[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 145 (1999), Part 4]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages 5024-5027]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                       IN HONOR OF STEVE POPOVICH

                                 ______
                                 

                        HON. DENNIS J. KUCINICH

                                of ohio

                    in the house of representatives

                        Thursday, March 18, 1999

  Mr. KUCINICH. Mr. Speaker, I rise today to recognize Steven Popovich, 
founder of the Cleveland International Record label.
  Over the past 36 years Mr. Popovich has achieved considerable success 
in the music business by taking chances on artists and music at the 
fringes of the mainstream. For example, Popovich signed Meat Loaf to 
the Cleveland International label after Meat Loaf had been rejected by 
several record companies. After signing Meat Loaf, Popovich launched 
what is considered one of the most successful marketing campaigns ever. 
Popovich mixed the powerful CBS marketing department with grassroots 
efforts to make Meat Loaf a national icon.
  Popovich's success with Meat Loaf provides just one example of how 
and why Popovich has been successful. Once he believes in someone he 
puts everything he has into making that person successful. This 
dedication has worked for Popovich regardless of the artist or type of 
music he is promoting.
  In 1986 Popovich applied this formula to Polygram Nashville and 
turned the label into a success. Acts like Johnny Cash, Kris 
Kristofferson, the Everly Brothers, and Kathy Mattea signed with 
Popovich and Polygram Nashville.
  Popovich also signed polka legend Frankie Yankovic, the Polka King, 
to the label. Yankovic won a Grammy for his 1986 album ``70 Years of 
Hits'', which Popovich co-produced. Yankovic and his polka music were 
quick hits in Nashville. Popovich has since started Our Heritage, a 
polka and ethnic music subsidiary of Cleveland International.
  In the fall of 1998 Popovich, along with his son, Steve, Jr., Ed 
Shimborske, and Michael Seday, formed another subsidiary of Cleveland 
International, Grappler Unlimited. With Grappler Unlimited, once again, 
Popovich is focusing on music that is perhaps outside the mainstream--
punk.
  His ear for music that is outside the mainstream, and his willingness 
to dedicate himself to it and the musicians who perform it, has enabled 
him to be successful for over 36 years. With his son at his side, Steve 
will undoubtedly continue to help all types of great music find an 
audience.
  Ladies and gentlemen please join me in honoring Steve Popovich.

                         The Polka Punk Rocker

                            By Laura Demarco

       Steve Popovich made Meat Loaf a main course and helped tell 
     the world ``Cleveland Rocks.'' Now, he's looking to strike 
     gold again with the ethnic music of his roots--polka--and the 
     DIY spirit of his son's passion--punk rock.
       The walls of Steve Popovich's office don't have to talk to 
     tell his story. Mixed in among the rows of gold and platinum 
     records hang ``I love kieska'' and ``polka naked'' bumper 
     stickers. A ``Cleveland Rocks'' sticker decorates the window. 
     His son's high school class photo hangs near a backstage 
     snapshot of Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel. A huge, 
     psychedelic poster of Meat Loaf is framed near a smiling 
     reproduction of Frankie Yankovic.
       It's a scene as colorful and complex as the man himself. 
     Each memento stands for a part of Popovich's life: Music 
     mogul. Proud ethnic. Even prouder father. Genius Meat Loaf 
     marketer. Polka promoter. The man who helped Ian Hunter tell 
     the world ``Cleveland Rocks.''
       He's also the busy head of two new subsidiaries of his 
     Cleveland International Record label, the ethnic/polka Our 
     Heritage * * * Pass It On line and the punk/metal offshoot, 
     Grappler Unlimited.
       Why polka and punk? Like the other music Popovich has 
     championed through his 36-year music industry career, they're 
     styles that often get overlooked. Both have a devoted core of 
     fans who buy the records, wear the fashions and seek out the 
     shows. Neither gets radio play nor respect in mainstream 
     media. Then again, neither did a certain hefty singer, until 
     Popovich made Meat Loaf a household name.
       Popovich may look like anything but a music mogul in his 
     jeans, Cleveland International T-shirt and Pat Dailey's 
     baseball

[[Page 5025]]

     cap, but he has struck gold more than once by betting on the 
     underdog. Today, he's trying it again.


