When Wally Heider was an assistant engineer at United/Western Studios on Sunset Blvd. in Hollywood, he was the biggest big band enthusiast on the planet and would take his portable tape recorder to gigs and record the show so the guys in the band could hear their performance. He kept the recordings for his own enjoyment. He made friends in all the big bands of the day, and when bands came to United/Western to record, they would ask for Wally as their engineer. Thus, Wally’s career took off.

Wally opened his first studio, Studio One – an overdub/mixing room, at the corner of Cahuenga and Selma in Hollywood. Remote recording came first, however, and other stories will be told about the company’s remote recording adventures.

Wally later built Studio Three at the same location. The story of Studio Three’s creation goes something like this: Bill Putnam’s Western Studio Three was one the hottest (most single hits) studios in town and Wally wanted that hit sound for his new room. He booked a half hour of time at Western Three, measured the room, copied the surfaces and control room as much as possible, and built his own Studio Three.

In 1970, Studio Four was completed on Cahuenga, near Sunset next to Martoni’s restaurant – the infamous biz hangout of the day. There never was a Studio Two in Hollywood, only Studios One, Three, Four and the studio complex in San Francisco.

A Universal tube console with rotary pots was installed in Studio One’s control room, which was twice as large as the actual recording room. The studio was designed for overdub use. (In 1965, my band recorded some songs in Studio One’s tiny room. Wally was the mixer and the recordings sounded great. When the time came for overdubs, and prior to playing the track, Wally would announce, “H-H-Here it comes!”).

The entrance to Studio Three’s control room was at the corner on Cahuenga. Equipment entrances existed on Selma for both studios, although equipment was schlepped through Studio One’s control room.

An eight- buss DeMedio-engineered solid-state console embodying Universal electronics sat in Studio Three’s control room. Instruments sounded wonderful in Studio Three. Drums were usually placed under an overhang above the glass partition between the studio and control room. Separation was not a problem and baffling could be kept to a minimum.

Monitoring was achieved in all control rooms through Altec 604E’s installed in DeMedio-designed cabinets. Open-back Jensens, the kind you’d listen to Muzak through at your local hardware store, sat above the meters on the consoles.

Tape machines were continually shuffled between the studios. In addition to 3M two and four-track recorders, some sessions were recorded on Ampex 300 series and 440 two and four-track machines. Most sessions, however, were recorded on a 3M eight-track recorder. Trying to stay ahead of other studios, legend says Wally made a deal with 3M Company where he would get their latest cutting edge tape machines, tape, etc. several months ahead of anyone else.

In the summer of 1968, Wally hired me after auditioning some 45′s I recorded at United Audio Recording Studio in Santa Ana, CA. He had by then sold the business to Filmways Corporation but still ran the studios and day-to-day operations.

The staff mixers were studio manager Bill Halverson, Larry Cox, Rik Pekkonen and John Golden. Ray Thompson handled remotes. Wally referred to this stellar group as his “heavies”. Joan Barnes ran a small but busy traffic office, which was connected to Studio One and accessible through the Selma Street alley.

Upstairs, chief technical engineer Francisco “Frank” DeMedio maintained his tech lab. Henry Saskowski, Tom Scott and Vic Zaslov were maintenance engineers. Also on the second floor, were the company offices, echo chambers and a room housing a cutting lathe and tape storage.

Every new engineer paid his dues with Wally. My initial duties were varied, including picking up Wally’s car when serviced, delivering and retrieving rental equipment, trips to 3M in Camarillo, transferring Wally’s transcriptions to tape then editing out pops with a razor blade, cutting demo disks for publishing clients, and helping Frank prepare equipment for the new San Francisco studios.

One day Vic and I were delivering a 3M eight-track rental to Sunset Sound in the company panel truck. The machine was not secure enough and when the truck turned the first street corner, the machine slid to the other side of the truck, creating several large protruding dents in the truck’s side panel. When Wally saw the dents, he just shook his head and walked away. Somehow, Vic and I kept our jobs.

Eventually I became a second engineer on sessions, at times assisting the likes of Hugh Davies, (Hugh was moonlighting from Capitol), Chuck Britz, Mic Lietz, and Eddie Brackett, (Eddie usually showed up with his outboard equipment rack, his “hit hat” and a wad of gum that he chewed at top speed). Occasionally, I would second a session with Bones Howe when Johnny Golden wasn’t available. Some of the artists performing during those sessions were Waylon Jennings, The Association and The Fifth Dimension.

