(Simon and Schuster)

http://books.simonandschuster.com

BY BILL HOLMES

Tommy James and the Shondells were one of the most consistent hit making groups of the ‘60s, with iconic songs like "Hanky Panky", "Mony Mony", "Crimson and Clover" and "I Think We're Alone Now" peppering the charts in rapid succession. One would think that the story of their rise to success in that turbulent decade would be a fascinating recollection; a gratuitous name-dropping inside look at the greatest era of pop music and the whirlwind machinery that keeps the whole thing afloat. Instead, Me, The Mob, and The Music: One Helluva Ride with Tommy James and the Shondells, penned by James with the assistance of Martin Fitzpatrick is a quick, anecdotal treatment that more often skips across those topics like a stone on a pond rather than giving the deep dive that the title implies.

Like many celebrity biographies, the beginning stages of a career get a bit more focus than necessary, since the reader is fully aware that the gamble is going to pay off for the struggling beginner. The story behind The Shondells is interesting enough, showing how pure luck can catapult an artist from obscurity to a chance at fame. In James' case, a hastily pirated version of a bar band song failed more than once before exploding in Pittsburgh, providing a launching pad that would see the band and song break region by region until success was attained. Ironically, to satisfy those thousands of radio listeners in Pittsburgh, the record was widely pirated and James never saw a dime of the profits. It would be the first taste in a long career of financial infidelity. James never doubted his talent and appeal, and his ego and ability would prove to be equally valid and necessary.

But as interesting as Tommy James should be, he comes off like a supporting character in his own book, merely a pawn to the Machiavellian tactics of gangster and record mogul Morris Levy. The Roulette Records head is a fascinating story, presented as a cigar-chomping, bat-wielding tyrant who had a soft spot for James beyond his obvious services as a cash cow for the label. James does indict Levy for his mob connections, naming names and ultimately becoming fearful of being literally caught in the crossfire. But he also expresses a genuine fondness for the moments when he was able to connect with Levy on another, more humane level. James infers that Levy's methods were critical to his success but that the material was worthy, and in hindsight the music certainly holds up. Morris Levy, for all his faults, knew how to work the scene like a puppeteer and milk and scam every dollar for himself. Arrogant and ruthless, yet a visionary; his story has yet to be properly told.

By contrast, I didn't learn much about Tommy James that I didn't already know or suspect. He is candid; portraying himself as womanizing, driven and selfish, balancing the moral dipstick of his behavior and his relationships with others against what needed to be done to attain and maintain success. Despite being robbed blind, he justifies his own loyalty to Levy by accepting the lack of payment in exchange for fame (he had the ability to make a living from the touring dollars). Interestingly, James does not seem as apologetic for dragging others into the spider web, assuming that they should also be grateful for the association instead of understanding why a songwriter who is never seeing a dime might want to throw some of his work elsewhere. As with Levy, the story perked up whenever writers Bo Gentry and Ritchie Cordell were discussed; those recollections were among the most interesting parts of the story.

But I was also disappointed that I did not learn more about Tommy James the producer and writer. When singles like "Crimson and Clover" and "Crystal Blue Persuasion" and "Mirage" were released, their sound was unique and the songs jumped out of the speakers. What inspired them? How did they translate live? What were the other musicians thinking when these songs were presented? Too often the stories behind these major milestones are rushed through; a pill-popping writing session followed by the obligatory delivery to Levy's office. James had seven top ten hits plus several other charting singles and it would have been interesting to delve more into the details. Then again, if he truly was ingesting the vast amounts of alcohol and pills he claims while maintaining that inhuman and hectic schedule, it's possible that he just doesn't remember.

It's interesting that this story of corruption - far from an expose at this point - is coming out a full twenty years after Levy's death. It's not made clear whether the delay was from his respect for his mentor or the ongoing fear of reprisal, but after Fredric Dannen's book Hit Men and the Hesh storyline on The Sopranos, new ground is not being broken here. Perhaps the book is a tie-in with the upcoming re-issues of many of James' titles, but if so, that only underscores my wish that more attention was paid to the songs themselves.

Neither James nor collaborator Martin Fitzpatrick are skilled enough authors to make this a riveting classic, and the fabricated setting (James telling this tale in one sitting to a curious reporter) has all the earmarks of screenplay bait. But at two hundred forty pages it is a brisk read with enough charm to entice readers to gobble it down in one sitting. Fans of Tommy James will likely find enough titillation and gossip to satisfy their needs, but those looking for a true expose on the fascinating tale of corruption in the music industry will not have their appetites sufficiently sated.