                            Coal miner's son

       Popovich doesn't like to talk about the past. He's rather 
     discuss what he's working on now--expanding Our Heritage * * 
     * Pass It On and promoting Grappler's first band, Porn 
     Flakes.
       But to understand how Popovich got to this cluttered, homey 
     midtown office, you have to look at where he came from.
       Born in 1942 to a Serbian father and Croatian-Slovenian 
     mother in the coal-mining town of Nemacolin, Penn., 
     Popovich's early life was a long way from the Manhattan 
     office buildings he would find himself in years later. His 
     father was a miner who opened a grocery store in the last two 
     years of his life. It was from him and another father figure, 
     Popovich's lifelong friend, Father Branko Skaljac, that his 
     love for music began.
       ``My dad played in a tamburitza band with his two brothers 
     and a couple other guys. They always played music around the 
     house and sang. Fr. Branko came and taught us tambura [a 
     stringed Balkan instrument] every Thursday.''
       Looking back, Popovich sees the importance of music for 
     people in a place like Nemacolin.
       ``I really believe polka was our people's Prozac,'' he 
     says. ``When they were working in the mines, factory jobs, 
     they'd get depressed, so they'd throw on their music or pick 
     up their accordion or tambura.''
       A few years after learning the tambura, another stringed 
     instrument caught Popovich's attention: the upright bass. He 
     formed a polka-rock band called Ronnie and the Savoys that 
     played out at local hotels and the Masontown, Penn., Italian 
     Club.
       When Popovich's father died in 1960, he moved to Cleveland 
     with his mother and sister, where they had family. He 
     attended John Carroll on a football scholarship, but quit 
     after a year, spending the next few year doing odd jobs.
       Then in 1963, two articles in a paper he was reading caught 
     his attention. The first was a notice that Columbia Records 
     was opening a Cleveland warehouse. The second was a story 
     saying one of his favorite polka artists, Cleveland's Frankie 
     Yankovic, who recorded for Columbia, had been injured in a 
     car accident.
       ``So I called Frank out of the blue and said `hey you don't 
     know me, but I play your music back in Pennsylvania. Can you 
     get me an interview?''' says Popovich. ``And he did that from 
     his hospital bed. I never forgot that.''
       Popovich got the job ad thus began his music industry 
     career; schlepping boxes around 80 hours a week for $30. On 
     his nights off he would play with the Savoys, who had 
     followed him up to Cleveland.
       But with his strong work ethic, Popovich quickly climbed 
     out of the warehouse. He soon found himself working 
     promotions in the local Columbia office, and in 1969 was 
     offered a promotions job in the label's New York office.
       A year later, at age 26, Popovich became the youngest vice 
     president of promotions ever at CBS Records (Columbia's 
     parent company). While there, he worked with the label's 
     roster, including rising stars Bruce Springsteen, Boz Scaggs 
     and Chicago. He was the first and youngest recipient of the 
     Clive Davis Award for promotion (named for the legendary 
     president of CBS Records), and for two years in a row was 
     named top promotion executive in the country by Billboard. 
     Quite an accomplishment for a ``hunky'' (Popovich's slang 
     term for ethnics) from a part of America most record execs 
     not-so-fondly dub ``fly-over country.''
       Promoting artists led to signing artists when Popovich 
     became head of A&R (artists and repertoire) in 1974 at CBS 
     subsidiary Epic. If his promotions career seemed remarkable, 
