A ROCK ‘N’ ROLL TRIBUTE AND THE MAN BEHIND IT

It’s only fitting that Ahmet Ertegun, chairman of Atlantic Records, is the guiding force behind the new Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Foundation, which honors its first 10 inductees in a $1,000-a-plate, black-tie ceremony Thursday at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel here.

Since founding Atlantic Records in 1947, the dapper, goateed, 62-year-old Ertegun has been a record producer, songwriter, fan and friend to jazz bands, bluesmen, cabaret chanteuses, rockers and musicians of all ilks in between. His label’s top R&B; hits and most influential songs have just been released in an impressive seven-volume series.

Among the gems included on “Atlantic Rhythm and Blues 1947-1974” are early Drifters, Coasters and Ivory Joe Hunter tunes, bona-fide classics like Ben E. King’s “Spanish Harlem” and Booker T. & the MGs’ “Green Onions” and the reputation-establishing works of Esther Phillips, Sam & Dave, Percy Sledge, Roberta Flack, Otis Redding, Aretha Franklin and Ray Charles.

If Atlantic gets around to showcasing its rock roster, it could include recordings by such influential attractions as Led Zeppelin, Crosby, Stills & Nash, Buffalo Springfield, Cream, Bad Company, Roxy Music and the Rolling Stones.

Ertegun launched his drive to create a hall of fame for rock two years ago.

“When they saw Elvis Presley dancing, shaking his hips, a lot of people said, ‘My God, this is a flash in the pan; this won’t last more than a year,’ ” he said during a recent interview.

“Well, it turns out that this music, originally played by black American musicians, taken up by white Americans and then by a whole legion of young British musicians, has become the music of the world. And I think it’s time that we should appreciate it with some dignity.”

The first 10 inductees--selected by a vote of about 200 industry figures and critics--are Chuck Berry, James Brown, Ray Charles, Sam Cooke, Fats Domino, the Everly Brothers, Buddy Holly, Jerry Lee Lewis, Little Richard and Presley.

As Ertegun and his cohorts on the board of directors (a who’s who of record company presidents, important industry lawyers, promoters and the likes of Rolling Stone publisher Jann Wenner and MTV executive Bob Pittman) envision it, the nonprofit Hall of Fame will be more than just an annual dinner.

They’re out to create a multipurpose facility centered around a rock memorabilia museum that also includes a showcase theater and a library of records and videos.

The big question is where to locate the museum.

“What’s happened,” explained Ertegun, “is that so many cities, among them New Orleans, Memphis, Nashville, Philadelphia, Chicago, Cleveland and San Francisco, have expressed interest in varying degrees. There are arguments for and against every place. Our main objective is to build as attractive a museum as possible, one that will be able to take care of the people who visit it, offer them something of interest and function in a meaningful way.”

Ertegun knows what he’s talking about when it comes to rock history.

A long-time jazz buff and relentless record collector (“By the time I was 16 my brother, Nesuhi, and I had a collection of some 25,000 jazz and blues records”), this elder son of Turkey’s ambassador to France, England and, later, the United States began making records “as a hobby” in the ‘40s.

“My mother was a great singer and musician,” he recalled in his Rockefeller Center office. “She loved popular music, so from the time I was 4 or 5 years old we had all the popular records in the house. When we moved to America, on Sunday afternoons I used to have open house at the Turkish Embassy for all the touring bands that played on Saturday night. Duke Ellington, Count Basie and members of the Benny Goodman band would come, have lunch, then jam all afternoon. My parents thought it a bit strange, but they didn’t stop us.”

It was while studying philosophy at St. John’s University here, then specializing as a graduate student in Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas at Georgetown, that Ertegun turned his love of music into a profession.

“I didn’t think this was going to be a lifetime work,” he said, smiling. “Half in the back of my mind was that when I got my degree I would go back to Turkey and do what everybody in my family has done for generations--work in some sort of civil service job.”

But with Herb Abramson, Ertegun began Atlantic Records, finding his artists among the jazz musicians who, to make a little extra money, played dance music that was termed rhythm and blues. Atlantic’s first two artists were Tiny Grimes, a jazz guitar player, and Joe Morris, a trumpet player from Lionel Hampton’s band.

Though he had no experience, the college student-turned-label magnate doubled as a producer. “Actually, we did more production work than any producer does today,” he said. “We picked the songs, found an arranger, and when he came in we had to rewrite the arrangements most of the time. I wrote a lot of songs in those days, not because I was a good writer or composer but because I couldn’t find any.

“Publishers had no faith or trust in these little off-brand independent labels and most of my singers weren’t songwriters. But we had to make the record come out, come hell or high water, because we couldn’t afford to lose the money it cost us to go into the studio. We did it for survival.”

Ertegun and Abramson, later joined by Billboard magazine columnist Jerry Wexler, aimed their rhythm and blues records at a black audience. As their expertise grew, they polished the soul with a pop sound, intriguing white teen-agers like Jerry Lee Lewis and Elvis Presley, who were listening to the songs on black radio stations.

“They started to make their own music, based on what they heard,” said Ertegun. “A lot of the songs they recorded were covers of songs we had recorded previously.”

Army service took Abramson away for two years, then he left to form his own company. Outside producers like Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller began taking up production reins as Ertegun’s executive duties mushroomed with Atlantic’s growth. In 1968, the label passed Motown, its chief rival, as the largest seller of soul music, just as its founder became intrigued with the explosion of music coming out of England. Since most of the groups (Cream, the Bee Gees, Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones) he signed did their own production, he found himself spending less and less time in the studio.

“Besides,” he pointed out, “how long can you stay there? I can’t take three months off to produce an act, but there are certain acts I can go in with, work for a couple of weeks and finish an album.” Manhattan Transfer and Laura Brannigan are some of his more recent productions. He grinned. “I’ve never been that far out of the studio.”

In keeping with his own low-key style, born of his diplomatic-corps heritage, Ertegun is working to ensure that the hall of fame will be a fitting and dignified memorial to the famous names and the unsung blues artists, disc jockeys, songwriters and producers who helped shape the sound.

“What we really want to do is to serve the musicians and singers who have served us for so many years,” he said. “It’s time for us to do something to recognize them.”