Cosmic Connections
The Martian ( Hop ) Chronicles - The Story of the Ran-Dells
Steve Rappaport

Ran-Dells We Write the Song

It was the summer of '62 and I was 19. It was the time of dances like The Twist. That year John Glenn had been the first American to orbit the earth, and those of us who had grown up reading books like The Rocket's Shadow , wanting to go to the moon, to Mars, having heard President Kennedy commit the United States to landing a man on the moon before the decade was out, were more than excited; we were stoked.

It was also the time when I was deeply into rock and roll. I had already subscribed to The Cash Box a competitor of Billboard , for six years, and still had every issue.

Unlike today, novelty records were quite common. That spring Ahab the Arab had been #1 (at that time we didn't know how un-PC that kind of song title was, with it's A-rab pronunciation).

I was in my cousin John's living room with several of my 11 other first cousins, 8 of whom were very musical. We lived in Wildwood, New Jersey and frequently took our guitars and bongos to the beach and sang current songs. It was not uncommon for a hundred people to gather around and sing with us. In many ways it really was the idyllic life that we tend to romanticize as the late 50s (if you were there, you know in retrospect that the 50s didn't really end until November of '63 , and February of '64.

So my cousins John and Robert and I were sitting in John's living room strumming guitars, talking about flying to Mars, laughing, and I came up with the idea of Martians throwing a dance for the Earth spacemen who visit. We thought this was hilarious, and decided to write a song about it. In a flash of inspiration John created a unique vocal sound that Martians would probably make Again we thought this hilarious, partially due to the nasal quality of John's voice, and again because of the foolishness of the whole thing. Imagine: we finally get to Mars, and there really are Martians and what they want to do is throw a dance for us!

I hear a lot of stories about how rock and roll songs were written in 10 minutes, and in that aspect this story is no different. I particularly enjoyed the first two lines of the song:

We have just discovered an important note from space.The Martians plan to throw a dance for all the human race.

This is funny! A discovery of any note from space would likely be the most important in human history. To say that we've discovered an important note implies that we could have discovered an unimportant note. It's just ridiculous. And then the idea that they want to throw a dance for us ... well ... seriously silly. Nevertheless, in our naivete we thought the song had commercial possibilities. It fit right into one of my primary interests, the new field of electronic music. This was 10 years before Bob Moog invented the voltage-controlled synthesizer, and anyone who wanted to make unusual sounds used primitive sine wave generators and cut and spliced recording tape a great deal. I was about to be a junior at Brandeis University one of a few colleges at that time that had the equipment I needed for my experiments. I came up with the idea of creating a different sound one that would get the attention of the program directors and d.j.'s who would decide whether to give airplay to the record, a sound that would instantly capture their attention. It was for the PDs and DJs, not the public, that I decided to put that sound at the beginning of the record. I hoped it would force them to listen through to the end. A couple of weeks later we went to Atlantic City and cut a Demo; John played drums and sang the "ba ba um ma ma's". Cousin Robert played guitar and sang lead. I played upright piano, sang bass and background. I had $25, enough for 1 hour, the best 25 bucks I ever spent. When we left the studio and played - and played and played - the acetate, I was convinced we had something; I just didn't know what. It was September and time to return to Brandeis. I was very close to my dorm friends there, and when they listened to the record there was a lot of good-natured ribbing; they began calling me their "Favorite Martian". Nobody thought it was a hit!


The Man with the Golden Ears

When I returned to Brandeis I spent as little time in class as possible, and as much time as I could in the rudimentary electronic music studio. I wanted the first sound on the record to be killer. Scores of hours later, it was just that - a sound that I thought no one had ever heard before and, since I haven't heard any sound like it in almost 40 years, I may have been right.

In October, 1962, we three cousins met in New York City at Bell Sound Studios on West 54th Street, where The Crickets, The Coasters, Ronnie Hawkins, and scores of other rockers had made their records. I had never produced a record, but it seemed to me that it was just a matter of experimenting until you found something that sounded like what you wanted, and there you were.

Here's the funny part; I wasn't far off the mark. Robert and I sang the first 2 lines in unison, and then we each did our instrumental and vocal parts on a state-of-the-art 4-track tape deck. We recorded 3 instrumental tracks and "bounced" them to the 4th track, freeing up 2 tracks for vocals and the final track for both the electronic sounds and bass. We didn't have a bass player, but the studio had an organ. I got down on my hands and knees and played the bass organ pedals with my hands.

