Can Cameo Untwist?
yeah, yeah, yeah, figuratively says a local record company magnate whose operation peakr* with the twist craze two years ago, is still going strong.

EARLY LAST MONTH, at the apex of the Beatles craze, someone asked Issie Lowe, the president of Philadelphia's Cameo-Parkway Records what the other record companies, the ones that didn't have the Beatles, did daring the course of such a fad. Without batting an eyelash or hesitating a second, Lowe replied, "They get destroyed. Until the Beatles go home they have to sit it out."

Bat Lowe smiled when he said that.Cameo.Parkway showed last year that could face adversity without getting disrnayed. The firm, the only independent record company listed on major stock exchange, had a whale of a year in 1962 on the strength of exploitimg  of twist records made Chubby Checker. In less twistful s3 sales and royalties dropped $2.7 sillion to $5.1 million. Net earnings wdined from $949,000 in 1962 to $65,000 in 1963. While such a show might breed concern in many :her mu ‘Ties—used to more stable markett conditions~for the record industry it is routine.

 
Cameo-Parkway, is a big producer the small, 45 rpm "single" records ~idt retail for about $1 and are sold most exclusively to teenagers. It is a ‘volatile market—completely differ-from the "Hit Parade" blend of  successful ballads

Teen feel. A decade ago teengers discovered Elvis Presley, still cek lO with baby fat, and decided the. wanted singers they had l*POtt With Since then, with a few notable exceptions, the leading 45 rpm "all have been teenaged singers or those who made a name while they were still in their teens.

The record business had been (and dominated by four large companies, all of them subsidiaries of larger corporations RCA Victos, Columbia, Capitol and Decca.

But the sudden demand for new "talent" fragmented the singles market, and provided an opening for smaller, independent companies. Much of the big four's strength is in more expensive 33 ‘A rpm records, which account for 75% of the public's record-buying dollar. The 45s, though, are getting a larger share of the growing market—up from 16% to 25% in two years.

By digging up and developing its own talent fresh out of Philadelphia neighborhoods Cameo-Parkway has cut itself a promising share of the 45 market. In number of hit records to make Billboard's "Top 50" list last year Cameo was tied for third place with Capitol, just behind RCA and Columbia.

The president's office at Cameo-Parkway's plush new headquarters at 309 South Broad doesn't look much different than any other executive suite except for the record turntable behind the heavy desk. Perhaps a little more plush than some others—wooden panelling, a rich turquoise rug. The man behind the desk also attests to the fact that music's Tin Pan Alley image--cigar-smoking men around as upright banging out songs about "moon," "June," "croon"—is changing. True, the lyrics of the new songs may not even approach the merit of moon-June, but the management image is far different. Lowe has a lean ascetic face with dreamy eyes and a shy, almost Giaconda smile, dresses comparatively conservatively and speaks quietly.

Lepidopterist. Lowe cut his teeth in music as a pianist and composer (he was with Paul Whiteman's radio orchestra in the early 1950s). He got a successful boost into the erratic record prcductinn business in 1956 when he formed Bernard Lowe Enterprises in 1956 to market "Butterfly," a collaboration of Lowe with song writer Kal Mann. Recorded by a young singer named Charlie Gracie, the record was one of the best sellers of 1957. The next year Parkway Records was formed.

Late in 1961 the two companies were merged to form Cameo-Parkway Reords, and the firm immediately embarked on a program of organizing or buying subsidiaries so control the steps involved in record production and marketing. A marketing division was set up and two offspring spawned to receive royalties from publishing rights and copyrights—one for Broadcast Music Inc. (BMI) and one for American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP).

Silver Plastics, a record pressing company with a leased plant in Southampton, became a subsidiary in July, 1962. (At one point Cameo considered using the record pressing equipment to make industrial plastic parts, but nothing has come of the idea.) The most recent company to move onto Cameo's turntable, last summer, was Chips Distributing, which distributes records made by some 25 companies, including Cameo, in the Greater Philadelphia area. (Cameo bought it for $55,000 from two corporations, one owned by Lowe, the other by Kat Mann.)

In the short time since its incorporation and since going public with an offering of 200,000 shares (at $7) in April ‘62 Cameo has made a good financial showing. That was the year of the twist, and Cameo had the biggest twister of them all, Chubby Checker, an erstwhile teenaged chicken plucker from South Philadelphia named, in real life, Ernest Evans. The Twist, as connoisseurs of South Philadelphia will remember, had actually fluorished here and then withered some time earlier. The nation-wide popularity came after show and society people picked it up as a fad in a New York boite. The public, with adults doing a fair share of the buying for once, gobbled up all of Chubby's twist records, "Twist," "Let's Twist Again," and several other varieties. The dance may have set the national sacroiliac back a decade, but it helped Cameo immeasurably. With twist records accounting for almost half of total sales, Cameo's volume vaulted. Sales doubled from $3.8 million to $7.6 million and net earnings aimost did the same from $490,000 to $959,000.

