A brief note to all fans and friends....I know you are anxious to read what Ms. Dayne had to say in our interview, but the adventure is part of the story. So, grab yourself a cup of coffee or a glass of juice, lean back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

(Some details have been modified to protect the privacy of individuals and institutions)

After months of collecting questions for Taylor Dayne, the opportunity finally arrived to meet with The Great Dayne herself. She was performing in Atlantic City, within a few hours drive of my home. Exhausted and having just returned from a writer's conference in New York, I knew I would need lots of help to schedule the interview and complete it. I enlisted the aid of the great artist, and arguably the most fervent Taylor Dayne fan, Barbara Baldwin.

Barbara got on the telephone, refusing to take any no's for an answer. She tracked down Joe and left him a message on Saturday night that we would be heading to Atlantic City for Sunday's concert at Trump Plaza. Armed with mini-cassette recorder, a theme book for taking notes, a couple of pens, Taylor'a Soul Dancing CD, and an AUM t-shirt and wall hanging Barbara made for Taylor, we hopped in the car and sped towards the New Jersey Turnpike.

We affirmed to not allow anything to stand in our way...sure, we had no tickets for the show and Joe hadn't even called to confirm our arrival before we left, but our faith remained strong. I could tell from the smile on Barbara's face that there would be no way we wouldn't see The Diva.

In the car we played every Taylor Dayne cassette we had, and Barbara recalled for me details of her other meetings with Taylor. By the time we turned onto the Atlantic City Expressway, my own excitement had built to a restless pitch. I reminded myself I am a professional author who had a job to do....but this was so much more than a job, it was a labor of love because this would be the first time I would see Taylor Dayne perform live.

Trump Plaza is fairly easy to find, in fact, it's visible from the Expressway. Fortunately, we made all the right turns. We pulled into the parking tower, but there wasn't an available parking spot until we reached the sixth floor. We parked the car, gathered together all our necessities, and headed for the elevators. I glanced at my watch...it was 7:40. The show was scheduled to start in twenty minutes.

Once in Trump Plaza, we followed wall signs directing us to The Theatre. At the box office, Barbara asked the clerk if there was any message for us from Joe.

"No, I don't see anything here," the clerk replied as she checked a message board. "But if you step to the right, pick up a house phone, and call backstage, you can check for yourself." She told Barbara what extension to call.

Barbara picked up the phone and as she waited for someone to answer, I took a deep breath, leaned against the wall, and observed as Determination Itself went to work.

"Hi, to whom am I speaking?" Barbara asked. "Uh huh, uh huh. This is Barbara Baldwin. I am here with Laurine Ark to see Taylor...."

, Five minutes later, Taylor's personal assistant, Liz came down the locked, private performer's elevator with a Trump employee escort and, as if we were important people, Liz led us through the waiting crowd.

"Joe wants you to sit in the lighting booth. It's all ready for you. The view is great," Liz said as the Trump escort unlocked the elevator and took us up several floors.

Backstage at the Trump Plaza is like a labyrinth. It is a windowless maze of thick, heavy, locked doors with electronic keypads that limit entrance to only those of the selected few entrusted with the magic combinations. We stepped off the elevator and made a turn to the left. Leaning over the keypad, the escort punched in the magic numbers and the first door opened. We walked down a straight hallway lined with more locked doors.

"The show's started but there's a comedian on first, " Liz said. "Taylor will be on in about half an hour. There isn't time to see her before the show, but Joe wants you to come back stage afterwards."

"And I can do the interview then?" I asked.

"Taylor is very tired. She's done countless interviews all week," Liz replied.

Barbara sighed as I tried to maintain some semblance of a professional decorum.

"But," Liz added. "You are expected to at least come back and say hello for a few minutes."

"Thank you." I smiled.

The escort stopped and as he punched in another one of those magic combinations, Liz said, "This is the lighting booth and the staff is working the show. They know you are going to be there, but I have to ask you to remain quiet so they can do their work."

"No problem," I said.

The lighting booth was a long room with spotlights, computers, technicians and directors to run all the intricacies of a casino-quality performance. By the left spotlight were padded chairs, waiting for us.

Liz held us back by the door for a moment and whispered, "After Taylor finishes, go back stage to the right, and someone will take you to see Taylor." She pointed down in the direction she wanted us to go. "I have to get back now. Enjoy the show. Oh, and we're glad you're here."

We said thank you's, and settled down into our seats.

John Cardi, a comedian was on stage, making the crowd roar.

I leaned forward in my seat and peered down at the audience. The house was packed, not an empty seat in the place, as the saying goes. Though we were behind a wall of glass and twenty feet above the crowd, I could feel the excitement and the anticipation in the air.

John Cardi pulled a woman out of the audience and did a pantomime routine with her. The audience laughed. I tried to relax for a few minutes, but the fan in me was overpowering my ability to concentrate on the comedy.

I've met a lot of people in my days. I think I've seen a million faces. I've traveled all around the country, heard all kinds of stories from professional entertainers, teenage poets, and seat mates on jetliners. In my career now, I generally work with other writers and artists in honing their craft and artistry, along with writing fiction and nonfiction for myself. I've done countless interviews in the past, but this was the one I waited for the longest, the one I wanted to do, not just for the website, but for myself. I wanted to learn how such a blessed talent felt about her creativity. I needed to discover for myself if she knew how much the beautiful sound she created touched, affected, and even changed people's lives.