You'll recall that I inserted the beginning sound to grab the attention of radio people. I inserted the second sound, which lasts only 1 second, right at the modulation, where the key is shifted up 1/2 tone. This type of modulation was very typical of 50s and early 60s records, and adding the electronic sound there really "goosed" the record. I always wanted to keep it moving along, moving forward, and that sound was a big help.

Martian Hop Record SleeveOf course the record had a flip side, and this discussion would be incomplete without telling you that it was called Forgive Me Darling (I Have Lied). The song was originally written by Cousin Robert as a novelty called "Forgive Me Father (I Have Sinned)", but we knew that wouldn't fly.

Now, to continue ?
As I was just finishing the production a 23 year old walked by the door of the studio and heard the weird beginning sound I had worked so hard on at Brandeis. He stopped and introduced himself: "Hi, I'm Gerry Goffin What's that sound?"

Now, you have to understand, Gerry Goffin was royalty to me. He and his wife, Carole King, had written many, many hits the past few years, including the #1's Go Away Little Girl ,Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow ,Take Good Care of My Baby and The Loco-Motion Gerry Goffin! But it was the next thing he said that blew my mind: "Do you mind if I take a copy of your record to Donnie Kirschner"?

Mind??? Donnie was the one person I wanted to be affiliated with more than anyone else in the music business. In the business he was called "The Man with the Golden Ears", because of his ability to discern hit after hit. Over the years I suppose many people could have been called that at different times, but in 1963 it was Donnie (never Don) Kirschner. Gerry asked what the name of our group was. The previous summer I had been a disc jockey on Sunday morning's at Atlantic City radio station WMID, and had often "tripped" trying to say my name, Steve Rappaport, really fast (as was the style in Top-40 radio at the time), so I had used the name "Steve Randle". I instantly told Gerry we were The Ran-Dells, and so we were! I gave Gerry the number of the pay phone on my dorm hall and went back to Brandeis and waited and waited for -- the call that never came.

My buddies knew I was hoping Donnie would call, so I was not really surprised when in January of 1963 a note appeared on my dorm room door: "Donnie Kirschner called." I "knew" someone was playing a joke on me, so I didn't return the call. A week later my friend Steve Rosen knocked and told me that Donnie was on the phone. And so he was! He loved the record, wanted to release it on Chairman, a label he was forming for acts that were otherwise unknown, and would I have time to be able to fly to his home in Orange, New Jersey to meet with him? I found the time!

I was met at LaGuardia by a stretch limo and driven to Donnie's mansion. Donnie introduced himself and Lou Adler and we spent an hour together talking music and a deal. Of course I accepted his offer. Later I learned that I probably could have gotten twice the offer ($1000 advance against 6% of wholesale for production and artists), but I've never been sorry about the deal.

(Aside: I'm amazed at how Donnie has dropped from sight. He published scores of Top 10 hits in the 60s and 70s, formed The Monkees and The Archies, hosted that ridiculous "Don Kirschner's Rock Concert" series in the 70s, and then what? Search and his name is not mentioned for anything he's done in the last 20 years. What has happened to Donnie? If any of you know, I'd really appreciate your posting the info.)

Back to Brandeis, thrilled, waiting for the phone call when Donnie would tell me the record was being released - the phone call that never came. My calls to Donnie went unanswered. I began to realize that since he had my signature on a contract he had all the power, and I could do nothing. Back to being kidded, but gently, by my friends. Hadn't I realized nothing would happen? Be glad I got $1000 - after all, in those days a new car cost between $2-3000; it was a lot of money.

I heard nothing about the record for the rest of that semester. I went home to New Jersey in early June, 1963, despairing. I didn't know that in a few weeks my dream would start to come true.

It's A Hit!

June of '63. Once again hanging out in cousin John's living room in southern New Jersey. Flipping through the current Cash Box. John's in his bedroom. Suddenly, there it is. Martian Hop has been reviewed. No word from Donnie or anyone else that it was being released. Great excitement, but mixed with deep disappointment: the record had only received a "grade" of B+. It was hard enough to have a hit with an A rating; my 6 years of reading Cash Box made me know that a B+ rating meant "almost a hit".

I don't recall where I first bought the record, but I was both thrilled and, once again, disappointed. We had a record, we were associated with Donnie, but someone had decided to ship the record in the most stupid 45 rpm sleeve I'd ever seen.

