The comfy world of young Ahmet Ertegun was filled with diplomats and dinner parties.

He was the son of Turkey's ambassador to the U.S. He was a smart kid and people figured he'd be foreign secretary someday.

Then music — jazz and rhythm-and-blues and rock — intervened. He launched Atlantic Records and changed the world.

"The powerhouse Atlantic sound he helped create reflects the very best of American music," says Susan Lacy, head of PBS' "American Masters" series.

Before Ertegun's death in December, at 83, "Masters" spent four years interviewing him and his colleagues. The result is a history of rock and more.

This was a man who recorded the greats of jazz (John Coltrane, Charles Mingus) and rhythm and blues (Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett, Ben E. King). He went on to record rock of the 1960s era (Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Buffalo Springfield, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young) and beyond (Tori Amos, Jewel and Kid Rock).

He had no musical training, but he sometimes wrote songs ("Chains of Love," "Mess Around," "Fool, Fool, Fool") and often offered advice.

"He could say, 'Play me that groove,'" songwriter Jerry Leiber recalls. "All the right musicians understand what that is."

And sometimes, he had specific requests. Consider:

Phil Collins: "When Phil played the demo of 'In the Air Tonight,' which was his first song, there were no drums on it," says songwriter Mike Stoller. "Ahmet said, 'Man, you're a drummer. Put some drums on. They should go here, here and there.' And if you think back to that record, that's what drove it."

The Drifters: Ben E. King recalls when "There Goes My Baby" was being recorded. "The guy who was supposed to do the lead couldn't make the song work," King says. "So Ahmet looks at me and said, 'Is that your song?'

"I said, 'Yes, it is.'

"He said, 'Well, you sing it.' That's how I ended up being the lead singer for the Drifters for years."

Ertegun knew what he wanted. Singer Solomon Burke recalled their first meeting: "Ahmet said, 'Yeah, man, this is a good guy. We're going to sign him right away. You're signed.' That was my meeting."

Being signed was a mixed blessing in the early days.

"The contracts ... were just no good," Leiber says. "That was the way of doing business ... until, like, 1963."

Later, he and Stoller would sue Atlantic. Also, Ertegun would announce reparations to early performers, including a $2 million fund for old R&B singers.

The PBS special mentions all the touchy parts, from "payola" for DJs to the married Ertegun's fondness for young women.

At the core, however, was a deeply respected man. "You would be hard-pressed to find any artist on Atlantic that has a bad word to say about it," Stoller says.

Ertegun loved the music before he moved with his family to the U.S. When he was about 12 and the family was visiting New York, he caught a cab to Harlem and spent the night with jazz greats.

That was Ertegun's first love, Lacy says. "One immigrant's passion for African-American music influenced the entire direction of contemporary music."