A TRIP TO RICHARD'S HOUSE...
by Al Quaglieri

One lesson you learn quickly in the reissue business is that few producers, artists or studios have any idea of the true extent of their archives. If they had a hit somewhere in their past, chances are they have a handful of popular reels that they've licensed year after year. Few have the time or interest to rummage through their storage boxes, file cabinets, or attic chests to catalog 30-odd years of tapes and memorabilia. But it's the very existence and discovery of this minutiae that inflames the easily-inflamed imagination of Bob Irwin, founder and president of Sundazed Music.

Before I proceed, kindly allow me the liberty of switching to first person. This "he did this, then he did that" narrative tired quickly.

My name's Al Quaglieri and I work at Sundazed doing...you know, I'm not quite sure what. One of those not-quite-sure- what's is euphemistically called "research." This involves tracking down people who used to play in bands, run recording studios, and/or own record labels, gently prodding (O.K., pestering) interesting folks to send us their tapes and scrapbooks and whatnot, all that oddball stuff that Sundazed cherishes so. I usually accompany Bob on subsequent field trips to liberate said items, assuming the role of Bad Cop to Bob's Good Cop, working our marks over with a deftness that must be seen to be believed (or so we delude ourselves).

Now that I've discreetly exposed myself to you (mommy, what's that man doing?), back to our story.

A couple of years ago, Bob cut a deal with former surf music producer/former Challenger-leader/drummer Richard Delvy to re-release a tidy pile of Challengers' titles. Business, a meeting with Buck Owens, a swoop through the Warner Brothers vaults - would bring Bob, me, and a Sundazed staffer to Los Angeles several weeks before Christmas. Upon hearing this, Delvy extended an invite: would we care to stop and visit and maybe go through his tape collection?

Are you kidding? Would Bill Clinton care to edit the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue? Would Bob Dole like to attend a Glenn Miller concert? Would Ross Perot like to show us some charts and graphs while yammering like a chihuahua? Would...ahh, you get the picture.

Our shiny pig of a rent-a-car huffed and puffed its way up the twists and turns of Laurel Canyon Blvd. one sunny Tuesday morning. Several wrong turns and a half-hour later (thanks to my expert navigational skills), we stumbled upon the little turnoff just before Mulholland, and pulled up in front of Delvy's place. Carved into a steep hillside, Delvy's roomy digs were a paragon of L.A. understatement (i.e. no alabaster lions, Doric columns, or guitar-shaped swimming pool).

Delvy answered the doorbell and welcomed our motley crew to his comfy abode. Did we care for something to eat or drink? Not at the moment, thanks. Excuse the mess, but he'd begun packing for a move. Mess? You call this a mess? We suppressed our collective urge to regale him with horror stories about our respective offices and set out on the thumbnail tour.

Here's the dining area. Here's the kitchen. And here, where once sat a living room, sat a full-blown, state-of-the-art commercial music studio (equipped with the latest in MIDI, video and audio tools). Over several decades, Delvy's industrial music business - Atmospheres - had achieved an enviable track record in the advertising world. A spiffy new 48-input mixing console, tape machines of many formats (analog and digital), outboard processing boxes of all shapes and purposes, keyboards and MIDI gear stacked and racked in every available space. Beyond the speakers, a wall of glass overlooked a flowered patio. Excuse us, Mr. Delvy, but could we hang out here for, oh, a couple of years? We promise we won't get in the way. You'll hardly notice us.

Snapping us out of our greedy dreams of comfort and toys, Delvy bade us follow him upstairs, to a room filled with tapes, albums, and cartons of documents. Oh puh-leez, Richard, can we stay here just for the next decade? Delvy again asked if we desired food or beverage. No? "Then I'll be in my office down the hall doing some work. Just set aside anything you can use, and call me if you have any questions."

