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The Cowsills are what the publicists call "America's all-family phenomenon."
There are six healthy, mop-haired boys with toothpaste grins, a perky little lady of eight (the baby of the family) and mum and dad Cowsills.
They are an American top-seller with a song called "The Rain, The Park, and Other Things." Soon MGM Records were calling the family "the hottest properties in the entire music industry."
Back home the Cowsills are big business. A whole consumer industry - bubblegum comics, dolls, guitars - has sprung up around them.
To show the domestic side of Cowsills Inc., the whole family made a mini-invasion of London.
"We stopped off in Britain to show that we were the real people," ruminated Cowsill Snr., seated in the centre of a noisy family parley.
The remark seemed hardly necessary.
The Cowsills are not Hillbillies plucked from the wooded hills of Tennessee but very much a jet age family from Rhode Island, New England.
The older boys want to meet the Beatles. The younger ones are eager to stock their wardrobes with Carnaby Street fashions.
The price of transporting a family group the size of the Cowsills is high.
It cost the family 1,000 Pounds alone in overweight baggage.
They brought 44 pieces of luggage and took over five rooms on the third floor of a smart West End hotel.
It was very much open house with the Cowsills. Dad relaxed in a corner clinking ice in Scotch and water. Mum was stretched out taking it easy on a bed. The family poured in and out of the room.
"I can feel this city Dad. I can actually feel it," said 18-year-old Bob Cowsills with an earnest expression on his face.
"You know what it is, Bob," mused Cowsills Snr. "It's history. You'll feel it everywhere in Europe. It's gonna crawl all over you. It's gonna eat you up, son."
Although you may have the impression that Dad is an underling in the American family way of life, Pop Cowsills runs the show, on and off the road.
The children make the music. Two of the older boys act as road managers. Mum adds her voice, and advice, when needed.
Cowsills Snr. was in the U.S. Navy before turning family impresario four years ago.
The Cowsills were on hard times when they turned to show business to stop the foreclosure on their house.
Mrs. Cowsills, an attractive 39, recalled: "The two eldest boys Bill and Bob chopped up their dressers to make firewood and everybody huddled together around the fireplace."
Reminisced Cowsills Snr.: "I knew there was much talent in the family."
"But I was a bit cautious at first about pushing the family image. I didn't think the kids would like the idea of a mum and dad being in the group.
"Most kids want to get away from their parents. But it's different now. The kids, the fans, want to know about the family. Mother gets as much fan mail as the boys.
"They think that she must be the greatest mum in the world if her sons allow her to play in the group."
Mrs. Cowsills nodded. "Every other letter I get is a problem letter.
"I had one from a 13-year-old boy in Tennessee, telling me that he had overheard his mum and dad talking about getting rid of him.
"The boy had seen us on television and said we looked like such a happy family that he wanted to join us. He said he could play an instrument.
"He actually went as far as to tell us when and where we could pick him up. Letters like that break you up."
On another occasion a young girl with divorced parents wrote to the Cowsills that said she spent half her time with her mother and was very unhappy.
Said Mrs. Cowsills: "On these occasions I may get one of the boys to ring the letter writer and say 'hi'."
It is little wonder that the young Cowsills are the envy of children from unhappy homes.
They live in a quaint, three storey mansion on one of Rhode Island's few hills. The approach to the ivy-covered, 22-roomed house is along a winding drive.
The house has a "Captain's Walk," built by the original owner, a sea-captain, for his wife to watch for his ship in harbor.
It's all folksy and homely there. Nevertheless, the Cowsills like travelling. Said Cowsills Snr. "We all have our say. We are not dealing with children. There are nine individuals.
He gesticulated, pointing to the family spread. "We have to bend a little, shape a little to each other's wishes.
"Not so that we snap," joked one of the younger fraternity. The Cowsills laughed.
Murmured Bill Cowsills, the oldest and wittiest, "But if anybody breaks the harmony of the family all hell breaks loose. All hell . . . ."
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