Me, Inc. Read online

  I knew I could do anything. People told me I couldn’t, because “you’re just a musician.” Well, I was, until I wasn’t. Every CEO starts out without any qualifications. Then they jump in the deep end, and start swimming. It’s the way I’ve always lived. It doesn’t matter the task—if you’re not qualified, you can become qualified. If you have never done it before, you can do it a first time. And then a second time. You can do it. Because I did.

  Several years ago, I was honored to meet Frank Stronach, a very interesting gentleman who founded the massively successful auto parts company Magna International. Today, I’m proud to say that I’m a partner in the Stronach Group, which owns most of North America’s major horse-racing tracks, including Santa Anita Park, Gulfstream Park, and Pimlico.

  I had no title within the Stronach Group, and I couldn’t tell you much about horses or jockeys. But I love horse racing.

  I also noticed that horse racing was widely referred to as “the sport of kings.” I did some research and determined that no one owned that phrase. So I quietly trademarked it, and now the Stronach Group owns the phrase The Sport of KingsTM. I created an entire licensing and merchandising program, including logos, designs, hats, and T-shirts, and I connected Live Nation to mount live music festivals on Stronach Group racetracks.

  My prior knowledge of horse racing? You guessed it. None.

  I am a founding partner in Rock & Brews restaurants. My partners (there’s that word again) are Michael Zislis, Dave Furano, and Dell Furano. Great food. Many choices of craft beers. Gluten-free pizzas and beers if you so desire. Restaurant brands usually take a long time to get traction. Not ours. We hit the ground running almost two years ago, and within a few months we wound up on the cover of Franchise Times.

  Rock & Brews is growing by leaps and bounds. We have restaurants in Cabo, Mexico, on Maui, Hawaii, and in El Segundo and Redondo Beach, California. We have another site in the Delta terminal at Los Angeles International Airport, and one opening in Kansas City soon.

  My schooling and experience for this business? None. I don’t even cook.

  I published my own magazine, called Gene Simmons Tongue, which lasted for five issues. It was published by Sterling/Macfadden. My partner was Allen Tuller. Hugh Hefner gave us an exclusive cover story for the first issue, and I interviewed Sir Richard Branson, Marvel Comics’ Avi Arad, and the great Snoop Dogg (who was kind enough to wear an inverted version of my KISS makeup for the interview).

  My schooling as a magazine publisher/editor? None.

  Simmons Books was a co-venture with Michael Viner’s Phoenix Books. Mostly, it was a way for me to write and publish my own books. I had always been interested in stories that resonate today, but have a long historical backdrop. Like, the oldest profession in the world. It’s referenced in the New Testament with Mary Magdalene, and Mata Hari and the courtesans of Europe’s Renaissance, the geishas of Japan, all the way to the Wall Street and Hollywood call girls of today. Despite what the subject matter might imply, I approached my book with a historical, nonjudgmental approach. If you can get your hands on a copy, you may enjoy reading it. It became a Los Angeles Times bestseller.

  My experience? Minimal. When I was fourteen years old, I used to self-publish my own magazines from home. I wrote, edited, and produced the zines via mimeograph, Rexograph, and eventually photocopy machines.

  In 1999, I coproduced the motion picture Detroit Rock City for New Line Cinema. My partners were Barry Levine and Christine Haas.

  I’d been trying since 1977 to get a KISS movie made. When I was growing up, I used the Beatles as my template for what I wanted to achieve. And the Beatles didn’t just make records, they made movies—and good ones at that. But—aside from a lovably campy, made-for-TV movie we’d done in the seventies called KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park—getting a KISS movie made was easier said than done. Agencies couldn’t make it happen. Managers couldn’t make it happen. But I pushed forward, anyway. Eventually, a script called Detroit Rock City—about four teenagers who try to scam their way into a KISS concert—came into my hands from Barry Levine (whom you may remember from elsewhere in this book as our rock photographer; Barry would soon try his hand at making movies, and went on to make many including Oblivion with Tom Cruise and Hercules with The Rock). Before long, it was set up at New Line Cinema. Written and directed by Adam Rifkin, the movie featured almost everyone we knew, including Shannon. Although it was a KISS movie, we actually didn’t appear in the movie till the very end.

