Susan Cross Writes

Interview with Lynyrd Skynyrd - May 31, 1975 (Update)

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Wed, 19 Nov 2014 18:22:00 +0000

LYNYRD SKYNYRD Interview
Updated 04/10/2017

By now, most of you surmised that I am not a young pup after reading interviews I've done with the likes of Arlo Guthrie sparking my own memories of Woodstock. So the fact that I interviewed the original Lynyrd Skynyrd in 1975 should come as no surprise.

Please respect the copyright ownership on all text and photos.
© 2017 Susan Cross – All rights reserved.

Lynyrd Skynyrd hanging out pre-concert.
From left, Al Kooper, Leon Wilkeson, Theresa Wilkeson,
Gary Rossington, and Ronnie Van Zant.

(Photographer of all photos on this page: Arlene Muzyka)

Life was just a wee bit different in those days. I had a tape recorder, with a real tape in it, and batteries that were fully charged when I went into the penthouse suite of what was then the Americana Hotel in New York City. (This was the same suite I had been in the week before when I interviewed Barry Hay, the lead singer/songwriter for Golden Earring, a band most recognized for their hit song, 'Radar Love'.)

Al Kooper

As soon as the publicist left the room, Ronnie Van Zant jumped out of his chair to confront me. Although a huge presence on-stage, he actually stood 5’7” tall (with his boots on), towering over my 4’10” frame.

“I want you to know before we get started that I hate writers so whatever you have to say, say it quick!” he shouted in my face.

Standing nose to nose with him (I have always been pretty gutsy) I asked, “Why do you hate writers? You just met me. Why would you hate me?”

“Because writers lie. They take everything I say out of context and then print it to make me look ignorant,” he said.

“You see this? It’s a tape recorder,” I told him. “I intend to record this interview and when it is printed, if you are misquoted, taken out of context or made to look ignorant I swear I will never do another interview with anyone.”

What was I thinking? I was very naïve, but I meant what I said.

Ronnie Van Zant

“Really?” he said. “Ya know, I kinda like you. And you're shorter than me, too. Sit down.”

There was no place to sit but the floor so I made myself comfy on the carpet. (Yes, my hair was long and dark then and my signature felt hat was part of my identity.)

He introduced his friends and when he got to the end, I said, “You don’t have to go any further. I know who Al Kooper is!”

Kooper just looked at me silently, expressionless. I admit I was disappointed. I would rather have been interviewing him at that moment.

Van Zant proceeded to offer me a drink and I declined. He called room service and ordered screwdrivers for everybody. We chatted for a while, conversationally, and then the tray of drinks was delivered. Van Zant placed them on his lap, offered them to his friends and after they declined he started drinking. Later on, the interview began.

Leon Wilkeson

The resulting article appeared in the front section of a magazine named SWANK. Yes, that’s right, my loyal readers. Susan Cross (under a pen name) had a short article that appeared in a magazine often found under the beds of teenaged boys.

In my defense, I proudly am included in the same issue as author Henry Miller (Tropic of Capricorn) and Ed Naha (screenwriter who wrote ‘Honey I Shrunk the Kids’), so, yes, some people really did buy the magazines to read the articles.

The two hours that followed were very revealing but I was there for a specific reason—to ask about his relationship with Alabama’s Governor George Wallace who was well known as a segregationist.

Gary Rossington

In Skynyrd’s song, ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ there is a line, “In Birmingham they love the Governor, boo, boo, boo,” expressing the band’s opposition to the Guv’s racist leanings, although it is often taken out of context and misunderstood as a result of another line, “I hope Neil Young will remember, southern man don’t need him around anyhow.” Neil young was recognized for his anti-racist attitude. (There are plenty of explanations of this on the web so I won’t go into further detail here.)

Following is the portion of the article as it was submitted and later published in the magazine.

WARNING: Ronnie Van Zant used blunt language which some people might find offensive. If you are one of those people, either stop reading or cover one eye and skip any words that start with the letter ‘f’ and end with the letter ‘g’.

READ MORE:

Lynyrd Skynyrd in concert May 31, 1975

Article:

So where does George Wallace enter the picture? It seems that each member of Lynyrd Skynyrd was presented with a plaque, technically making them members of the Alabama State Militia. In the past, this honor had only been bestowed upon country-western musicians making Skynyrd the first rock band (albeit ‘southern rock’) to receive the recognition.

How do the boys in the band feel about this honor? Ambivalent. The three musicians to whom I spoke, Ronnie Van Zant (lyricist-vocalist), Leon Wilkeson (bass guitarist) and Gary Rossington (lead guitarist) unanimously expressed their respect for the good Governor who had come forth announcing to the world during his campaign for re-election that he had experienced a change of heart.

Van Zant expounded, “We respect him because he’s a man of principles. And he does stick to his fucking principles. He’s a tough motherfucker, and we respect him for that. But as far as going out and campaigning for him, I don’t want to go out wearing a bullet-proof vest when I get on stage to sing.”

