Just got back from listening to a local blues band and loved the fact that they did a song by Jimmy Reed. Here's a little excerpt from the Leroy 'Hog' Cooper on Sax about Jimmy.
"I could tell you a story about that record date with Jimmy Reed. The drummer and I used to work together.
"We go up to the studio and uh-oh, Jimmy’s late. Everybody in the studio was ready to go. After awhile we heard something coming down the hallway, bumping into the walls.
"My buddy said, 'That’s Jimmy,' and then ta-da – Jimmy walked in. He was high as a kite.
"He came in there and said, 'I’m ready.'
"Man, what kind of recording is he going to do when he’s high like that? The drummer’s name was Al.
"Jimmy said, “Al, what did you have for breakfast this morning?”
"Al said, 'Ham and eggs.'
"Oh, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum da bum, Jimmy was playing and started singing, 'Ham and eggs, baby, bah bah do do.'
"Al said, 'Jimmy, that’s good stuff. What’s the next one?'
“Jimmy asked, 'Um, what kind of car you drive?' He did an LP just off of the top of his head on whatever subject we came up with.
"I said this is pure genius. And I mean we would tell stories and he would do bum bum… and we finished the thing in about three hours’ time and I’m still standing there in amazement."
copyright Susan Cross, August 2009
Including:
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Blues musicians' nicknames
Funny how blues musicians have to be given nicknames in order to be recognized. This phenomenon occurs in other genres and of course, is rampant in athletes.
Leroy Cooper was dubbed by his high school band director as Hog. David Newman got his label, Fathead from that same man. Hank Crawford didn't use his first name which was Bennie. All of these are sax players that played with Ray Charles. Ernest Vantrease, keyboard player for Ray for almost 30 years, was dubbed The Deacon, although now that he's with B.B. King he is known by his given name.
Speaking of B.B. King, his real name is Riley B. King, but it is generally known that the B.B. stands for Blues Boy.
Buster Smith's given name was Henry. How 'bout this one? Antoine Dominique Domino became famous as Fats Domino.
Would blues fans recognize a song by Amos Blakemore? Would they know that Buddy Guy was the man performing it?
The list goes on and on and even in local blues bands, if you don't have a nickname you're not a 'cat' as Leroy would describe you. Here in Orlando, we have Mad Dog Mahoney, Mojo Jones, the Iceman, Birddog Bobby, Lil Mookie, and the list goes on.
Go ahead and show me what you know. Leave a comment with one that I've left out. There are plenty that have slipped my mind this morning -- it's Saturday and I was going to take the day off. Hah!
Leroy Cooper was dubbed by his high school band director as Hog. David Newman got his label, Fathead from that same man. Hank Crawford didn't use his first name which was Bennie. All of these are sax players that played with Ray Charles. Ernest Vantrease, keyboard player for Ray for almost 30 years, was dubbed The Deacon, although now that he's with B.B. King he is known by his given name.
Speaking of B.B. King, his real name is Riley B. King, but it is generally known that the B.B. stands for Blues Boy.
Buster Smith's given name was Henry. How 'bout this one? Antoine Dominique Domino became famous as Fats Domino.
Would blues fans recognize a song by Amos Blakemore? Would they know that Buddy Guy was the man performing it?
The list goes on and on and even in local blues bands, if you don't have a nickname you're not a 'cat' as Leroy would describe you. Here in Orlando, we have Mad Dog Mahoney, Mojo Jones, the Iceman, Birddog Bobby, Lil Mookie, and the list goes on.
Go ahead and show me what you know. Leave a comment with one that I've left out. There are plenty that have slipped my mind this morning -- it's Saturday and I was going to take the day off. Hah!
Friday, August 28, 2009
Just words - Flash Fiction
The woman was playing solitaire on a TV tray in front of her easy chair. She was superstitious and believed that if she won the game he would call. She blamed the silence of the phone on the cards. He hadn’t called in over a week and she was obsessing over him, trying to figure out what went wrong.
