The Cowsills In Magazines

Retro-torial by Michael Eury

I never met a flower girl, much less love one, but man, did I love the Cowsills' music when I was a kid! I still do! The Sixties' most outasite family band, the Cowsills, from Newport, Rhode Island, became a sensation with their 1967 single, "The Rain, the Park and Other Things." They were clean cut and wholesome, looking like the family next door - why, their first album's jacket even opened up to reveal a super-sized photo of the Cowsill brood at the kitchen table!

For the next few years, the Cowsills were everywhere on stage, on the charts ("We Can Fly," "Indian Lake," "Hair," and more), on Ed Sullivan and other variety shows, in teen zines, and hawking milk and other products. At times you could even hear them without seeing them, thanks to their vocals on the themes for the The Impossible Years and the TV series Love, American Style . These real-life singing siblings - with their mom and little sis as part of the group - even inspired TV's The Partridge Family (whose studio-created sound also appropriated the Cowsills' cheerful harmonies), and under other circumstances might've actually starred in that musical sitcom themselves.

But it turns out that behind the scenes, the home life of my favorite family band wasn't always as happy as their music . . . and a quickly as they became superstars, the Cowsills seemed to disappear. In his "Meet the Cowsills" interviews leading off this issue, Rob Ladde - who first appeared in our pages with RetroFan #5's TV dinners article - gets comfy with Bob, Paul and Susan Cowsill as they open up about their fame, music, home life, and legacy, which continues to this day with concert tours and amazing new music.

. . .

Meet the Cowsills Bob, Paul, and Susan!
By Rod Labbe

It's early August, 1968, and mom is driving us to our local shopping center, the Elm Plaza. My younger sister's lost in 16 Magazine. "Must be a groovy article," I commented from the front seat. "You're hardly blinking."

She looks up. "I'm reading about the Cowsills. Gonna buy their single today, at Grant's."

"What's a Cowsill? And what single?" I wanted to know, since I'd more than likely be hearing it day in and day out.

"Indian Lake.' They had an outasite record last year, too, called "The Rain, the Park and Other things', Paul played it for us at my slumber party."

"They're some new rock group?"

"Yeah. A family of boys. Their mother, Barbara, and kid sister, Susan, are in the band, too. Ugh. I hate Susan's guts."

Now this intrigues me. "Really! Why the hate?"

"Because she's my age and gets to sing with all these hunky guys, and that's what I wanna do. How does she rate? I can shake a tambourine just as good, and my dancin' ain't bad either."

"Pfft! Leave me alone."

"Welllll," I drawled, playing devil's advocate, "Susan's in 16, so she's already famous, right up there with Bobby Sherman and Davy Jones. You're unknown. As for her brothers . . ."

"Shut up, Ma, make Ronnie stop buggin' me."

"Ronnie, stop bugging your sister."

"Oooookaaay."

Judy did indeed buy "Indian Lake" by the Cowsills that day and as predicted, played the thing constantly. I remember dancing to those infectious harmonies in our big living room and even lip-synching, using a paper towel tube as a faux microphone. Suddenly, my sister's bedroom was festooned with pin-ups of the Cowsill boys, with Barry being her favorite. No pix of Susan, Natch!

Her Cowsill fervor continued, right into 1969 and beyond.

"Hair," a monster hit for the band and something far removed from "Indian Lake's" pop sheen, scored their best sales yet. I could tell my fan-struck siblings felt a wee bit subversive buying the 45 RPM single, as if she was somehow contributing to America's anti-war movement. "Hair's" layered vocals cemented the Cowsills' place in modern rock history. Their commercial hooks may have been sister Susan and their mini-skirted mom, but what legitimized this singing family from Newport, Rhode Island, was the performing brothers, musically gifted and adept at any instrument, style, or beat.

1969 became 1970, and by year's end, the Cowsills had vanished from the Top 40 landscape. Despite hit records galore and a bright future, they'd simply imploded. Fame is a harsh mistress . . . and coupled with internal turmoil, the road ahead is oftentimes bleak and treacherous.

Only true warriors navigate it. Ask Bob Cowsill. He knows.

About a year back, I saw a clip in my Facebook feed from Louise Palanker's Family Band: The Cowsills Story (2011). What's this? A documentary? I'd read somewhere that the Cowsills had never stopped making music. Three brothers, Bill, Dickie, and Barry (a casualty of Hurricane Katrina), had passed away, and John took off for a different musical horizon as the drummer for the Beach Boys. This might be a good time to reconnect and on a personal level.

One speedy order to Amazon and the DVD arrived. I popped it into my player and was mesmerized. Bob's evocative intro set an intimate tone. Watching, listening, and learning. I realized we were approximately the same age and grew up together in the same tumultuous time period. Most importantly - and I can't emphasized this enough - we'd survived.

I needed to interview these people. It wouldn't be easy, logistically, but I was a determined lad. Full speed ahead, pedal to the metal, and my goals were met. All three of the performing Cowsills (Bob, Paul and Sue, currently doing the yearly Happy Together tour) found time to 'spill the tea' with yours truly.

What you're about to enjoy is the ideal companion piece to Family Band, and it's right here, in RetroFan.

Bob Cowsill - Back in Time, There's a Place I Remember . . .

RetroFan: Tell us about your early days, Bob, and leave no stone unturned:

Bob Cowsill: [laughs] Okay! In terms of playing music, I started young. Bill was eight. I was seven, and one day, Dad returned home from an overseas Navy trip with two four-string guitars. And they were not ukuleles! This was our introduction to playing and creating music. Jack Johnson, a friend of my father's, taught us some chords. Our fingers were little, but we had energy, desire, and enthusiasm, and from the time Dad gave us those guitars, Bill and I just never stopped playing.

During my sixth grade, we did a local TV show called Spotlight on Talent, one of the early talent competition programs, with hose Gene Carroll. That was in Canton, Ohio, where we were living. Bill and I wore little charcoal suits and sang Baby Blue. I told my classmate, "Hey, I'm gonna be on TV", and we got beaten by a magician. Man! Hard to live that one down, especially at age12.

Besides playing guitar, we became interested in harmonizing. We idolized the everly Brothers, and our little "girl" voices blended beautifully. Bill could even sing "Where the Boys Are," and he sounded just like Connie Francis [laughs]. That emerged from a great training ground; we were all in a 50-member choir at our church, St. Joseph's, in Newport, Rhode Island. Before Mass began, we'd all march in, accompanied by a huge, majestic pipe organ. It sent chills down my spine.

