Benson George - Benson: The Autobiography

Copyright 2014 by George Benson

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Contents

by Bill Cosby

I n 1964 I was an up-and-comer who was becoming a name, and man, it was exciting. Id made the climb from small coffeehouses, to not-quite-as-small folk music rooms, to nightclubs on the level of New Yorks Basin Street East and the Village Gaterooms that sat 180-something people, rooms that had liquor licenses, rooms where comedians like Dick Gregory were the headliners. Sometimes I opened for singers and musical groups, and sometimes, they opened for me. One week Id share the bill with the wonderful South African singer Miriam Makeba, and a few months later it would be the incredible tenor saxophonist Stan Getz. These werent the kinds of joints that booked guys like Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr.Frank and Sammy played big-money places, like the Copacabana. Basin Street and the Gate werent showbiz nightclubs as much as they were hip nightclubs.

It seemed like whenever I played the Gate, Id run into this wonderful black gentleman by the name of Jimmy Boyd. One night, after a show, Jimmy told me about this guy, a young cat named George Benson. Im tellin ya, Bill, he said, this guy can really play. Really play, Bill. Really, really play. Hes doing a gig up in Harlem. Why dont you come and see him?

I said, Yeah. Oh. Okay. But I didnt go. So he asked me again and again and again, and I still didnt go. I was performing with established artists like Miriam and Stan, and besides, I wasnt yet in a position where I could help out this youngster of whom Id never heard. I didnt make time to do time to have time. I had no excuses. Eventually, Jimmy gave up on me.

Over the next twenty years, for George Benson, the hits came. This Masquerade. Breezin. On Broadway. Love Ballad. Give Me the Night. Turn Your Love Around. One right after the other, right after the other. All youd hear were people talking about George Benson, George Benson, George Benson. And almost every time I heard his name, Id think about that wonderful, persistent Jimmy Boyd.

In 1987, I was asked to emcee the Playboy Jazz Festival at the Hollywood Bowl. George was the final act, and that was huge because he was following heavy hitters like Sarah Vaughan, Grover Washington Jr., Stan Getz, Joe Williams, Count Basie, Lionel Hampton, Branford Marsalis, and Etta James. (I wasnt surprised that George was the closer because, even eight years after its release, On Broadway was still killing the world.) The festival kicked off in the early afternoon, and the last act came on around ten thirty. We started in the light and would be finishing in the dark, so I knew that last actwell, hed better be good, because if he wasnt, the people would leave. They were tired, man. They were worn out. Theyd watched acts come and go, and come and go, and come and go, and they would pick up their ice chests, which had nothing but melted ice pooled at the bottom, and go home. If George wasnt good from note one, it might turn out to be Amateur Night at the Apollo, with all the booing and everything.

When it was time, I said, Ladies and gentlemen, George... and the place erupted. They never even heard me say Benson. For all they knew, I was introducing George Washington or George Foreman. As I headed to the wings, I heard, Brrrrump, brump. Ba-da-dum, da-dum. Brump, brump. Ba-da-dum, da-dum. It was On Broadway, and the people went even crazier. I watched every note of that show... and so did all 18,157 of the folks there. Nobody left. And George sang. And George played. And George, the showman, tore the place up.

Now we come to ten months ago. Im at home, in Massachusetts, and in Massachusetts they have a channel on the television, channel 850, and its progressive jazz. One night, I turn on this channel 850, then go into the bathroom to brush my teeth, and I hear a song:

From This Moment On.

Blistering speed.

Bump-chicka-bump-d-d-d-bop-chicka-bop...

I grab the toothpaste.

Doo-doo-doo-deeeeee-b-b-b-bop-chicka-bowwww...

I put the toothpaste on the electric toothbrush.

B-b-b-b-bow-chicka-bop-bop-d-d-d-chicka-doo...

I put the electric toothbrush in my mouth and turn it on.

And then comes the guitar solo.

I turn off the electric toothbrush so I can hear the guitar solo.

And Ive never heard a guitar solo like this. And Ive heard the greats: Jim Hall. Charlie Byrd. Kenny Burrell. But this solonothing like it. This was a musician playing because he was a musician. This guy is burnin up, but its clear to me that hes not just playing fast to play fastthis guy has a brain and is capable of playing as fast as he thinks, and he is a fast thinker. I know this because Im listening, man.

Wow is not the word, but Wow is what I shout. With the toothpaste in my mouth. And the toothpaste splatters all over the sink, and the spigot, and the mirror. And the solo keeps going, and I make the same face I made when I first tasted the mustard greens at Dooky Chases Restaurant in New Orleans. At that moment, Im happy to be on this earth.

By the time I run out of the bathroom to see who the guitarist is, the song is done, and I have no idea who was playing, and Im mad. But then it hits me, and I make a wager with myself: I bet its George Benson. The next morning, I call my friend Darlene Chan, one of the producers of the Playboy Jazz Festival, and say, The next time you talk to George, can you ask him if he ever recorded From This Moment On at blistering speed?

The word comes back from Darlene later that afternoon: George told me to tell you that you have a fantastic ear, and the answer is yes.

I hang up the phone, sit down, and have what I would call a reverse-epiphany sadness. I think, This is the George Benson that Jimmy Boyd was trying to get me to see, and then I say aloud, You sure werent lying, Jimmy. God bless you.

Bill Cosby

April 2012

I didnt know folks in South Africa listened to me until their local concert promoters begged my management team to schedule some shows down there. And they kept begging, and begging, and begging some more, and it went on for months. Now, I didnt have much interest in performing down therethere were plenty of gigs in the States and Europe to keep me busybut they were so frantic that they sent a couple of emissaries to Los Angeles to convince me it would be worth everybodys while.