Given the B+ rating, I was surprised, thrilled, really couldn't believe it, the first time I heard it on the radio, played by Joe Niagra on WIBG in Philly. Pronounced "wibb-age", WIBG was the station for great 45s in Philly, which, thanks to American Bandstand, was the hippest music city in the country, just as San Francisco would be in the late 60s and Seattle in the early 90s. As you can imagine, I can not relate the feeling of hearing the song, and our name - The Ran-Dells - talked about by Joe, my favorite d.j. on my favorite station. Just the same, I knew it was a B+ record in an A world. We were big men on 23rd Street in Wildwood, but that was all.

Early August, this time in my house. Flipped open the latest Billboard (which I had just started reading), and could not believe my eyes. There it was: number 93, Martian Hop. We were on the charts. And now Donnie called; would John and I like to come to a party for the writers at Aldon Music (the name of his publishing company; the partners were AL Nevins and Don Kirschner - hence Aldon music). So on a Friday night there I was once again at Donnie's house, this time with cousin John, playing and singing with Carole and Gerry, Neil and Howie ,and Barry and Cynthia among others. An evening never to be forgotten. Writing this now I realize how many exceptional moments there were that summer: hearing the record on WIBG for the first time, seeing it on the Top 100 for the first time, the party. And more to come.

Reading The Cash Box (and now Billboard) for as long as I had, I could "read the charts" and, after a few weeks of watching how fast it moved, pretty much tell how a record would ultimately fare. The next week it was #81, nice, but still not anything to get very excited about. The next week it was #62, and I dared think maybe it really would break into the Top 40.

In those days the music mags came out on Monday, but if you could prove to the powers-that-be that you had a legitimate reason, you could call Billboard or Cash Box the prior Wednesday at noon, and they'd tell you what next week's number would be. I'd been calling exactly at noon on each Wednesday for the past 3 weeks, and of course I called the Wednesday after the record had been #62. I was in my parent's bedroom, and Mom was there. When I heard the number for the next week I started to shake, and then to cry. Mom thought the record must have dropped off the charts, that it was over. What had happened, of course, was that it jumped from #62 to #43. From my experience I knew that a jump like that, after having been on the charts for only 4 weeks, meant it might very possibly be a Top 10 record. In writing this I can still feel a little motion in my tear ducts. We were going to make it. Our dream was really coming true.

Mom had a new Pontiac Bonneville convertible, and shortly after the record made the Top 50 John and I were driving that baby, with the top down, on the New Jersey Turnpike, heading for New York, listening to WABC, to Cousin Brucie, when he played the Martian Hop. We're talking serious thrill here, but when the record ended Brucie said, in all his heavily reverb'd charisma, something like "Ran-Dells, if you're out there somewhere listening, you've got a bona fide smash." Wow! WABC was a 50,000 watt AM station, heard for hundreds of miles in every direction, and Brucie was talking right to us, telling us he loved the record. It doesn't get much better than that.

About that time John and I had a falling out with cousin Robert. I don't remember why, but he missed out on everything after that. We replaced him with a friend who could sing falsetto, and no one knew the difference.

Jones Beach outside of New York City. Talking with a couple of girls we'd just met. Told them our story. It didn't matter that it was a novelty record - we were in about the 4th minute of our 15 minutes of fame. I don't remember what the name of Johnnie's girl was, but mine was Sandy. She became my one and only groupie. A groupie for The Martian Hop. Well, they couldn't all get Bobby Vee.

Letters and phone calls from my college buddies who had good-naturedly razzed me the preceding spring. They heard the record in Nevada, in DC, in Michagin. They were thrilled for me.

In early August John suggested we call Dick Clark and tell him we wanted to be the "guest stars" on American Bandstand. I told John you couldn't just do that, but he urged me to try. 15 minutes later we had booked the show. We lip-synched the song on August 22, 1963. We even created a "dance" - it was The Martian Hop after all. We must have looked ridiculous because, even though John and I both have tremendous rhythm in our hands, when it comes to dancing we are both klutzes. Years later I wrote to Dick Clark Productions in LA, hoping to find a kinescope (the predecessor of videotape) of that show, but apparently none exists. What I wouldn't give ?

We did some shows on the east coast with The Dovells and Bobby Rydell also Philly singers, and bigger stars than we. Even though we only had the one hit - a novelty at that - we were always well received and, well before live impromptu jam sessions became standard at rock concerts, we'd jam with The Dovells and everyone loved it.

Being the Bandstand guests was probably the highest of the many highs that summer. Although it hit #1 in many cities, and in Canada, France and Israel, the record peaked at #13 in Cash Box, #16 in Billboard, and #9 in Variety. I felt the Variety chart gave me the right to say we'd had a Top 10 record, so I did, and I do to this day.

