave us as little help as possible, a tactic that would later backfire on him. Saul was replaced shortly thereafter by Gary Davis, though our relationship with Davis wasn’t much better.
    Fortunately, Bob Regehr and his staff were very nice, and usually helpful. While they didn’t seem to understand why Warner had made this deal with us, they were willing to give us a shot. It was important to have them in our corner, as they had a separate budget that we could tap into and a great deal of clout with concert promoters throughout the country, all of which would prove highly valuable to us when it came to booking KISS. Regehr and his right-hand man, Carl Scott, knew the concert business. Regehr’s department was also responsible for publicity, and we had a nice relationship with them until our need for publicity outpaced their ability or desire to provide it. I always got along well with Carl Scott; he was accessible and fair, and I did believe he was honest with me in terms of what he could and would do. I also had dealings with another member of the artist relations group, a very small and dynamic young lady named Paulette Rapp, who was Regehr’s lieutenant.
    The Warner sales department was made up of some fine industry veterans, and we worked well with all of the field people. Our problem, which did not become apparent until months later, was the head of the department, Eddie Rosenblatt. If it were not for the efforts of Russ Thyret, Rosenblatt’s second in command, we would have been at loggerheads immediately. Russ, who would later become company chairman, was in charge of single sales, and he was a particularly skilled politician, always attempting to smooth over disagreements we were having with Eddie, which usually involved how many records to ship and what sales promotions we should use. Russ had our interests in mind, and he was one of the