22 (done) MAKE EVERY MINUTE COUNT

Things started to move fast after my meeting with Simon. Within two days, I had a full set of tools. By the end of the week, I had purchased a truck - another 1958 Chevy pickup, blue this time - and found a mechanic who would retrofit it for me. And Simon had arranged for a photographer to come take some pictures of the things that I'd done to my apartment.

Simon explains, "I felt it prudent to create some pamphlets that you could distribute, which would demonstrate the renovations that you were capable of. While those photographs were being taken, we collectively decided that we also needed photographs showing how the apartment looked before the renovations took place. Rather than dismantle your work, it was simpler to photograph another apartment in the building with an identical floor plan." Since Rusty's place was obviously out, I decided to ask the chipmunk who lived upstairs from me in Apartment 11. Salvador was sort of a "mobile cook" for the rodents at the subway terminal. He'd make sandwiches and things in the morning, then haul them over to sell to the rodents working there during their meal breaks. He'd been doing this for years - pretty much since the first rodents were hired there.

When I asked Salvador if we could have a few photographs taken in his apartment, he naturally was a bit curious what they'd be used for. I explained my new business, and invited him into my place to show him what it involved. Upon seeing my kitchen, his eyes got wide, and he immediately began asking questions. Would I be able to do something to his place? He could use a lot more storage in his kitchen, better access to his counters to make the sandwiches, and some small storage things in his front room to put his sandwich containers in. We went back to his apartment, I took some measurements, and a few minutes later, I had my first customer.

While writing up the estimate for Salvador's kitchen, I told him that his apartment should be done "in no time flat". That phrase stuck in my head as I began sawing my first pieces of wood. Eventually, it mutated into both the name and the catchphrase of my company. "HalFlat - in no time flat!"

"I ordinarily am not a fan of wordplay," said Simon, with a bit of understatement. "But HalFlat was a well-chosen name. You were in fact adding a half-story to these apartments, or flats. Concise, descriptive, and even catchy. And one cannot argue with the results.

Soon after getting the company up and running, I was enjoying one of my quiet evenings in my reading room, making my way through the latest Astounding. The phone started ringing, so I turned the radio off and leapt off the platform down onto my couch. This probably wasn't the best thing for the couch, but it was a lot quicker than taking the ladder. I grabbed for the phone and put on my best business voice. "HalFlat, in no time flat. This is TD. How can I help you?"

"So, TD," said a familiar squeaky voice. "Any chance your company can fix up an apartment in LA?"

"Alvin!" It had been about a year since I had last talked to my brother, or even heard anything about him. And hearing his voice again brought back a flood of emotions. Relief. Happiness. Nostalgia. And, I'll be honest, some resentment. That part could wait, though. "How the hell are you, brother?"

"Good! Good! Can't complain. Simon tells me you're doing all right. Being a carpenter, playing in a jazz band, all that."

"Yep, yep, yep. Getting kinda busy, but finally making a little money for a change. How about you? Last I heard, you were off on tour with Vince."

"Oh, yeah," said Alvin excitedly. "It was great. Loads of fun. Chicks all over us, too. Back home now, so I got another rock trio together. A couple beavers on bass and drums, amazing guys, crowds love it. Playing out a lot."

I felt a stab of jealousy at that. Alvin was probably just being glib, but it sounded like my brother had simply swapped me and Simon out for two other rodents, and was doing as well as we three had ever been. But I tried to swallow that down. "That's good to hear, brother."

"Well, you know. Got to keep the rock and roll going, right? Anyway, had a meeting with Dave. Talking about our next move. Last Chipmunks record - you hear it? Biggest load of crap ever. Liberty's fault for doing it without us." I briefly wondered if Simon and I were included in that "us", or if he just meant him and Dave. Alvin, however, kept on talking. "I came up with this idea. Dave loves it, and it should be a huge smash. You ready? The Chipmunks...do...Herb Alpert."

Alvin paused, waiting for me to respond, but I couldn't think of anything to say. The Chipmunks do Herb Alpert? That didn't make any sense at all to me. The Chipmunks were a kid-oriented vocal trio. Herb Alpert and The Tijuana Brass was a large instrumental group that appealed to the middle-of-the-road crowd. And their biggest selling album featured a naked woman slathered in whipped cream. How exactly were we supposed to "do Herb Alpert"?

