Clive
Who was I to Clive Davis? One of hundreds of songwriters who walked into his office with a cassette and a dream.
Sure he had his favorites – like Diane — who earned it. She had easier access while others had to scheme and strategize to get three minutes of analog face time. But if you played your cards right, and maybe got a little lucky, you could get a slot.
It was 1980-something for me.
I might have written the right words to Rose, his right-hand woman, in an AOL email I composed on my Atari computer – the one with that SpongeBob-head-shaped monitor.
Or maybe it was because he’d already…
The skinny
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