Don Rhodes - Say it loud!: my memories of James Brown, soul brother no. 1

SAY IT LOUD!

MY MEMORIES OF

JAMES BROWN,

SOUL BROTHER NO.1

Don RHODES

Foreword by Brenda Lee

The Lyons Press
Guilford, Connecticut
An imprint of The Globe Pequot Press

Copyright 2009 by Don Rhodes

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission should be addressed to The Globe Pequot Press, Attn: Rights and Permissions Department, P.O. Box 480, Guilford, CT 06437.

The Lyons Press is a registered trademark of The Globe Pequot Press.

All photos, unless otherwise indicated, are courtesy of the Augusta Chronicle.

Text design by Sheryl Kober

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Rhodes, Don.

Say it loud! : my memories of James Brown, soul brother number one / Don Rhodes ; foreword by Brenda Lee.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

eISBN 978-1-4930-1169-8 (ePub)

1. Brown, James, 1933-2006. 2. Soul musiciansUnited StatesBiography. I. Title.

ML420.B818R56 2008

782.421644092--dc22

[B]

2008024562

T his book is dedicated to Joseph and Susie Brown, Minnie Walker, Velma Warren Brown, Allyn Lee, Emma and Leon Austin, Charles Bobbit, Ella Overton, Robert Flash Gordon, Laura Garvin, Henry Howard, William Glenn, Charles A. Reid Jr., Danny Ray, and Bobby Byrdand all the others who kept the faith and loved James Brown as much as I did.

Anything he did, he did it whole heartedly. He did it from the heart... No matter what anybody says or anybody thinks, he was a good person, and he believed in giving. He did. He really did. He believed in giving, and he would give it his best. And, however these things [legal matters] turn out its nobody to blame but themselves. They cant blame him, because he gave it all.... I can say that I truly loved him and want nothing to be a mockery of him, because he certainly doesnt deserve it. I look at it like this: If a man leaves and takes care of his family, then hes all right, because a lot of men leave and forget about their family.

There are people who want to believe the bad things about him and they dont want to look at the good, but in my heart I know he was a good person. Thats all that mattersno matter how many books are written because Ive read a lot of stuff that I knew wasnt true about him and heard a lot of stuff that I knew wasnt true about him. The way I loved him in life is the way I love him in death, and thats just the way it is.

Velma Warren Brown First Wife of James Brown

Toccoa, Georgia, February 8, 2008

CONTENTS

Foreword

I would love to say that James Brown, the 5-foot-6-inch, pompadoured Mr. Dynamite, and I, the 4-foot-9-inch, bouffanted Little Miss Dynamite, had the opportunity to perform together, but that, unfortunately, would never be.

Nevertheless, we were connected in many other distinctive ways.

We both had our first, career-making, debut hits in 1956James with the cry ballad Please, Please, Please and me with the rockabilly tune Jambalaya. He and I both performed many times individually on the storied stage of Bell Auditorium in Augusta, Georgia, and were both greatly influenced by the blues, big band, gospel, and country music that pulsated on Augustas radio stations.

We both lived and worked in Georgia and South Carolina, with me singing on WRDW television station in North Augusta, South CarolinaJames home stateand James later buying WRDW radio station in my adopted hometown of Augusta.

James loved country music and performed once on the Grand Ole Opry stage, and I love soul music, even first meeting my husband, Ronnie Shacklett, at a Jackie Wilson concert in Nashville.

We are both inductees into the Georgia Music Hall of Fame and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

And last but not least, both James and I came up poor doing what we could as children to help earn money for our families; with me picking cotton and with James picking up pieces of coal from railroad tracks so his family could have some heat in the winter. But we both ended up selling more than 100 million records each and touring internationally with fans in many countries.

Its a great honor to share so much in common with James Brown, but perhaps one of my biggest thrills was seeing him perform live in Nashville. His raw emotion was palatable, and his incredible energy and trademark dance moves drove the crowd completely wild, me included.

I absolutely loved his signature, one-three beat and funky horn arrangements. And, of course, the screaming fans couldnt get enough when he dropped, exhausted, to the floor in his famous lavender cape only to rush back to the microphone to give us more. He was truly a phenomenal performer.

So, heres to you, James. You are unequivocally one of the major musical influences of my time, and I feel privileged to have been along side you in the world of entertainment.

BRENDA LEE

Nashville, Tennessee

Preface

O n an average work or weekend day, I wake up at 5 a.m. regardless of the alarm on my clock radio. My three dogs always need out whether its a holiday or not. But on Christmas Day, 2006, I slept until about 6 a.m.

The previous Friday I had been watching the early TV news when I saw that James Brown would be at the Imperial Theatre in Augusta, Georgia, just before noon for his annual Christmas toy giveaway to needy children.

As it had sometimes happened during my forty years of friendship with James Brown, I was being given the cold shoulder by the Brown camp. I wasnt sure why; most likely I had written something that his fourth wife, Tomi Rae, didnt like. JB never got mad at me. It always was someone else who was looking after his best interests.

Whenever that happened, I always kept in mind this was the same James Brown who autographed a scrapbook that I had put together about him in 1988 To Don, My young bro who never fails to amaze me. Living in America, James Brown, Im Real. The Im Real referred to his then new album; typically always promoting his latest projects.

Watching the news that Friday morning I thought maybe the Christmas season of 2006 would be a good time to find out if I was again welcome in the inner Brown fold. But as the weather that day grew increasingly cold and wet, I chickened out; deciding to stay in my warm home across the Savannah River in North Augusta, South Carolina, less than three miles from the Imperial Theatre.

It was a decision I will forever deeply regret.

That evening on the local TV newscast, I saw the coverage of JBs toy giveaway at the Imperial. There were the usually excited kids with their mothers waiting hours in line, and there was JB wearing a brown western hat with round silver medallions on the band. He loved western hats and was photographed often in public wearing that particular one. But I noticed JB wasnt really giving out a lot of toys but letting others do it.

He was attempting to look cheery and sound upbeat, but I was struck by how very frail he appeared. Frail was not a word usually associated with JB. He had been a tough kid who became a tough adult, and he exuded that physicality on stage over five decades of professional performing. He was a live wire of celebrity electricity that no one could touch. He didnt earn the title of The Hardest Working Man in Show Business by sitting on his butt.