Another time, I was assisting Mic Lietz in Studio One on a mix-down session of Bing Crosby’s version of The Beatles’ “Hey Jude”. (Yep, Der Bingle!) During rewind, the tape came apart at a splice and tiny pieces flew around the control room. Mic and I spent hours finding the pieces and spliced them back together, finally completing the mix-down. Luckily, the tape was Scotch 201 and did not stretch.

One-microphone remotes were the initial sessions I “mixed.” The first being a Redd Foxx show at his club on La Cienega Boulevard, and the second assignment was to record an interview with Ray Chales in his office for Billboard Magazine’s talk show.

Rik Pekkonen was to be Wally’s “heavy” at the new studios in San Francisco. Rik, however, decided not to relocate from Los Angeles. I offered to go instead and Wally agreed, but wanted a “heavy” to replace Rik.

Prior to joining Heiders, I worked for former Gold Star mixer George Fernandez at United Audio Recording Studio. I suggested that Wally contact George to be his “heavy”. Wally did, and George agreed to work in the San Francisco studios.

Russ Gary, 2006
– part two: San Francisco ….

San Francisco

Russ Gary in Studio C in San Francisco, 1970

Between late 1968 and early 1969 I made several trips to San Francisco to help prepare the studios for opening day.

The original staff members included studio manager Mel Tanner, formerly an engineer at Coast Recorders in San Francisco. Ginger Mews ran the traffic office and Harry Sitam was the tech engineer. George Fernandez joined the group a short time prior to opening day. Although based in Hollywood, Frank DeMedio remained the chief tech engineer.

Wally put me up in the Lafayette Hotel (now the Midori) on Hyde Street, directly across from the studio. Well, the Lafayette was not exactly deluxe accommodations. I only slept in the Lafayette, however, and spent all my time working in the studios. Most weekends I went home to Southern California.

Wally’s plan was to construct Studios A and B on the main floor and Studios C and D upstairs. Studio B, intended to be a mix-down and dubbing room, never materialized and instead became a lounge/game area. Each control room differed somewhat, but the studios were all nearly the same in size as Studio 3 in Los Angeles. The maintenance shop was across the hall from Studio A’s rear entrance. Between the shop and exit into the alley another room served as a tape copying /storage area. Across the hall from these rooms, former film storage vaults were considered for use as echo chambers, but served as storage for tape.

Originally constructed by Dave Mancini, Studio C was scheduled to open as soon as possible in the New Year. Frank DeMedio delivered the custom built console (nearly a clone of the console in L.A.’s Studio Three) in late February. Rack mounted Universal Audio 500 Equalizers paired with 550 Filters were normaled to faders 1-16 on the console. Four UREI 1176 Limiter/Compressors, a single graphic equalizer (either Langevin or Altec), a UREI filter set, a digital metronome and a pair of Pultec midrange equalizers completed the outboard package.

A few months later, Studio D, whose control room contained equipment nearly identical to Studio C, was ready. A short time afterwards, Studio A opened with a Quad Eight console with thirty-two input channels installed in the control room. Monitoring in all three studios was essentially the same as in Los Angeles: Altec 604E loudspeakers in DeMedio-tuned cabinets powered by McIntosh MC275 amplifiers.

Live stereo echo chambers, Two and Four respectively, existed upstairs in rooms off the rear hallway leading to Studio D. One of them is still in use. McIntosh MC240′s powered the speakers inside the chambers. The chambers were patchable to and from the control rooms via a rack of five McIntosh MC240′s in the maintenance shop. Chambers One and Three were built a few months later on the roof.

The initial microphone compliment consisted of Neumann U-87, Sony C-37A, Sony ECM 22, Electro Voice RE-15, Shure 546 and SM 56. The original tape recorders were 3M eight-track and two-track as well as Ampex 440 two and four-track machines. Occasionally, a Scully recorder would appear, but I believe they were rentals.

The first session commenced in Studio C in March of 1969. George Fernandez was mixing and I was his assistant. George surprisingly left the studio and joined the mixing staff at KYA-AM in San Francisco. Wally said to me, “OK, Russ, you’re the mixer now.” Then he bellowed, “But-but-but, service, service, service! Do whatever they want! S-S-Straight ahead!”

My first mixing assignment was to record a Las Vegas based group, “George & Teddy and The Imperials.” During this period, Wally gave me tips on recording big bands that has served me well.

