Today — June 18th — was the birthday of my great friend, Richard Perry. He died this past Christmas Eve after battling an insidious form of Parkinson’s Disease for a decade.
Today is also Paul McCartney’s birthday, he and Richard were born on the same day, something Richard liked to brag about. Over the years they became friends and collaborators as well, which Richard was very proud of.
It was Richard who brought Paul and Lind McCartney to sing on a Carly Simon record in 1971. Then Richard produced the incredibly successful Ringo Starr’s “Ringo!” album the following year, which also included John Lennon and George Harrison. It wasn’t a Beatles “reunion” exactly, but two years after the group’s devastating break up it was considered a miracle.
I was a teenager when Richard found lightning in a bottle three times– with Carly Simon, Ringo Starr, and Harry Nilsson. Seemingly overnight he became the hottest producer in the business, and this was a short time after he’d a hit with Barbra Streisand on her only rock single, “Stoney End.”
The result was that Richard was catapulted into the top echelon of hip Hollywood hangs, rubbing shoulders with Warren and Jack, dating beautiful actresses and singers, hosting exclusive parties at his unique house above Sunset Plaza. And through that time, his successes kept piling up, reviving the Pointer Sisters, giving Leo Sayer monster hits. What a time!
He loved doo wop music, and loved to sing deep bass with a Kenny Vance’s Planotones. (For his 60th birthday he performed with them at Elaine’s.) He named his record label Planet Records. He drew on that love when he produced Art Garfunkel’s best album, “Breakaway,” which included the best cover ever of the Flamingos’ “I Only Have Eyes for You.”
I ran into Richard in the summer of 2000 at Nick and Toni’s in the Hamptons. After dinner we all went back to the house his friends, Joe Allen and Annette Tapert, were renting. Richard played us a tape of an album he was working on with Rod Stewart of classic American songs. No one heard it yet, he said. We knew instantly he had a hit. That tape launched five albums, huge hits thanks to Clive Davis.
There were great times at his house when I visited LA, and when he came to New York it always involved something fun. In 2009, he re-met Jane Fonda, and they kindled a big romance that was a Love Story. They were each over 70 by that point, which gave everyone hope for the future.
As Richard needed more care, he and Jane went to live in separate places. His friends found him in his new home near the Four Seasons Hotel, and there was a lot of music. Jane was still part of the picture, but Richard’s worsening condition required a lot of attention. He spent a lot of time writing his memoir, “Cloud Nine,” a must read for anyone in the music business.
There was no one who had a stronger desire to live. In the spring of 2021 he became gravely ill. Things didn’t look good, but with help from friends and great doctors, he pulled through. At the low point, we even asked him if he wanted to keep going, to which he replied, “Of course I do.” What were we, nuts?
Of course, it helped that he had Carly Simon singing to him over the phone from Martha’s Vineyard. Jane brought the Pointer Sisters to his hospital room to sing “Slow Hand,” one of their Richard-produced hits. Clive Davis called often. That was all better than medicine.
Richard’s legacy remains unshaken. On the wall in his library, he had dozens of gold records, singles and albums, to remind him of that. It was kind of amazing. I always asked him, when we listened to his music, what was the secret formula? A Richard Perry record has a unique sound, even the rock records. The vocals are forward, set against a lush cushion. There’s a heavy presence of classic music. Each record produced an emotion. You can hear it on Nilsson’s “Without You.” It’s almost as if you’re drawn in immediately and can’t get out until the singer finishes the song. It’s so pleasing you want to hear it again.
What was his favorite of all his hits? Some days it was “You’re So Vain.” He loved an album he made with Ray Charles. “Without You” was often cited. He’d made a record with Motown’s Martha Reeves that he adored, and so on.
Richard’s friends, of course, really miss him. He had birthday parties right up through his last year. If I was in New York, I’d call in and always send chocolate. (I used to bring chocolate cake over from movie events at the Four Seasons.) His close friend, Daphna Keitel, Harvey’s wife, helped arrange everything. In the last year she took over his care with grace and affection.
So happy birthday, Richard. I guess what they say is true, you’re out of pain. But how I know he would love to have a party today, with music and Champagne and lots of toasts. We’ll all be raising a glass to him today.