Liz's warning that the interview might not take place replayed in my head. I looked over at Barbara. Her foot was tapping on the floor in one of those nervous discontented sort of rhythms. I knew she was wondering if there would be any time with Taylor too, but neither of us dared express that fear outloud. Instead, for some reason, I leaned over and whispered to Barbara, "Hey, we're here. This is pretty cool. Thank you, I couldn't have done it without your help."

Suddenly, any doubt I might have had slipped away. I didn't know how, I didn't know where, but I knew we would talk to Taylor Dayne, and it would happen that night. After all, everything else was blessed that night, surely that opportunity would be too. All the right doors would open up.

Barbara smiled silently, as if she knew it too.

I looked back at the stage. The comedian was saying his goodbyes and introducing Taylor Dayne. "These are some wonderful people," he said. "I've had the great privilege of working with them for the last few days. I know you will love the show. On behalf of Trump Plaza, thank you, and get ready to be thrilled."

The spotlights went out. The stage went dark. The crew in the booth went into high gear. Directors' orders came over the headsets of the spotlight operators and they whispered back their acknowledgments. Rows of buttons were pushed on the sound board. Computer screens flashed with status reports. The spotlight operator next to us whispered, "Okay, yep. I got it. Ready to go."

I checked my watch....8:40 p.m. It was time for me to go to work. I dug out my notebook and a pen.

Then it started. The music, the sound, Taylor's majesty. The applause was deafened by the roar of the screams and whistles.

The curtain parted and out she came, the one, the only. I sat mesmerized as she entered onto the stage, captivated by that beautiful face and that soul-stirring, angelic voice.

"Whatever You Want Me To Do...."

Another roar thundered through the audience.

Taylor tossed her almost shoulder-length blonde hair to the side and strode her way center stage. She wore three inch heels, orange and black pants and a black tube top. Either side of the stage was draped in violet curtains with soft backlighting. Her band consisted of a guitarist, drummer/percussionist, two keyboard players and one bassist/keyboardist. Two new backup singers, Zhana and Vivian moved with grace and perfection, complementing Taylor's every step. (More on these two beautiful young women and the band members when I take you backstage with us.)

"Loves Gonna Be On Your Side....."

After this number, Taylor sat on a stool and chatted with the audience for a few minutes. She talked about her new backup singers and her new band. A sigh of amazement floated through the audience when she announced they had only been together for seven days.

"Don't Rush Me...." And as the band played, Taylor slipped off stage, only to reappear in what seemed like a wink of an eye in black leather pants and a floor length open coat. ( Boy, I hope I'm getting this costume change right...these parts of my notes where taken in the dark and my scribbles are almost indecipherable. Anyway....)

She looked trim, curvaceous, sexy. I knew right then that she was an act and a star much bigger than the forum provided. Her (typically) excellent phrasing and accentuation was in true form and would overpower anything but a celestial production.

With total determination, Taylor took control of the stage and her audience. Her arms flailed to the bass, her fingers pointed to emphasize already strong lyrics, her foot stomping added to the intensity.

"I'll Always Love You...." A performance strong enough to wake the dead. Taylor's love for this song became obvious to me, and I fought the hypnotic spell she cast on everyone.

Barbara leaned over and whispered to me, "Do you think she can see us up here?"

"Maybe," I said. "From what I recall being on stage, you can sometimes, if the spotlight is just so."

"I wish we could have been in the front row...down there." Barbara sighed. "That's where I usually am."

"Yeah, that would be great, but twenty-four hours ago, we didn't even know if we'd be able to get here in time. The place is full. It's hard to sit still and not to hoot and holler." But it was best, for me anyway, to be in the lighting booth because if I had been in the first row, I know I would have been too enthralled to take any kind of notes at all. As it is, most of this is from memory....you see, if you haven't experienced Taylor before....her presence bombards you, even when you're sitting two stories up and behind a solid glass wall.

"I'll Wait...." Oh, that haunting tune that stunned me and paralyzed every muscle in my body the first time I heard it. Those gritty, yet sultry tones always make me shiver. In this version, Taylor broke into a little sassy prancing, arms flailing again, feet stomping. Again the tone shifted into an almost jazzy beat. Taylor's fingers started pointing again, her hips swayed.

My Goodness, I thought to myself. She still looks twenty-five years old.

"Unstoppable....." Taylor swung around in her black floor-length vest.

"Don't Make Me Love You...." Taylor sat down to sing this song. A single spotlight bathed her in soft light as she sang with her characteristic pleading, anticipatory, pained wails.

"Naked Without You...." Taylor stood up. Again she sang in a single spotlight. Soft blue Fresnel lights lit the upstage. This song is the title track from Taylor's new CD. Her rendition is reminiscent of that lonely beseeching, the frustrated yearning of a woman in love. I willed myself not to weep.

Barbara leaned over and whispered, "How are we going to get backstage? How are we ever going to get down there?"

