The Pick Of Destiny

You want the best, you got the best! The hottest pick in the land: "The Pick Of Destiny"!

Many of you know that I used to play in a KISS cover band in high school.
I was Ace. My older brother, Terry, was Gene Simmons. We got in trouble at our high school talent show for using smoke bombs as pyrotechnics. The mother of our lead singer's girlfriend made our costumes. We made our own platform shoes by tacking sneakers onto hollowed-out blocks of wood. We called ourselves "Destroyer" and I designed a logo with a grim reaper playing a "sickle-guitar". (This was high school, folks.) We silk-screened our own T-shirts by hand and printed posters on a Xerox copier to sell at our concerts. We played a total of 3 concerts and then disbanded after reaching the mutual decision that we needed to "get a life."

If there's one band that is the master of BRANDING, it's KISS. They have licensed their logo and images to everything under the sun. I should know. I have most of it here in my office, thanks to the generosity of my friends throughout the years.
David Oakley gave me one of my most prized possessions, a "Destroyer" album autographed by all 4 original KISS members. My daughter, Brittany, gave me the KISS lamp pictured here. Keith Greenstein, an ACD here at BooneOakley, gave me a bag of KISS M&M's. Greg Johnson, our CMO, gave me a KISS flag that he got at the KISS Coffeehouse in Myrtle Beach. The list goes on and on and I am thankful for each one.

THE PICK OF DESTINY

2 weeks ago my destiny was about to be fulfilled. As I walked down the cavernous halls of the Blake Hotel, my hands are sweating and shaking a little. A plain sheet of 8 1/2 x 11 paper taped to the wall catches my eye. It reads: Ace Frehley, Governors Room 6. My pace quickens as my heart starts racing. I'm so nervous, I almost drop the guitar pick in my hand. But, this is not just any ordinary guitar pick. This is a rare Gibson heavy-gauge GG-50 teardrop-shaped pick. It's the one I played lead guitar with in a KISS cover band when I was in high school. It's the Pick of Destiny. You see, this is the pick that Ace handed to me 26 years ago at my first KISS concert. Well, he didn't exactly hand it to me. Let me explain:

The year is 1976. It's one year before I get my license. Against her better judgement, my mom drops me and my best friend, Marvin off at the Dorton Arena in Raleigh. My heart is pounding and my hands are sweating (again). This is my first rock concert. The smell of marijuana is thick, but the only drug I'm on tonight is adrenaline. We rush into the throngs of fans crowding the entrance. The doors burst open and it feels as if we're running with the bulls as we fill the arena. There are no seats on the floor of the arena. Marvin and I station ourselves about half way back from the stage. After a really horrific and very forgettable opening act, the lights dim and the atmosphere is filled with smoke and anticipation. Right on cue, a faceless man steps up to the microphone and announces those 15 words we had all been dying to hear: "You want the best? You got the best! The hottest band in the land ...KISS!!!!!!"

Then, at decibel levels that would rival a 747 jet engine, Gene Simmons thumps out the first notes of "Detroit Rock City". The crowd is electrified as he is quickly joined by Ace Frehley, Peter Criss, Paul Stanley and a pyrotechnics display that resembles an atomic blast. At this point, a girl in the crowd taps me on the back. She is apparently having trouble seeing over everyone. She asks me to bend down. The next thing I know she is sitting on my shoulders and we are rocking out to "Firehouse". This is the best night ever. But it's about to get even better.

After playing a 12-song set list, the lights dim and KISS exits the stage. My face is sunburned from the flash cannons, but I want more. And so does the crowd. So, after what seems like a lifetime of chanting "KISS", "KISS", "KISS", the 4 masked musicians return to the stage. They play "Shout It Out Loud", "Beth" and the grand finale, "Black Diamond." During the final song, my eyes widen as I notice that Ace is throwing guitar picks out into the crowd!

With my ears ringing from the final crescendo and booming indoor fireworks display, I press through the crowd. As they stampede for the exits, I head against the grain towards the stage. In a matter of minutes, the arena is emptied and I'm just standing there gazing at the floor in the hopes that maybe ...just maybe I can find one of Ace's picks. There is confetti, streamers and assorted trash covering every square inch of the concrete floor. My eyes, blurred from the smoke and haze, dart back and forth frantically. Then, all of a sudden, it's as if destiny is speaking to me with the voice of a GPS navigation system: "Turn left at silver confetti." I reach down and wipe away a pile of glittery paper pieces and there it is ...the Pick of Destiny!

Fast forward 26 years later and I'm back at the Blake Hotel about to see Ace Frehley in person. He's there to sign autographs at a strange little convention called the "Mad Monster Party", featuring C-list celebs like wrestler "Rowdy Roddy Piper" and Rutger Hauer from "Blade Runner." I finally make my way into Governors Room 6, where an assistant greets me and asks me what I want. I tell him I'm there for an autograph. After handing him a crisp $20 bill, he gives me a ticket and leads me back to another room.

As I start to walk in, I'm met by a security guy in a leather coat. He, too, asks what I want. I explain that I've brought the Pick of Destiny that Ace threw out to me in 1976 and I want him to autograph it. He just laughs and says in a thick Brooklyn accent, "You want Ace to sign that? It's too small! How's he gonna sign that?"

At this point, out of the corner of my eye, I notice Ace getting up from a table across the room. He is ready to leave. I've held on to this pick, the Pick of Destiny, for 26 years just for this moment. I'm not giving up until I get this pick autographed. So, I pull out a silver Sharpie from my pocket and told the security guy, "He can sign it with this."

Ace starts to walk out of the room. I know I've only got one shot. So, I pull out an old photo of me dressed up as Ace, playing guitar in my Kiss cover band in high school . I show it to Ace and explain that I played guitar with the same pick that he threw out at the Kiss concert 26 years ago.

As I wait for his response, I glance up at him. The first thing I notice is that he is much taller than me, even without his platform boots. He is wearing dark shades, a black leather jacket and lots of silver rings. He has a thick beard, long hair and a bumpy nose. Finally, after a dramatic pause, he takes the pick and the Sharpie from my hand. "Oh, really?", he says. "That's cool." And, in a silvery flash of a pen, he signs his name on the pick with a capital "A" that looks like a star. My throat is now dry and I can't think of anything to say, so I just blurt out, "You're my inspiration." With that, he shakes my hand and disappears.

I turn to leave, almost in disbelief that I just met my guitar hero. I walk down the hallway and notice a man asking a security guard for directions. As I pass, I hear the guard explaining that Ace has left and is no longer signing autographs. The man is visibly and understandably upset. He is shouting at the security guy, who is apologetic but powerless to help. I begin thinking to myself if I had been just 30 seconds later, I would have missed out on the chance of a lifetime to get that pick autographed. But, then I'm reminded that this has been a pre-destined meeting from the foundation of time itself. Yes, this is no ordinary pick. This is the "Pick of Destiny."