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Freckles, laughter, big brown eyes, a "Munster-like mansion" in Newport, Rhode Island, a mini-mommy and a whole lot of talent. This is a Cowsill.
It took America 500 years to create the Cowsills. Five hundred years of mixing nationalities, races, philosophies, beliefs and democracy within its' borders. Five hundred years of making families from all the people of all the countries of the world. The Cowsills happened. They are an entirely new dimension in entertainment today.
Ironically, while the Cowsills were not fabricated by the music industry, the industry itself and the whole country for that matter, play a major role in their coming to be. The music industry was ready and in fact, waiting for the Cowsills. The same applied to the Beatles, five years ago. This "thing" we are speaking of can be compared to a chemical reaction which requires certain ingredients- those ingredients being the Cowsills themselves. They are a prepared music and entertainment industry in itself.
The Cowsill corporation reads as follows: A Bill, Bob, Barry and John Cowsill-comprising the nucleus of the group. Their mini-mommy, Barbara Cowsill, who lends her sweet, clear voice to the boys' harmony whenever it is needed and wherever they might go. The road managers, Dick and Paul Cowsill, who chose not to enter the performing end of the complex, keep equipment straight and in order throughout their journeys. There is also a Cowsill baby, sweet and cute as can be - Susan Cowsill (who is constantly teased by her ALL BROTHER family, who, although they'll never admit it publicly, adore her) and Mr. Cowsill, who, like any father would be, is stuck with the job of coordinating the conglomeration.
Bud Cowsill believes that love is a key word in raising a family, especially his. "When the kids to the right thing, they know it. And when they do the wrong things, they know it." However, it is difficult for any father to actually define right and wrong. The only constant is love. "If I slip in some area, love will cover it. It's crazy, but I think you read me." Mr. Cowsill has said on many occasions, "Whenever any member of the family has a problem, we do like all families - sweat, all the while helping it work itself out."
Mr. Cowsill, Mrs. Cowsill and all concerned live in a 22-room mansion on top of one of the few Newport, Rhode Island hills. As you drive up the winding drive, the first glimpse of the house takes your breath away. It seems as if you are dreaming. Ivy is growing all over the walls of the house, windows are broken, screens are hanging. It all has an air of the "unreal."
The place could only exist in America. The grass has grown to a height of 3 feet. Curly, the family dog and very much a member of the family, hunts rabbits and other wild things in this amazing forest. The house is three stories high with a "Captains Walk," which, as the story goes: when the captain had the house built way back when, he put the walk on the roof so his wife could watch for his ship to come into the harbor. Today, Mrs. Cowsill uses the walk to escape from her eight riotous Indians. "This is my favorite spot in the world. I come up here to think and relax - pure heaven. "
The interior of the house fits the outside. The family or living room contains one large sofa, two chairs and a TV set. Cooking of meals is done on a 1917 gas range stove, which requires a prayer to light it. The would-be library contains a ping-pong table and the should-be dining room contains a pool table.
There are seven bathrooms and one shower. "Water pressure isn't so great," explains Bob. "The best time to take a shower is around 3 o'clock in the morning."
For the past three years, all the money went into "tools of the trade" - instruments, sound systems, amplifiers. "So, there isn't any furniture --- we're happy." In little John's room, there is a cage made of wire which used to house a miniature monkey. "I saved my allowance for six weeks to get Clyde," he said with great tears in his big brown eyes. "I waited for him to come and then, the next day after I got him, I woke up in the morning and there he was - lying in the bottom of the cage - frozen." Clyde's grave is on the Cowsill property and is marked with a little white headstone.
This incident took place during the time, very recently, when the family came very close to losing everything. They had no money, the phones had been disconnected, there wasn't any oil for the furnace, so it was bitter cold all winter. "Bill and Bob chopped up their dressers to make fire wood and everybody huddled together around the fireplace," recalls Mrs. Cowsill. Finally, the end seemed emminent. Their mortgage was almost foreclosed and they and the house they loved so dearly were about to be separated forever. A catastrophe for both. Desperately in need of financial help, the family came to New York.
Luck, or maybe fate, introduced them to Artie Kornfeld. Artie is a producer and writer. He is one of the necessary elements of the chemical reaction spoken about earlier. Artie immediately sized up the situation. He knew what to do with the Cowsills - introduce them to Lenny Stogel, probably the only talent manager in America who was ready for them. Lenny Stogel, another creation of America, understood what had to be done and knew just how to do it. The rapport between Leonard Stogel Associates and the Cowsills led to MGM Records, and from there, in the space of just a few weeks, the Cowsills have come to be considered one of the hottest properties in the entire industry.
BILL COWSILL
Bill, born January 9, 1948, coordinates. He is the oldest member of his family and is accustomed to having his brothers look to him for the say. He takes his work very, very seriously. In fact, everything he does, he does with a sincerity and enthusiasm that is quite unique. It is very difficult to pull anything on him including practical jokes because he can verbally turn you around in two minutes. He has a keen wit which needs only the habitude of use to reach expression. Ironically, he just gets passing grades in his music courses at Rhode Island College. His forte is English. He writes creatively, such things as poetry, verse, etc. Of course, he also writes his own lyrics. There is quite a bit to Bill which will probably never be uncovered. He is a mysterious person. Above all, he has an extraordinary ability to make people enjoy each other. His life is disciplined. It must be.
BOB COWSILL
Bob, born August 26, 1949, is perhaps the only person in the world who could walk into the coldest room of people and warm every nook and corner. He is natural - not in the corny sense of the word, but in an unbelievable sense. He disappears occasionally. This, despite his reputation of being always on hand when all the crazy things happen in the Cowsill household. Hours may elapse before anyone sees or hears Bob. He is probably reading. Schoolwise, Bob is all A's and B's. Only Bob could pick out an atrocious bright red shirt for someone in a clothing store and convince them that they look like the greatest thing going in it. A truly "fun-to-be-with" type guy!
BARRY COWSILL
Born September 14, 1954, Barry is naturally and truly at home when he is with people, in front of a camera, or just plain talking. If anyone was ever born a natural entertainer, it was Barry! "Hi! How are you?, " he' 11 greet with the best of enthusiasm. "When he laughs," someone said, "his freckles laugh too!" Barry was the original drummer for the Cowsills, until his now-drummer brother, John took over when he became old enough to handle the job. Now Barry plays bass guitar and sings. Favorite color is red. Barry, along with John attends St. Augustine's School in Newport, Rhode Island. He is an honor student. He has the charming ability of being able to tease his brothers and get away with it —— all he needs is one of those smiles!
JOHN COWSILL
Little drummer boy John was born on March 2, 1956. "I love all the colors in the world," he says. Ringo Starr now must surely realize who his nearest competitor is! John could win the Battle of the Drummers Contest with his eyes closed. Freckles are his trademark. He's loaded with them. They have become a part of him and you think that suddenly gone, John would cease to be John and suddenly become someone else entirely. Loves basketball. "I'm happy and I just want to be me." The others sometimes laugh, but John means it. If he could have anything in the world, it would be a motorcycle. He would also love to know how to fly by himself —— and just maybe, some day John will!
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