  However, behind any single success are a multitude of stillborn or endlessly delayed ventures. I had twenty other movie projects being developed around this time, but I failed to mount them. I had the story of Casablanca Records head Neil Bogart at Paramount, with the Bogart family as partners. It was never made, though as of this writing, it is now finally a “go” picture with Justin Timberlake as Bogart. Originally, Mike Myers had been set to star.

  My schooling to become a movie producer? None.

  My experience? Minuscule.

  My qualifications? Minimal.

  And these are just two of many. It doesn’t matter that I failed, a million times over. The only reason I was successful at anything was this same mentality—I jumped into the deep end, qualifications and naysayers be damned. You have to believe this about yourself. I’ll go into this more later.

  I am cofounding partner in LA KISS, our Los Angeles arena football team, after our manager, Doc McGhee, and AFL veteran Brett Bouchy started talking about KISS doing some cross-promotion with the AFL (Arena Football League). One thing led to another, and before long, Paul and I were offered a chance to buy into the team, along with Doc and Brett. We jumped at the chance. Doc suggested we call the team LA KISS. And Paul designed the logo.

  I have done about fifty speaking engagements around the world, under my brand, Gene Simmons Rich & Famous ExposTM. I own the trademark.

  The reason I’ve always wanted to speak to people is that the education I received in public schools didn’t prepare me for what life was really like, and, more specific, how I was going to pay my rent. I wanted to connect with people, share my experiences, and show them how they could improve their lives immediately. And in some cases, how a few of them might become ultrarich. It has happened, more than once.

  I had initially wanted Creative Artists Agency to book me on speaking engagements, but I was told that my speaking fees could only fetch around $15,000 to $25,000. I didn’t agree with that assessment, so I decided to book the speaking engagements myself.

  So I spread the news. It didn’t cost me a dime, and I never hired a PR agency or manager or booking agent to do so. I simply mentioned it when I did interviews on TV or radio, and presto, my first speaking engagement was offered. They made an offer, I countered, and we settled on $100,000. Since then, that’s been my minimum speaking fee.

  Multiply that by 50, and you will see why professionals can’t always help you where you want to go.

  Incidentally, handling things myself is something that I invariably wind up doing. If you want something done right, do it yourself. I didn’t come up with that phrase, but I do live by it. The first time you try to do something yourself, it will—admittedly—be very difficult. As you gain success and traction, and you prove yourself on the battlegrounds, people will trust your ability to sell. At my level, doing things yourself is simply easier. And if you’re committed to being your own boss, it’s preferable.

  Speaking engagements come at me from all directions, but hardly ever from a talent agency. Corporations usually contact me directly. And what I do is a hybrid autobiographical and hopefully inspirational and motivational speech. I never step up there with notes and I am never prepared. I simply start talking. By judging the makeup of the audience, I can steer my talking points and hopefully some of them will “get it.” “Getting it” has to do with a mind-set: the idea that you can do almost anything, given the right place, the right time and the right thing. And plain old hard work. This is the reason
I don’t use notes—because I didn’t use notes in my career. Sink or swim, you have to jump into the deep end. If you wait until you are ready, as the saying goes, you will wait forever.

  It’s one of the reasons I’m writing this book, and not someone else. There are acting teachers who don’t know how to act, but they will tell you what you’re doing wrong. There are football coaches who will tell you what you’re doing wrong in football, although they may actually never play football. I’m a hybrid. I’m in front of the camera. And I’m in back of the camera. I’m onstage. And I’m backstage. I work in business, and I have a sense of the structure of business. Not all businesses, mind you. No one has that.