As far as Lynyrd Skynyrd is concerned, in reference to Governor Wallace, nothing of any relevance has gone down between them. As spokesman for the band, Vant Zant goes on record as saying, “George Wallace don’t know any fucking thing about rock ‘n’ roll and I don’t know any fucking thing about politics.”

Meanwhile until George Wallace is seen and heard onstage, playing electric guitar and singing about some ‘pretty mama he knew for a night’, don’t expect any of the musicians in Lynyrd Skynyrd to be giving campaign speeches or running for office!

Interview with Sisaundra Lewis by Susan Cross

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Fri, 18 Apr 2014 00:30:00 +0000

Interview with Sisaundra Lewis

with Susan Cross on April 4, 2014

I had the honor of interviewing this lady just as The Voice competition was beginning. We met years ago, because the sound of her voice at Cirque du Soleil La Nouba captivated me. Since we are local Central Floridians, we kept in touch so when I requested an interview and photo we were glad to see each other again, more than anything. And now, I am celebrating her success on The Voice and although she was eliminated from the final 4 I will continue to celebrate her talent, and hope that America does the same. I don't believe that her career will end here.

Considering the difference in age from the other contestants, it is amazing that she got as far as she did. Most have probably not even heard of Aretha Franklin and could not appreciate the genre of R&B that she represents. I love all genres from R&B to country to rock n roll to blues... It's time for a performer like Sisaundra educate the youth of America on music that may have been forgotten or not been 'covered' for a long time. Her time is coming. She has an obligation to do this and I expect her to fill that space.

Susan Cross: Where are you from?

Sisaundra: I am a home grown Florida girl who graduated from Haines City High School. But I really appreciate and need the support of people in all of the cities of Florida and all over the country.

Susan Cross: How many people auditioned for this season of the Voice?

Sisaundra: If I’m not mistaken, there were about 70,000 hopefuls. On July 27 I flew to New York to audition. I stood in line there with about 10,000 people, by myself—without a manager, without an agent. I wanted to start there, to see if I could get through everything on my own, by myself. So everything was a test and a challenge for me as well. It was probably about a month before I knew I would make it to the blind auditions.

Susan Cross: Out of those, how many made it to the blind auditions?

Sisaundra: For the battle rounds there were 48 members. We’re getting down to 12 members after that.

Susan Cross: A lot of people are wondering why you chose Blake Shelton as your coach.

Sisaundra: His honesty in saying, “I’m probably way in over my head with this one.” Just kind of drew me to him. I think I would look at it as ‘you’re not in my genre’ kind of thing, since he’s known for grooming mostly country artists. His honesty, his humility, his connection with me as far as his eye contact, his energy, and just about everything that he said that drew me to him. I felt like he would be the one to help me to define my gift; that he would help as a superstar. If you know music it doesn’t matter what genre you’re in you have to be able to coach an artist in so many ways and Blake is the one, after standing there in that moment, listening to him, that I felt could help me open up so many amazing doors for me in the sense of my gift, my talent. I’ve done pop, I’ve done R and B, I’ve done theater but I’ve never had the experience of working with a country artist especially of that magnitude. That, coupled with the spirit of him—that’s why I chose Blake.

Susan Cross: Some of the other judges didn’t seem to show the same reaction to your voice. Did that put you off at all?

Sisaundra: Even with that connection with Blake, I listened carefully to what the other judges said because I am always open to learning and each one of them has something to offer.

I will say that when I initially started this journey, my thoughts were about the typical industry standards. I don’t fit and so I’m challenged with all of that going into this with the general public. But that’s not the case with the TV, not with NBC because, of course this show was designed to avoid all of that stuff. They don’t care what the industry standards are. They just want to hear your voice and so I went into it thinking I’m older, I’m this, I’m that, and I thought I would be representing that group of people—those dreamers, those who sacrificed for kids, those who are 40 plus.

I’m surprised to receive so much support from younger people, too, saying “You inspire us.” Not only from my voice, but even asking questions like, “How do you stay in shape like that?” “I want to look like you when I mature.” “I want to take care of myself.” It’s so nice to see that it’s not just what I thought it would be. It’s wonderful to see that it’s not just my voice but also to see that I could be so much more, that kind of a role model to young people not just as a singer but as a person, as a human being and that’s what I’m hearing so much even as I get into this journey.

Susan Cross: Most people know by now that you have toured with Celine Dion. Where did you travel during that time?

Sisaundra: I have performed in Las Vegas in various shows. I’ve done so many things. I’ve performed for Royalty, with Celine, of course. We’ve been at every nook and cranny of the world. I was saying that the only places that I haven’t been are Australia and Africa but when you work with someone of that magnitude you really do have the honor of performing for so many wonderful people: The Queen of England; the royalty in Canada; Princes and Princesses; everything you could imagine. I performed for the Clinton inauguration, the inaugural ball; outside of Florida; almost everywhere in the United States and everyone in the world except those two continents.