RF: Weren't you singing as a duo, for gigs?

BC: That we were, like playing at Boys Club dances. My solo was "Traveling Man," made famous by Ricky Nelson. We'd watch The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet [ABC, 1982-1966] just to see the part where Ricky sang. I wanted to study his technique. By then, we'd moved to Newport.

RF: Newport's an island, isn't it?

BC: It is, and to us, the outside world seemed far away. Our only connection was television, movies, and the records we bought. A lot of records! We tried to figure out how to do things by observing and mimicking. Nowadays, people go to YouTube for tutorials, but Billy and I learned the hard way.

RF: For a while, you guys were swept up by the folk music craze.

BC: Around 1961, '62, yeah. Folk music caught our attention, and Billy and I began performing at hootenannies. Those were lengthy evenings of folk music that had tons of verses. We wore red-and-white-striped shirts, with while pants. Folk music occupied our time up until the Beatles came out and changed the world.

RF: Ah, what didn't the Beatles change? They were truly a cultural phenomenon!

BC: Everthing changed for us! Music selection, stage presence, how to perform, what to wear, our demeanor and attitude . . . all of it. When Barry turned eight, we added him as a drummer first and played as a trio for a while. Then we learned about the bass guitar. We moved Barry to bass and put John on drums. He'd just turned seven. So we had our "Beatle-y" foursome and were ready to go.

RF: Like me, I'm sure you guys glued yourselves to the tube when they played on The Ed Sullivan Show.

BC: For three consecutive Sundays! They performed 12 songs, and in those days, you didn't have DVRs and videos; what you saw, you committed to memory.

My brothers and I were like sponges, soaking up how they played, how they stood, how they sang. From that moment on, Bill, Barry, John and I sounded like the Beatles. Not a tribute band, per se, but there was no denying our muse.

New prospects opened up. We started playing in a local club in Newport called Dorian's, on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. Bill and I would play our folk music. And around that time, the entire family took part in a big act held at King's Park. I can't recall how or why we got involved, but I assume Dad put something together. All of us played and sang, including our mother and our brothers Richard [Dickie] and Paul.

RF: And so the British Invasion commenced.

BC: What a remarkable time in popular music! Not just British singers and bands, but here in the States, too. The Mamas and Papas, the Byrds - nothing else like them. Lots of excitement and creativity, and we were right in the middle of it.

RF: Anybody discover you?

BC: That happened at Dorian's in 1964. We're playing and two people from The Today Show saw us. They said, "Oh, my God, look at those four adorable brothers!" It got us 20 minutes on the show, which led to a recording contract with Johnny Nash. You remember him, the "I Can See Clearly Now" guy? We knew Johnny as the lead singer of the Hercules cartoon show theme song [laughs]! Johnny saw our segment and signed us to his label, Joda Records. This was in 1965. Joda's acts were primarily black and we went into a studio and did some demos. The writers were black, the musicians were black, and we're the only white boys there. It was soul music, Motown stuff, and Bill and I were in Heaven. We fell in love with Johnny and the whole operation. Unfortunately, our record stiffed!

RF: What's the title?

BC: "All I Really Wanta Be is Me." Catchy tune, but our time had yet to come. WPRO put it in a contest against another new release. The night came, and it was the first time we'd ever heard ourselves sing on the radio. Man, it was just incredible. We stacked the deck with our friends and relatives, getting them to call in and vote! The ploy worked.

RF: What was the other song? Something obscure?

BC: Only a little ditty by Simon and Garfunkel called "Sounds of Silence"!

RF: What? Come on! You're pulling my leg.

BC: [laughs] Have you ever seen That Thing You Do, the Tom Hanks film? About a music promoter who discovers an unknown rock band and gets them airplay? If I didn't know better, I'd say it was based on our lives. Hanks caught it with so much authenticity. We lived that 3exact thing, except in our case, the record tanked, and we were dropped.

RF: Not the happiest of developments, but this was only the beginning.

BC: We had momentum, slight as it might be. Mercury Records signed us next. I'm in the 11th grade and thinking, "Okay, our label just dropped us, and our record bombed, so I'm gonna lay low and not make any predictions about this one." At Mercury, we were assigned to Artie Kornfeld, staff producer. Artie was 22, maybe 23, and not too jazzed about working with a family group. Once he got to know us, however, Artie realized our commitment. He became our George Martin!

RF: He taught you the fundamentals?

BC: Yes, and what an excellent teacher! His kindness and support were invaluable. With Artie, we put out three records. Two flopped, but one, "Most of All," went to #112 on Billboard, before stalling and dying. That we had even made the charts was impressive! Even with increased airplay and chart activity, Mercury dropped us . . . but that was okay, because Artie had faith in our talent. So strongly, in fact, he quit Mercury, too!

RF: Artie wrote your first hit, "The Rain, the Park and Other Things."

BC: Otherwise known as the "Flower Girl" song. Artie composed it with his partner, Steve Duboff. They took us into the studio again, we made this great track, and applied the vocals.

RF: You had a record label interested?

BC: Nope! No record deal. After we'd finished, the powers that be - my dad, for sure - thought Mom would be just what the group needed to set it apart. Bill and I were like, "This is the kiss of death." A typical teenager's response. Even Artie was against it. Singing and playing with your mom? Oh, God. Back into the studio we went, to do her vocals. She's so afraid, her knees are knocking. Finally I had to stand behind her, and we sang the part together. That's me and Mom doubling the high melody, "I love the flower girl" part.

RF: You were signed to a long-term contract with MGM soon afterwards. The pendulum was swinging!

BC: MGM bought us lock, stock, and barrel. Meanwhile, I graduated that June [1967], and "The Rain, the Park and Other Things" takes off the following autumn. Our band was evolving, growing from four to include Mom and seven-year-old Sue, who was just a bundle of energy. Paul joined the group, too, as "Mr. Soul Man." In those early days, if we wanted to take audiences up a notch, Paul would come out wearing a white suit. We'd introduce him as our "soul brother," and he'd lead the audience in singing "Mickey's Monkey"! A great performer.

RF Signing with a major and you're barely out of high school. Awesome!