  But I’ve cultivated enough business common sense to be able to apply it, and—make money.

  My point in recounting all of these endeavors is that you shouldn’t be afraid to try your hand at different things. You may need good partners—good writers, good production companies, investors, and stakeholders who can fill in the gaps of missing knowledge and experience—to help you get your venture off the ground.

  But don’t let the fear of failure keep you from trying in the first place. Most baseball swings sound like this: “Swoosh.” But, if you swing enough, you will hit some of the balls.

  10

  Gene Simmons Family Jewels

  “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

  JOHN LENNON

  singer, songwriter, and Beatle

  Gene Simmons Family Jewels lasted 167 episodes and seven seasons on the A&E network. (I Love Lucy, generally considered one of the greatest and most successful TV shows of all time, lasted 145 episodes.) We began shooting in 2006 and finished in 2011. We were seen around the world, in eighty-four countries. You can still watch us in reruns everywhere from South Africa to Bulgaria.

  Since doing the show, Leslie Greif, the executive producer, has become a major force in television. His Hatfields & McCoys miniseries won three Emmy Awards.

  I approached Leslie with the idea of doing a TV special that would show me recording and promoting my solo album. And Greif could also bring a camera crew with KISS as we finally went back on tour to Australia and New Zealand. We also filmed at my home, as I prepared to launch the album with a party at the Key Club in Los Angeles.

  At home, the cameras were introduced to Sophie, Nick, and Shannon. Although it wasn’t planned, the camera immediately fell in love with them. When my family was on camera, I became yesterday’s news.

  A&E liked the TV special—titled 24/7, in reference to my work ethic—and it did well when it was broadcast, so the network approached me about doing a reality series, although that phrase meant nothing to me at the time. The proposed series would focus on my business ventures and my family. I had never planned for this, and would have never imagined that all of us would ever be interesting enough for public consumption. But there it was, plain as day.

  I also never imagined that the show would turn out to be a real diary of my family. Its ups and its downs. Its family values. Although I had never visited a shrink, the show wound up showing me a real reflection of myself. I had always known who I was, but I had never had to confront that person before.

  There were great times. There were funny times. And there were some very sad and hurtful times. We traveled around the world. To England. Europe. South America. Canada. We traveled to Africa, where for the first time I met the children I had been financially supporting for twenty-five years in Zambia through the organization ChildFund.

  By the time the show was nearing its seventh season, Nick and Sophie were almost grown up, and it became clear that Shannon was finally getting a clear picture of who I was and what I had been—partly through the show.

  It was all there, plainly represented on television screens around the world. It was embarrassing. I was ashamed. And I had it coming.

  For many years, I had been selfish, arrogant, and delusional about all sorts of things. That same delusional faith in myself that helped me get things done in the business world became a double-edged sword, and put a strain on my relationships with my family. I deluded myself into thinking I could do whatever I wanted outside of our home and family, and that it would never get back to the family or hurt them. I was an idiot.

  Shannon was going to leave me because of my ways. I had been unfaithful. I was constantly touring, constantly working. Shannon stayed home and raised the kids. She drove them to school and back every day. She became the school’s lunch president, and negotiated and oversaw the lunch program. In fact, she was there every day, serving lunch to every child in school, so she could keep a close eye on Nick and Sophie. She hovered over them every day to make sure they became ethical, moral human beings. In point of fact, Shannon raised the kids. I just worked.

  When things began to leak, we sat down and talked about whether we wanted to be honest with our viewers, and show ourselves as we were, or if we wanted to keep it lighthearted—the safe route, we thought, to keep the show going. We decided that we wanted to show all of it on the series, no matter the consequences. Shannon had had enough fakery in her life—if she was going to be part of a reality show, she wanted to show something truly real, as it was happening. My wandering eye. Shannon’s commitment to the kids. My facelift. Shannon’s heartbreak, when it dawned on her that I had been unfaithful for so many years. We showed my shame. We showed real pain and emotion when Shannon broke down. We filmed Shannon and I going to marriage counselors to try to address my issues. And for some time, Shannon was going to leave me. Both Nick and Sophie were ashamed and hurt by their father: me.