     his time in A&R was even more impressive. Popovich presided 
     over the signing of Michael Jackson, Cheap Trick, Boston, 
     Ted Nugent and Southside Johnny & the Asbury Jukes. He 
     also helped Steubenville's Wild Cherry, of ``Play that 
     Funky Music (White Boy)'' fame, and Michael Stanley find a 
     home on Epic. (Decades later, Popovich helped another 
     local band when he took a tape of Dink to Capitol Records 
     head Gary Gersh, who signed the band).
       Sales at Epic rose from $12 million to over $100 million in 
     three years under Popovich. He credits this to his ability to 
     look for artists where other A&R pros never bothered. 
     ``Small-town America, I always try to represent that,'' he 
     says. ``What's going on with the blue-collar people . . . 
     those have always been the fans.''
       Cleveland (International) rocks ``Cleveland, in fact, back 
     then did rock,'' says Popovich, leaning forward in this 
     chair, the red sticker with the motto he brought to the world 
     looming on the window behind him. ``Through it sounds really 
     trite and old fashioned to now even say the words `Cleveland 
     rocks.' ''
       For Popovich, this wasn't just a slogan. In 1976, he and 
     two other CBS Records executive left New York to form an 
     independent label called Cleveland International that was 
     backed by Columbia.
       ``Cleveland was a very important market in those days,'' 
     says Popovich. ``It really was WMMS . . . they made a real 
     big impact nationally. That was the reason I moved back here 
     from New York. It was such a viable record breakout market 
     that I thought basing a company here would be a good idea.''
       He was correct. Not seven months after the label started, 
     Popovich signed another underdog no one else would be near, 
     but one who soon put Cleveland International on the map.
       ``Meat Loaf was too fat, too ugly. His hair was too long, 
     the voice was too operatic,'' says Popovich.
       That's what the labels that passed on Meat Loaf thought. 
     But the fans thought otherwise. The product of songwriter Jim 
     Steinman, producer Tod Rundgren and a one-of-a-kind singer 
     with a voice big enough to match his girth, Marvin Aday 
     (a.k.a. Meat Loaf), Bat out of Hell is an album few rock fans 
     can claim not to have heard--it has sold an astonishing 
     estimated 28 million copies. But at the time New York 
     attorney David Sonenberg was shopping it around, no one in 
     the music business new what to think about it. So they just 
     stayed away. Except for Popovich.
       After signing Meat Loaf, Popovich embarked on what is 
     regarded as one of the most successful marketing campaigns 
     ever in the music industry. It included radical tactics, such 
     as Popovich showing up at radio stations and retailers across 
     the nation to drop off Meat Loaf tapes--an unheard of 
     activity for a record company president. He also convinced 
     CBS to make a $25,000 Meat Loaf promotional film for play in 
     movie theaters--a noval idea will before the video age. He 
     also battled CBS to put the full force of its marketing 
     department behind the album. ``Adroit marketing propels Meat 
     Loaf up the charts,'' proclaims the Wall Street Journal in a 
     1978 front-page article that raved about Popovich's tactics.
       But though he may have been the biggest, Meat Loaf wasn't 
     the only act on Cleveland International. The label was also 
     home to Ellen Foley, Ronnie Spector and others; it was the 
     management company for Ian Hunter. It was Popovich who 
     convinced the E Street Band to back Hunter on his 1979 
     You're Never Alone With a Schizophrenic record, which 
     includes the now infamous ``Cleveland Rocks.''


