Devils & Blue Dresses: My Wild Ride as a Rock and Roll Legend

superstar he was bent on achieving. He once told me that he was going to make me into the star he never was allowed to be because he was “too pretty for them.”
    He had now, probably because he was always in need of enormous amounts of money, sold me to Paramount Records and created a new label for them called Dynavoice. Gone was my old label of New Voice with Bell Records as the distributor. Mr. Crewe needed to grow and he was driven by a great degree of talent, and a desire that burned at him every moment of the day. The way he carried on about his nemesis, the larger than life now-legendary producer Phil Spector, I thought maybe that was it, but Bob Crewe was, in those days, the most prolific and creative producer on the scene. The problem was the scene was changing, and that was something he couldn’t control.
    Alan managed to get me signed to the William Morris Agency in Hollywood for a year-long contract in which they would, with the help of my movie agent, Bullets Durgom, find the right vehicle to bring my “exotic” look to the silver screen. I was totally unaffected by any of it at first, because Mr. Crewe had convinced me it was the natural evolution of a star with my talent. It was probably more like him rolling the dice and saying let’s see if we have a winner. In addition to that, he now began the work––the long costly work––of creating the
What Now My Love
album.
    For my part, I was to begin my first tour with my big band and I was so pleased the city we would begin in was Detroit. It was the same Detroit that had given me tothe world. The Village, The Norm Ray Band, The Tempests, Billy Lee, and Billy Lee and the Rivieras. The performance would take place at the University of Detroit Field House. I knew all of the Wheel fans would be there. That was a given because as far as radio play was concerned, Bob Crewe had recently put out a record called “Too Many Fish in the Sea” by Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels, which settled into the top twenty, even though the group had already broken up. But I was confident in my belief that my love for R&B would rule the day.
    It was time to take stock of my life and my career. In my personal life I was clinging desperately to the notion that I was a good father and husband, yet everything about my behavior in New York went against that lie. My fame allowed me to come to a conclusion about women that cheapened them and made me believe that any man could have the most beautiful women in the world if they had fame, money, or both. I also started to believe that homosexuals who used their bodies, fame, and money to trade, sell, or buy sex ran the industry I served. This belief was reinforced by conversations in Mr. Crewe’s home about frequent vacations to third world countries where young boys could be had for the asking.
    I had come home briefly from a tour to be with my family and was astonished to pick up a Detroit paper and see the announcement of my father’s return to the stage. It didn’t surprise me to see he was attempting a comeback; he had done that a few times through the years. What astonished me was the fact that he had, for the first time and without my knowledge, chosen to use my stage identity and was billing himself as “Papa Ryder.” I chose to overlook what he had done because my parents were also sadly reaping the rewards of my fame. Their inordinate amount of attention toward me was having a disastrous effect on my brothers and sisters, who were essentially being left out in the cold. If I thought my childhood had been rough and neglectful and wanting for attention, I could only guess the price they were being made to pay, as my parents were being transformed as surely as I was . . . and not for the better.
    On the musical front I felt very alone. Bob Crewe told me not to worry and placated me with his dreams of where we were headed. Alan, whom I trusted and felt safe with, was becoming weird and distant. Then the bombshell dropped. Bob fired Alan. I immediately became afraid for my future, because Alan alone understood my desire to not only write my own material, but also be one of the great R&B singers of my time. Now he was gone and Mr. Crewe wouldn’t tell me anything about where he had gone to or how to get in touch with him. If Alan needed me to defend him I was more than willing, but I could not find him anywhere.
    When these traumas hit, whether it was struggling with drugs, sexuality, Sarah, Susan, finances, or