Around this time, RCA booked time to record Jefferson Airplane’s “Volunteers” album. Al Schmitt was producing and Ritchie Schmitt was mixing. RCA’s rep, Pat Ireci, nicknamed “Maurice Man” by the Airplane, was representing RCA’s interest as well as acting as referee. “Volunteers” may have been the first commercially released recording made in the new studios.

The studio’s first sixteen-track recorder, built by Jeep Harnard, arrived during these sessions and was immediately placed in service in Studio C. The Ampex deck had been converted to accommodate two-inch reels and groaned and squealed as tape spooled from reel to reel. The electronics were nearly clones of the Ampex 440′s. Initially, there were bias trap problems in the machine’s record amps and Wally promptly flew Jeep in overnight from Florida to fix them.

Ampex MM 1000 sixteen-track machines soon arrived. Because of their huge size and weight, the MM1000′s were difficult to maneuver between control rooms. I preferred using the 3M machines.

In March, CCR booked time for a test recording in Studio C. I was nervous about recording such a big act and was wondering how I would set up the band in the studio to achieve optimal results. On recording day, the roadies began setting up the band’s equipment without discussing it with me. I asked about it and was told, “This is the way we did at RCA.” The band bounded in and we quickly recorded two instrumentals. From then on, that set-up for recording rhythm sections has served me well.

Eric Jacobsen, the Lovin’ Spoonful producer, came in to mix an album’s worth of tracks recorded by Norman Greenbaum at Coast Recorders and the catchy songs on the multi-tracks sounded quite good. Mel warned me that Eric could be tough but I got on good with him and we enjoyed working together. One of the songs, “Spirit In The Sky” became a huge hit, thanks to a DJ in Seattle who played it repeatedly.

Studio D was now in service and the staff was increasing. Engineer Jerry Martin came on board and Dave LaBarre joined the shop staff.

Philips/Mercury booked time and I recorded the first of two Blue Cheer albums and a Harvey Mandel album in Studio C. Blue Cheer played so loud they were heard throughout the building.

By this time the studios were going non-stop. Jefferson Airplane began working nights exclusively in A.

I also co-mixed sessions for Mendlebaum with engineer Marty Cohn. Ray Ruff was the producer. Marty and I became good friends and on the weekends I stayed in town, Wally would let us use his Lincoln Continental to cruise around.

CBS permanently booked Studio D until their new facility, formerly Coast Recorders, was retrofitted for them. CBS did not use Studio D much of the time and Wally’s agreement with CBS allowed Heider’s to book it when available, which was quite often. It was a sweet deal for the studio.

Fantasy Records began signing contemporary artists and recording them in their small studio in Oakland. Producers Ray Shanklin, Jesse Osbourne and Ed Bogas brought their eight-tack masters to Heiders and I mixed several albums for them. Some of the artists were Alice Stuart, Billy Joe Becoat, and Parrish Hall featuring Gary Wagner.

Eric Jacobsen returned and periodically I recorded four albums for him. It took a year’s time. We made Norman Greenbaum’s follow-up album, LP’s for Willie Truckaway (William Seivers), Miss Abrams and The Strawberry Point Third Grade Class (spawning
the hit, “Mill Valley”) and The Stovall Sisters’ rocking gospel album. (The Stovalls also sang backing vocals on the Greenbaum and Truckaway recordings). Except for an occasional session in Studio A and a few tracks previously recorded at Coast for Truckaway, these albums were recorded and mixed in Studios C and D. During these sessions I met lots of wonderful local musicians that I would work with on a regular basis. I learned a lot from Eric and truly enjoyed working with him and his artists.

In May, CCR returned to Studio C and recorded the single “Green River” B/W “Commotion.” The studio and I had passed the band’s earlier audition. Tracking went smoothly, but when it was time to record vocals, none of the condenser microphones in the locker complimented John Fogerty’s voice. I tried them all, and a Shure SM 56 became the eventual choice. The microphone also befitted the Sun Records mood of the two songs. Following that vocal session, Wally brought in some Neumann U47′s from LA. I used them to record Fogerty’s vocals thereafter.

In July of 1969 I moved my family from Southern California to Tiburon, the neighboring city of Mill Valley. Wally paid for the move by covering the expense of a U-Haul truck rental. The truck had a faulty fuel gauge and ran out of gas on the Golden Gate Bridge! After six months, however, I no longer had to sleep in the Lafayette Hotel.