                    Lawsuits, TV shows and Meat Loaf

       ``We were conveniently left out of it. Hey, people try to 
     change history, but a fact's a fact,'' says Popovich.
       He's referring to a recent VH-1 ``Behind the Music'' show 
     on Meat Loaf that failed to mention of his role in the making 
     of Mr. Loaf.
       ``It's been well documented everywhere, the historical role 
     the marketing of that record played, the fact that it had 
     been [rejected by] three or four other labels before we got 
     it.''
       Popovich says that when he found out the show was in the 
     works, he called the president of VH-1, John Sykes, whom he 
     had worked with when Sykes was a promotions man for Columbia 
     in Buffalo.
       ``I called him before it ran and said `John, just tell the 
     truth,' and [the show] didn't. He's the president of VH-1, he 
     knows better.''
       When questioned about Popovich's absence, the producers of 
     ``Behind the Music'' replied that ``regrettably, in the 
     course of telling a person's life story, someone always feels 
     left out.'' Sykes did not return a call asking for a comment.
       Why the black out? Considering that the show was obviously 
     sanctioned by Meat Loaf, who appeared in multiple interviews, 
     it could have something to do with a 1995 lawsuit that 
     Popovich's Cleveland Entertainment Inc. filed against Sony 
     Music Entertainment Inc. and CBS Records in Cuyahoga County 
     Common Pleas Court. The suit alleged that Popovich was 
     defrauded out of royalties for Bat Out of Hell through 
     various devices, including fraudulently calculated royalties 
     for the sales of CDs. Meat Loaf, who re-signed to Sony 
     following the filing of Popovich's initial complaint, was 
     expected to testify against Popovich at the trial.
       But the suit never made it to court. Popovich, who sought 
     $100 million, and Sony settled for a confidential amount last 
     February. Ancillary litigation filed in New York federal 
     court by Meat Loaf against Sony and Cleveland Entertainment 
     was dismissed at the same time.
       Today, Popovich will only say that his suit was settled 
     ``amicably.'' For the first time in two decades, Meat Loaf is 
     off his plate--though Popovich says that as a result of his 
     Sony lawsuit he does receive royalties from sales of Bat Out 
     of Hell.


