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In 1967 I decided I wanted to produce a series of motivational tapes. I convinced the late Ruth Kent of WSB-TV plus a well-known minister to have a conversation about the meaning of life, success, motivating yourself and the need for a spiritual foundation. There was no script, and I wanted the talk to run no longer than 20 minutes.
Right. Should be a piece of cake.
The cake fell, but in the process I met Tom Wells. He owned a new, little recording studio named Doppler. (Wells: “The Doppler Effect, get it?”)
Tom and I became close friends; Doppler grew and moved to Peachtree Street. Tom, and his partner, Pete Caldwell, built Doppler into one of the best known, and most successful, recording studios in the country.
Tom died Monday. Damn it.
Tom will be remembered for many things.
He married Janet Meshad, a beautiful, talented, endlessly funny, high-spirited actress, gourmet cook, gardener, saint.
He was an extraordinarily talented musician.
He was an eternal teenager.
Nothing was inherently uninteresting. Need some music for a hog killing? Call Tom Wells.
He had a successful rock band after he and Pete sold Doppler.
Janet told me once that one of the many reasons she loved Tom was that he could fix things.
He was a good father and husband.
He bored easily.
He had a grand piano and a drum set in his living room.
He enjoyed conversation. About anything.
He liked all kinds of music. If a polka band were appearing locally, he’d try to see them.
He could cook.
The day before he died he told Janet he wasn’t sick.
If you didn’t know him, you were short-changed.
I loved him.
I hope they have guitars in heaven.
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