Whole Lotta Love

Jimmy Page turned 78 last week and I was reminded of the day we met. Not that he’d remember it.

KISW-FM in Seattle was celebrating its 15th anniversary and I wanted to make it epic. An unreal life experience, not a boastful radio contest. I envisioned an exclusive, private party for 500 lucky listeners. Once inside our small club, they’d mingle with rock stars and party the night away.

This would be the toughest ticket in town.

So, I pulled every string, pleaded with artist managers and called in favors from record labels. We invited the biggest bands of the day; Journey, Heart, Van Halen, Aerosmith, Loverboy and Bryan Adams. And all of them agreed to appear at our party.

Still, I wanted to land a rock superstar, and had my sights set on Jimmy Page. So, I worked up the nerve to call his manager. I groveled, begged and sputtered how Jimmy’s band (The Firm) would be playing in Seattle that same night. Maybe he can stop by our party afterwards?

Silence. Then, insane laughter.

“In your dreams, Beau. Jimmy doesn’t even go tohis own parties. But I’ll think about it.” (click)

Fast-forward to the night of the party. The club was rockin’ when my headset clicked on. “You’re not going to believe it, but Led Zep is in the house!”  I ran to the back door and welcomed Jimmy Page and his date. He looked dazed, confused and totally wasted. And I’m not saying his girlfriend was young, but she must’ve skipped algebra class to join us.

As parties go, this bash was legendary. The Holy Trinity of sex, drugs and rock & roll.

The next morning, I got a call from Jimmy’s limo driver. “After the party, I drove Jimmy and his date to the Four Seasons. I pulled into the hotel and parked right in front. I walked around the car, opened the rear door – and four legs tumbled out. Jimmy’s trousers were bunched around his shoes, and you know the rest. I couldn’t close the car door on their legs. A crowd gathered while I stood there holding the door until they finished. Finally, Jimmy slid out of the limo, hitched up his pants, grabbed his girl’s hand and they strolled into the lobby.”

Shameless plug: check out the full story in my book I Killed Pink Floyd’s Pig www.PinkFloydsPig.com

Beau Phillips is President of Rainmaker Media. 
He’s a creative marketing consultant, strategist and speaker.
Reach him at 203-256-9347   
Beau.phillips@gmail.com 
@RainmakerBeau

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