BC: Unbelievable. Although we'd been dropped by two labels previously and had three flops in a row, this seemed like something special. MGM put us on a promotional tour, with dates at MGM conventions across the country. That's when things started moving. Our song jumped on Billboard and Cashbox at #89, with a red bullet. Time to ride that bullet right up to Number One! We heard it while touring. What a thrill! The Cowsills had a smash record!

RF: It propelled you right up to #1 in Cashbox and #2 on Billboard.

BC: A million-selling hit record, and we're suddenly the #1 family band in America. We're doing TV variety hours, like Kraft Music Hall, The Johnny Cash Show and Hollywood Palace - you name it, and we're there. NBC game us our own special, guest-starring Buddy Ebsen, and the teen mags loved us!

RF: 16 Magazine was my first introduction to the Cowsills. Summer of '68.

BC: Tiger Beat and 16 embraced us because of Barry and John, just so cute and innocent. Those magazines were the go-to place for information about our family, what the band was doing, the whole nine yards. Gloria Stavers ruled as gatekeeper at 16, and we hit it off with her instantly. All that helped market our image, for better or for worse. We were right there in Gloria's wheelhouse, on covers and in issue after issue. We rode that bullet, man!

RF: Tell us about The Ed Sullivan Show.

BC: CBS broadcast The Ed Sullivan Show live Sunday nights at 8 o'clock. Everyone - and I mean everyone - had dreams of guest-starring on Ed's show. In those days there were only four stations, ABC, CBS, NBC, and PBS. We were signed to a one-million dollar, ten-show deal. Biggest ever, bigger than the Beatles. Ed loved us.

RF: So why'd you make only two appearances?

BC: During one performance, Bill's microphone went dead. This was live television. Dad freaked out and got into an intense argument with Ed's son-in-law, the show's producer Bob Precht, and Ed took the other eight back.

RF: I've seen clips, and you all had such a professional manner. John rocked it hardcore on the drums. No butterflies?

BC: By that time, we'd been performing for eight years. I was ten when I did our first gig! So, no, I didn't have butterflies, not during the first episode. I was nervous during the Ed Sullivan Christmas show, though! We're singing Christmas carols and I had "Sleigh Ride." Except I was having trouble remembering the bridge - the part about Currier and Ives. God, I was panicking, and if you look closely, you can see cold terror in my eyes.

RF: I never would've suspected. You looked like you're having a ball.

BC: It been years, but I've never forgotten that cold feeling of approaching doom. Remember, we were singing live - nobody lip-synched. The kids all did well, considering that pressure. Susan, bless her heart, was a natural.

RF: 1969 was the height of your career as a group?

BC: Yes, 1969. We had our biggest hit with "Hair" and also recorded the theme song to ABC's Love American Style for a season. Whatever my father got involved with withered on the vine, and Love American Style was no exception. Even our milk commercials lasted only a year. People just did not want to deal with him. We were going to be a summer replacement for The Carol Burnett Show, and Dad demanded 30,000 bucks up front, for an old Navy buddy. They wouldn't give it to him, and he walked out. That was the end of our summer replacement series.

RF: According to Family Band, "Hair" almost fell into your lap!

BC: You wouldn't believe how we came to record that song. Carl Reiner, the famous writer and comic - he'd created The Dick Van Dyke Show - was putting together a TV special for NBC called The Wonderful World of Pizzazz [broadcast March 18, 1969] starring Michele Lee. We were asked to do a bit involving wigs. Just a funny little comedy segment, where the kids and Mom would model wigs while lip-synching to "Hair."

RF: From the Broadway musical Hair. Odd choice for a family band tagged as lightweight.

BC: Exactly why it appealed to us. Listening to the cast album, Bill and I agreed the song had strong vocal possibilities. We took it into the studio, just the guys - without Mom or Susan to start, and nobody from our record company - and laid down the basic track. Other than our first release on Joda, we'd never played our own instruments, but this time, we did the entire thing ourselves. At that stage of our careers, we'd had a few hits, but nothing out of our comfort zone. Your mindset is different as a younger person; you want to be creative because you can. That's how we were.

While on tour, we carted the acetate of "Hair" from radio station to radio station. MGM hated the song because it didn't fit the Cowsills' accepted template. One of those radio stations held a little contest. If listeners guessed the group singing "Hair," they'd win a mug and a T-shirt. Nobody could, and demand grew and grew. MGM decided to release it, after all, and it shot up the charts. Our biggest seller!

RF: Not long afterward, Bill was forced out of the group, and your direction floundered.

BC: It went like this. We were getting ready for a big tour, and Dad had found pot remnants in Bill's car. "Okay, into the living room!" he barked, and we all went. In a military family, you didn't talk back, you obeyed. So, we're sitting around, and Dad tells us what he found. "When people don't follow the rules, there are consequences." Bill was officially out of the group and out of our family, too.

Thinking back, that decision ended the Cowsills. Bill and I had been together since we were boys, so to have that jarring horrible disruption . . . well, there was no fixing it.

RF: Was there any time for fine-tuning before the tour?

BC: None. We boarded a plane, and now we're six, not seven. Our leader's missing. I took over Bill's parts and pulled it off with some DNA help. Paul took over my parts, and so on down. We were scrambling! Wherever we performed after that, I felt Bill's absence. You can't cut out the heart and expect the body to live. Our chemistry had been messed with by Dad. He fired Artie Kornfeld, too, followed by [producer] Wes Ferrell.

RF: Wow. A genuine derailment.

BC: You said it. Derailed and headed for disaster.

RF: Jumping ahead, your newer music is just beautifully done. "Some Good Years" is an affecting testament to youth told from an older perspective.

BC: "Some Good Years" originally started out as a tribute to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. He was retiring, and back then, they'd do an overview of someone's career on ABC's Wide World of Sports, with an appropriate song playing in the background. And since I'm a fan, I wrote "Some Good Years" for Kareem. As time went by, we didn't get anything to him. I can't tell you how many plans go awry [laughs]! Eventually, I turned it inward, changed the lyrics, and made them more applicable to us. A Beach Boys kind of tune. That song and two others - "Is It Any Wonder" and "She Said to Me" - led to Global, our then-newest album and the best we've ever done, to date. But this is the Cowsills we're talking about, and if something can go wrong, it will.

RF: Global, is sublime, What lured you into the studio again?

