Free B005S8O7YE EBOK by Carole King

of us knew then how much influence we would have on popular music.
    Vital to that influence were the musicians and background singers who performed on our demos. One night we were listening to a playback when Gerry happened to mention that we were looking for female background singers. The engineer suggested three young black women from Brooklyn known collectively as the Cookies. Dorothy Jones, Margaret Ross, and Earl-Jean McCree had a near-perfect vocal blend. After a number of our demos became masters and then hits, the Cookies were heard around the world. Among their hits were “Girls Grow Up Faster Than Boys,” “Don’t Say Nothin’ Bad About My Baby,” and, most famously, “Chains.” Other records featuring Tony Orlando and Neil Sedaka on which the Cookies sang also became hits. Sometimes they were in the studio with Aldon writers from midmorning to the wee hours.
    One night Gerry, Dorothy, Margaret, Earl-Jean, and I emerged from a demo session at 3 a.m. onto an almost deserted Broadway. Apart from a few hookers and johns, we seemed to be the only people around. While the Cookies and I waited for Gerry to get the car, we were approached by several different vehicles containing men inquiring about everything from a single to a five- or six-some. Thankfully, Gerry pulled up and whisked us all back to Brooklyn, leaving the potential johns to wonder what he had that they didn’t.
    What he had was a wife and a baby daughter to support. He also had a mother-in-law who lived too far away to babysit on a moment’s notice. My participation in late-night demo sessionswas possible only when Grandma Sarah, who lived nearby, could watch Louise. My grandmother couldn’t understand how anyone could earn a living writing songs that appealed to teenagers, but that’s exactly what Gerry and I were doing. Though now in his twenties, Gerry hadn’t forgotten which three-letter word was foremost in the mind of every teen. It was s-e-x that kids thought about when they listened to lyrics about hearts full of love, hearts breaking, lovers longing, youth yearning, cars, stars, the moon, the sun, and that most innocent of all physical pastimes: dancing.
    We wouldn’t write a song about dancing until the following year, but sex was definitely the implied third character in our first big hit.

Chapter Twenty
Will You Love Me Tomorrow
    D onnie was not without idiosyncrasies. He was deathly afraid to drive, and he refused to fly. It was rare to receive his full attention except when follow-ups or chart positions were a topic of discussion. And he constantly sought reassurance.
    “Sheel, babe,” he’d say to his wife, Sheila. “Look at this new carpet! Isn’t it great?”
    Then he’d turn to us: “Isn’t my wife the greatest?”
    And after playing a test pressing of Connie Francis’s new recording of an Aldon song: “Doesn’t Connie sound great? This is gonna be a
smash
!”
    For Donnie, everything connected with him was “great.” Ironically, that’s what made Donnie great. His enthusiasm was so infectious that he got everyone within earshot all fired up about whatever he was fired up about, and what he was usually the most fired up about was convincing the artist or producer of a top 10 hit to record an Aldon song and release it as their next single, which Donnie called the “follow-up.” When Donnie said, “Come on, guys, we gotta get that follow-up!” that was an unambiguous directive to head for the cubicles.
    In 1960, the hottest girl group was arguably the Shirelles, four teenage girls whose then current hit was “Tonight’s the Night.” Donnie wanted that follow-up. Shifting into high gear, he summoned each writer or writing team into his office and addressed that writer or team as if she, he, or they were the
only
writer or team that could deliver his desired outcome.
    “Now listen,” he’d say. “The Shirelles are up. I’m gonna get the follow-up, and I want
you
to write it. Come on, babe,” he