Her children were sitting in the living room with her watching the Donny and Marie Show featuring the brother and sister Osmond team. In addition to singing, dancing and performing comedy sketches the teenagers were as attractive as Barbie and Ken dolls but life-like and down to earth. Everything about them was perfect in the woman’s eyes.
She had been divorced for over five years now. Loneliness and depression were eating her up and caring for two children alone was a burden. In the 1950s and ‘60s divorce carried a stigma unlike current times when long lasting marriages were the exception and divorce more the rule. Not only was she bogged down by daily life and getting by on the money she earned as a saleslady in a department store, she was an outcast; a divorcee.
Finally she had met a man and thought that her life might possibly change for the better. He was attractive, which was very important to her, and had a steady job. He was obviously interested – enough to call her and take her out for a few early dinners during the weeks before. She never saw the signs or suspected that there was a pattern to the phone calls and dates. A more sophisticated woman might have guessed that he was married. Maybe she suspected it but didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility.
She turned up the final card and once again had lost her solitaire game. The phone rang. She jumped up to answer thinking that maybe there was nothing to this silly superstition. The voice she heard was a child calling to invite her daughter to a birthday party on Saturday. What a letdown! Out of frustration, she told the girl that her daughter couldn’t come to the party. She imagined the other mothers talking about her as the single mom who couldn’t find a man. Why impose more shame upon herself?
She looked at her tiny young daughter who was born with a chronic disease. Although the child never complained, the mother was a witness to the constant pain as it was displayed in her facial expressions. The child sat on the floor in front of the TV set. Even though she suffered the little girl didn’t deserve to go and have fun at a birthday party. If mom was miserable, why should her daughter be allowed a pleasure that was being denied to her?
The mother lit another cigarette. She glanced at her son who was eating cookies. He was already obese and shunned by the children at school. His daily tales of ridicule added to the weight of her misery.
Before giving up, the cards were laid out one more time. She vowed that this would be the last time tonight for her evening ritual. She concentrated and moved the cards carefully tempted to cheat. Once again the final winning card was buried under another and she gave up. She stood up and went into the bathroom. It was obvious when she looked in the mirror that she was a beautiful woman with her green eyes and flowing red haired.
There could only be one reason he hadn’t called. She had been right all along and the man would never call again. During their last dinner together, the all-important third date, she had told him that she had two children. No man in his right mind would get weighed down by a woman that represented a future involving an obese boy and an ailing daughter. Of course! Who could blame him? It wasn’t her fault or his; the children were responsible for her loneliness.
Stubbing out her cigarette, and taking another from the packet she stared at her defective offspring. Without them her life would be happy and fulfilling, she thought. Then she glanced up at the television screen. It didn’t seem fair.
“How come their mother got those gorgeous, talented children and I am stuck with you two?” Her children didn’t turn to look at her. They sat silently letting the words burn into their brains like tattoos. They were just words; one sentence. It never occurred to the woman that children never forget what their mother tells them. Just words had branded each of these little lives with guilt that would last a lifetime.
Her children were sitting in the living room with her watching the Donny and Marie Show featuring the brother and sister Osmond team. In addition to singing, dancing and performing comedy sketches the teenagers were as attractive as Barbie and Ken dolls but life-like and down to earth. Everything about them was perfect in the woman’s eyes.
She had been divorced for over five years now. Loneliness and depression were eating her up and caring for two children alone was a burden. In the 1950s and ‘60s divorce carried a stigma unlike current times when long lasting marriages were the exception and divorce more the rule. Not only was she bogged down by daily life and getting by on the money she earned as a saleslady in a department store, she was an outcast; a divorcee.
Finally she had met a man and thought that her life might possibly change for the better. He was attractive, which was very important to her, and had a steady job. He was obviously interested – enough to call her and take her out for a few early dinners during the weeks before. She never saw the signs or suspected that there was a pattern to the phone calls and dates. A more sophisticated woman might have guessed that he was married. Maybe she suspected it but didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility.