Susan Cross: How did this affect your family life?

Sisaundra: I had my son Vincent at the time that I was touring with Celine. My family is my village and they were very helpful for me. They saw it as an opportunity for me to travel as a single mom and be able to provide for my son as well and so I did.

My family is my priority and the reason I laid my career down for over a decade was to be home and provide a stable home life for my kids until they recently gave me permission to pick it back up. [laughs]

Susan Cross: When you came home to Orlando you eventually began performing in various venues. What was the next big step in your career?

Sisaundra: My girlfriend, Deborah Brown was a choreographer for Cirque du Soleil during the time that I was working with Celine. Deborah and I became close. I stayed in touch with her and she said one day you’re going to have to come and work for the circus. I said, ‘Get out of here. I can’t do the circus kind of thing. I don’t think I’ll fit in.’ She said, “I think you’ll fit in.’

So I went on to doing a lot of things and when I was working at City Jazz at Universal Orlando a group of men started walking toward the stage when I finished my set. When they approached me, they said, “Hi, Sisaundra” and I immediately picked up the French accent. It was Benoit Glazer [conductor and composer for Cirque du Soleil] and I can’t remember who he brought with him but he said, “We’ve been looking for you. We’re from Cirque du Soleil and we’d like to know if you’d come by and see the show.” So if I’m not mistaken, it was my girlfriend, Deborah Brown, who had let them know that I was in Orlando, because they had been looking for me and they didn’t know that I was here until they saw that performance. And that was the beginning of my 10 years at Cirque. I thought, oh, my gosh, Deborah was right.

I was at Cirque du Soleil La Nouba for a decade. It’s one of the most beautiful shows on the planet and I was honored to be with that show for that time and to see the WOW factor of theatrical circus. I remember your doing an article about the musicians several years ago. We appreciated people spotlighting the music in the show.

On Twitter you can "follow" @Sisaundra for updates

Keep watching on Facebook for Sisaundra's posts, she is not going to disappear.

Here are the links to remind you of her voice and performances, both on NBC’s The Voice and in other venues. Download them on iTunes so you can keep on listening. My favorite is the Blind Audition, but many of you have probably never heard that song before--all the more reason to download it.

Blind audition: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQqGBODhtIk
Battle round 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3g5l-C_K7q8
Battle round 2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TDUj_xM3rb8
Singer’s choice: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zG54shuWIZk
Garden Theater: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJXibFZ2aVY
Tribute to Whitney Houston: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FukEELMEIfE

Copyright © 2014-2017 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

Leroy Cooper on Marcus Belgrave and Interview with Marcus Belgave

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Fri, 21 Jun 2013 22:20:00 +0000

Cooper Meets Belgrave
By Susan Cross

I met Marcus when I came out of the military back in the ‘50s. He was in the Air Force in Wichita Falls, Texas. He would come down to Dallas on weekends where we would have the jam sessions. He was getting out of the Air Force. They brought him down to a jam session, and I just got out of the Army – that’s how long ago I met him. He figured that the guys in Dallas couldn’t play too much. He’s got people in New York so he figured he’s coming down south and these were nobodies. Well, he plays trumpet now, but he brought this trombone to the jam session. He was experimenting and those guys I played with were hot. He was surprised.

He said, “Next Sunday I’ll bring my trumpet.” Never underestimate your adversaries.

So people in this club where I was working in Dallas called the Harmony Lounge got to hear him. People like Pat Boone used to hang out in there. All the kids from north Texas, big college, up the road 30 miles, would come down to the Harmony Lounge and all the top musicians would come in and play. It was a regular Sunday shootout.

I told him, “Why don’t you try to get with Ray Charles?” A lot of the guys he knew from the sessions in Dallas were with Ray. When they went to his home town, Chester, Pennsylvania, he got in the band. When I came back into the band he was already there. We were old friends.

I’m talking back in the late 50s. We go back farther I think. We were so tight. It’s funny how a band would be so involved with people.

People don’t realize how tight. We used to go to night clubs and see these girls talking to a local guy, and we would say, that’s so and so’s wife. It was a shame. We would be upset. And some guy wouldn’t even know. He’d just say look at this. We’d say that’s a friend of mine. There was such a closeness.

Marcus always had such a good heart. He’s a good man. Guys used to gamble back in the early days. I remember in Detroit the road manager broke the band. But Marcus broke him. So we didn’t have any money. Every day Marcus would come by and take us to dinner. The band would line up like soldiers.

“Time to go eat,” Marcus said. We had a three dice game called 4-5-6. Poker with dice. We used to play it back in the day. It’s an interesting game and guys used to lose, lose, lose. I was just not a gambler.