The memory of all those hallways and locked doors flashed before my eyes. "Uh, gee, I don't know. Er, we'll figure it out," I answered. Truth was, I didn't have any idea how we'd find our way back through that maze. If only the escort hadn't hidden his hands when he punched in those combinations, I thought. "We'll be okay," I said to Barbara, trying to reassure myself as much as I wanted to reassure her.

The pounding beat of Taylor's next song re-established that hypnotic spell. "Stand...." Taylor danced the side shuffle with a willful determination to get everyone to move. She gleefully shimmied over to Bobby Douglas, her Musical Director and Keyboardist, who was playing his big red bass guitar, and they danced as he laid down the beat.

"Dang. I wish I could get some pictures of this," Barbara groaned on a whisper.

"Two problems-- the glass wall and the flash in this dark room."

"They'll love our report, don't worry."

"Prove Your Love...." Taylor sang to her guitarist, and with the help of Zhana and Vivian, they coaxed him into his guitar solo. Then Taylor skipped across the stage, highlighting each band member. They played as she exited and came back in a black sequined blouse and a fishnet shawl.

The excitement stirred Taylor on. "It's hard to shut up here," she said, and began to chat to the audience again. She tried to sit on her stool again, but it wobbled and she commented on the chair leg being too short. "Donald....Donald..." Taylor teased Donald Trump to come to the show. (If he was there, we didn't see him.)

Taylor talked some more about herself, that she was from Long Island, but lived most recently in the Los Angeles area. Then she laughed. "I'm sick of talking about myself. I've been doing interviews all week." She explained how many music industry and press representatives and just plain reporters had visited over the weekend to interview her as part of the promotional blitz for NAKED WITHOUT YOU. "I'm going back to my apartment for a while....I haven't slept all weekend," she told the crowd.

She recalled a story about Arlo Guthrie and James Taylor about the power of the written word. "I've had the pen a couple of times on this record," she explained. "Yeah, God passed me the pen."

Still balancing on the stool, Taylor introduced one of the most beautiful songs she has ever recorded, "Dreams...." Behind her as she sang, a backdrop of red and blue hosted a small galaxy of twinkling stars. "Dreams" is a gentle ballad, subdued, very dreamlike. ("It's almost a lullaby," I told her later that night, when she asked us how we liked it.)

"Can't Get Enough...." Once again, the primal drumbeat filled the theater. Taylor's hip thumping dance was illuminated in bright sun-colored lights that faded to purple and red. She danced again with Vivian and Zhana, bumping hips, singing in unison.

Taylor glided off stage, waving goodbye, leaving Zhana and Vivian to urge the audience on its feet with chants of, "Get Up, Get On Up...."

The audience rose at once, clapping, swaying to the driving beat that demanded participation.

"Do you think someone will come for us?" Barbara asked.

"Liz just said to come back stage, as I recall."

"How do we do that?"

"Find the right door, I guess." I shrugged.

"More, more," the crowd's chant intensified.

And our wish was granted. Taylor returned in her very short reddish dress with belled, raglan sleeves, white hose, and tall black, leather boots.

"Tell It To My Heart...." she sang as the audience clapped in unison to the rhythm.

The band rocked the house with another bass solo, a guitar solo, and Jeffrey Suttles' drum solo. Gently, they brought the tempo down, and Taylor closed with her signature song, "Love Will Lead You Back...."

Too excited and energized to cry, we all fought back the tears this rendition always conjures.

"That's it," Barbara whispered and nudged my arm. "We've got to find our way backstage.

"I checked my watch again... 9:40

I shoved my notebook and pen back into my bag, zipped it up, and followed Barbara out of the lighting booth.

Okay, I thought to myself. The moment of truth.

Once in that hallway of doors, Barbara immediately turned to the left.

"Nope," I said and tugged her to the right. "We've got to go this way. This is the way we came in."

"Geez, how can anyone find their way in this maze?" she sighed and we headed down the hallway.

Frantically, I replayed the memory of the escort's hand on those magic keypads, as if maybe this time I would see what numbers he had punched.

We made our way to the end of the hallway. Barbara opened the door. "Guess it only locks from the other side," she said.

There was the locked elevator we had come up on. Not a soul was in sight. Holding open the door that we had just come through with my leg, I glanced again at the control panel at the side of the elevator, searching to see if there was some special or disguised override button or something we could push to get it to work.

"Forget the elevator," Barbara said.

I continued to prop the hallway door open and watched as Barbara crossed the foyer and went straight to another locked door with the electronic keypad and the words "PRIVATE NO ADMITTANCE."

"Do you remember any of those numbers?" she asked me and at the same time, she pulled on the handle of the door.

Praise Be!!! IT OPENED.

"Come on," she motioned me on. "We're going in here."

I let the door close behind me, crossed the foyer in front of the elevator and followed Barbara through that magic door that had opened at her touch.

Join us as we go back stage

To Learn more about Barbara Baldwin and her art, visit the following sites:

Aum Creations

Can't Get Enough

To learn more about Laurine Ark, the author, visit her website at the following address:

Laurine Ark

Email:Barbara@AumCreations.com