The staff was growing as well as changing. Engineer Stephen Barncard joined the group. Ginger Mews left and was replaced by Jayne Martin.

I recorded more sessions with terrific artists: The Steve Miller Band, Jesse Colin Young, Syndicate Of Sound, The Supremes, Sly Stone, Joy Of Cooking and Clover.

I was still earning assistant engineer wages and asked Wally for a raise in pay. He huffed and puffed, but gave me a small increase in salary. This scenario occurred a few more times during my tenure at the studio.

I made albums in Studio D with A. B. Skhy, and an instrumental album by Jerry Garcia and Howard Wales for producer Alan Douglas.

CCR returned in July and we completed the Green River album in Studio C.

Two of my favorite experiences were utilizing both Studios C and D to record Fantasy LP’s for The Brothers Four, and a Cal Tjader album in Studio D. Both albums were produced by Ed Bogas.

In October 1969, Wally explained that Bill Halverson was not available to begin sessions scheduled in Studio C with Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. The group was eager to begin recording and requested I work with them until Bill was available. The first track we recorded was their hit, “Woodstock,” followed by versions of “Teach Your Children,” “Our House” and “Helpless.” Those sessions were social affairs, at times with members of the Jefferson Airplane and others in attendance. I won’t forget the image of Grace Slick perched on a stool in the control room observing the proceedings. After the first week of recording Halverson took over with Steve Barncard assisting. Later on, I recorded a few sessions with Graham Nash for his “Songs For Beginners’ album.

CCR returned to Studio C and we made the album, “Willy And The Poor Boys.”

In January 1970, with Wilbert Harrison and Booker T. And The MGs opening for them, CCR played a homecoming concert in the Oakland Coliseum and asked me to record the performance. Wally provided the remote truck with one 3M eight-track recorder. Henry Saskowski was my assistant. National General Corporation filmed the show for a future TV broadcast.

CCR recorded “45 Revolutions Per Minute,” in Studio A. It was a wacky promo single thanking DJ’s for playing their records. It was the only time CCR recorded in Studio A.

During this period, producer Gary Usher booked time in Studio C to record The Wackers. They were very good, strongly influenced by The Beatles and CSN&Y. I happened to be standing in the traffic office when Gary walked in. We got on and I recorded the album. Those were some of my favorite sessions.

Ken Hopkins joined the staff. Around this time I recorded a second album for Blue Cheer, mostly in Studio D. Also during this period, I recorded an album in Studio C for Fantasy artist Abel.

CCR and I reconvened in Studio C to make “Cosmo’s Factory,” possibly the band’s most acclaimed album. I was impressed how prepared the group was in the studio, never taking more than a few weeks to record and mix their albums. We were working days and Fred Catero was recording Santana in the evening.

One of the perks of working for Wally was that he allowed the staff gratis use of the studios if they were not booked. During these periods I produced an album by Redwing, a Sacramento group that was signed by Fantasy, and co-produced two albums with Russell DaShiell for his band, Crowfoot. I also produced recordings for Gideon Daniels and his group, Power.

In November 1970, CCR booked a full month in Studio C to record “Pendulum.” This time, the other band members participated more and attended all of the sessions. While not in the booth for mixing, they would come in for playbacks. After the record was released, Tom Fogerty left the band.

In June of 1971 and now a trio, CCR wanted to record their single, “Sweet Hitch-Hiker b/w “Door To Door.” Studio C was booked and for the first time the band recorded live in Studio D. Tracking and instrument overdubs for both songs went smoothly. Mixes were made and the single was finished in one session. There would be no more live CCR recordings made at Wally’s.

Fantasy was building new offices and studios across the bay in Berkeley and had contracted Frank DeMedio to build the console for their first of two studios. The control room was not unlike Heider control rooms, the biggest difference being the Fantasy console embodied API electronics.

In August 1971, I accepted a position producing and engineering Fantasy artists. Except for a few projects, however, I always returned to Wally’s for mixing. In September, CCR decided to record their European tour and Wally supplied a remote package that performed flawlessly throughout the thirty days of touring.

CCR Drummer Doug Clifford decided to record a solo album at the band’s Berkeley headquarters, “Cosmo’s Factory.” I hired Wally’s remote truck and the resulting sound was excellent. Afterwards, I founded DSR Productions with Doug and CCR bassist Stuart Cook. Frank DeMedio built a wonderful remote recording truck for us that is still in use today. In 1977, my family and I returned to southern California.

