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14 pages, Audio CD
First published January 1, 2012
My contribution to “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” included writing the melody, playing piano in the studio, and arranging the string parts. Though I have previously written choral parts, I had never composed a string arrangement. But when Gerry [Goffin] suggested we use strings I was fearless in volunteering. I knew how to write and read music. I would work out the parts on the piano and refer to an arranger’s handbook for transposition and range.
With “There Goes My Baby” as our model, I incorporated Gerry’s ideas and my melodic lines into an arrangement meant to complement the voices of the Shirelles. I tried to make my charts look as professional as the ones I’d seen on the music stands at Don Costa’s sessions by hand-copying the part for each instrument separately on music staff paper with a steel ruler and India ink. I wish I’d known that an arranger had only to scratch out a score in pencil and a team of copyists would work overnight to make the charts look the way they did on the music stands. After many hours handwriting more than fifteen charts, I was bleary-eyed. I looked at the clock. It was 4:45 a.m. I looked in on Louise and then went to bed.
Each week Gerry eagerly awaited the arrival of Billboard and Cashbox. It was a heady feeling in 1964 to see a new release of ours show up in the top 10 with a bullet. Rational adults a decade older than we were probably would have had trouble keeping so much success in perspective. At twenty-five and twenty-two, Gerry and I never considered the possibility that our success might not last forever.
Performing wasn’t something to fear; it was merely a larger collaboration. The more I communicated my joy to the audience, the more joy they communicated back to me. All I needed to do was sing with conviction, speak my truth from the heart, honestly and straightforwardly, and offer my words, ideas, and music to the audience as if they were one collective friend that I’d known for a very long time. I had found the key to success in performing. It was to be authentically myself.
I was in the bedroom putting away some folded laundry when Rick entered the room and asked about a phone call I had received earlier. He wanted to know who it was. I answered truthfully that it was someone in my business manager’s office. Without warning, he struck me with his right fist. He hit me hard, as if he were in a boxing ring, except her wasn’t wearing gloves, and he wasn’t in a boxing ring.