BC: I was doing a lot of writing, solo and with my wife, and that led to the new album. Things had changed considerably since our heyday. We released Global on our own label, when social media was just taking off. It appeared on YouTube and all over the web. Sales are consistent, and they're still growing. A validation, coming on the heels of Cocaine Drain, which was a serious album project and not about drugs, by the way [laughs]! Since it never got released, we took the bull by his horns and put Global out there ourselves.

RF: Which brings me back to Family Band, the documentary. All of your hits were covered, the rise, the crest of success and drawbacks of fame. The afterword struck me as sketchy . . . once your dad's abuses were revealed, focus veered off and concentrated on him, rather than what made you guys musical pioneers.

BC: Good call. The trick about Family Band is this. It was, more or less, an accurate account of what went on in families back then. I had friends whose dads were just as bad as mine. Our parents grew up with the Depression and World War II as backdrops. That meant severe economic challenges, people out of work, homeless and starving. It would do a number on just about anyone. We didn't need to worry about where the next meal was coming from - we were a Navy family, a military operation, and pulled our weight.

RF: But with the documentary obsessing on Bud, your dad, your story stopped dead in its tracks.

BC: True, it did. In a way, the documentary turned out to be about an almost fictional band, and what we had was an exercise in survival and forgiveness. The music took a back seat, and to me, our story is the music - we weren't defined by the situation with our father.

RF: What's most shocking is how quickly your earlier career crumbled. Almost overnight.

BC: With Bill out, the die was cast. You're on top one minute and Pow! The next, you're down for the count.

RF: You and Bill were a team since childhood. I'd assume not seeing him was a bitter pill to swallow.

BC: It was, Rod. The separation from Billy ruined some of us. The money dried up, and we owed the IRS a bundle - a real, honest to God mess. Barry was sent spinning into a dismal life - things happened to him that weren't good. And just when he'd decided to make a change, Hurricane Katrina took him from us. My twin brother, Richard, also went down a challenging and unforgiving road, and we lost Dickie, too. None of us saw Billy for years after that. He'd gotten into drugs, alcohol, you name it. Just terrible.

RF: Yet, you survived. Personally, I mean.

BC: I had children and responsibilities, and that tends to get your attention. Giving in to despair was not an option. I was grounded in my response to all of it and tried not to flounder.

RF: Louise Palanker, a fan from way back was the driving force behind Family Band. How were those dots connected?

BC: Friday nights for 28 years, I played at a local pub, and one night, a woman in the audience said, "Hi, I'm an old fan of yours and would love to do a documentary about your family!" I thought, Okay, like we're going to do that! But she was relentless and just would not leave me alone [laughs]! Finally, I met with her, and we talked. I listened and said, I'll run this by my brothers and sister. Bill, Richard, and Barry were still living, and we made the decision to do it.

RF: A straightforward documentary, chronicling the band's rise, fall, and resurgence?

BC: Yeah, at first, filming moved in a linear fashion our early years, the musical influences, etc. But once Dad entered the picture, it's no long the Cowsills as a creative entity, but a story of how this man abused us. We were disturbed by it, to the point where we just stopped and walked away.

RF: Just zip, project's over?

BC: That's right. We'd seen some promotional material, and it was almost like they were making a horror movie. Our version of Mommie Dearest! No way did we want to go down that rabbit hole. Louise agreed, and filming stopped for two years.

RF: But you went back and finished.

BC: We'd been discussing it, and leaving Louise in the lurch wasn't the right thing to do. So, after a few adjustments, we got on board again. There was enough footage shot to make two documentaries! Family Band was on Showtime, multiple times a day. In the interim, we've lost three brothers, and that hasn't been easy. Death and departure never are.

RF: Let's address what happened to Barbara, your mom, since she kinda disappears from the documentary.

BC: She stayed with Dad, and that put a big space between us. Mom started suffering from what had been done to her children and the fact that she seemed powerless to stop it. The family was breaking up. Let's face it, she didn't want to be in this singing group! But because Dad wanted it, Mom went along. I've no doubt my parents loved one another. Bottom line, they were too young to have seven kids, and neither one of them knew how to parent effectively.

RF: Bud helped open doors that might've remained closed, so some good was accomplished.

BC: Very true. He'd do crazy things. One time he drove us to Brown University, and we got permission to plug in and play out on the lawn. Dad passed around business cards, and soon, we were performing at frat parties and appearing in teenage nightclubs that were all the rage. In 1966, when we started the club scene, that's when things took off. Dad took notice and said, "You kids are pretty decent! Look at these children of ours, they're doing something that keeps them inside the house! Get them an amplifier, get them a bass guitar!"

RF: Do you remember your first gig?

BC: Sure do. A women's luncheon, when we were 12 and 11. They paid us ten bucks apiece! It was profound, Rod. Might a well have been 1,000 bucks. What, we can get money for this? Unreal!

RF: And now, you're better than ever! You never get bored, singing the same songs over and over?

BC: Never. We're enthusiastic and up, and that energy comes out at ever performance.

There's a heartbeat to it that's real. How can people in their 60s and 70s enjoy what we're doing, unless these songs aren't the best songs to come down the pike? Think about it. They want to hear "The Rain, the Park and Other Things." They want to get up and out of their seats and dance to "Hair" and "Indian Lake." And we deliver!

RF: You strike me as a contented soul, Bob. Have you reached a level of satisfaction?

BC: Satisfaction's a good word. As I grow ever older, I do see trouble brewing. Thirty years ago, there was still a feeling of adventure and pursuit left over from the Sixties. It's gone, now, and I'm afraid for our future. The younger generation isn't involved, they're unaware. When I was 18, kids were facing serious issues, like Vietnam and Civil Rights. It's important not to forget what's come before.

RF: You know, we've neglected to touch upon The Partridge Family connection. Care to share?

BC: Be glad to. In 1970, Screen Gems approached us with an idea about a sitcom based on our band. We were still touring and felt a situation comedy wasn't a good fit. All the same, they met with us, to get the "feel" of our family. Bill, Paul and I were too old, but they loved Susan, Barry and John. The real sticking point was Mom. Screen Gems conceived The Partridge Family as a Shirley Jones vehicle, and Dad didn't like that. He refused to have anything to do with the project unless Mom was cast. They ended up taking the basic idea of a mother joining her family's rock band, and I'm sure our fans could tell it was based on the Cowsills. Even had a #1 single, "I Think I Love You," with David Cassidy and Shirley Jones on vocals and studio musicians backing them up. Today, we perform that song in honor of their legacy.

