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

receptionist, Lisa Sepe, who was one of the most naturally beautiful and sweet women I have ever met. She was only about eighteen years old, tall, well built, with long, thick, naturally blonde hair. She had a music industry lineage; her father had been Barry White’s longtime road manager. (We’d soon use Barry to produce the second album Casablanca released, Gloria Scott’s What Am I Going to Do? ) The kitchen and dining room were used as office space, as was a sunroom on the other side of Neil’s office. The sunroom was initially used by Neil’s secretary, but it would later become the hub of the production and international departments. The basement of the main house was our mail room, which was run by a kid named Kenny Ryback, who also served as our all-purpose gofer. We had no parking lot, so after the driveway filled with cars, people found ample parking on nearby streets.
    The offices were decorated to look like Rick’s Café in the Bogart film, with high-back cane chairs, rattan sofas, and palm trees. Neil even had a near-life-sized stuffed camel named Bogie installed in his office. After a while, the nails began to come out of the finely crafted cane chairs, and you’d rip your clothing if you weren’t careful. Middle Eastern rugs were laid out generously throughout the house, and anyone who wasn’t paying attention to where they were walking was likely to trip over them. An inordinate amount of greenery adorned the space; while certainly impractical, the plants did give the office an oasis feel and reinforced the whole Casablanca vibe.
    Having our offices so close to Sunset Boulevard afforded us proximity to many of the local radio stations and music retailers without the added hassle of being on such a busy thoroughfare. It didn’t hurt that clubs like the Whisky and the Roxy were just down the block. Another of our frequent gathering places was a popular LA club called Pips. It was a nice dance club, but its real drawing card was the backgammon room in the back. Backgammon was extremely popular at the time, and high-stakes games were played at Pips almost every night. In order to get into Pips, at least one person in your party had to be a member of the club. I don’t recall what the membership dues were, but they weren’t cheap—maybe a few thousand dollars. Buck was the first to join, and Neil and I were ready to get our checkbooks out, but then we found out that Pips was refusing to allow Cecil to join because he was black. The checkbooks immediately went back into our pockets. Cecil was our brother, and we wanted no part of any club that wouldn’t accept a member of our team. It was a sickening reminder that abject racism still percolated close to the surface in an allegedly enlightened time. Buck stayed on at Pips as a member, mostly for the women, but Neil and I never returned.
    Once we were settled into our offices, I began to look for a house, and I eventually found a place to call my own. It was a small, two-story, two-bedroom house that was hanging—and I do mean hanging—over the side of a cliff near the famous Hollywood sign. Its proximity to such a drop-off caused me some trepidation: I was afraid I would fall off the deck into the abyss below while I was stoned one night. Despite being surrounded by the metropolis, the house was very peaceful and quiet. I found its sense of relative isolation very relaxing. I hired a painter to redo the interior of my new place, and while I waited for him to finish I stayed on with Neil and Beth. I had little money for anything else, so the house had virtually no furniture except a waterbed, which Beth Bogart and Nancy Reingold had helped me select from a nearby Wonderful World of Waterbeds superstore.
    During our trip to the waterbed store, Beth mentioned to me that I should not feel hesitant about having a girl visit me in their home. Nancy jumped on her, insisting that it would be totally inappropriate for me to have sex in Beth and Neil’s house.