Lonely at the Top

I decided one early workday evening to go to the top of the Capital Records building in Hollywood and survey my worldly accomplishment. I climbed the last stairwell up above the penthouse floor and opened the door. I peeked over the edge of a waist-high cement wall that circled the round building. In the burning dusk of sundown, the city glowed its blinking eyes making a three-dimensional panorama. I spun around--a 360-degree view--opened my arms to welcome it and realized I'd made my dream come true! All the focus, all the learning, all the mingling led up to this moment. Since I was seven years old & saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, I knew what I desired...and this was it. Most of my idols were on the artists' roster and I got to meet a lot of them. All the sacrifice, all the intensity, had not gone for nothing. I flung my arms out again with sheer joy and excitement and wanted to point to the city shining in the last shards of dusk toward the sea in the west...but like the mermaid story, I looked and there was no one there. No friend, mate, co-worker there to share my thrill. There was no one to look when I pointed at the sea or the hills in the north. No one to agree with me when I said when I said it was magnificent and no one to share the sense of accomplishment. In that one moment, I understood the song "Lonely at the Top" with Randy Newman's sad and sardonic rendition. The sorrow was palpable and I choked back tears. I walked to the circular wall again and this time didn't peek. I leaned over and wondered when they found me, if they would know it was suicide or just a sense of utter loneliness. Or both.

Finally, the vertigo passed, and I stood up straight. It didn't matter. I'd done it. By myself and without anyone's help. I'd done it. I did what I wanted to do and would never have

been satisfied with anything less. Nothing could have satisfied me more than standing on the top of that that tower and surveying my kingdom. I could say to myself that I did it against all the odds; I did it. And that matteredI decided one early workday evening to go to the top of the Capital Records building in Hollywood and survey my worldly accomplishment. I walked up the last stairwell up above the penthouse floor and opened the door. I peeked over the edge of a waist-high cement wall that circled the round building. In the burning dusk of sundown the city glowed it's blinking eyes making a three dimentional panarama. I spun around--a 360 degree view--opened my arms to welcome it and realized I'd made my dream come true! All the focus, all the learning, all the mingling led up to this moment. Since I was seven years old & saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, I knew what I desired...and this was it. Most of my idols were on the artists' roster and I got to meet a lot of them. All the sacrifice, all the intensity, had not gone for nothing. I flung my arms out again with sheer joy and excitement and wanted to point to the city shining in the last shards of dusk toward the sea in the west...but like the mermaid story, I looked and there was no one there. No friend, mate, co-worker there to share my thrill. There was no one to look when I pointed at the sea or the hills in the north. No one to agree with me when I said when I said it was magnificent and no one to share the sense of accomplishment. In that one moment, I understood the song "Lonely at the Top" with Randy Newman's sad and sardonic rendition. The sorrow was palpable and I choked back tears. I walked to the circular wall again and this time didn't peek. I leaned over over and wondered when they found me, if they would know it was suicide or just a sense of utter lonliness. Or both.

Finally, the vertigo passed, and I stood up straight. It didn't matter. I'd done it. By myself and without anyone's help. I'd done it. I did what I wanted to do and would never have

been satisfied with anything less. Nothing could have satisfied me more than standing on the top of that that tower and surveying my kingdom. I could say to myself that I did it against all the odds; I did it. And that mattered.