She turned up the final card and once again had lost her solitaire game. The phone rang. She jumped up to answer thinking that maybe there was nothing to this silly superstition. The voice she heard was a child calling to invite her daughter to a birthday party on Saturday. What a letdown! Out of frustration, she told the girl that her daughter couldn’t come to the party. She imagined the other mothers talking about her as the single mom who couldn’t find a man. Why impose more shame upon herself?
She looked at her tiny young daughter who was born with a chronic disease. Although the child never complained, the mother was a witness to the constant pain as it was displayed in her facial expressions. The child sat on the floor in front of the TV set. Even though she suffered the little girl didn’t deserve to go and have fun at a birthday party. If mom was miserable, why should her daughter be allowed a pleasure that was being denied to her?
The mother lit another cigarette. She glanced at her son who was eating cookies. He was already obese and shunned by the children at school. His daily tales of ridicule added to the weight of her misery.
Before giving up, the cards were laid out one more time. She vowed that this would be the last time tonight for her evening ritual. She concentrated and moved the cards carefully tempted to cheat. Once again the final winning card was buried under another and she gave up. She stood up and went into the bathroom. It was obvious when she looked in the mirror that she was a beautiful woman with her green eyes and flowing red haired.
There could only be one reason he hadn’t called. She had been right all along and the man would never call again. During their last dinner together, the all-important third date, she had told him that she had two children. No man in his right mind would get weighed down by a woman that represented a future involving an obese boy and an ailing daughter. Of course! Who could blame him? It wasn’t her fault or his; the children were responsible for her loneliness.
Stubbing out her cigarette, and taking another from the packet she stared at her defective offspring. Without them her life would be happy and fulfilling, she thought. Then she glanced up at the television screen. It didn’t seem fair.
“How come their mother got those gorgeous, talented children and I am stuck with you two?” Her children didn’t turn to look at her. They sat silently letting the words burn into their brains like tattoos. They were just words; one sentence. It never occurred to the woman that children never forget what their mother tells them. Just words had branded each of these little lives with guilt that would last a lifetime.
Lowell Fulson - "Reconsider Baby"
Excerpt from Leroy 'Hog' Cooper on Sax, A Memoir by Leroy Cooper with Susan Cross, copyright August 2009
In 1954, I played with Lowell Fulson at Chess Records. Leonard Chess was at the date and was telling me what to play on the baritone. “Play some low notes, play some low notes.” All this was going on when we was playing on "Reconsider Baby".
In 1956, we recorded “I Believe I’ll Give it Up,” “Please Don’t Go,” and “Be on your Merry Way.”
Lowell lived about 30 miles from me in Ft. Worth. He would come to Dallas to do a gig and would come by my house and rest up. You know, him and his lady. I guess I knew him pretty well. Back then, the guitarist was so superior to everybody else, just like organ players. If you could play the organ you were better than the rest of the guys. You were a big man.
In 1954, I played with Lowell Fulson at Chess Records. Leonard Chess was at the date and was telling me what to play on the baritone. “Play some low notes, play some low notes.” All this was going on when we was playing on "Reconsider Baby".
In 1956, we recorded “I Believe I’ll Give it Up,” “Please Don’t Go,” and “Be on your Merry Way.”
Lowell lived about 30 miles from me in Ft. Worth. He would come to Dallas to do a gig and would come by my house and rest up. You know, him and his lady. I guess I knew him pretty well. Back then, the guitarist was so superior to everybody else, just like organ players. If you could play the organ you were better than the rest of the guys. You were a big man.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Can you spell the name of Ray Charles back up singers
How many ways can you spell the the name of the group of women who sang with Ray Charles? Seems to me the most logical way would be Raylets. Wrong! I have seen Raylettes. Wrong! Raelettes? Wrong! Ralets? Wrong! Raelets? Wrong. I could go on and on.