  It became clear to me that I was going to lose Shannon and the kids. And that I had to get over myself and finally grow up. Ever since I was a small child, perhaps because my father had left us, I convinced myself I would never get married. And that I would never answer to anyone. Anyone. Not my mother. Not Shannon. Not anyone. I would do as I pleased, the rest of the world be damned.

  If you watch the early episodes of our show, that part of me was clear. I wrote books on the subject. If you read my previous autobiography, or my other books, you’ll see a different guy, with different views on this topic. I did interviews on the subject. I went on Oprah and The View and espoused my antimarriage philosophies. And my selfish philosophies. Every time, it hurt Shannon and the kids. And I didn’t care. Delusionally and shamefully, I never thought about it.

  But it was becoming clearer and clearer to me that the line in the sand had been drawn, and that I would have to do some fast growing up, or risk throwing it all away. And, because Shannon had too much integrity to lie to the world about it, we decided to film all of that. If the tabloids wanted to talk, we were going to show them first.

  I decided to do some real self-analysis. The show arranged for a Marriage Boot Camp. It consisted of a few couples with real issues. The difference was that they were all married and were trying to save their marriages. Shannon and I were never married, and we were trying to figure out how to save our relationship.

  One of the exercises, though I was never told about it when I walked into the room, was “What would be the last things I say to my beloved, as she lay in her coffin?” I walked into a room filled with all the other couples, and there was Shannon, lying in a coffin. They asked me to walk up to her, as if she were dead, and talk to her.

  It almost seems comical, written out like this. But at the time it was more than I could bear. And it made me really confront my shortcomings. My selfishness. My arrogance. And I was heartbroken at all the pain and suffering I had caused.

  We went to Belize. On an idyllic beach, I dropped to my knee and looked up to the person who had stuck by me for twenty-eight years, without ever asking or demanding anything. I tearfully asked Shannon if she would consider marrying a man who was clearly not worthy of her love.

  Shannon was in tears, clearly hurt by it all. She was confused, but miraculously said yes.

  But the pain and suffering I had brought on Shan
non wasn’t over. We had lived together for twenty-eight years with a cohabitation agreement that we had both signed with individual counsel. I was always afraid of the cliché of clichés—that women only want you for your money. Shameful as that may sound, it was true.

  Before we got married, I also asked if Shannon would mind doing a prenup, with both of us having our own counsel. That brought on more pain and suffering to Shannon, as each of our lawyers was whispering into our ears about how we had each sacrificed so much, and how the other one should not get what they were asking for. I suppose that’s what your lawyer is supposed to do. But your beloved only winds up getting hurt even more.

  We had almost broken up on more than one occasion over the prenup negotiations, but thankfully, they were finally over.

  Our wedding date was set, on October 1, 2011—twenty-eight and a half years after we began living together.

  The wedding was at the Beverly Hills Hotel.

  It was a perfect wedding. It was a beautiful, sunshiny day. Friends and family all were there, as were the other members of KISS: Paul, Tommy, and Eric. So was our dog Snippy. No one threw up. No one passed out. Shannon wrote out her vows and so did I. In front of all the invited guests, I heard Shannon’s beautiful words to me. I was going to read my vows, but then decided to crumple up the paper and just speak from my heart. I told her that I was deeply in love with her. And that she had been the only true love of my life. And that I have a lot to make up for, all the pain and suffering I had caused her and the kids, and that I would do so for the rest of my life.

  We kissed, for the first time as husband and wife.

  And then the party began. It lasted well into the night. We had a ten-piece big band, fronted by Brenna Whitaker, who rocked it all night. Then KISS got up and played a few songs. And then Nick and Sophie got up and sang a few songs. And then Shannon—surprise—got up and sang in her beautiful voice.