                               Old world

       Popovich grabs a black-and-white photo off a pile of papers 
     on his desk. ``Here, look what I found,'' he says, talking to 
     his son, Steve, Jr., who just walked into his office, a 
     muscular, spiky haired, tattooed contrast to his father.
       The photo shows a young boy, about 6-years-old, standing 
     proudly, hands on his hips talking to a group of men around 
     him. The men are Johnny Cash, Hank Williams Jr. and Cowboy 
     Jack Clements. The boy is Steve, Jr.
       ``You're talking to them like you're Clive Davis,'' his 
     father continues, laughing.
       The photo was taken during Popovich's years as vice 
     president of Polygram Nashville, a position he took in 1986.

[[Page 5026]]

       ``I had been through a pretty intense divorce . . . there 
     had been a whole series of misadventures, including coming 
     out of having one of the biggest acts in the world and ending 
     up with very little,'' says Popovich about his decision to 
     shut down Cleveland International. ``The reality of that set 
     in, and out of the blue an old friend of mine who took over 
     Polygram in New York called and said `hey, you want to have 
     some fun,' and I was like, `I'm ready for that.' ''
       In typical Popovich fashion, he took Nashville's least 
     successful label and built it into a powerhouse, signing 
     Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson and the Everly Brothers and 
     turning Kathy Mattea into a star.
       In not so typical Nashville fashion, Popovich signed his 
     old friend, Frankie Yankovic--whose 1986 Grammy Award-winning 
     album, 70 Years of Hits he co-produced--to the label. 
     Yankovic became a quick favorite in Nashville, selling out 
     concerts and recording one album, Live In Nashville.
       But Popovich wasn't a country boy for long. In 1993, he 
     returned to Cleveland.
       ``My son wanted to go to Lake Catholic High School to play 
     football and wanted to see more of his mother. My family's up 
     here, and I thought it was an opportune time to start another 
     label.''
       It wasn't long before he revived Cleveland International, 
     this time in partnership with Cleveland businessman and 
     metalwork factory owner Bill Sopko, a friend since the `70s.
       ``The concept was to try to find some new people that the 
     big companies were not interested in, to try to do something 
     regionally,'' says Sopko. ``And he would keep his ears open 
     and possibly pick another winner. We're still trying to 
     accomplish that.''
       Since Cleveland International's humble rebirth--it has a 
     staff of two, including Popovich, who often even answers the 
     company phone--the label has released 31 albums.
       The diversity of sounds is striking: Danish pop-rock from 
     Michael Learns to Rock to Hanne Boel; a Browns protest 
     compilation called Dawg Gone; a Cockney folk duo called Chas 
     and Dave; the cast album from the touring Woody Guthrie 
     American Song production; Ian Hunter's 1995 Dirty Laundry; 
     new releases from Polish polka king Eddie Blazonczyk; and the 
     Grammy-nominated 1995 release by Frankie Yankovic and 
     Friends, Songs of the Polka King. But it's his return to his 
     ethnic roots that Popovich is most excited about.
       ``Maybe that's what I'm supposed to do at 56 years old. 
     This is what I grew up with, so maybe as you get older what 
     you grew up with becomes more important. Or maybe it's a 
     reaction to the Sony-fication of the world,'' he says.
       This roots revival has led Popovich to create Our Heritage 
     . . . Pass It On, a mid-priced label he describes as ``meant 
     to reflect the ethnicity of Cleveland and the Midwest.'' So 
     far, the label features releases by Cleveland crooner Rocco 
     Scotti and the Here Come the Polka Heroes compilation, and 
     Popovich plans to expand the variety of nationalities 
     represented on the subsidiary. He's looking into working 
     with Irish and Latin music groups, and he recently 
     assisted Cleveland's Kosovo Men's Choir, a Serbian church 
     group, in releasing a record on their own label that he 
     may pick up for Our Heritage.
       But while his first reason for Our Heritage may be his love 
     for the music, it's not Popovich's only impetus. ``I'd like 
     to see this break through, and I'd be the king of polka 
     records. If Sony wanted to deal with polka music, they'd have 
     to come to me,'' he says.
       He sees a real future in celebrating the past.
       ``There is a hunger for the Euro-ethnic. Whether it's in 
     books, music or videos. I'm not saying on a titanic level at 
     all, but there's something very interesting going on,'' he 
     says.
       To prove his point, he pops a video into the VCR next to 
     his desk. Groups of brightly clad dancers emerge on the 
     screen, doing a Croatian folk dance.
       ``You have this group [The Duquesne University 
     Tamburitzans] in Pittsburgh, 35 born and raised in America 
     Euro-ethnic kids who go and do two hours shows to standing 
     ovations and play all over the country. And then you go see 
     them after the show, and they're wearing their Nine Inch 
     Nails T-shirts.''
       He pops in another video, and the screen is filled with 
     polkaing twentysomethings.
       ``He pops in another video, and the screen is filled with 
     polkaing twentysomethings.
       ``This goes on at Seven Springs on July 4th every year,'' 
     he explains, refering to an annual polka-fest held at the 
     Pennsylvania ski resort. ``I'm the oldest one there.
       ``They should get PBS in Pittsburgh down there. This is 
     America, man. If I say polka, people are like, `the p word'. 
     . . but you see the ages of these dancers. The whole floor's 
     going nuts.
       ``We need someone with a TV camera. Someone interviewing 
     these people about the history of this thing and why they 
     love this. They don't hear it on the radio, they don't see it 
     on TV, they don't see it on movie theaters, but it stays 
     alive. Why? It's an underground thing and has been for the 
     greater part of this century. That's what I love about it.''