Mable John, the lead singer of the ladies in the pretty dresses, singing “I Can’t Stop Loving You” and many of his other songs has informed me that the proper spelling of Ray’s backup singers is: Raeletts!
So, if you guessed Raeletts, you win. I can’t tell you how many times I was a loser until I spoke to the expert. All that matters is that I finally got it right.
Mable John, the lead singer of the ladies in the pretty dresses, singing “I Can’t Stop Loving You” and many of his other songs has informed me that the proper spelling of Ray’s backup singers is: Raeletts!
So, if you guessed Raeletts, you win. I can’t tell you how many times I was a loser until I spoke to the expert. All that matters is that I finally got it right.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Fork in the road - pick a path
A woman found Leroy Cooper's MySpace page, which I maintain, and contacted me about her grandfather. Robert Murphy was a friend of Cooper's when they played in Fred Cooper's Big Band made up of all adult black men. They were two of the teenagers asked to sit in for musicians that had been called to serve in World War 2.
Both had played music from a young age. They were excited about playing Tommy Dorsey music with adult musicians in theaters to an all-white audience. Both dreamed of careers in music. Both got their wish, but in two separate arenas.
Cooper and Murphy attended college on music scholarships. Back in the late 1940s, black colleges offered limited options. As Cooper put it: "You could become a preacher or a teacher." Cooper decided in his senior year that he didn't want to be either so he left to play in a band. Murphy stayed in school.
When Ray Charles came to Dallas, David 'Fathead' Newman joined his band and subsequently brought Cooper along. Murphy had the opportunity to join and was inclined to do so. However, his father urged him to stay in school and pursue his Master's Degree. He obviously didn't see a possibility for a successful career playing in bands.
Cooper paid his dues, playing with Ray Charles and other bands. He traveled the world and saw the sights. He watched his friends marry and divorce as life on the road was not marriage-friendly. Musicians loved playing music but there were drugs and alcohol and women that destroyed many. In 1977 he left Ray Charles, where he had become the bandleader, to marry (for the third time) and settle down. Wise choice. He remained married to the love of his life for 33 years. "She saved my life," he said. He continued his musical career as a member of the Dixie Deltas, the strolling trio at Disney World in Orlando where he retired after 20 years.
Murphy stayed home. He got his degrees and became a teacher. He married and had children. He was promoted to principal and eventually administrator. His entire career was built around teaching music and his home life was stable. He has seven grandchildren and is 82 years old.
The memories of standing on stage next to Cooper have floated to the top of Murphy's mind. He is having his granddaughter look up old friends, only to find that they have passed on. Murphy is a bright, happy man who sounds satisfied with the life he has led but wonders what it would have been like if...
Cooper died with the knowledge of three children that he fathered, none of which he was allowed to meet. Although he raised two step-children and a step-grandson, there was always that little hole in his heart that filled with nostalgia when he told me about his two sons and a daughter.
These men grew up together in Dallas. Their fathers played music together. I'm sure there were a lot of contributing factors to the decisions each one made, but their stories describe the opposite paths that each traveled, both with happiness but also with wonder. Neither had regrets. Cooper's last words to me were: "I have enjoyed every part of my life." That is a reflective statement from an 80 year old who survived the challenges and dangers of pursuing uncertainty. Murphy's spoke of his family and stability with equal satisfaction.
Nobody can answer the question, "What if?" and therefore, nobody should ask it.
Both had played music from a young age. They were excited about playing Tommy Dorsey music with adult musicians in theaters to an all-white audience. Both dreamed of careers in music. Both got their wish, but in two separate arenas.
Cooper and Murphy attended college on music scholarships. Back in the late 1940s, black colleges offered limited options. As Cooper put it: "You could become a preacher or a teacher." Cooper decided in his senior year that he didn't want to be either so he left to play in a band. Murphy stayed in school.