I remember Marcus’ father, his brothers in Chester, all of them are deceased. We were tight. He left the band and then he came back. Every time I would go to Detroit, we’d have dinner or something and hang out. We keep in touch.

We went to Chicago for a reunion not too long ago. Cynthia Scott was there, too.

Marcus is very stable and very popular. He has a school in Detroit for jazz musicians that were very poor, ghetto kids. He’s gotten several awards. He’s highly respected.

Interview with Marcus Belgrave - August 2009

Where are you from originally?

I’m from Chester, Pennsylvania. I knew Leroy before I joined the band. I met Leroy when I was in the Air force. I was stationed in Wichita Falls, Texas. I didn’t know too much about Texas so I was really despondent about being there. That’s when I met Leroy and he was working in a club. That was one of the first places that I got a chance to hear some real dyed in the wool jazz out of the southwest.

Everywhere you go you run into guys like Leroy and James Clay. They’ve got it all over the country. He was one of the great jazz musicians that I met. It was a revelation. I felt like I was a student. They gave me such a warm welcoming into a society of music that was not getting introduced to me. So it was an awakening to me. Running into Leroy Cooper and James Clay and Bobby Bradford in the same club. That was one of the most inspiring moments in my world. That’s my world. And John Hardee.

How long had you been playing trumpet by then?

My father taught me when I was young. Then he sent me to a music conservatory in the Philadelphia area. Mike Boslet also taught me. I was all ears. My cousin, who is also a very fine baritone player in Dizzy Gillespie’s band, was the first one that taught me a Charlie Parker tune by ear. I was about 5-years old. My life has been one great musical experience and Leroy Cooper opened my eyes to the realities of places I could play. That was the most memorable experience. Being in Texas, I thought that being part of the Air Force band would be a great thing but it didn’t turn out that way. John Hardee taking me to Dallas and introducing me to these guys gave me a new life.

How long were you in the Air Force?

I was with them over two years. It was during the Korean War. It was a four-year hitch but after two years you could take a voluntary discharge and that’s what I did.

When did you join the Ray Charles band?

After I left the Air Force, I met Ray Charles and Leroy was with him then. I got a chance to sit in with them. I didn’t get a job with them then because one of the guys was sick and he went home so I did get a chance to sit in with them, but he was coming back. So it wasn’t until about three months later until I got hired. Ray came to my home town and spent about three weeks and I got the job. The last day Ray Charles was going to be in town I went by this club and someone said, Hey, they’ve been looking for you. Ray Charles asked could I be ready in an hour. I said I’ll do my best. Leroy wasn’t in the band then. Three months before that, a few months before Christmas, I guess he decided to stay home in Dallas. And for whatever reasons Ray told me that if you want this gig you can have it. I didn’t think too much about it. I wanted to play with Ray’s band because it was one of the first bands I heard that had that heart and soul. That was 1958.

How long were you with the band?

I stayed with him off and on until 1963 then I went back with him a couple of times 1970-71.

When was the last time you got together with the band members?

We did a tribute to Ray in Chicago last year [2008] at the jazz festival. They wanted someone there who had been in the band so they asked me to put the band together from Ray’s small band. Leroy came up for that. They gathered us together; the ones who had played in Ray’s small band. Leroy was number one, Phil Guilbeau on trumpet, Hank Crawford, David Newman, and me on trumpet. Cynthia Scott was there, too. Leroy and David Newman are the ones I kept in touch more than the others. I’ve always been in contact with Cooper. The great reunion. Previously we had done one with Ray in Chicago in 1997.

Is that the last time you saw Ray?

That was one of the times that Ray got everyone back together. Ray was very much a part of that getting together of the band which he called his favorite small band. The last time was in 1979 for Saturday Night Live.

What are you involved with now?

I’m happily married to a beautiful lady named Joan. We perform together, playing jazz.

I founded an organization for underprivileged kids to learn music. Actually the kids had formed together so I just made it a foundation. They wanted to learn something about jazz and performing. I guess I was just in the right place at the right time. So many came through and became successful. It wasn’t planned. I was involved with a government sponsored program that lasted three years in Detroit. When that folded up, there was some kids that didn’t have the opportunity to come under that wing and they wanted to continue. So they came to me. They were very ambitious and dedicated.

It became so successful with those young people, and so many of them have made great lives and have done quite well on their own.

Copyright © 2013 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

Happy Father's Day to the Fathers whose children never knew them

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Sun, 16 Jun 2013 16:52:00 +0000

And then there was a very special man who saw his children only from afar. One who never got to play the role of dad but never forgot the two sons he had fathered once he was made aware of them by their their mothers whom he had met along his travels.

Although the children were raised well by step-fathers, he knew they shared his blood. He saw his likeness in their faces and watched them grow when his path took him through their separate towns.

Amazingly the two boys ended up attending the same college and grew to be best friends. One day he sat on a bench outside a building at the university and saw them exiting together after class. "It was like looking into a mirror of me in my past," he said. "I couldn't believe that the two young men didn't know they were brothers." Then again, maybe something special drew them together and they shared common interests.