We Are One Hit Wonders

September, 1963. I had thought about dropping out of college for a year to really try to break into the music business based on the success of Martian Hop, but that was something my parents wouldn't hear of. Those were the days when I listened to what they said, so I was back at Brandeis for my senior year. My friends who had good-naturedly razzed me really were dear friends, and my best recollection is that everyone was really happy for me; I don't recall any feelings of ill will or jealousy.

However, trouble began when I started shuttling between New York and Boston twice a week. I found I could not both keep up with studies and keep an eye on our follow-up. In those days a follow-up had to sound much like the original, so Donnie insisted we do another "space song". Were I in his place I would probably have said the same thing. Rarely did record companies think of sustaining the careers of their artists and, in particular, no one thought novelty artists would have a "career" in music. Nevertheless, I was happy as the proverbial clam.

Johnny came up with the idea for the follow-up, Sound of the Sun. The song was good, but I had trouble in the mastering process (the final part of production) with Donnie's henchmen. With Donnie's approval, of course, they would not allow me to be the sole producer (again, those were the days when I did not question authority: my parents, Donnie, whomever ? [come on, you didn't question authority then either.] ) When they did not like something, I had to re-do it. We had several disagreements, most importantly about the reverb on the record; they wanted more, I wanted less. But I got pneumonia from the constant traveling, pressure of recording, and keeping up my grades. I was hospitalized in Boston for 2 weeks. During that time they added much too much reverb to the master tape. While in the hospital I received a copy of the record, which had already been released. I felt even sicker: there was so much reverb on the record that it was one long indistinguishable mess. I knew this was clearly a flop.

The flip side of "Sound of the Sun" also had an interesting story. Donnie had a lot of master 4-tracks hanging around, one of which was the backing instrumental of Surf City Instead of doing a normal B-side, Donnie insisted that I use that backing track and write a completely new song to it. So, for example, instead of the words "Two girls for every guy", I made it "Come On and Love Me Too." If you listen to the song, sing "Surf City" along with it; you'll find they fit perfectly. Oddly enough, it was that flip side that Bubbled Under the Top 100. Even though I liked the song, in retrospect I realize that the record probably would not have been a hit even if the final production had sounded great. Surfing Bird by The Trashmen was released in December of '63, and had a very similar ba-ba-um-ma-ma vocal riff all through it. I doubt that the market could have stood another such record. And shortly thereafter, with much greater significance - Beatlemania. How could a silly group like The Ran-Dells compete when the entire rock and roll paradigm shifted so tectonically (if I may mix my metaphors). No, I think The Ran-Dells were fated to be 1-Hit Wonders, though I would have liked to know what would have happened had the production of "Sound of the Sun" been released the way I heard it in my head.

In May of '64, just before graduation, I received my first, and by far largest, royalty check. I guess it would be in poor taste to say how much it was, so I'll just say it was low-5-figures, in 1964 dollars -- in other words, serious money. I made a copy of the check and taped it to the front of the door of my dorm room, as a way of "getting back" at those buddies who had razzed me. Sophomoric, but it made the point!

The Ran-Dells were dropped from Chairman after "Sound of the Sun" flopped (not that the label ever had another hit). However, we made one final record, Beyond The Stars. This was a really pretty, slow song, albeit still in the "space genre". It was the only Ran-Dells record on which I sang lead, and was released on RSVP Records, an even smaller label than Chairman. The flip side was a much more typically Ran-Dells song called Wintertime. I liked both sides but the record sold almost no copies; at least, I never received any royalties for it.

Remakes, Lessons Learned, and Fun Miscellany

In November, 1964, I received a package in the mail. It was from Donnie, now president of Screen-Gems/Columbia, the company to which he had sold Aldon Music. No cover letter, no nothing, except that inside the package was a framed gold record of Martian Hop with a plaque that read:

Gold Record - Martian Hop Presented to STEVEN RAPPAPORT,
to commerate the sale
of more than one million units world-wide
in 1963 and 1964
of the single record Martian Hop.

That was the culmination of my excellent adventure, but random events related to that experience have continued to occur throughout my life.

The most startling and wonderful of those experiences came when I visited Russia with my friend Charles in the summer of '88. I stayed at the Kosmos, the largest tourist hotel in Moscow. It had a bar with a large television set just off the lobby. One day as we were entering the hotel we noticed that a documentary on Russia's space program was being televised. A rocket was lifting off and, as it did so, Charles and I heard the sound that I had created at Brandeis for the beginning of Martian Hop. The Russians had taken that sound and used it as background to the show. I heard The Martian Hop in Russia. And I was happy that they had ripped it off!

