Lamont Dozier - How Sweet It Is: A Songwriters Reflections on Music, Motown and the Mystery of the Muse

How Sweet It Is:

A Songwriters Reflections on Music, Motown, and the Mystery of the Muse

Copyright 2019 by Lamont Dozier. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher, with the exception of brief passages embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Cover design by Randall Leddy

Cover photo by Lisa Margolis

All interior photos from the collection of the author except for the following:

Photo on courtesy of Walt Disney Television/ABC/Getty Images.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available upon request.

Hardback ISBN: 9781947026315

Hardback with CD ISBN: 9781947026667

Published by BMG

www.bmg.com

I know youre in there, motherfucker!

Somebody was pounding on the door. Ferociously. I opened my eyes. It was dark, but I could see well enough to know my surroundings werent familiar.

Is that bitch in there with you?

Oh, right. The motel. I rubbed my eyes and tried to shake off the grogginess. I was in the little no-tell motel down the street from Motowns headquarters at 2648 West Grand Boulevard in Detroit. It was the kind of place where you wanted to hurry up and get your key from the check-in desk before you saw someone you knew. Id been there a time or two when I walked in and spotted somebody I recognized waiting in line. I just backed out before they saw me.

Bang! Bang! Bang! The door was vibrating in its frame. You better open up this goddamn door, Lamont!

It was my main squeeze. And she was pissed. My first wife and I had split up several months earlier, and I had been dating around a little bit. I wasnt living with anyone at the time, but the very angry woman on the other side of that door certainly would have called herself my girlfriend. And it sounded like she wanted me to let her in! The problem was I was in there with another girl. And I could see in that girls eyes that she was starting to get real nervous about what the main squeeze was going to do to her if she got past the one-and-three-quarters-inch of wood that stood between them.

Get dressed, I whispered to the girl in bed beside me. Youre gonna have to slip out the bathroom window and quietly escape around back. This womans out for blood. Ill call you later. She silently gathered up her things and tiptoed to the bathroom in the dark.

Are you gonna open this door, asshole, or am I gonna have to find a way to break it down?

How did she know where I was? Somebody mustve seen me. I grabbed the bathrobe that was resting across a chair next to the bed, slipped it on, and crept up to the peephole. I looked out and saw lights flickering on in other rooms. She was making all kinds of noise out there, and people were starting to peek out their curtains to see if it was someone who was after them. Unfortunately, this time it was someone who was after me.

I looked back toward the bathroom. My friend had made her exit and was slowly lowering the window back down from outside. Thank God we were on the first floor. I crept back over to the bedside table and flicked the switch on the lamp. I quickly scanned the room for a stray bra, shoe, or any other telltale sign of my recent companion. All clear!

Its about damn time, my girl shouted when she saw the light come on. I paused for a few moments, squinted my eyes as if Id just woken up, slid off the security chain, took a deep breath, and began to open the door. She pushed it open and forced her way past me. Wheres the bitch at? I know shes in here! I feigned a yawn. I dont know what youre talking about, baby, I muttered. Im just getting some rest after a long night at the studio. I had a little too much to drink, so I decided not to drive home. She put her hands on her hips. Oh, that is some bullshit, she yelled. Aint nobody come here to get no rest! She scooped my pants off the floor and flung them toward me. I dodged them just before the keys in the pocket clanked against the window, making a huge racket. By this point, everyone in the motel was awake. Hell, the way she was carrying on, everyone in the neighborhood mightve been awake. She kept on screaming and yelling while I tried desperately to get her to quiet down.

I aint no fool, Lamont. I know you had some girl up in here with you.

Baby, please. I was just trying to get some sleep.

Youre a liar, and you know it. You better just admit it now.

Baby, please stop.

Oh, Im gonna stop alright. Im gonna stop that bitch when I find out who she is, and you better be damn sure Im gonna stop your ass from runnin around on me.

Baby, please stop. Im begging you, please. Youre waking up the whole place. Just stop. Stop! In the name of love.

You know those movie scenes where you hear a record scratch and everything comes to a screeching halt? Thats what happened in my head at that moment. It was like the whole world suddenly stood still as my own words rang in my ears. Stop! In the name of love.

Baby, I said, Did you hear that?

Hear what?

That cash register. Stop in the name of love? If thats not a hit song title, I dont know what is!

Oh, shut up, Lamont. Youre not gonna distract me with that shit.

It was silent for a moment. That is actually pretty good, she finally said, allowing herself a little smirk. Stop in the name of love, I mean.

Somehow or another she finally calmed down, and we went back to my apartment. I got a few hours of sleep before I had to get up and head over to work at Hitsville, which was what we called the headquarters from which Berry Gordy ran his Motown, Tamla, and associated record labels. When I arrived that morning, my partner Brian Holland was sitting at the piano in our office playing a melody I hadnt heard before. Whats that, man? I asked as I set my briefcase down next to the desk. Oh, its just a thing Ive been working on, he said. Kind of a rough idea. I leaned against the wall. Play that again, I said. He started from the top. I began to sing, Stop, in the name of love. Brian nodded his head. Before you hurt my heart, I continued. I like that, he said. Something like that, I responded. Thats not quite it yet, but its close. Play that first chord again. Brian hit the keys as I sang, Stop! I reached over and grabbed his hand to stop him from playing the next chord. Thats what it needs, I said. Weve got to really emphasize that word. I sat down on the bench. And maybe its break my heart instead of hurt my heart, I continued. Within a few minutes, wed created a roadmap for the whole song.

When Brians brother Eddie arrived later, we gave him the framework wed created, and he finished up the lyrics. We recorded it with The Supremes, and in March of 1965, it became their fourth consecutive single penned by the team of Brian Holland, Lamont Dozier, and Eddie Holland to reach number one on the Billboard pop chart.

Thats how it worked in those days. We were living our lives, writing what we knew, and working at a feverish pace to crank out the hit songs to keep the Sound of Young America chugging along. The team of Holland-Dozier-Holland only lasted for about a decade, but we made history together. The three of us wroteand Brian and I producedten number-one pop hits for The Supremes alone. In addition to Stop! In the Name of Love there was Where Did Our Love Go, Baby Love, Come See About Me, Back in My Arms Again, I Hear a Symphony, You Cant Hurry Love, You Keep Me Hangin On, Love is Here and Now Youre Gone, and The Happening. There were plenty of others, including My World Is Empty Without You and Reflections that were big hits that fell just shy of the top of the chart.