He never got to shoot hoops with them or teach them to play the saxophone like his dad had done with him. Unknowingly, they probably grew up listening to his music and admiring his talent, eventually seeing him on TV and even possibly in a movie.

In some cases, men like these were wonderful, unselfish fathers who missed out on the joys of participating in their children's lives. Instead this one followed in his father's shoes, playing music throughout his life. Eventually his talent and many moments of serendipity led to a life on the road, to special places representing his country in an Army band and on to a successful, professional career. The baritone saxophones he owned were his children; his bandmates his family.

Telling this story, staring off into the past, tears formed in his eyes. Living as a musician has its rewards. It also has its sacrifices.

Arlo Guthrie - synopsis of my article 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Tue, 04 Dec 2012 18:08:00 +0000

Arlo Guthrie - a synopsis of my article “You Can Get Anything You Want” –

A conversation with Arlo Guthrie By Susan Cross

Forty years after Woodstock the world has changed immensely. Did Woodstock influence that change? Did the anti-war hippies, soon to be known as baby-boomers, cause the country to adjust its perspective?

Is the world a better place as a result of Woodstock? Arlo Guthrie didn’t hesitate before responding to that last question. “No question about it. We were the ones who lived through the Cuban Missile Crisis when we were on the brink of annihilation and thankfully we got over the brink and we have not had a moment like that since. We’ve had some awful moments don’t get me wrong but we haven’t had one like that.”

Growing up, Arlo had his future all mapped out. He looked forward to living his life as a forest ranger; sitting up in a tower alone most of the time watching for fires. His vision of a solitary life turned 180 degrees in the late ‘60s. Four children and seven grandchildren later, the Guthries are a very close family.

Like in other families, the kids went off in different directions, but according to Arlo, “They all snuck back. That’s probably due to my wife,” [who passed away in the fall of 2012] Arlo said. “She is the anchor of the family and she’s not a performer but when the kids were young we’d sit down and she could play enough guitar and sing stuff to get ‘em to fall asleep anyway and that was good. So it’s my wife Jackie who’s really kept the entire family together over all these years and she’s still doing it.”

Even now, all of the kids and grandkids live within a few miles of one another except for Cathy who lives in Austin, Texas. “We’re in the farther most reaches of Massachusetts up in the hills.” Arlo and Jackie are celebrating their 40th anniversary this year. “Four things happened in 1969,” Arlo reminisced. “That was a big year for me. Went and did Woodstock; went up to Massachusetts and bought an old farm, got married on the farm and then the movie “Alice’s Restaurant” came out. That was all within the last three or four months of ’69. We’re still doing songs from Woodstock, still living on the farm, still married to the same wife and we don’t watch the movie anymore,” he said with a laugh.

Surprisingly, Arlo had no problem recounting the names and ages of his entire clan. He rattled them off in a heartbeat. “Abe is my oldest, and his oldest is Krishna, he’s 18. Serena is Abe’s daughter. She stole my 50th birthday so I always know how old either I am or she is because it’s exactly 50 years to the day. She is 11 at this point. She will be 12 by the time the tour starts. Then my daughter, Cathy, she has a little daughter, Marjorie. Marjorie is about 2 so she’s not going to be doing a whole lot but she’s going to be dancing around the stage somewhere. My next daughter is Annie and her oldest is Mo and Mo is--or will be about 16 and I could have these wrong by the way. And Jacklyn is also Annie’s daughter and she’s about 8. And then Sarah Lee has a daughter, Olivia and Olivia is the same age as Jacklyn and they also have a little daughter Sophia who is the same age as Marjorie. That’s it, I think, that’s all seven grandkids.”

All four of Arlo’s children write music and now Krishna, his oldest grandson, is starting to write songs. “We’re involved in all different things because obviously we’re all different people. We don’t have a herd mentality when it comes to social consciousness. I think everybody’s very individual.” Arlo said, “All of my father’s and all of my songs were not all about social consciousness. “There were a lot of love songs, broken heart songs; got drunk once too many time songs; lost my dog songs; I mean there’s all kinds of songs but we do not neglect songs about things that are going on.”

“Some of the songs that Sarah Lee and Johnny, her husband, have just released an album of children’s songs because they think that real children’s songs, as opposed to the commercial variety of funny jelly bean characters running around are not that helpful for growing up right. So they put together a great collection of songs for kids, I mean little kids that are absolutely wonderful. I think the Smithsonian Folk Waves is putting it out so it would be like PBS or NPR was putting it out. It would not be your commercial variety. So they’re involved with young people growing up because they have young people growing up,” he pointed out.

“I don’t write as many children’s songs as I used to although I did put out a book a couple of years ago--it’s still in print, called Mooses Come Walking.” The book was illustrated by his friend Alice who is THE Alice of restaurant fame. “It’s still going strong,” he said proudly. “So we have all done some work for children.”

