Everyone who ever met the man remembers the experience; his was not a precense that went unnoticed. He was always impeccably dressed and had a sly, wry, and oh so dry look in his eyes that I have rarely seen in my life. He told me all kinds of things at all hours of the night… offered up one-line axioms about good vs. great, or the motivations of specific people in specific circumstances, or what to say when you really hate something but don’t wish to offend anyone. He taught me about inner style and reading situations. And though you could tell when he was less than pleased, he was never unkind.

But what I will forever miss about Ahmet was that he never made me feel like a putz, or just some fixture in the room. He never pulled rank, and he was always genuinely open to my opinion. He was a class act, a true icon, a legend. But, as he said to me on several occaisions: "Me… I’m just one of the boys…"

You can only imagine what prompted him to say that…

over the subsequent months….ahmet visted us and listened to our material. the advice he gave me on how to connect musically has been the center truth to everything i as a producer /songwriter have and will accomplish. Ahmet didn’t wind up signing us.

i have had many mentors in my career, some willing, most unknowing. Ahmet’s time and advice, well that is a whole other experiance

We had a most knowledgeable guide, and were contemplating a wall of images by Billy Name, the great photographer (and literally resident) of Warhol’s factory. And there was a big picture of the Velvet Underground, whom Ahmet had signed to Atlantic in about 1969, for two albums–which turned out to be "Loaded" and "Live At Max’s," the tape of which I brought up to Atlantic straight from Brigid Berlin’s tiny, cheap cassette machine. She had recorded that night in the summer of 1970 when Lou Reed quit the group after the show–this is all backstory. (The Velvets would be inducted into the Hall of Fame in the coming winter of ‘96, which was not a secret by the end of the previous summer.)

Anyhow, looking at the picture of the Velvets, I pointed to our darling Sterling Morrison, the VU’s bassist, who had died a few weeks earlier of cancer–at the time of his death he was a professor of English at UTexasAustin. Not knowing who in our little crowd knew what, I said, "Poor Sterling, he just died you know, how sad he won’t be there at the induction ceremony; I spoke to his wife yesterday and she will accept the honor in his memory."

It would have been inconceivable to think that Ahmet, 25 years after signing the Velvets, and then dropping them after Lou left, would have known anything whatsoever about Sterling.

At that moment, I swear to whatever god you like, Lou Reed was standing there among us, in the Hall of Fame Museum, as if he’d come down from the ceiling, or out of an invisible panel in the wall. Bear in mind, our little VIP tour group consisted of me, Lisa, Earl, Ahmet and the guide. And so I said, "Omigod, here’s Lou himself!! What an amazing vortex of synchronicity this is!" And it certainly was, you all gotta agree on that.

Ahmet extended his arms to Lou, palms up, and walked over to him. He hugged Lou, and said, "I am so sorry about the loss of your friend." He didn’t say he’d just heard about it; just that he was sorry to know that Sterling was gone. Then he took both of Lou’s hands in his own, and squeezed them, and they separated. Lou had no way of knowing that I had spoken of Sterling’s passing just a few moments earlier. I guess he was in the ceiling or behind the wall when I made my little speech, which I’d done in order to pre-empt any faux pas from anyone in our tiny crowd…just in case, and as if.

Lisa and I were speechless at what had just happened. She and I knew Lou quite well, and we stood there in silence with him and told Earl and Ahmet we’d catch up in a minute.

"What a gentleman!" said Lou. "What an amazing man! Can you believe he knew about Sterling’s death, and hugged me and said he was sorry to hear about it? Who else in the world would know such a thing, who would remember it, who would put his arms around me and tell me he was sorry for my loss? Wow, there’s no one like Ahmet. No one."

Lisa and I signaled our agreement with Lou, and gave him our own hugs before going off to catch up with the tour group. "Yeah," I said, "what a remarkable gentleman he is indeed."

I only bumped into him in social settings. He was always ‘relaxed’ - that lovely half smile with the eyes kinda rolling back. The cane, the babes…One cool cat.

One of the most meaningful conversations (for me) was sometime back in the 80’s. After I was done kissing the ring and showering him with cheese by letting him know that I knew NOBODY had better taste than he, I eventually brought up the subject of how a pioneer that not only wrote and produced but (in my humble) single-handedly contributed more than anyone by instinctually knowing the real deal from the duff, could allow some of the later signings at his label? In my head I’m hearing Dusty in Memphis’ ‘No Easy Way Down’ with Gerry Goffins’ lyrics painfully stating that once you’ve reached the highest of highs, try as you may, there’s no easy way down. I’m talking to the guy that always spoke of how you have to FEEL it! I knew he felt Ray and Aretha. Was he feeling Foreigner?
He LOVED this topic and (of course) knew exactly what I was talking about, thus relaxing me quite a lot. All of the sudden his smile was huge and our eyes were locked in a stare. He took a while before saying a word, kept working that smile (timing is everything) and leaned over and spoke quietly, "I listen with both ears." He sat back and nodded while I hit the deck…it was so profound and perfect. So Ahmet.

I got it. One of his ears represented his own taste and feel while the other ear was strictly used for what he felt the world would buy. He was feeling it deeply. Both ears equally important.

I’m not saying he didn’t stay current and passionate - he did. But I bet when he went home at 4 AM, he looked at his bank statement from ‘I Wanna Know What Love Is’ while he cranked up ‘Greenback Dollar’ by Ray.