They Call Me Supermensch

June 20, 2016
In this entertaining memoir, record producer and artist’s manager Gordon warmly and graciously invites readers to gather around him as he regales them with tales of his life in the entertainment and restaurant industries and the lessons he’s learned. As a child growing up in Oceanside, N.Y., he stays in his room, hiding from the vicious family dog, or watches TV with his father. By the time he gets to college in Buffalo, he starts to develop his own personality, and after playing a college prank, Gordon learns a lesson about himself he carries through his life in show business: how to create history, not just wait for it to happen. He picks up stakes and moves to California, where he slips into his career as an entertainment manager by using his relationship with rock bands as a front for selling drugs. Before long, he’s moved on to managing Alice Cooper and launching the band’s career, helping Groucho Marx put his business back together, reinventing Raquel Welch’s career, producing movies, and creating the high profile of chef Roger Vergé. Gordon admits he’s disorganized and a poor administrator, but asserts that he excels at getting someone else’s career off the ground. Gordon focuses on doing “compassionate business” in which everyone can be a winner, and he lives by one simple rule: “don’t get mad; getting mad only hurts; use that energy to accomplish your goal.” At a time when people feel compelled to revel in and share their excesses—and Gordon does share a few of his—it’s refreshing to find a story in which the search for meaning trumps the search for mischief.

July 15, 2016
Longtime agent/manager Gordon, whose clients and confidants have ranged from Teddy Pendergrass to Roger Verge, tells all.It's not all golf and heart attacks in the glitzy world of showbiz, to say nothing of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll, though all those things certainly figure in close proximity in Gordon's memoir. Tellingly, the story begins with sex and drugs all rolled up in a singular person, when the naive kid arrives in Hollywood from New York and, having dropped acid, busts up what he thinks is a rape only to be told not at all gently by Janis Joplin that the rough and tumble out by the pool is deliberate. Enter Jimi Hendrix and Bobby Neuwirth and Frank Zappa and a succession of Los Angeles machers who take a shine to the kid and point him toward the lucrative world of artist management. The sentimental education came with plenty of raps on the knuckles, as when Gordon briefly managed an up-and-coming English band called Pink Floyd only to lose the quartet over an unpaid gig, at which Jerry Wexler schooled him: "The three most important things a manager does are, number one, get the money. Number two, always remember to get the money. Number three, never forget to always remember to get the money." Money is a theme and a minor obsession here, but some sunlight creeps through that wall of green: Don Ho turns out to be a nice guy, Alice Cooper and Groucho Marx unlikely bedfellows, Timothy Leary may not be the fellow you'd want to leave alone with your food but a mensch. For his part, Gordon, who certainly has tales to tell, comes off as a blowhard on one page and a meditative beachcomber on the next even as his indifferently written narrative careens between dressing rooms and green rooms, rockers and foodies. On the B-list, as showbiz memoirs go, but entertaining enough.

COPYRIGHT(2016) Kirkus Reviews, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.