I could tell Alvin was a bit disappointed by my lack of enthusiasm - or lack of response, really. So he urged me to talk it over with Simon. "He's already on board. We're going to leave this one in your paws," he insisted. "You two are the jazz guys. Just write a Herb Alpert rip-off we can fool around with." After I hung up, I shook my head. I wasn't sure if it was just the long absence, but Alvin sounded different. I couldn't recall him ever sounding quite so much like a snake-oil salesman before.

I called up Simon, and he admitted that he was already mulling it over. "I had never 'written to order' before, and I was somewhat curious as to whether I could accomplish it. In addition, there was the potential for this opportunity to become more lucrative than normal for us, as we would be the songwriters in addition to being the performers."

I went over to Simon's place a couple of days later, and we had our first songwriting session in several years. I made what I thought was the obvious suggestion - that we do this like a Nutty Squirrels single, with our voices filling in for the Tijuana Brass horn section. Simon jumped on that idea, and a few minutes later, we had a melody going that sounded sort of Herb Alpert-ish. "Ba ba ba ba bup, ba da bup..." By the end of the evening, we had the song finished. We called up Alvin and asked him to book a session on the second of January 1967, and we'd fly out to California to take part in the recording.

I don't recall what led us to fly out early to California - there was some sort of issue with getting airline tickets on New Year's Eve or something. But we decided we'd both enjoy having a few extra days to spend in California. Besides, all of Mrs. Gorman's things were still in storage, so this would be an opportunity to finally sort through it all. So we booked our flights for December 27th, and looked forward to taking what amounted to a brief vacation.

We arrived in Los Angeles early in the evening. After checking into a cheap hotel near the airport, Simon and I discussed what to do for dinner. After ticking off a few restaurants that we might want to revisit, Simon had an idea. Why not go see Alvin's new band play? Alvin had mentioned to Simon which clubs he was playing at on which nights, and his regular Tuesday night gig wasn't too far away. We decided it might be fun to surprise him there, so we called a cab and headed over.

When we arrived at the club, we saw two beavers setting up on stage, but no sign of Alvin. We introduced ourselves to them as Alvin's brothers, and Simon made a request. Might we borrow their instruments at some point, and play a song with Alvin? The brothers stared at each other, looking very uncertain.

"I don't know," one of them finally said. "Alvin might not like it."

Simon gave him a rather sinister smile. He said, "Leave Alvin to me. I have been handling him for many years." They finally agreed, and we arranged to simply walk on stage after they performed "Good Lovin'" near the end of the first set. Simon told them not to tell Alvin we were there, as we wanted to keep it a surprise. We found a table a bit towards the back, ordered dinner and waited for our brother to show up.

Alvin finally showed up a few minutes before showtime. The two beaver brothers rushed over and carried his amplifier onto the stage. Alvin plugged in, tuned up, and with no preface, he launched into the first song - "Hanky Panky".

As always, I tried to remain impartial. "This isn't the Little Rocks," I reminded myself. "They have their own strengths and weaknesses." The first song sounded kind of stilted, but then again, even the Tommy James 45 of "Hanky Panky" sounded kind of stilted. But the next song didn't sound much better, and neither did the third. By this point, Simon and I were exchanging questioning looks. The music wasn't bad, necessarily, but it wasn't really all that good, either.

The semi-disinterested set carried on until they finally performed their version of "Good Lovin'". As the last chord faded out, and the crowd politely applauded a bit, Alvin distractedly said, "Thank you. We've got one more..." His voice trailed off as he saw Simon and me walk on stage. I took the drumsticks from the drummer and adjusted myself on his throne, as Simon slipped the bass on his shoulder. He turned back to me, without even looking at Alvin, and called "Walk Don't Run". I nodded, counted off the beat and launched into the opening salvo of drum beats. Simon brought in the bass line, then looked over at Alvin.

...and Alvin just stood there, completely missing his cue.

"I was mortified," admits Alvin. "I had been talking up my trio with you two, acting like we were the best thing in southern California. Truth was, we were just playing these rather crappy places for a few bucks a night, and didn't really have any fans to speak of. And with about ten seconds of 'Walk Don't Run', you showed just how amateurish my set was. You had already blown us off stage...and the song had barely even started. I felt about two inches tall.

"But then Simon gave me this small smile, and nodded at me. And...I think I got it. It was like he was saying 'Come on, Alvin. It's OK. It's us. Let's rock and roll.' I returned the smile, turned my attention back to my guitar, and started playing. It wasn't our best performance of 'Walk Don't Run', but it still sounded so much better than what I'd just been playing. It felt great to be playing with my brothers again."

