He was staying at an international student hostel on the Lower East Side, paying a dollar a night. He spent a week exploring New York, walking everywhere to save cash. Then he went back to see Mrs. Salzman, taking with him a single rose. And she gave him a job.

It was very menial. He was a clerk-typist on a local radio station, his task to listen to the radio all day and log everything that happened: which advertisements were aired, which records were played, who was interviewed, the length of the news bulletins and the weather forecasts and the traffic reports. Jasper did not care. He had got a foot in the door. He was working in America.

The personnel office, the radio station, and the This Day studio were all in the same skyscraper, and Jasper hoped he might get to know the people on This Day socially, but it never happened. They were an elite group who kept themselves separate.

One morning Jasper found himself in the elevator with Herb Gould, editor of This Day, a man of about forty with the permanent shadow of a blue-black beard. Jasper introduced himself and said: “I’m a great admirer of your show.”

“Thank you,” Gould said politely.

“It’s my ambition to work for you,” Jasper went on.

“We don’t need anyone right now,” Gould said.

“One day if you have time I’d like to show you my articles for British national newspapers.” The elevator came to a halt. Desperately, Jasper kept going. “I’ve written—”

Gould held up a hand to silence him and stepped out of the lift. “Thanks all the same,” he said, and he walked away.

A few days later, Jasper was at his typewriter with his headphones on and heard the mellifluous voice of Chris Gardner, the host of the midmorning show, say: “The British group Plum Nellie are in the city today for a show tonight with the All-Star Touring Beat Revue.” Jasper pricked up his ears. “We were hoping to bring you an interview with these guys, who are being called the new Beatles, but the promoter said they wouldn’t have time. Here instead is their latest hit, written by Dave and Walli: ‘Good-bye London Town.’”

As the record began, Jasper tore off his headphones, jumped up from his desk—in a little booth in the corridor—and went into the studio. “I can get an interview with Plum Nellie,” he said.

On air, Gardner sounded like the kind of movie star who always played the romantic lead, but in fact he was a homely-looking man with dandruff on the shoulders of his cardigan. “How would you manage that, Jasper?” he said with mild skepticism.

“I know the group. I grew up with Dave Williams. My mother and his are best friends.”

“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.”