In 1980, Wally Heider Recording was sold and became Hyde Street Studios. I tip my hat to owner Michael Ward for keeping the studios running for 26 years.

In September 2006, a group of former staffers, freelancers and current employees gathered at Hyde Street for a Mix magazine photo shoot celebrating 37 years of continuous studio operations at 245 Hyde Street. I enjoyed roaming the historic halls, seeing old friends and remembering such an important time in music history, I felt good about being among the first group of people to work there. I also felt some sadness because so many artists that use their workstations and project studios may never experience the thrill of working in a major recording studio.

Because of Wally Heider, I have had a fulfilling career in the entertainment industry. I will always treasure my time spent as his student and employee.

Russ Gary
December 2006

The uninviting black Hyde Street door is lettered very simply: Wally Heider Recordings. Behind it, though, lies a vast, million dollar studio complex, where many of the country’s finest rock and jazz musicians gather to record new albums.

Established less than a year ago by sound engineer Wally Heider, the place is a mixture of feelings, tensions, business and good times. Once an attorney, Heider got into the business over a decade ago when he left the bar to tape records for Elvis Presley – and later, Johnny Cash, Tom Jones, The Supremes and others. Though he spends much of his time in Los Angeles, Heider still manages, once or twice a week, to visit his San Francisco studios and listen to super rock groups like Jefferson Airplane, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young and Creedence Clearwater Revival cut their latest records.

Inside Heider’s studio the vibes are good, though sometimes heavy. Jayne Martin, Heider’s twenty-one-year-old receptionist, says she simply sits around all day eating Wheat Thins. But the truth is, she keeps the whole operation – musicians and producers – together. In fact, today she’s scheduling recording times, keeping track of bills, setting up sessions, and so on. In the background, the screaming guitars and roaring drums of Blue Cheer can be heard, as engineer, producer and musicians work over each previously recorded song to balance the sound properly for their next album. Tapes start and stop a hundred times. Over and over again. Yet Jayne and the others, scurrying from room to room, hardly even notice.

I’m taken upstairs to Studio C to meet Santana’s producer who is working with the group on their second Columbia album. The musicians drag in one by one – an hour behind schedule – to begin dubbing a bass part. It isn’t going well at all; the studio is cold and it is tough to get into the right mood. Take after take, hour after hour.

Down the hall in Studio D, everything is different. Better vibes. San Francisco jazzman Cal Tjader and his quintet are casually getting men and music together for their Fantasy LP. Tjader hands out the sheet music for a new tune called Mountain. Wearing a short-sleeved sweater, cut-offs and tennis shoes, the youthful “old timer” of The City’s jazz scene looks like he just came off his sailboat, as he explains the music, telling each performer what he wants and doesn’t want.

“Baka~baka-baka~cheese,” he chants over and over to rotund drummer Dick Burk. “That’s the kind of rhythm I want,” he says. So Burk squats behind his chrome drums and begins tapping his cymbals and out comes “Baka-baka-baka-cheese.” A smile crosses Cal’s lips and he starts a smooth dance in front of bassist Jim McCabe and conga drummer Michael Smythe not to communicate the actual beat, but the feeling he wants the Latin-derived tune to convey.

After a few false starts with the written arrangement, the atmosphere begins to feel a little tense. The musicians, perhaps, are trying too hard. So Tjader begins tapping out at flowing, delicate melody on his vibes. Pianist Al Zulaica picks up on it and the rest of the group comes in. What they are playing isn’t written down anywhere. It’s based on the chord pattern and rhythmic structure of the tune they are planning to record.

The room fills with the Latin pulsations and swinging beauty of the vibe melodies. Cal ends the tune and turns to Fantasy producer Ed Bogus, “Is that the idea, Ed?” Bogus, who had earlier been trying in vain to explain in words what he wanted in the music he had arranged, grins broadly, “Yeah, it sure is.” Meanwhile, another young man, Russ Gary, has been coolly placing microphones in just the right spots to render the sound of each instrument as faithfully as possible. Even though the electric bass and electric guitar will be recorded on tape directly through cables instead of by mikes, Gary has arranged ten microphones around both drummers and Tjader before returning to his engineering booth to mix the sounds electronically.