Family and music are the themes that define the Guthries. “We have all done some work for children. As a matter of fact the whole family got together for the first time back around 10 or 15 years ago and we put out a record that my father and mother had begun to create. It was a project that they never finished. And we finished it and we put it out,” he said. “Not just with my kids and some of their kids but with my brother and his son and my sister and her daughter and son. So we’ve worked some family stuff a long time ago. This is not new for us. That record was called Woody’s 20 Grow Big Songs. It was primarily recorded and written for kids about 2, 3 years old. That was the first time we really got together as a family and not only that, we incorporated the voice of my father singing some of these songs so it’s my father’s generation, mine, my kids’ and my grandkids’ – four generations on that one record."

READ MORE

"We’re trying to recreate that spirit although for an older crowd on the tour that’s coming up. We’ll have some recordings of my father, even my mom, so there’ll be a huge time span that we’re trying to invent into a two hour show.” That tour will begin in October. “They’ll all be with us,” he says. “Obviously some of them are too young to do much but we will incorporate them all in the show and the major portion of the show will be handled by me and Abe, Krishna is 18, he’s a great player, and Johnny and Sarah Lee.”

He continued, “The small ones will make an appearance at some point but we may have to get some cattle prods. We’ll get them out there just to bounce around at the end but most of the work will be handled by the older ones.”

Humor is another thread that runs through the Guthrie family music. “My family has a pretty good sense of humor. If you listen to the records that have come out so far there’s just some wonderful stuff that puts a smile on your face. My daughter Cathy sings with Amy Nelson who is Willie’s daughter. And they have a little duo called Folk Uke. And they are very funny. You cannot play their stuff for your kids, though.”

During the spring and summer, Arlo celebrated two very important events. In May, his lifelong friend, Pete Seeger, celebrated his 90th birthday at Madison Square Garden in front of a packed house of 21,000 people. “It was so crazy that I didn’t even get to say hi to Pete until the end of the show.” There were between 60 and 70 artists backstage including Joan Baez, Bruce Springsteen, Kris Kristofferson, Richie Havens and Roger McGuinn. “It was such a fabulous event!” Arlo said excitedly. “There’s Pete up on the stage leading everybody in songs; it was amazing!”

Arlo and Pete toured together for about 30 years starting in the early ‘70s. About ten years ago Pete told Arlo, “I don’t know if I want to continue doing these big shows. My voice isn’t what it used to be. I can’t play like I used to play.” Arlo replied, “Pete, the hearing of the people ain’t what it used to be; it shouldn’t be a problem.” Last year, they performed at Carnegie Hall with Pete’s grandson, Tao and Arlo’s daughter, Sarah Lee and her husband Johnny.

The next major event was the return to Bethel Woods to celebrate the 40th anniversary of Woodstock. This time he performed with the Boston Pops. He said the biggest difference between this show and Woodstock was that he had brought a bigger band with him this time. Looking forward Arlo is a typical grandparent. He feels concern about the issues that will affect his grandchildren’s future.

“It’s not a political thing. We have conservatives and liberals on both sides of all of these things. This is not a democrat republican thing. It’s people that are comfortable with the way things are going as we get through this era of fear when people are still afraid. And that’s where the dividing line is,” he explained. “It’s the same line around the world. It doesn’t matter where it is. It doesn’t matter if you’re in the Middle East or in Africa, there are some people who are trying to take advantage of their neighbors and their friends and their families and others. And there are some people who are just trying to figure out how to get along together. That’s the group we like to think of ourselves as being. If I could speak for the whole family I think that everybody would agree with me that we’re aligned with just the regular people.”

Arlo’s initial recognition may have been linked to his famous father but music is like blood that runs through the Guthrie veins. There was music in the family before him and there will be more to follow.

“It’s not even just my father’s legacy. In some ways it was passed along from his mother when she was singing Indian songs so it’s inter-generational. It doesn’t start with Woody Guthrie and it doesn’t end with the youngest crowd today. It’s just something we like doing.”

Copyright © 2012 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

Leroy Cooper, the Righteous Brothers and Glen Campbell

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 03:35:00 +0000

As Leroy was reminiscing, sitting in that black and white chair in his living room he got that faraway look in his eyes. I knew he was visiting a special memory. Then he told me this little story.

I quit Ray’s band just to prove to myself that I could survive musically. While I was out of the band I played with the Righteous Brothers.

Glen Campbell was on the show. He was from Arkansas. Those guys didn’t even pay attention to him. He played so good we used to have him in the dressing room playing. He liked to play harmony with everything we played. That sucker would put his foot up in the locker room up on the place where he was sitting and be playing some impossible stuff on the guitar. He’s a great guitar player! Oh, he’d be eating that guitar up! Ooh, that sucker could play the guitar. He’d get wrapped up in it and start sweating.