David was a multi-talented musician, and he's what made The Partridge Family shine. So tragic that he passed away . . . our world lost a good one when David went.

RF: I saw the A&E documentary about him, David Cassidy: The Lost Session. Hard to take. That poor guy really suffered.

BC: I know. My thoughts are with his loved ones.

RF: The 2019 touring season has just ended, and I've been hearing rumblings of a new Cowsills album. Truth or fiction?

BC: For an 'oldies" band from the Sixties, we have a lot going on right now. We tour all winter with our family band and summers are spent doing Happy Together. We've also continued to write and record songs and will be finishing a double album - one side, a cappella, and the other, 12 new songs. It's called Rhythm of the World, for a 2020 release. We've also added a new team member to the Cowsills, Executive Producer Dr. Rock Positano. Google this guy, seriously!

RF: Doc Rock's now the engine powering all things "Cowsill"?

BC: More capable hands cannot be found. After the collapse of Pledge Music, the album-funding campaign we'd started under their banner died, too. Rock stepped up to the plate, not only for the Cowsills, but for our fans. It's important that each person who pledged understands their money is safe, and once our album's done, all the free CDs and signed memorabilia will be forwarded to everybody who's ordered.

RF: Your paths crossing is cool serendipity!

BC: Thank social media for that. Rock's love for the Cowsills goes way back to the Sixties and early Seventies. While teaching at Brown University, he discovered Newport, Rhode Island, only to find out that his favorite childhood band hailed from there. Rock felt it was destiny that we'd work together, and I agree. We're honored that he's our Executive Producer.

RF: Can you say soaring? Yep, 2020's gonna be the Cowsills' year. The stars are aligned, so go for it, bro.

BC: Soaring would be nice [laughs]. More fun than crashing!

RF: Phew! We've reached the end of what can only be described as epic. I need me a Gatorade, quick! Thanks Bob, ol' chum, for the honor of your presence. RetroFan's readers will love this.

BC: I've enjoyed going over Cowsill memories with you. Your next task is to track down Paul and Susan. When you're done interviewing them, we'll discuss the future. Who knows, Rod, this might lead to something bigger than all of us!



Paul Cowsill - A Measure of Happiness

Paul Cowsill just doesn't casually sashay into a room, He bursts in like the Tasmanian Devil, cyclone whirling, arms and legs flying. I found that out for myself when we met for this interview! His personality is so utterly engaging, you can't help but be swept up by the sheer unbridled energy of it. Encountering a celebrity who not only wants to talk but takes an active interest in giving you the best material EVAH is a rare treat.

Today, married and the father of two grown boys, Paul has lost none of his youthful energy . . . and energy makes for a great interview. Subject matter covered was sometimes painful, but Paul didn't hold back. Listening to him, watching him, I realized just how important the human spirit is - how it can move mountains and heal old wounds and propel us into the realm of dreams.

With that said, I'll let Paul take things from here.

RetroFan: You're very upbeat, Paul. I like that.

Paul Cowsill: I am as upbeat as anyone can get. My wife, LouAnn, and I run a hay farm in central Oregon, and moving up there was the best thing I could've ever done. I just wanted to do what I liked and enjoyed. This is it, man. Throw in playing music with my brothers and sister, and it's pretty satisfying. Personal happiness is what life's all about, Rod. I'm lucky enough to have found it, because a lot of people just don't. We're very lucky, considering.

RF: The seclusion is terrific. Just sky and fields and wilderness.

PC: I love it. We're so out of the way, my cell phone doesn't work here [laughs]! At Christmas, there are nephews and nieces, 23 people, gathering on our farm, and all the kids have to climb a big hill to get service.

RF: Them's th' perks of rural living!

PC: Yeah! Funny, but I'm in the process of writing a song about people and their phones. And don't expect to find me on Facebook. Bob said there was some password I could use to access our Cowsills page, but it's way too complicated for me to keep all that stuff in my head. Someday, I'll figure it out though I don't know when I stumbled on there a few times, and it's great to see so many people talking on it and sharing good memories.

RF: Your earlier days as a kid making hit records . . . does it seem like a dream, Paul?

PC: Those crazy early days! Once in a while I'll run into people who claim they've lived before, as a queen or a slave. Never a garbage collector [laughs]! My sister, Susan, for example, swears she was someone else in a former life. I'm not quite done with this one, yet, but I will say my earlier life was like a dream, what with all the ups and downs and wild rides in between. But I lived and loved that younger life, and it unfolded like something you'd see in a movie. Come on . . . seven rambunctious kids from Newport, Rhode Island, and we're cutting records, appearing on the Ed Sullivan Show, headlining our own TV special, hobnobbing with Johnny Cash, drinking lots of milk, and touring the country? Who wouldn't think it was a dream?

When the Cowsills first started happening, I was 13 and living a normal life, playing Babe Ruth baseball. Touring in a band didn't interest me, but I still had to go along. I wanted to stay behind and live with a family my parents knew and do sports, but Dad said no. A bus rolled up, we dragged our equipment in, and asked "What about our other stuff?" Dad promised us it would all be sent out. Guess what, it wasn't. We left Newport the fall of 1966 for an appearance on Soundblast 66, with the Beach Boys, and didn't return for a long time.

RF: Bill's expulsion in 1968 dealt a serious blow to the group.

PC: Yes, that was bad. None of us recovered; Bill and Bob started the band. We were fractured.

RF: Your first night playing live - a baptism of fire?

PC: Disastrous! We had a Homecoming gig at Purdue. Will Bill gone, Bob had to sing all of Bill's leads. Dad told him, "Teach that guy how to play keyboards," meaning me. When we got to Purdue, Bob and I sat behind the piano. "This is your G chord," he said, but it was really an F. They called all the other chords by different names. Bob was a patient teacher. The songs were written out on sheets and during our performance, they flew into the orchestra!

RF: I'd laugh, if it weren't so nerve-jangling.

PC: I was losin' it! And forget about singing and playing at the same time. Impossible! I'd stay late and practice. If it hadn't been for my brother, Bob, I don't know what I would've done.

He had my back, for sure.

