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Walter RANDALL

But God had other plans

I was supposed to be an NFL star, but I guess God had other plans. After my third reconstructive knee surgery playing college ball, I realized my destiny was in my other passion—music.

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I came to NYC on my 23rd birthday in 2002 with just $50 and moved into a room in a house on 224th and White Plains Rd. in the Bronx. The house was owned by a 90+ year-old woman named Mother White. The room cost $150 a week, and she treated me like her son.

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I got a job at Spofford Juvenile Facility, a position I’d applied for online while in Cleveland (my hometown), planning how I would take over the music industry. I worked there and saved every penny I made—no movies, no dates, no shopping.

By early 2003, I had saved enough to get a commercial space and build a studio. I hired a broker because I didn’t know much about NYC. All I knew was that Midtown was too expensive, and no one would take the studio seriously if it wasn’t in Manhattan. The broker found a spot on 125th Street in Harlem, which I thought was perfect. Everyone was talking about Harlem being the place to be, especially since the Clintons had bought a house there.

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I was so happy to get the space, but God had other plans. Due to a mix-up about the building’s 24-hour accessibility policy, I had to give it up. Lo and behold, God had a place in Midtown waiting for me—out of my price range, of course—but it was exactly where I needed to be. That’s how I ended up on 39th and 8th.

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I started building Brown Sugar Recording Studio in April 2003, and it didn’t open until May 2004. I sweat, bled, cried, and lost 30 pounds building that space. All I had was a Home Depot DIY book and some cheap tools from an Odd Jobs store on the corner of 39th Street.

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Those were hard times. I gave up my room in the Bronx because I couldn’t afford it while paying studio rent and buying materials to construct the facility. I was homeless, mostly sleeping in my 1990 Isuzu Rodeo under the 7 train in Queens. Why not sleep in the studio? Parking in the city cost more than my old room in the Bronx, and I was still working 8-16 hour shifts at Spofford. I didn’t have the time to commute back and forth between Queens and Manhattan. I was barely getting enough sleep as it was.

Fast forward through a lot of struggles and unbelievable stories, and by 2005 I was running a successful studio in NYC. I was still homeless and behind on rent, but I hadn’t been evicted. That’s success, right?

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By 2007, Quad Studios tried to buy me out (I refused), and we were so busy that we had to turn down some of the biggest names in the music industry. I knew it was time to expand. A suite the same size as Brown Sugar became available next door, but God had other plans.

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When I told the building owner—whom I was good friends with by then—that I wanted the space, he said no. He didn’t think I was ready to take on more. Since he was a friend, I bit my tongue. A year later, a space three times the size—with a wall of windows overlooking Times Square—became available. Look at God. When I approached him about this bigger, more expensive space, he didn’t even flinch. He gave me his blessing, and I got back into DIY construction mode. This time, I built two studios and named them Ebony and Ivory.

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By 2012, things were popping! I had three fully operational studios in Midtown Manhattan. In 2013, Atlantic Records approached me about taking over two of my rooms. At the time, I was in talks with Beyoncé’s team for the same opportunity. Of course, God had a say. After turning down Atlantic, the Beyoncé deal fell through because the building couldn’t accommodate their request for a private bathroom. Shortly after, Atlantic came back—this time with even more money—and I said yes.

When I met Craig Kallman, the CEO of Atlantic Records, he insisted that I be included in the deal as an A&R/talent scout. I agreed, and three years later, I had built another studio—bringing the total to four—and learned more about the music industry in that time than I had in the previous decade combined.

 

Now, I have a bigger vision, and I’m just waiting for God to swat it down and show me something even greater.

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