                               New world

       ``Show her your tattoo, Pop,'' says Steve Popovich to his 
     son, using the nickname they call one another.
       Steve, Jr., in chain-clad baggy jeans and a button-down 
     Adidas shirt, pulls up his sleeve to reveal the words Zivili 
     Brace, Zivili Sestra, a Serbo-Croatian saying meaning roughly 
     ``to life brother, to life sister.'' It's also the name of a 
     polka by Johnny Krizancic.
       Like father, like son.
       A cliche perhaps, but a saying that rings true for the 
     Popoviches. Nineteen-year-old Steve, Jr. has just made his 
     move into the music world, in partnership with his father and 
     the owners of Toledo-based punk-metal label Sin Klub 
     Entertainment, Ed Shimborske and Michael Seday. The four have 
     just formed Grappler Unlimited, a subsidiary of Cleveland 
     International.
       Unlike Our Heritage, this label has nothing to do with 
     Popovich's love for the Old World. It has everything to do 
     with his love for the little boy who once stood talking to 
     Johnny Cash and Hank Williams Jr.
       Steve, Jr. was a major reason Sin Klub first caught his 
     father's attention. Seday was dating Popovich's daughter, 
     Pamela. He and Steve, Jr. became friends, and he took the 
     younger Popovich to Toledo to see some of Sin Klub's bands, 
     including a heavy rap-punk called Porn Flakes.
       ``Something just clicked, I was just drawn to it,'' says 
     Steve, Jr. ``It was like a disease. It was catchy, it really 
     was.''
       Steve, Jr. was so impressed with Porn Flakes that he came 
     back to Cleveland and, at age 16, promoted his first show, a 
     concert at the Agora featuring Porn Flakes, Fifth Wheel, 
     Cannibus Major and Cows in the Graveyard. He also told his 
     father about what he saw. Steve, Sr. began to take notice of 
     this young label that was taking the same kind of regional 
     marketing approach that he had always practiced.
       ``Popovich started putting his hand into [Sin Klub] and 
     helping us out, giving us advice. He was kind of like a 
     father figure to the label,'' says Shimborske. ``He helped 
     throw his weight around a little, getting us some better 
     shows.''
       ``He admired the fact that we stuck it out for so long,'' 
     he says. ``Plus, I think he needed, or wanted, to kind of 
     fill the void with his conglomeration of labels, as far as 
     having a younger, more cutting-edge sound. A fresher, 
     alternative sound.''
       Popovich admits appealing to a younger audience was a 
     factor behind Grappler.
       ``We established a certain kind of image for Cleveland 
     International, and I got a little concerned when people would 
     think it was only a polka label,'' he says.
       Grappler was finally formed in the fall of '98 with Porn 
     Flakes as the first signing. Though in some ways the new 
     subsidiary has a loose, family feel--Shimborske's parents 
     help out with art and photo work, and Popovich once took 
     Frankie Yankovic to Shimborske's grandparents' house for 
     homemade pierogis--all four partners are very serious. Seday 
     and Shimborske, who still run Sin Klub, are doing A&R and 
     marketing. Steve, Jr. is doing promotions out of his father's 
     office. And Steve, Sr. is doing what he can to help without 
     trying to run the show.
       ``I don't want my rules to apply to that label. It's 
     whatever they feel people their age want. These are three 
     pretty talented guys who know the music business,'' he says. 
     ``They're real passionate, and that's the key word.''
       ``Cleveland International funded it. I try to stay in the 
     background and bring these guys along with what contacts I 
     have.''
       So far this has meant making calls to radio stations on the 
     label's behalf and taking the label's product to conventions. 
     This week, Popovich, his son and Seday have taken Porn Flakes 
     product to the Midem conference in France, the world's 
     largest music-industry convention, in hopes of getting world 
     licensing for the group.
       Despite his connections, Popovich realizes it's not going 
     to be easy to break Porn Flakes or any other new band. The 
     times have changed since he started in the music industry, 
     and different rules now apply. High-priced consultants who 
     dictate playlists across the country rule contemporary radio, 
     making a grassroots regional push like the one used with Meat 
     Loaf almost impossible. And Cleveland is far from the music 
     hub it was in the days when WMMS mattered.
       ``The problem is you have five major companies that control 
     American radio. You have great local radio people still, 
     people like Walk Tiburski and John Lannigan. The people are 
     here. The ownership unfortunately is not here, and the 
     consultants for the most part are not based here. They live 
     in Washington, D.C. or Texas and are adding records in 
     Cleveland, Ohio.''
       Still, Popovich predicts a future when radio might not 
     matter that much.
       ``Mushroomhead is not on the radio, and they're packing 
     bars. People love it, and they still manage to attract a 
     crowd. It's beyond that now going into the next century. You 
     don't need A&R people now. If you believe in what you do, get 
     somebody to put up the money to press up a thousand records 
     and put them in stores in consignment. If

[[Page 5027]]

     those records go away, get a thousand more. And then go on 
     with your Website. You can start that way. Then at some point 
     you need to be seen at South by Southwest or one of those New 
     York gigs.''
       Popovich also has some forward thinking ideas about 
     Cleveland International. He's talking about starting an 
     Internet radio station and believes that to sell records you 
     need to get them into unorthodox places, like hotel lobbies 
     and drug stores, not just mega-record stores.
       ``I need a person who is a head of sales who has no rules, 
     who can think into the next century,'' he says.
       Still, there are some troublesome factors.
       ``It's a questionable time to be doing what I'm doing, 
     given the fact that people can now make their own CDs and 
     that there's MP3,'' says Popovich. ``The industry's going 
     through a lot of changes.''
       So why start Grappler?
       ``They're kind of keeping me in balance,'' he says. 
     ``There's a whole new world of 19-year-olds out there who 
     don't necessarily love 'N Sync or Backstreet Boys or what MTV 
     is trying to shove down their throats. I've always loved that 
     end of the business. Most of the artists I dealt with no one 
     believed in, in the beginning.''
       That's how he got all of those records on the wall.

       

                          ____________________