RF: You're the middle child of seven. We hear about middle kids being shortchanged. As one myself, I enabled my parents and siblings. You do the same?

PC: My duties had to do with the babies. I took care of Susan her whole life, from diapers on up, and John and Barry, too. Mom had all these kids to deal with, and it was a stressful time for her. Our parents drank heavily, which didn't help, and we were so ragged around the edges. You could almost call us white trash! But Dad kept us in line. We cleaned our rooms, made our beds, and obeyed orders. Or else. If we showed even the slightest attitude, he'd smack us. A belt, a fist, didn't matter.

RF: He kept a tight ship.

PC: I'll say. Bud Cowsill was a career Navy man, we were his recruits, and recruits do what they're told. We'd walk on eggshells, trying not to upset him. Even my mother because he abused her, too. He'd give you this look, and they next moment, his fist is connecting with your face. Rod, I was frightened all the time. We were Catholic, and I'd pray for help I got into the love and peace thing. After a while, I realized praying wasn't doing a bit of good.

RF: Unanswered prayers are the worst.

PC: I viewed it as a betrayal of spirit. What was supposed to be comforting left me empty and abandoned. Still, I wanted my kids to experience the Catholic religion, so they'd have some idea what it was like and could make their own decisions. At Christmas, when they were seven and ten, I took them to Mass. I hadn't been in decades and I'm standing in church, happy to return, since I'd lived that life earlier . . . except now, there's no Latin. It's all a bunch of English gibberish. And they do Confession right there, in the pews. No tradition, the priest faces the congregation, and we're expected to turn to strangers and shake their hands. I'm not shaking hands with people I don't know! I just looked at my kids, picked them up, and we were out of there.

RF: Apparently, the tutorial didn't work.

RC: I told them, "Listen, guys, that's how the Catholic faith is in the 21st Century. If you're interested in it or any other religion, keep searching and find your own way."

RF: Good dad advice.

PC: Life isn't a dress rehearsal. Seek and ye shall find. Do it right and don't have regrets. Above all, learn from you mistakes!

Regret ruined my parents. My mother wanted to see a psychiatrist to try to figure out her problems, and she was dying! And my dad attempted to make up to us, but it came across as awkward and unnecessary.

RF: Were you ever on the receiving end of abuse?

PC: It was inevitable in our house. Some people could deal with Dad, but he screwed us up, mentally, emotionally, philosophically. Physical punishment was part of our daily routine. I'm a father, and when I looked at my own two little guys growing up, I'd think, "How can anyone ever hurt someone so innocent?" We were three and four and getting hit. Today, it would be considered child abuse, but back then, parents smacked their children.

RF: I hesitate to ask, but any memory that's particularly strong?

PC: There's one I remember when a friend asked me to go to a party with him in Bloomington. We found my dad, and he asked, "Where are you going?" I pointed to the burger joint across the street. "To get a hamburger." He said, "Okay, but be back early, because you have to perform tomorrow." Well, we went to the party, and I got in late, around 3 or 4 in the morning. Didn't drink anything, totally sober. I saw that my parents' bedroom door was open and so was mine. And I smelled cigarette smoke.

RF: Uh-oh. I've a feeling I know where this is going . . .

PC: Dad was drunk and asleep in my bed. I woke him up, trying to make him think he'd made a mistake by being in the wrong room. He looked at me and said, "Do you have anything to say, you piece of sh*t?" Then he beat the living crap out of me, hauling me from wall to wall. My feet never touched the floor. Split my lip and blackened my eyes. Just wailed on me. The next morning, he saw my face and muttered, "You're not playing tonight." But I did anyway. Usually, the bruises he gave us were hidden by make-up and stage costumes.

RF: Geez, I'm at a loss for words. It's a miracle you guys survived.

PC: We managed . . . but you can't undergo that level of physical and emotional abuse without some residual effect.

RF: Your dad was gone for six months of the year [with the Navy]. It must've felt good, that freedom.

PC. Half a year of peach and the rest of pure terror. Our mother would tell him what rotten kids we'd been, and he'd line us up for corporal punishment. Dude, this was our life! When we'd lived in Newport, which is a real island, I'd escape to the ocean, paddling a Styrofoam boat out and circling the whole thing. Just being away, safe and secure and happy.

RF: Have you come to terms with your childhood?

PC: I've forgiven our parents, if that's what you mean - but I'm unable to forget. They were young and lacked the nurturing tools to raise even two kids, let alone seven. The ones who didn't forgive had their own set of problems. I've chosen to feed the positive. What's done is done . . . but I'll tell ya, when I die and get to those pearly gates and see Mom and Dad inside, I'll turn around and go in the opposite direction [laughs]!

RF: Barry had it rough, huh?

PC: Barry was a talented man, charming as hell, but he couldn't overcome his personal demons. He wanted to do serious music and hated the bubblegum label. There's no denying his abilities, but again, he'd been abused, and that has long-lasting effects. Barry lived as a vagabond, moving from town to town and couch to couch. Ironically, he made the decision to get clean, right before being caught in Hurricane Katrina. We miss him. And our other two brothers, Billy and Dickie. They're together on the other side, man. No worries there.

RF: When the group disbanded, did you go back to living a normal life? Could you even grasp the concept of "normal"?

PC: Our contracts were done, and we had to figure out what to do. When bands break up, some members go solo. Only Billy did that, not the rest of us. I was serving in the Navy. Bob sold all his guitars and finished college and gave up music. He worked at a medical place, cleaning up, and they hired him on as an Emergency Ward technician. After my discharge, I worked as a sound guy and road manager for John Denver, Neil Diamond, and Helen Reddy. Barry, John, and Susan went back to junior high and high school. A rocky transition from the state to obscurity.

RF: Yet, none of that destroyed you.

PC: I'm a strong-willed guy, you know? My past would not beat me. It's today we're given, and today is what you make it. Don't let the past hold you down.

RF: Since this is a RetroFan interview, Paulie, let’s look at a Baby Boomer touchstone. Where were you when JFK was assassinated?

PC: Friday afternoon, November 22, 1963, a day I won't easily forget. We were going to have an intramural football game. The gym teacher huddled us together and said, "Sorry, guys. Go home, there's no game this afternoon. Just go home." So, I went home, trudged into our house and boy, was I pissed. No football! Everybody's round this little back-and-white TV, and my brothers look at me and say, "The President's dead." I reacted with, "So what? They cancelled my football game!" We were living history and didn't even realize it.