To my great surprise, the record has been remade at least 9 times: childrens versions by Joanie and The Re-Bops and versions by Rocky Sharpe The Galaxies and Dickie Goodman. There's an instrumental version There is even a German version by The Crazy Girls, an r & b (!) version by The Newcomers, and someone has posted a verse of a punk version on the Web! The song appears on at least four CDs that are currently available: Halloween Hits , Dr. Demento's Greatest Novelty Records of All time: The 60s Vol. 3-Stax/Volt Soul Singers, and on a $99 sci-fi collection from Rhino.

I wonder when Snoop Dogg will cover the song!

The record even appeared in a B-movie, It Came From Hollywood I haven't seen the movie, but from what I've read, it sounds like a scream. I really must rent that some day.

On a more personal level, for most of my adult life I thought it very ironic that I had made a hit record that I was not particularly proud of. It had been exactly as successful as Town Without Pity (Gene Pitney), Uptown (The Crystals) and Little Deuce Coupe (The Beach Boys) Those were records I would be proud to have made, but Martian Hop? I didn't think so. About 6 months after receiving the gold record I put it away in a closet, and it has more-or-less remained there for 35 years.

But the Internet has changed my perspective on the record. Someone was kind enough to post a bio of The Ran-Dells on the web and, at my request, he added my email address .In the past 2 years I've received emails from more than 100 people telling me how much they enjoyed the record, how it was the first record they ever bought, how their children are performing skits to it in elementary school ? that kind of thing. These email's have made me feel really good, finally, about Martian Hop having been my hit record. Sure, it wasn't an important record, but people really liked it, still do, and it meant enough to over a hundred of them that they took time to write an appreciation. I deeply appreciate their consideration.

The experience also taught me to question authority. If I had it to do over again I would take that year off from college, and I would not have allowed Donnie's henchmen to presume they could tell me how to produce my own record. You remember what the philosophers Peter, Paul and Mary said. " A Sadder Man But.."

Finally, the entire experience gave me a self confidence and validatation at an early age that remained a part of me for my entire life. There were things I wish I had done differently, but I did set out to create a hit record and I succeeded. I made a substantial amount of money. I learned that you could pick up the phone and in 15 minutes be on American Bandstand (thanks, Johnny). I learned to question authority. I've applied the two lessons just mentioned many times in my life. I made new friends. I had 15 minutes of fame. And I have a fun story to tell.

So do me a favor! If you discover an important note from space, let me know about it. If it's Martians and they wanna dance, I'm your man.

Steve Rappaport December 12, 2000
steven@rappaport.com

Steve Rappaport - Obit R.I.P. July 04, 2007
Steven Millman Rappaport, a renowned musician, composer, author, and civil rights attorney, died peacefully of cardiac arrest while vacationing in Hawaii on July 4, 2007. He was 64 years old. Born in Philadelphia, PA, to Stanley and Sybil Rappaport, Steven grew up in Villas, NJ. He attended George School in Bucks County, PA, obtained his BA from Brandeis University in 1964, and received graduate degrees from NYU Law School and Harvard University. While at Brandeis, Rappaport and his cousins John Spirt and Robert Rappaport formed The Ran-Dells. "Martian Hop" was their first and best known single, charting as high as No. 16 on Billboard's Top 100 in 1963 and reaching No.1 in many countries overseas. Its success was attributed in large part to the innovative sounds cooked up by Steven in the recording studio; they caught the ear of the legendary Gerry Goffin, who passed the trio's tape on to producer Don Kirschner. In the 1970s Steven changed direction and focused as an attorney on civil liberties, working as a public defender in Miami, Florida. His passion for music continued to grow, however, and as music began to merge with technology Steven became interested in electronic music. In 1982 his book, "The Complete Guide to Synthesizers, " was adopted by many universities as the definitive text on the subject. In 1990 Steven founded Interactive Records. The company produced several CD-ROMs including The Book of Midi, So You Want to Be a Rock and Roll Star, which won a gold CINDY award for best Adult Education CD-ROM of 1992, and Radio Active. In 2002 Steven retired to Eugene, Oregon with his wife and stepson. There he continued to play old rock and roll (often under the stage name Ace Luxo), host the chat/music website Let's Talk Oldies (letstalkoldies. com), make regular visits to his daughter and granddaughter in Portland, debate current events with friends, and live life to the fullest. He will be remembered as a kind, generous, playful, passionate, giving, loving man and will be greatly missed. A memorial service will take place in Eugene, Oregon on August 4, 2007. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the American Civil Liberties Union.


( Next Time: The Redcoats Are Coming )





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