The set ended after that song, and Alvin followed us over to our table. "Sorry you guys caught us on an off night! These guys just aren't finding the groove tonight..."

Simon wasn't having any of it, and cut him short with a look. "Brother, I shall be brief. During the first set, I observed you playing in front of those two brothers. Might I suggest playing with them, instead." Simon stood up, left money on the table for our tab, and told Alvin we'd see him tomorrow. Then we headed back to the hotel.

Alvin admits, "I sat at the table after you guys left, trying to figure out what Simon had meant by that. And I couldn't dope it out. I more or less decided that Simon was just blowing smoke under my tail. I got back on stage, and started the second set. And at some point during that set, I glanced over at Chip the bassist, who gave me this nervous look back. And I thought, kind of condescendingly, 'Simon would never look at me like that.' And that's when I finally got it.

"When I played with you two, you guys pushed me...and I'd like to think I pushed you in return. We nudged each other to play better. And that wasn't the case with these two. I wasn't pushing them forward. If anything, I was holding them back. I was basically paying the Benson brothers to quietly back me up, so that AL-VIN could be the star. Or whatever the equivalent of a "star" is when you're playing in front of forty disinterested people. I had roped a couple of musicians with low self-esteem into being my musical backdrop. No wonder we didn't sound anywhere as good as The Little Rocks."

Alvin pauses. "But even after I figured that out...I didn't change anything. Because, honestly, I didn't want to. The Benson brothers were pretty good musicians. Not as good as you two, but good enough. I could have done what Simon hinted at - worked with them, pushed them to get better. But given the choice of being in a good rock and roll band, and being all-capitals AL-VIN...I chose being AL-VIN. As always." Sighing heavily, he adds, "It's depressing to think how far down I had already gone."

Meanwhile, I was off having a great time being back in Los Angeles. I went out to lunch with Joan, and spent a whole day hanging out with Scooter. And Alvin, Simon and I finally had the chance to go through all of Mrs. Gorman's things. We found a few personal things we wanted to keep, but most we took to an estate sale. Saturday night, Simon and I toasted in 1967 in our hotel room with a bottle of 7-Up - neither of us were that big on champagne.

Two days later, we went into the studio to record our Herb Alpert-type number. It was actually kind of nice to see Dave Seville again - it had been almost two years since we were last in the studio with him. He had brought in a few horn players to supplement our Nutty Squirrel-like vocalizations. We gave the song a couple of run-throughs, and it sounded pretty good. So we started the tape rolling, gave it a first take...and nailed it.

"I loved doing that song. It was like I had finally joined the Nutty Squirrels," says Alvin, grinning. "It may not have been as good as the actual Nutty Squirrels albums, or even the Beatles stuff we had done, but it was still a lot of fun."

Simon agrees. "It may have been a frivolous number, but it was very enjoyable to record."

On the record, Alvin was back in "mess up mode", but it was more fun than our standard "AL-VIN!" number. He yelled "amoeba!" after the bridge instead of "arriba!", which made everybody in the studio laugh. We ended the song with some car horn sounds, much like the ones from Herb Alpert's "Tijuana Taxi". Then Dave added, "Sorry about that, Herb"...which we made the title of the song. If there was any drawback, it was that we only did the one song. We double-tracked our vocals, and were done about ten minutes after we started. It seemed like kind of a waste to have flown three thousand miles just to knock something out so quickly. We didn't even record a b-side, letting Dave to record another instrumental for it called "The Apple Cart".

The record didn't come out for a few months. "I no longer recall the issues Liberty was enduring at the time," Simon admits, "but whatever they were, they significantly delayed the release of the single. Eventually, it was released on the Dot imprint."

The label may have been new, but the chart performance was not. "The record failed...in two ways, actually," says Alvin. "It didn't sell worth a damn. And I'll be honest - I hoped letting you two write it would get you interested in doing more Chipmunks records. I wasn't happy with the random selections that Liberty was making for each Chipmunk album. I was kind of hoping that having you two write a good song would get you more interested and involved in the whole process, and maybe that would get Liberty to give us some more control." Alvin shrugged. "But neither of you really seemed to pick up on any of that. You enjoyed yourselves, but you both seemed pretty keen to head back to New York."