Our Side Door cabaret has become the go-to spot for book launch parties this year and we’ve got a great one this Sunday at 4 p.m. Author Bill DeYoung is celebrating his new book, Phil Gernhard, Record Man (University Press of Florida), by bringing one of the Gernhard’s hitmakers, The Royal Guardsmen, out of retirement.
I danced to The Royal Guardsmen at the rec centers in Temple Terrace and Tampa years ago when they had their huge hit, “Snoopy vs. The Red Baron.” They were out of Ocala, but we claimed them as our own.
I asked Bill to share a excerpt from his book for the blog.
That’s below. In the meantime, there are still some seats left for Sunday’s book launch and concert. Follow this link for tickets and details.
By Bill DeYoung
Sarasota’s Phil Gernhard could neither sing nor play an instrument, yet his musical accomplishments were many, and they were profound. As a record producer, publisher, talent scout, deal-maker and sometime songwriter, Gernhard’s name is on a dozen or more Top Ten hits, nearly all of them by Florida artists.
“Abraham, Martin and John,” “I’d Love You to Want Me,” “Spiders and Snakes,” “Let Your Love Flow,” “Me and You and a Dog Named Boo” and others were all developed and produced by Phil Gernhard. He went on to steer country music stars Tim McGraw and Rodney Atkins to the top of the world charts.
Yet Gernhard is remembered best for a novelty song he co-wrote, the fastest-selling record in America in the year 1966. Produced by Gernhard in a tiny Tampa studio, the Royal Guardsmen’s “Snoopy vs. the Red Baron” burrowed into the national consciousness – and more than 50 years later, it’s still there: “Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty or more …”
You’re singing it right now, aren’t you?
Chapter Six, “In the Nick of Time, a Hero Arose” (excerpt)
“Baby Let’s Wait” was No. 1 in Ocala, the boys’ hometown. Tampa radio played it, too, but it wasn’t a hit. Nor did it get within spitting distance of the national charts.
As the single was beginning its slow rise to nowhere, the Guardsmen had been added to the bill of a Sunday afternoon rock ‘n’ roll show at Curtis Hixon Convention Hall in Tampa. Co-produced by Centinaro and Gernhard, the dance – with the flamboyant Monti Rock, from California, as the national headliner – was held in the Gasparilla Room, a large banquet facility in the Curtis Hixon complex.
“We were setting up our equipment, when Phil comes up holding his legal pad with these lyrics on it,” recalled Chris Nunley. “He said he’d been shopping this song around to a bunch of different area groups. He wanted us to come up with some kind of treatment – there was a note in the corner that said ‘simple, three or four chords, military feel on the snare drum.’ He said ‘We want to get different treatments and see which one turns out the best.’” Nunley, not all that interested, nodded and went back to what he’d been doing.
Next, Gernhard began talking quietly with Barry Winslow. He’d put out “Baby Let’s Wait” as a single because he liked Barry’s voice and thought it had “commercial potential,” and he wanted Barry to take the lead on this new one.
Billy Taylor: “I remember Barry had a Baldwin guitar. There were seats around the edge of the Gasparilla Room, and Phil took him aside. They sat over there knee to knee while we set up. Phil tried to sing it; tried to give him the feel for the song.”
Winslow put the sheet of paper into his guitar case. “I’ll be up to see you in about 10 days,” Gernhard told the band. “To hear what you come up with.”
The after-school rehearsals continued on the patio outside Tom Richards’ parents’ house. Gernhard’s deadline was fast approaching – and the Royal Guardsmen had all but forgotten about “Snoopy vs. the Red Baron.”
“One day he called and said ‘I’m getting in my car. I’m coming up to hear your version,’” recalled Taylor. “And that’s when we all got inspired. It was like, thank God the Interstate isn’t done yet – it was a three-hour trip from St. Pete to Ocala.”
At first, Nunley said, “We didn’t much like the song. We said ‘Let’s just do it real corny and real hokey, and he won’t like it.’”
They played it with a straight march cadence, hup two three four, with Winslow singing lead. They considered it a joke and laughed all the way through it. Recalled Winslow: “We were a bunch of pie-eyed kids. We’re a rock band, man, we don’t do that candy stuff.”
“Gernhard came to town and we played the song for him,” Nunley continued. “He was over by the P.A. speaker, listening. A&R guys will get right in the speaker to hear everything. And he said ‘Hmm! Play that again.’ So we played it again and he said ‘You know, I think we can do something with this. Maybe a couple of little changes.”
“When he turned around after we played it again, he was flushed,” said Taylor.
“We were surprised,” said Burdett. “And within 10 minutes, Phil had contracts, literally on the dining room table at Tom’s house.”
With the underage Guardsmen’s parents looking on, a deal was struck, making Gernhard the band’s manager, publisher and record producer for a three-year period.
From that moment on, it was all about Snoopy and the German guy.
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