RF: Do you long for your Baby Boomer youth, when history was made?

PC: No, not really. It's true, I missed out on things, but I still had a great time. We didn't live like normal kids, but how many teenagers earn gold records [laughs]? All of us have remained close over the years, and when I see my brothers and sister, it's good. Sue, Bob, and I just came off our fifth Happy Together tour, and we'll be doing another in 2020. It's the most fun I've ever had with them.

RF: I've watched Family Band a dozen times. Fascinating stuff. And emotional, too.

PC: It ran on Showtime for two years straight. Outstanding exposure. The Cowsills were hot again, and we began performing regularly.

RF: Your story gave me inside into how Baby Boomer families worked. Even with the negatives, good memories abounded.

PC: We had a great childhood, if you don't count the abuse. Bob and I are tight - he's my best friend. We even slept in the same room, as kids! He's throw me out and then help me move my stuff back inside [laughs]! We really love each other.

RF: Any long-term school pals?

PC: Nope! I don't have one friend from school because we moved around so much. We went from Catholic to public school, professional school in New York, and finally, Hollywood professional school. As a junior, I spent 30 days in class and brought home "incompletes" on my report card. You could not take that home to our dad - he'd beat us. No matter if the others had A's, if somebody failed, we all got it.

RF: Did your relationship with Mom improve?

PC: At times, my mother could be delightful, but other times, watch out. Mr. Hyde's on the loose! I once went with her to the doctor's and he started lecturing about smoking and its effects. No sooner were we in the car, she lights up. I said, "Mom, remember the doctor's warning." She gave me a dirty look and said, "Mind your own f'n business."

RF: Yeep!

PC: No changing the dynamic. One day, she complained to me. "Why doesn't anybody ever call us? We never hear from you kids." "Well," I answered, "You need to apologize, Mom." She was flabbergasted. "Apologize! For what?" Neither one of them recognized the awful job they'd done as parents. Both were blind to it.

RF: I can hear the sadness in your voice.

PC: I'm sad because they didn't realize what find kids we were. None of us answered back, had run-ins with the law, or shirked responsibility. We knew and respected the protocol.

RF: On a lighter note, you're exploring new avenues of creative expression with film and television work. Kudos!

PC: Management, a movie starring Jennifer Aniston, was being made in Oregon, and I wondered if they needed any painting work done. I've run residential and commercial painting businesses over the years. They asked me if I could paint a hotel to look like it's in Flagstaff, Arizona. No sweat! That's was my first taste of it, and I had a great time.

RF: What's this about you and the Twilight movie franchise? None too shabby!

PC: A buddy turned me on to that. "Paulie, there's a big movie coming here to Oregon, and a lot of scenes will be filmed outside." That turned out to be Twilight. I applied for the job of greensman and worked with trees, bushes, flowers, and greenery. I'd done some greensman stuff on The Brady Bunch Movie and said, "Let's do it." Man, what a grueling job! The hardest thing I've ever done, but so rewarding. Amazing experience. It led to my working on NBC's Grimm for quite some time.

RF: Grimm's cancellation left a gaping hole in my weekly viewing line-up.

PC: Mine, too. The ratings were never high, but they produced quality stuff.

RF: Hummmm . . . What started out as a casual interview has outgrown its creators! Schedules have been daunting, but I'm grateful you guys are going the distance to help out a struggling, no-so-young journalist. Means a lot, dude.

PC: My pleasure. You're easy to talk to, and this has almost been like a catching-up between old friends. Let me know if you need anything else, okay? In the meantime, live life to its fullest!

Susan Cowsill - And the Days Ran on Forever . . .

Deadlines, deadlines, and more dreaded deadlines, the bane of a writer's existence! When I approached RetroFan with my proposal for a Cowsills retrospective, I'd no idea what convoluted paths lay ahead and how long it would take to safely transverse them. Potholes, speedbump, detours, and all manner of roadblocks abounded. Treacherous terrain notwithstanding. I stayed the appointed course, mining history and presenting Bob, Paul and Sue Cowsill as flesh and blood people. In other words, a balances overview of their lives and careers, individually and collectively.

Step one, I interviewed older bro, Bob. Several times, actually (the most enjoyable Q&A I've ever conducted bar none). Middle brother, Paul, came next, a laugh-filled talk that heightened my mood. Sue's section followed, rising up like a monolithic mountain range before me. We'd connect then disconnect, make new plans, and shrug when Responsibility sparked still another setback. Would she and I ever snag a seemingly elusive heart-to-heart?

Slick roads ahead!

As the deadline loomed larger, threatening to block out the horizon, we seized our opportunity. Slue rang me up from the Cowsills' tour bus. Within an instant, storm clouds parted, sunshine cascaded through, and the universe reeled I'd met my objective.

Susan Cowsill-Broussard has matured from a tambourine-shaking, Watusi-gyrating preteen to accomplished musician, chanteuse, and songwriter. Her transformation reflects the Cowsills' strong familial bond . . . but also a spirit tested by adversity and pain. Susan, you have the floor . . . and our hearts.

RetroFan: Sorry we had to catch you on the fly, Sue. You cats are mega-busy!

Susan Cowsill: Seems like I never have enough time to think and relax, but we'll make this work. My brothers are usually the ones who love to talk, so I'm sure they've already given you a book or two. Don't know what I could add to all their craziness, but let's give it a shot.

RF:: You've been performing for decades. Has music always been your avocation?

SC: Not at first! I didn't have a huge urge to be part of the family band, but Dad wanted it, and there was no questioning his decisions. "Give the kid a tambourine [laughs], and people will think she's the cutest thing."

RF: Right now, you're finishing up your fifth Happy Together tour. A sell-out across the country!

SC: Honestly, this tour has been the most fun we've had in 50 years of performing. A lot of the world didn't know we were still alive! Happy Together has allowed us to play alongside such classic acts as the Turtles, Gary Puckett, and Chuck Negron (of Three Dog Night), and meet older fans and newer faces. We're surfing the Boomer wave, baby! It's where we belong.

RF: The old school finale, with everyone on stage in a kind of wild free-for-all, really defines what "happy together" means.

