This is. . .Donny Osmond

dedica.la

“We need more songs for the album,” Alan said to me one day in 1989, while we were working in the basement office of his house on Osmond Lane.

The album in question was going to be the first with Curb Records for the Osmond Boys, and Alan wanted everything to be perfect. The single Hey Girl was a shoo in because we’d already seen some success on local radio when DJ Tom Timmons put the single in a “Battle of the Bands” and it won for several nights in a row. I was sort of proud of that because, not only had I taken a big part in organizing Utah fans to vote for the song, but I’d also suggested that the boys do a remake of the song, which had been a hit for their Uncle Donny.

“What about Donny?” I asked. “Does he have any other songs we can use?”

Alan looked at me like I had two heads. “What are you talking about?”

“Does he have any songs the boys could record to put on the album?” I said.

I knew Donny had not only been looking for songs to record for himself, but also that he’d been writing music recently. Maybe he had some ideas for something the boys could record.

“Well, there is the song All Tied Up,” Alan said. “It would be great for the boys, but I don’t think Donny would want us to record it after he did. Beside, Jimmy already recorded it, too, and I don’t want to stir up a family feud. It's sort of all tied up.” Alan laughed at his own joke.

“It doesn’t hurt to ask him,” I said.

Alan chuckled. “I don’t know how to get a hold of him. I think he’s changed his phone number again.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. Merrill and Donny were always changing their phone numbers, so I wasn’t surprised that Alan didn’t have Donny’s current number. Not surprised at all. But I knew where I could get  hold of it.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get it for you,” I said.

“Good! Then you can make the call.” Alan started to walk away from the office.

“You’re his brother. What am I supposed to say to him?”

“You’ll figure it out. You always do,” Alan said then he disappeared from the doorway, likely headed upstairs into the house itself.

“Sure, I’ll figure it out. I always do,” I repeated.

Five minutes later I had the new phone number in hand, but it took me another twenty to get up the nerve to make the call. And wouldn’t you know it, I got an answering machine.

“Um, this is Lu Ann in your brother, Alan’s office,” I said, leaving a message. “We are putting together a playlist for a new CD from the boys, and we wanted to talk with you about some songs. If you could give us a call, we’d appreciate it. Thanks.” I added the office phone number and hung up the phone, relieved that I had at least been able to make sense in the message, and probably more relieved that I hadn’t actually had to talk to Donny.

I’d talked with Donny in person on many occasions, but usually with lots of other people around—fans, like I was when I was on the road. But this—this was business and I was suddenly terrified of talking with Donny on the phone. If just leaving a message had been this hard, I was glad I hadn’t had to actually talk to him.

It was late in the day, so I finished up my work and headed home. I figured if Donny called back, Alan would pick up the phone since the work line rang into the house as well.

The next morning, I was back in the office, alone, working on details for Stadium of Fire, when the phone rang.

“Alan Osmond Productions. This is Lu Ann,” I said when I answered.

There was a beat of silence then someone on the other end of the line cleared his throat. “This is.  . .Donny Osmond.” His voice had dropped down sort of low and seductive on the last two words.

My heart gave a leap then fell into the pit of my stomach. What on earth was I going to say to DONNY OSMOND!!! I suddenly felt like a twelve-year-old school girl who had just met her teen idol for the first time. Where had that reaction come from? I didn’t know, but I think Donny was getting tired of waiting for me to reply.

“You called me yesterday?” he said.

Somehow I got my mouth to work and my brain caught up more quickly than I ever would have though possible. “I. . .I did. We’re looking for some songs, for the Osmond Boys, and I thought maybe you had run across something we could use.” I mentioned the possibility of All Tied Up.

“Not a problem with me,” he said. “I’m not going to use it on an album or anything.”

One brother down, maybe another to go on getting permission for that one, I thought. Then I remember the other suggestion I had. “Have you written anything that might work for the boys? Mike Curb is producing, and I’m sure he’d love to see something on there by you.”

Donny hesitated for a second, as though he were thinking. “Yeah, I think so. Let me see what I can do.”

“That sounds great,” I said.

“Tell Alan I’ll give him a call soon,” Donny said.

“Thanks again, and I will,” I said as he hung up the phone.

I sat there a minute just staring at the phone before replacing the handset into the cradle. I’d been working for Alan for two years, and I’d never responded this way with him, or any of the other of his brothers in person or on the phone. What was that all about? I didn’t know.

But to this day, just thinking the words, “This is. . .Donny Osmond,” still brings a little tingle to my spine.

On a side-note, Donny did call Alan back and he came through with a song for the boys. The third track, “Wait on Love,” was co-written by Donny Osmond.