"Can you get the group to come into the studio?"
Jasper probably could, but that was not what he wanted. "No," he said. "But if you give me a microphone and a tape recorder I'll guarantee to interview them in their dressing room."
There was a certain amount of bureaucratic fuss--the station manager was reluctant to let an expensive tape recorder leave the building--but at six that evening Jasper was backstage at the theater with the group.
Chris Gardner wanted no more than a few minutes of bland remarks from the group: how they liked the United States, what they thought about girls screaming at their concerts, whether they felt homesick. But Jasper hoped to give the radio station more than that. He intended this interview to be his passport to a real job in television. It had to be a sensation that rocked America.
First he interviewed them all together, doing the vanilla questions, talking about the early days back in London, getting them relaxed. He told them the station wanted to show them as fully rounded human beings: this was journalists' code for intrusive personal questions, but they were too young and inexperienced to know that. They were open with him, except for Dave, who was guarded, perhaps remembering the fuss caused by Jasper's article about Evie and Hank Remington. The others trusted him. Something else they had yet to learn was that no journalist could be trusted.
Then he asked them for individual interviews. He did Dave first, knowing that he was the leader. He gave Dave an easy ride, avoiding probing questions, not challenging any of the answers. Dave returned to the dressing room looking tranquil, and that gave the others confidence.
Jasper interviewed Walli last.
Walli was the one with a real story to tell. But would he open up? All Jasper's preparations were aimed at that result.
Jasper placed their chairs close together, and spoke to Walli in a low voice, to create the illusion of privacy, even though their words would be heard by millions. He put an ashtray next to Walli's chair to encourage him to smoke, guessing that a cigarette would make him feel more at ease. Walli lit up.
"What kind of child were you?" Jasper said, smiling as if this was just a lighthearted conversation. "Well-behaved, or naughty?"
Walli grinned. "Naughty," he said, and laughed.
They were off to a good start.
Walli talked about his childhood in Berlin after the war and his early interest in music, then about going to the Minnesanger club, where he came second in the contest. This brought Karolin into the conversation in a natural way, as she and Walli had paired up that night. Walli became passionate as he spoke about the two of them as a musical duo, their choice of material and the way they performed together, and it was clear how much he loved her, even though he did not say it.
This was great stuff, a lot better than the average pop star interview, but still not enough for Jasper.
"You were enjoying yourselves, you were making good music, and you were pleasing audiences," Jasper said. "What went wrong?"
"We sang 'If I Had a Hammer.'"
"Explain to me why that was a mistake."
"The police didn't like it. Karolin's father was afraid he would lose his job because of us, so he made her quit."
"So, in the end, the only place you could play your music was the West."
"Yes," Walli said briefly.
Jasper sensed that Walli was trying to dam the flow of passion.
Sure enough, after a moment's hesitation Walli added: "I don't want to say too much about Karolin--it could get her into trouble."
"I don't think the East German secret police listen to our radio station," Jasper said with a smile.
"No, but still . . ."
"I won't broadcast anything risky, I guarantee."
It was a worthless promise, but Walli accepted it. "Thanks," he said.
Jasper moved on quickly. "I believe the only thing you took with you, when you left, was your guitar."
"That's right. It was a sudden decision."
"You stole a vehicle."
"I was roadying for the bandleader. I used his van."