He ambled away as we thanked him. We turned and looked at the treasure piled waist-

high before us. Giggling like idiots, we began tearing through the booty like lottery-winning nine- year-olds set loose on a shopping spree through Toys 'R Us. Over here, boxes and boxes of original 3 & 4-track Challengers masters, many unreleased. Next to them, multitrack masters of absolutely loads of great 60's groups Delvy had a hand in producing.
Piled high atop a desk were manila envelopes full of printed materials and photographs: Challengers newsletters, fan club membership cards, glossy photos of their entire history, original cartoon art from Rick Griffin and much more. In a box beside the couch, more manila envelopes, these filled with 7", 10" and 12" acetates, demos and test pressings. Next to them, multiple copies of every Challenger LP and 45 ever released anywhere in the world. Egad!

For the next two hours, the only sounds emanating from that room were shuffling boxes, rustling papers and gasps. We had hit the motherlode. We could die happily there and then.

Sooty with old tape box dust and giddy as preschoolers who just consumed an entire box of Cap'n Crunch, we Sundazed folks finished up the sorting and reported to Delvy. "Good," Delvy says. "Can I get you something to eat or drink? No? Then listen, I have some other stuff downstairs if you're interested." Interested???!! Are you having fun at us, sir???

Delvy leads us back downstairs and points to half a dozen enormous trash bags. "Take a look through them if you have time." I open one. It's bulging with 5" and 7" reels. "Oh, and if you're feeling really adventurous, you might want to rummage through the coat closet around the corner. But I'm warning you, it's so jam packed with junk the I haven't dared venture there in years."

In retrospect, I see that Delvy shrewdly (and correctly) assumed he could get us to clean out his closet, a job he knew needed be done even though he was loathe to tackle it. Smart fellow, that Richard Delvy.

We tore through the trash bag tapes, recovering yet another pile of priceless recorded loot.

As you'd probably guessed by now, the closet was indeed impassable. It was choked with tapes, albums, and boxes of long- ignored musical paraphernalia. Here were even more forgotten masters! Up on the shelves, crates full of odd wires and authentic Challengers percussion instruments. A vintage McIntosh amp and tuner (both of 'em came home with us). And the piece de resistance, a cache of original 60's vinyl absolutely beyond belief: colored wax Challengers' albums, original Brit Shadows LP''s, rainbow-colored Adrian & the Sunsets albums, unbelievable ' Wipe Out' Surfaris' singles on DFS and Princess, etc., etc., etc.. With a move looming large at the end of the month, Delvy was actually glad to unload much of this material on a grateful Sundazed delegation.

We washed up and headed for the kitchen. "Eats or drinks, anyone?" We thought he'd never ask.

We called out to one of L.A.'s finest delis for a late lunch. Delvy demonstrated some of his newest merchandise to us: a spinning top that plays Wipe Out...a 'Bumble-Ball' that plays, yup, Wipe Out. A mere 90 minutes later, our food arrived. We stuffed our faces with sandwiches and soggy fries, washing them down with beverages purloined from Delvy's refrigerator. Frankly, we'd probably made ourselves a little too much at home; but Delvy, bless his friendly and generous heart, didn't seem to mind.

What a day! What a haul! What a bunch of maroons! Lest you think we're telling you all this merely to gloat (although, let's be honest, that is a large part of what this is about), this expedition will mean a forthcoming bevy of wonderful releases for Sundazed...and you, our friends.

For sure, the expedition to Delvy's house of treasures was worth the cheesy airline meals, the terrors of L.A. driving, even the everpresent danger of falling into the Pacific in a cataclysmic seismic event on the San Andreas Fault.

So here's our deal: does your residence or office have a really frightening closet that might contain old master tapes? If so, call the Sundazed Cleaning Crew to remove all that unsightly, dusty junk. Heck, depending on the extent of your holdings, we might even vacuum and clean the windows. But remember, it had better be damned great stuff for us to break out the French maids' costumes.
 
- Al Quaglieri