After we were done he’d be heading to the bar.

He used to say “Anybody want to go with me?”

“We don’t want to listen to no more corny jokes.” Everyone said.

I said, “I’ll go with you.” I’d go up there and he’d be talking this Arkansas stuff.

After awhile I’d say, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

I’d go straight up to my room and wouldn't go back down. Then Glen messed around and got a hit and I didn’t see him again.

Glen was tight with Ray Charles and he used to be on Ray’s records for free, just to play with him. I was in the middle of this tight group and didn’t realize it.

When I was with the Righteous Bros it was Hatfield, the blond who sang real high and a replacement for Medley. When I left, Medley came back. I had met him before I was with the group. He was the bad boy. He used to come to Ray’s gigs.

Guys said, “Bill you’re selling all those records. You could at least buy us all a drink.”

Bill would say, "Come on over to my car" and then he’d give ‘em a beer.

They said, “Man you’re tight.”

He said, “I gave you a beer didn’t I?”

After I proved my point to myself I went back to Ray. You know, you owe it to yourself to see if you could survive on your own.

Copyright © 2012 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

The Single Sock

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 17:57:00 +0000

By Susan Cross

She looked down at the sock on the floor. After folding tee shirts and underwear she had paired the socks, tucking the ends one inside the other to hold them together. Yet, she stared at the lonely sock. It was the inevitable single; no match.

Kim got up and walked back to the laundry room to check the dryer again; then the washer. Both were empty. There were no socks on the floor.

Slowly, contemplating where missing socks go, she walked into the bedroom and put the shirts in a drawer. His socks and undershorts, both boxers and briefs, shared the one above it. Leaning over, she picked up the sock and examined it looking for a hole in the heel or toe that would justify throwing the leftover in the trash without feeling guilty. No holes. No frayed edges. A clean sock without a partner.

Most likely, the other sock would magically appear next week but maybe not. Growing up, her mother’s rule was that you don’t throw things away unless they’re broken or damaged. She pondered. Could you donate one sock to charity? Do one legged men shop at thrift stores? Do homeless men wear unmatched socks when the weather gets cold? Would the owner of a store even take it and put it together with a similar sock that was also singular or should she just toss it out?

She brought her mind back into the bedroom and the sock in her hand. She opened the drawer and counted a dozen pairs of white ones with gray heels and toes.

The ringing phone shook her out of her reverie. As she picked it up she remembered she was supposed to be at her daughter’s house in ten minutes to pick her and her little boy up to go to the doctor. Her daughter was counting on her. She didn’t want to go alone. They would be getting test results that would determine where on the autistic spectrum her grandson fell and what the long term treatment would be.

With the phone in her hand Kim dropped the sock in the drawer and said, “I’m glad you called. I got caught up in something and lost track of time. I’ll leave right away and be there in about five minutes. Don’t worry, honey, it will all work out. Things have a way of falling into place.”

Does Size Matter?

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 20:34:00 +0000

This post is in response to a prompt on Eric Krause's blog, http://ejkwritingspot.blogspot.com/2011/07/writing-prompt-70.html

It's not that I ever wanted to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Nor did I ever consider entering an Olympic high jump or pole vault competition. All I really wanted was to be able to reach the top shelf at the grocery store without standing on my tippy toes, standing on the bottom shelf or, if necessary asking another shopper or store employee to grab a box of FiberOne granola bars. (Why do they always put them on the top shelf?)

While browsing Facebook one day, I saw a link to an article in the Wall Street Journal about a new designer drug that could put a particular drug company back on track. Multiple lawsuits against the company had resulted from TV commercials claiming that birth defects may have resulted from taking any drug they had ever made and the stock had dropped considerably. This new medication, taken in liquid form, could actually cause a temporary growth spurt of up to six inches which would last as long as 24 hours. According to studies, it wasn't recommended that the drug be taken daily, but on an occasional basis it was shown to do no harm in monkeys whose growth was stunted through heredity. Could I possibly be like one of those monkeys? Although my mother was considered short at 5'2", my sister and my cousin were the exact same height as me--4'10-1/2". It seemed worth looking into.

The day after reading the article I made an appointment with my physician to discuss it. Well, actually, I don't see a physician. When I have a medical problem I go to the physician's office and see the Nurse Practitioner. In five years I have never once met the doctor who owns the practice. Although he's a General Practitioner, he and his wife specialize in cosmetic procedures and work together in the office adjoining the one I visit injecting Botox and fillers into wrinkles for baby boomers who are tired of hairstyles with bangs to cover their creasing foreheads and wearing turtlenecks to hide their newly wattled necks. But I digress.

A few days later I went to see the NP and asked her about this new drug. She had read the same article but didn't pay much attention. At a height of 5'8" it didn't interest her in a personal way. I explained to her that I'm terrified of ladders and asked her if she could prescribe it to me so that I might be able to clean the tops of my cabinets while just standing on my little step stool and perform other such tasks that she probably took for granted. After looking over my medical records, she saw no contra-indications and within 30 minutes I was on my way to the pharmacy to fill the prescription.