SC: The joy is legit, Rod. We obviously love performing, and when we get into our hits, audiences literally jump to their feet, sing and clap along and dance. I can't tell you how that makes me feel. And the finale is an electrifying moment. All those Baby Boomer groups rockin' out!

RF: Voices of my generation.

SC: The energy is there, crackling around us.

RF: As a tyke, you had no say-so when it came to being a part of the family band?

SC: Are you kidding [laughs]? No! Bud said, "You and Mom are in, and that's it, end of discussion." I was not involved in the workings of the group. I just did what they told me. "Keep your piehole shut, stand there and look adorable." If things had been different, I would've become a vet or a geologist finding ancient cities and artifacts, or even a first-grade teacher. In my early teen years, after the group broke up, I was just trying to find a place to live, a place to grow in. I lived with Paul for a while, and that stability helped me out.

RF: Today, in 2020, you're a respected artist with a varied palette. What drives you, Sue?

SC: Music saved me and continues to save me. I do it for expression, comfort, and a life-line. We won't get rich from this, but who cares? It's good money, sure . . . but I'm not eyeing potential millions. To be steadily working and making fans smile, that's the best reward. They love us, and we love them.

RF: Anybody influence you, like your bros were influenced by the Beatles?

SC: So many women. Carly Simon, Carole King, Linda Rondstadt, and Karla Bonoff are but a few who've paved the way for me. I don't know if we'll ever see the likes of them again. Karla is my main writing muse. I've grown to appreciate singer/songwriters, and they flourished in the early Seventies. It was their era. Look at Carole's Tapestry. My word! Just resonates on and on. That's real staying power.

RF: You're right. Tapestry was released in 1971, almost 50 years ago!

SC: Carole King can do anything. What a musician! Time and age will never wear her down.

RF: Back in the day, I was exposed to the Cowsill sound via my younger sister. It was summer of 1968, and "Indian Lake" dominated the airways. She bought a copy, and we lip-synched to your vocals in our living room mirror.

SC: I love hearing these stories! "Indian Lake" was one of our biggest hits, and when we sing it in concert, people fill the aisles. We do the theme from Love, American Style, too. You'd be surprised at how many fans know that song.

RF: My sister was so jealous of you. Funny now to think of it.

SC: That's interesting. Why would she be jealous?

RF: Because you're both the same age, you sang hit records, danced on TV, and had Barry as a brother. All she got was junior high, lip-synching with paper towel tubes, and me.

SC: [laughs] Well, you're perfectly charming, with the patience of a saint. She should county her blessings!

RF: Ha! From your lips to God's ears! When the Cowsill broke out and became a pop culture force to be reckoned with, were you allowed any input on the music chosen?

SC: Absolutely not [laughs]! I was just a clueless little kid. Don't get me wrong, Rod, I enjoyed every minute of it. The excitement generated at concerts and live performances swept up higher and higher. It's great to feel all that love, rolling toward you in a wave.

RF: Even with your dad calling the shots?

SC: On stage we were out of his reach, so I liked that. A safe haven. Behind the scenes, we marched to his tune. Have you see our documentary, Family Band?

RF: I did. I've covered all the bases: listened to your music across the board, watched performances on YouTube, and bought Family Band, and immersed myself in what it was like to be a Cowsill.

SC: Stop, stop, you're exhausting me! You'd done your homework, though [laughs]. Very commendable.

RF: You guys are born performers; the fever's in your blood.

SC: Till the day we die, yes, sir, which is hopefully later and not sooner. Playing music with my family is like coming home again. We're always looking for ways to improve. Music, as an art form, is a living thing. It's organic, changing and growing. Someday, we might just get there before the final curtain comes down.

RF: So, where are you right now?

SC: Riding on our tour bus. Between arriving at the venue, rehearsing, prepping and performing. It's a whirlwind affair. We also meet and greet fans, do interviews like this one and hopefully eat and sleep.

RF: My plan is to attend one of your concerts. I'll hawk RetroFan's Cowsill extravaganza, and pretend I'm somebody with cred! Will you autograph one for me?

SC Of course! When will this be on the stands?

RF: Spring of 2020. Seems like a long time from now, but the wait will be worth it, I promise.

SC: I'll hole you to that!

RF. I know you need to rest, so I'll end our convo by saying this: interviewing the performing Cowsills is a cherry on my writing career sundae. You're not only a tight family band, but family. Here's to health and much continued success, Sue. And good luck on your new album! I'll be in touch.

SC: You'd better. We can autograph copies of RetroFan together!

Meet the Cowsills, in a family pic that made the Sixties teen-zine circuit. (BACK ROW) Richard (Dickie), John, Bob, Paul, (FRONT ROW) Bill (Billy, Susan, Bud (Dad), Barbara (Mom), Barry.

Publicity photo from 1967 of the Cowsills receiving a gold record for their first hit single, "The Rain, The Park, And Other Things." Making the presentation is MGM Records President Mort Nasatir

The Pied Piper of Woodstock Musician turned record producer Artie Kornfeld produced some of the Cowsills' earlier records, including "The Rain, the Park and Other Things," which he also co-wrote. He is best known as the man behind 1969's epic Woodstock concerts, and shares his story in his book, The Pied Piper of Woodstock, available at wwww.artiekornfeld-woodstock.com

Didja know that the Cowsills had their own comic book? Harvy Pop Comics #1 (Nov. 1968). Ernie Colon is the suspected cover artist.

LITTLE DRUMMER BOY Original Cowsills drummer, John Cowsill, in addition to touring with the Beach Boys, can currently be found alongside his wife, Vicki Peterson (of the Bangles fam), and musician/Lost in Space alumnus Bill Mumy in the group Action Skulls. Learm more about the band at www.billmumy.com/ActionSkulls.html

The Cowsills: Album Discography The Cowsills Plus the Lincoln Park Zoo (1967) The Cowsills (1967) We Can Fly (1968) Captain Sad and His Ship of Fools (1968) The Best of the Cowsills (1969) The Cowsills in Concert (1969) II x II (1969) The Cowsills: All Time Hits (1970) On My Side (1971) Global (1998) The Best of the Cowsills: 20th Century Masters - The Millennium Collection (2001) Painting the Day (compilation) (2006) Cocaine Drain (originally recorded in 1978 but unreleased; issued digitally in 2008) The Dockside Silhouettes: An A Capella Experience (2018) Rhythm of the World (2020)