When Ray Charles came to Dallas, David 'Fathead' Newman joined his band and subsequently brought Cooper along. Murphy had the opportunity to join and was inclined to do so. However, his father urged him to stay in school and pursue his Master's Degree. He obviously didn't see a possibility for a successful career playing in bands.
Cooper paid his dues, playing with Ray Charles and other bands. He traveled the world and saw the sights. He watched his friends marry and divorce as life on the road was not marriage-friendly. Musicians loved playing music but there were drugs and alcohol and women that destroyed many. In 1977 he left Ray Charles, where he had become the bandleader, to marry (for the third time) and settle down. Wise choice. He remained married to the love of his life for 33 years. "She saved my life," he said. He continued his musical career as a member of the Dixie Deltas, the strolling trio at Disney World in Orlando where he retired after 20 years.
Murphy stayed home. He got his degrees and became a teacher. He married and had children. He was promoted to principal and eventually administrator. His entire career was built around teaching music and his home life was stable. He has seven grandchildren and is 82 years old.
The memories of standing on stage next to Cooper have floated to the top of Murphy's mind. He is having his granddaughter look up old friends, only to find that they have passed on. Murphy is a bright, happy man who sounds satisfied with the life he has led but wonders what it would have been like if...
Cooper died with the knowledge of three children that he fathered, none of which he was allowed to meet. Although he raised two step-children and a step-grandson, there was always that little hole in his heart that filled with nostalgia when he told me about his two sons and a daughter.
These men grew up together in Dallas. Their fathers played music together. I'm sure there were a lot of contributing factors to the decisions each one made, but their stories describe the opposite paths that each traveled, both with happiness but also with wonder. Neither had regrets. Cooper's last words to me were: "I have enjoyed every part of my life." That is a reflective statement from an 80 year old who survived the challenges and dangers of pursuing uncertainty. Murphy's spoke of his family and stability with equal satisfaction.
Nobody can answer the question, "What if?" and therefore, nobody should ask it.
Monday, August 24, 2009
A Father's Advice - Flash Fiction
Lifeguarding fit neatly between spring and fall semesters at the university. Arnie was a natural and took his work seriously. It was a typical day at the beach. He was watching children build sandcastles while enjoying conversation with cute bikini-clad babes. Everything was perfect.
Suddenly he heard people shouting. He looked toward the water and saw a man waving his arms as a wave came crashing down on him. The man disappeared. Arnie started swimming toward him. With his arm around the man's neck he swam to shore. A circle of horrified people surrounded him. CPR was unsuccessful. It was too late. In those few minutes the word responsibility had taken on new meaning. One man was dead and another's life had changed forever as a result.
Twenty years later, Arnie was sitting at the desk in his study grading essays. Final exams were over and he was writing comments and critiques on each page. His son, Joseph, was finishing his second year of college. It was time to consider his options for summer jobs. He was athletic and had been a member of the swimming team since high school. He needed some advice so he went into the study.
"Dad, I'm thinking about what I should do this summer to earn some money. Any suggestions?" Joseph asked.
Arnie's reply was simple. "Mow lawns, son. Mow lawns."
Suddenly he heard people shouting. He looked toward the water and saw a man waving his arms as a wave came crashing down on him. The man disappeared. Arnie started swimming toward him. With his arm around the man's neck he swam to shore. A circle of horrified people surrounded him. CPR was unsuccessful. It was too late. In those few minutes the word responsibility had taken on new meaning. One man was dead and another's life had changed forever as a result.
Twenty years later, Arnie was sitting at the desk in his study grading essays. Final exams were over and he was writing comments and critiques on each page. His son, Joseph, was finishing his second year of college. It was time to consider his options for summer jobs. He was athletic and had been a member of the swimming team since high school. He needed some advice so he went into the study.
"Dad, I'm thinking about what I should do this summer to earn some money. Any suggestions?" Joseph asked.
Arnie's reply was simple. "Mow lawns, son. Mow lawns."
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