Steady net. The drop in 1963 (to sates of $5.1 million) was considerable but left the company still well ahead of 1961. Despite the variations in total sales and earnings, Cameo has shown a patient Griselda consistency in its margin of profit. In the last four years the percentage of earnings on sales has varied only fr~ 11.6% to 12.8%.

Much of Cameo's financial success, believes president Lowe, is two-fold in its method of talent development. The large record companies wait until a singer is well established, then sign him for a royalty that mae be as large as 15%. Cameo prefers to seek out untried teenage talest sign them up and build them up with good material. The standard contract is for three years with graduated scale royalties of 3%, 4% and 5%. If the singer or group of singers is a hit right off Cameo might switch to a longer term contract at 5%. After recording a hit a group came to Lowe with their manager and told him they wanted more money. "I told them," says Lowe, "‘We could have recorded that with four turtles and it would have been as big.""

In its star-building technique Cames places great emphasis on forging chain of successive hits. "Getting the first one is tough," says Lowe. "bitt it could be a coincidence. To follow that one up with another hit cu have ta do everything right." For si:r~m aimlog at the teenage market, has ing the hits in a row is important—the tees-age singer's career lasts an average of only three years. Two members ol Cameo's stable have been able to withstand the rigors of old age—Bobby Rydell had his first hIt in 1959 auid Chubby Checker first made the list in 1960. They are the elder statesmen. and the best known, of Cameos vocalists. The other producers of bit 45s for the firm are the Dovells, a male quartet; Dee Dee Sharp. rhythm and blues singer; the Orlons,. three girls and a boy; the Tynses, a male quintet that had its first hit record last year. All told, last year Cameo had six singers or groups produced 18 discs making the Top 50 liati5l in Billboard. The company's biggest seller last year was Chubby Checker's recording "Limbo Rock," which sold 1.8 mallion copies. (The recorrd, incidentally, did cot receive the lraditioaI gold record because Cameo is not member of the trade association that so certifies the records.) od of hedging its bet in the fidgety

Girl named Maria. As a nseth teenage market, Cameo has signed on a crew of adults. Most notable is Carol Lawrence, who was she oflgtfl~ Maria in "West Side Story." Also on tap are Merv Griffin (a TV personality), trumpeteer Maynard Ferguson

TV's Alan Funt. (A familiar votee to post-teen Philadelphians is the cadaverous-looking John Zacherle, who, using the nsnse Roland, hosted a series of horror movies here on Channel 10. Now a movie host in New York, Zacherle recorded a number called "Dinner With Drac," It sold well enough to provide the basis for a long-playing album including such other numbers as "Monster Mash" and "I*m the Ghoul from Wolverton Mountain,")

Long-playing albums now account for approximately 40% of Cameo's sales volume. Most of the best-selling 33*/a albums are recorded by the teen stars—a frequent gimmick is to pattem an album around a hit single. Other items in the Cameo catalog in-dude a potpourri of instrumental and ethnic albums-"Beethoven Ben Plays Piano Favorites," "Songs that Will Live Forever," ‘Buddy Sarkissian and His Mecca Four," "Greetings from the Hofbrauhaus." Last year Cameo test marketed both budget albums— inexpensive albums sold primarily through chain stores and supermarkets—and premium albums—used as sates promotion alds, usually by consumer manufacturers. To what extent Cameo will enter this field is as yet studetermined.

When all is said and done, however, the future of Cameo will continue to depend on how well the company keeps its rapport with its teen market. (Lowe claims he lost his best pair of ears when his teenage daughter went off to college and decided abe liked folk music,) The key departissent in keeping Cameo on top of the teen market is artists and repertoire—a nine man staff heeded by Dave Appeil, whose group, the Appell Jacks, still records for Cameo. A & ft members compose and arrange new material; re-arrange existing material; find and develop new talent; and train new composers and arrangers. Cameo's batting average in producing hits has been a good one, one of the best in the business, asys Lowe. Between 25% and 30% of the singles Cameo produces become hits, For a short time, Cameo increased its output of records on the theory that it would have more hits. It didn't work that way, so the company has switched back to the older, more successful method of smaller output aimed at producing a high proportion of hits.

It is admittedly a chancy business. Besides the fact that its teen artists have a short life expectancy, there is a shifting tide in taste. The teenage record buyers of today may be buying Joan Baez or even Bach partitas two years from now. As a matter of fact, twist-king Chubby Checker is now recording folk songs for Cameo in step with the changing market.

"This business is fantastic when it's good and lousy when it's bad,"  serves Lowe stoically. No one knows when a singing nun or a group of four moptops is going to sell tltrs million records. And once they do the other record companies have little choice. Cameo could hardly have ~ asked Mann to stand around local convee. hoping to hear the sound of mu. from within or alt in South Phildelphia barber shops hoping for a possible mop to come by. The cnmp~ did, however, have one of its gres~ record a song called "The Bo~ ~ rise Beetle Hair," It didn't sell many copies, but it did frighten a lot of barbers.

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