Russ Gary in Studio D

Russ Gary, at twenty-nine, is Heider’s number one man. With short hair and just a trace of sideburns, Gary looks a far cry from what you would expect of the man responsible for the recordings not only of Tjader, but also Creedence, A. B. Skhy, Blue Cheer and some of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young and Sly and the Family Stone. He stands over the maze of dials, knobs, switches and meters, adjusting, listening, re-adjusting, and mixing until he’s found the right combination of sounds.

Bogus is satisfied the band has his tune down, and comes into the booth to sit next to Gary in the producer’s chair, where he can hear everything that goes on and talk back, via a mike, to the musicians. They run through Mountain a few more times, while Gary threads a one inch tape on the eight track machine and re-checks readings on an the meters. “Okay, Cal,” Bogus says, “let’s try a take.” The tape rolls, Bogus listens intently as Tjader kicks it off, and Gary sits down -assured that he has captured Tjader’s sound as faithfully as possible.

Russ is even more relaxed than usual. All morning he has been going over the Blue Cheer tapes, and the quiet of the Latin music comes as a welcome relief. Admitting that sometimes he lives on aspirin – the loud bands getting to him after eight or ten hours – Gary says, “Loud or soft, it all has its beauty and excitement. I just try to get involved with the music and musicians, regardless of what type we are doing. That’s the fun of the whole thing.”

Sitting on a couch in the hail is Steve Barncard, Heider’s other major engineer. The 23-year-old ex-Kansas disc jockey looks the part of a record maker, his shoulder-length brown hair tied back with a leather strap. Eating a can of zucchini with makeshift chopsticks, he peers at me through rimless glasses with a cracked lens. Russ and Steve each work differently, Gary preferring to handle groups like Creedence who come into the studio with their songs perfected, while Barncard likes to work with bands who start developing their music spontaneously in the studio. “I like people like Seals and Crofts, where I have to become almost a member of the band. We’re all working together to get something. Sure,” he says, “When a band works things out in the studio it takes more time. They make mistakes and so do I.”

Stephen Barncard

It’s those mistakes, re-takes and experiments, though, which can run up the cost of a recording session. Creedence comes in, tends to business and walks out with a bill of only $7500 for an entire LP. The average LP record cost is around $20,000, with some going as high as $100,000.

“But when we’re all creating it in the studio,” Barncard says, “it’s a gas. At some magic point it all comes together, and when it does it’s the most beautiful thing you ever saw. It’s that spontaneity, that magic, that really makes it.” That magic, plus a lot of hard work. Barncard is ready to crash today after putting in sixteen-hour sessions for the last three weeks on a new H. P. Lovecraft album for Warner Brothers. “When things are really going,” he comments, finishing off the zucchini, “we’ll live on maybe five or six hours sleep.”

But this afternoon Barncard is taking it easy. He has to come in late tonight to tape Saddhu Brand, an East Indian group which uses instruments like tamboura and sarod, some of which Steve has never recorded before. “The groove of the whole thing,” he says, “will be be trying to get them the best possible sound, and capturing the instruments as accurately as possible.”

Because Tjader’s music is relatively simple and direct, his engineer uses the eight-track recorder. But when a band comes in with five or six people , and then wants to overdub a few more guitar parts, an organ and singers, the engineer is forced to use the big sixteen-track equipment. In that case, each instrument and each singer is recorded on a separate “track” which can be balanced, doctored and, if necessary, re-recorded without affecting the rest of the recording. By isolating each musical component, the engineer and producer can then. treat them separately, mixing them together for the best results.

While most of a record’s production time is still spent on the actual recording of the band, an average of forty percent of the entire effort is devoted to mixing. Some bands, with heavy electronics, many over-dubs and a lot of retakes, will spend more than six months on an LP.

Four hours later. Cal Tjader’s band has just finished three or four tunes on this their first day in the studio, while Bogus and Russ Gary start listening to the playbacks. Down the hall, Santana’s people are still trying to perfect the same tune they’ve been working on all day. Elsewhere in the building, Blue Cheer’s producers continue going over their tapes, trying to determine what to cut and what to add. Downstairs, the Indian musicians are bringing in their instruments and setting up in the hall for tonight’s session. Mel Tanner, Heider’s operations manager, is madly trying to complete the wiring of a new studio “A” scheduled to be operative in a couple of days. Jayne Martin has dashed across the street for the sandwiches which will serve as dinner for Russ and Steve. It’ll be another long night for everyone.