When I think of Tom Petty, I don't think of the rock star with the golden touch, I think of the eternal underdog with the rock-solid sense of wrong and right; a man who, in another time, would have been a scrappy bare-fist brawler incapable of throwing in the towel. Even as success found him and showered him with cash and adoration, he never lost that underdog spirit.
It also helps that he was the luckiest damn person I ever saw.
That's not to say he wasn't talented because that's an inarguable fact, but the music industry is littered with the carcasses of the mega-talented who may have had the talent, but never got that lucky break.
Petty's first stroke of luck came before the young Floridian had even set out in the direction of L.A. with the naive intention of landing a record deal. Keep in mind that Petty and his band, which, at the time was the admittedly mediocre Mudcrutch, were not the first band to attempt such a thing.
In fact, for every band that did succeed in moving west with all their belongings and landing a record deal, there were, at minimum, 1,000 bands that soon found themselves returning to Tulsa, or Gainesville, or, for that matter, Chicago with their tails between their legs.
In many cases, that treacherous cross-country drive through the mountains and the seemingly endless desert was the easy part. Once in L.A., a band's hopes and dreams were now competing against a thousand other bands' hopes and dreams for not only a coveted major label record deal, but also gigs at any number of clubs along Hollywood's storied Sunset Strip.
Many a new band in town has seen their dreams of instant stardom come face-to-face with the grim reality of playing the bottom of a five-band bill on a Monday or Tuesday night to an audience of barkeeps, waitresses and members of other bands waiting to go on.
No A&R guys, no gorgeous groupies waiting to whisk you away to an after- party at Axl's mansion, and, worst of all, no money.
Tom Petty experienced none of that.
In fact, to hear him tell it (which he did in both Peter Bogdanovich's documentary "Running Down A Dream" and Paul Zollo's "Conversations With Tom Petty"), Mudcrutch had received five offers before they'd even left Gainesville.
Wait, it gets better.
Days before Petty's clan are set to leave for L.A., the legendary Denny Cordell calls to express interest in the band's demo tape, which they had sent to a number of labels, completely unsolicited, but Petty informs him they already received an offer from London Records.
In hopes of "heading them off" before they actually sign anything with London, Denny invites the band to stop off in Tulsa on their way to L.A..
Instead of arriving in Tinseltown with $200 left to their name and no place to call home, as they'd planned, the band leaves Tulsa with a firm commitment to Shelter Records and is provided living quarters, some walking-around money, and almost unlimited studio time by Cordell and partner Leon Russell, whose studio is located in the San Fernando Valley.
Mudcrutch lasts only one single ("Depot Street") before Cordell cuts the rest of the band and keeps Petty under contract.
Months go by and it becomes glaringly evident to the now-solo Petty that he needs a band. Naturally, to remedy this, he crashes a studio session for Benmont Tench's new band and, in the middle of their own session, talks Mike Campbell, Ron Blair, Tench, and a young Stan Lynch into becoming his band instead.
Boom, just like that, the Heartbreakers are born.
Two albums into their career, Petty sees his record deal sold without his permission by Shelter Records to MCA. Unwilling to honor a contract that he now feels is null and void, Petty refuses to give MCA the band's next album, resulting in an immediate threat of lawsuit by MCA and their cavalcade of lawyers who, one suspects, eat musicians like Petty for breakfast.
Petty and the band are forced to undertake a hasty tour to keep themselves solvent as legal proceedings drag on and on. Weeks turn into months and those in the Petty camp are beginning to wonder if their faithful leader isn't off his rocker for going up against one of the biggest record companies on the planet when most others would just be happy to have a label like MCA willing to put out their records.
Amazingly, sessions for the album that would become Damn The Torpedoes continue in secret, with the fear being that MCA might find out where the band is recording and confiscate their tapes. To prevent this, one of the band's roadies hides the tapes at an undisclosed location after every session.
Long story short, during one such excruciatingly painful board room negotiation, Petty, not saying a word, pulls out a switchblade knife and begins cleaning his fingernails. MCA's legal team is incredulous at the gesture and, well, a little intimidated, too, it would appear because they almost immediately agree to release Petty from his previous contract and offer him a more favorable deal to sign to new affiliate label Backstreet Records.
Victorious, Petty agrees to their terms, Damn The Torpedoes is released in the fall of '79, and by summer of 1980, Tom Petty &The Heartbreakers are well on their way to becoming a household name as the album goes multi-platinum.
For every band that has gone up against their record company and won, there are hundreds who tried and were never heard from again, yet Petty's confidence and perseverance were rewarded tenfold.
Of course, when MCA tried using Petty as their guinea pig to roll out new higher pricing on albums and cassettes, Petty famously goes public with his displeasure and the label again backs down.
Years later, obviously having learned nothing from their two previous run-ins with Petty, MCA rejects Petty's solo album, Full Moon Fever because, get this, they don't hear a single.
With his profile raised considerably by his inclusion in the Traveling Wilbury's around this same time period, Petty later adds one song to the album (a cover of the Byrds' "I'll Feel A Whole Lot Better") and resubmits it to MCA, who, this time, release Full Moon Fever without question to glowing reviews and sales of a cool 5 million copies.
When Petty sang "I Won't Back Down", he wasn't being cocky or boastful, nor was it an empty threat meant to cultivate a rebellious persona, he was giving you his word and you could take that to the bank.
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we got lucky