The Last Platter

Intelligencer Journal
Published: May 30, 2008
By JOHN DUFFY, Correspondent

Different stories have been floated about how The Platters truly started, but bass singer Herb Reed takes the credit. And because Reed, 77, is the only original member alive and kicking, he gets final edit on the history of the group. "I started the group, and I named the group. There never would have been a Platters if I hadn't had a car. I was the only one," he said. Most accounts agree that the most influential vocal group of the early rock 'n' roll era began in 1953 in Los Angeles.

Singers present were Reed, Cornell Gunter (later of the Coasters) Alex Hodge, Joe Jefferson and David Lynch. Initial success was slow. The group recorded some singles for Federal Records but still worked as parking attendants. By 1955 the group was under the management and close musical direction of songwriter Buck Ram. New members Paul Robi and Zola Taylor and lead tenor Tony Williams helped strengthen the group's sound enough to earn a recording contract with then-fledgling Mercury.

Reed and Lynch were the only original members by this point, but the winning combination of voices was in place. The group first hit in July 1955 with "Only You (And You Alone)," which was quickly followed by "The Great Pretender" hitting No. 1 before Christmas. It was the first of a string of hits that lasted five years and established the Platters guaranteed hit formula — taking older pop or rhythm & blues standards (or Ram originals in that style) and recasting them as lush rock ballads.

They connected the urbane sound of the Ink Spots a decade earlier with the doo-wop explosion of the mid-1950s. And unlike the soft teen-idol sounds of the early 1960s, The Platters sang with the depth of gospel and the soul of true rhythm & blues. "The Magic Touch" and "My Prayer" hit the spring and summer of 1956.
An impressive 11 charting singles would follow over the next two years before the group hit No. 1 again with "Twilight Time."

Jerome Kern's "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" proved to be the original group's last major hit, topping the pop and R&B charts in October 1958. Reed's clear, distinctive bass voice graced all these hits, and on the phone so many years later his voice still sounds strong and well-cared-for.

He talks in a higher pitch than you might expect for a bass singer, but on occasion he unconsciously drops down into his singing register when speaking, giving an unexpected musical edge to ordinary conversation.
He currently lives outside of Boston. After fifty years, he is understandably reluctant at times to talk about things he's already said so many hundreds of times. "I don't know what you'd want to ask me, its all been written so many times before," he said. But at the mere mention of the classic Platters sound, he is quick to share memories. "From the very beginning, we were equal. Nobody was the star."

Reed said the secret of the Platters' success was that they all knew how lucky they were to have found that special chemistry. That classic lineup of the group, lasted five years, an eternity in the world of doo-wop. The slide began in 1960 when Williams, whose powerful yet gentle croon had fronted all the group's hits, left to start a solo career. The arrest of several group members on narcotics charges the year before didn't help their clean-cut image, either (all were acquitted).

Sonny Turner was brought in as a replacement for Williams, and while the hits were harder to come by, the group remained a top-of-the-line concert attraction. They toured South America and Europe — even Iron Curtain-bound Poland in 1962 — as President Kennedy's Goodwill Ambassadors to The World. "That was the greatest success for us ever, the best show by far," Reed said of Warsaw. "It was beautiful. We were treated so nicely by the people there." From Reed's perspective, it had nothing to do with the politics of the Cold War. "They just loved the music so much. We had to sing 'Only You' five times before they would let us go on to something else."

But back home, Mercury refused to release anything but backlogged Tony Williams singles until the group's contract expired. Williams' solo career with Mercury sputtered, backing Reed's claim that there was something special about the Platters' chemistry that was bigger than any one person.
"He sang lead on all those hit songs with the Platters, but didn't get anywhere near the charts on his own," Reed said.

Rare among groups at the time, the Platters was a corporation owned in whole by its five members and Ram's company. Each singer therefore held stock and received benefits like any other company. If they sold their shares, they could not take the name with them. That last part didn't work so well, and to this day Reed regrets the arrangement. "It didn't help us at all. If anything, it became a hindrance," he said. "If I could change anything I would have gotten better legal advice outside of the management circle."

Soon, a steady stream of members began exiting the group to lead their own ersatz Platters: Robi, Turner, Monroe Powell (Turner's replacement) and other short-term members fronted groups calling themselves The Platters but created nothing more than a diluted pool of talent nowhere near the strength of the original group. Reed left in 1969. "It was getting ridiculous," he said. "They had people coming in and out of the group every month. We would bust our humps and rehearse and then people wouldn't show up. It would be someone different every time. And I couldn't stick with that."

They were destroying the reputation of the Platters, and Reed didn't want to be part of that. And then it got ugly. Ram's lawyers sued Turner for starting his own Platters group. Since 1971, Turner has been forced to sing under his own name. Reed, the only member not to have sold his rights in the original group, was given permission to use the name in 1987.

Reed then successfully defended a suit against Robi's widow for rights to the name. Then there were — and sadly still are — groups out there with no direct or indirect ties whatsoever to the original Platters. One Web site lists as many as twenty currently or recently active, some of them claiming to be licensed by the heirs of Ram's management company.

To protect against the phonies, many states in the last few years have passed laws to protect consumers from being duped by shady promoters who pass off groups under legendary names who have no connection to the real deal. Reed, alongside other friends and doo-wop veterans, helped get the laws passed, but he hasn't seem much difference. "It hasn't helped me a bit," he said. "I didn't really expect it would. When you deal with politicians and bureaucrats, you can't expect that they will take an interest in you personally and professionally." Pennsylvania was the first to pass a Truth In Music law.

"And two months later, there was a show with a phony Platters group in it," Reed said, referring to a concert in York last November. "So it doesn't mean anything." But for Reed, while the struggle has been difficult, he has weathered the storm by saving money, being thrifty, and living simply. "I don't go in for booze or dope or new flashy cars. What am I going to do with something like that? "Save your money, because you don't know if next month you won't have any work. Be honest. Respect people."

With all the other original members having died — Williams in 1992, Taylor in 2007, Lynch in 1981, Robi in 1989 — or enjoined from billing themselves as the Platters, Reed is the only one left of the classic group. And by default, he is the only one who can make a claim in calling his group The Platters. He's the last one standing, and the last one singing. Even if there are others out there who claim the applause he has worked his life for.
"But really, I am truly happy doing what I'm doing," he said, having just returned from a successful European tour. His group works regularly on cruise ships.

But even swank gigs like that have their difficulties. "They aren't as good as they used to be," he said. "The ships are so big you've got to walk two blocks to get to your room." But Reed hesitated when he realized he sounded like he was complaining. "I'm still out there working," he said. "Everybody else is gone. I have good people around me and I get to keep singing."