The next morning, I carefully measured the prescribed dosage and swallowed it in one gulp, like a shot of flavored vodka. I hadn't read the warnings that accompanied the bottle in pharmacy bag but I felt confident I had nothing to worry about. Surely the NP would have told me if there were side effects so I headed for the shower. Daydreaming about what it would be like to have to raise the shower head, I could feel some tingling throughout my body.

Now that I was squeaky clean, I dried my hair and went to get dressed. I got out my favorite jeans and when I stepped into them I found that I couldn't quite pull them up over my thighs. I dropped them to the floor and ran back to look in the bathroom mirror. There was no question that I was taller although I couldn't estimate by how many inches. The horrifying figure that I saw, however, was also wider!

Naked and barefoot I sprinted to the kitchen to read the side effects and there it was. "DO NOT TAKE WITHOUT FOOD. This medication may cause an increase in height up to 6" but when taken on an empty stomach, it may also cause an equal increase in width." With tears in my eyes I returned to the bedroom, put on an oversized tee shirt and yoga pants and waited for the effects to wear off and wondered what was I thinking? Does my short stature really matter that much to me?

Next time I read an article about new medications in the Wall Street Journal, I'll remember they are referring to stock prices of the pharmaceutical companies, not effectiveness or safety of the drugs.

Self-Righteous Blues

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Wed, 29 Jun 2011 04:14:00 +0000

Apparently in 1972 I was listening to a lot of Dylan and Leonard Cohen and took a shot at writing some poetry. I found this one in a drawer this morning amongst others. I hope to hear your comments. Please feel free to be honest!

Self-righteous Blues

By Susan Cross
© Susan Cross 1972

Glaring blank faces
Wide-eyed open spaces
Show up clearly when you can’t relate
To the pace in the mazes
Of the frenzied rat races
That tear down everything you create.

When you feel like you’re beaten
And everyone’s cheatin’
You still bit but the hook’s got no bait.

After everything’s broken
You find yourself tokin’
Long deep hits of thick city air
Some crystal cold coke
And the factory’s smoke
With the people you know didn’t care.

You felt you were been beaten
Everyone was cheatin’
Without something there’s nothing to share.

Games that you played
Going out to get laid
Finding out that the rule wasn’t gold
Scores that you made
Not worth prices you paid
But you knew that some things can’t be sold.

Now you’re sure you’ve been beaten
It’s been days since you’ve eaten
Anything, anyone, young or old.

In two brown paper bags
You packed all your rags
And prepared for a long distance ride.
A little time lags from the junkies and fags
You ran into a place you could hide.

You feel you’ve been beaten
And the city’s been cheatin’
All your desires were always denied.

You tried a new place
Another pretty face
But you knew all along it’s the same.
New tails you could chase
Someone else on your case
Your surroundings were never to blame.

So there, too, you got beaten
The whole trip’s self-defeatin’
You’re asking yourself why you came.

Something you said
Spinning round in your head
All the answers you tried to avoid.
You wished yourself dead
But kept goin’ instead
It was the misery that you enjoyed.

Yes, you liked being beaten
By anyone you were meetin’
You’re still licking the wounds where you bled.

The decision you made
To take out in trade
All the bad hands you thought you were dealt.
Forever afraid of the shiny sharp blade
That could end all the hate that you felt.

You’re the one who’s been beaten
And it’s you who’s been cheatin’
So the anger and pain’d be delayed.

Well, come on big shot
If you think you’re so hot
Try to put it together at last
You’ve bullshitted a lot
Now you’re on the spot
Cut the self-pity crap—do it fast!

Or you’re goin’ to get beatin’
You just can’t live with cheatin’
Now it’s Russian Roulette—just one shot.

Leroy Cooper talks about Nat 'King' Cole

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Tue, 12 Apr 2011 03:26:00 +0000

This is an excerpt from Leroy Cooper's memoir as told to me back in 2007. Cooper was the bandleader for Ray Charles for about 20 years. The material is copyrighted by Susan Cross and cannot be copied, published or duplicated without permission.

During my years spending afternoons with Leroy Cooper he told me stories that paint a picture of American musical history. Nat 'King' Cole was somebody that played a major part in his youth.

*****
"Back in the ‘40s I went to a little church school down in Austin, Texas, Huston-Tillotson," Cooper said. "We used to call it the Pride of the Great Southwest. It was across town from the University of Texas. It was a Methodist school. They’d teach you to be a teacher or a preacher.

"It was a beautiful school, Huston-Tillotson. The band would play and the choir would sing and the president of the college would beg us to play The Bells of Saint Mary and it would make him cry.

"The president of the college would tell the students: 'In the early years, our forefathers got together to bring this institution about to lift the ban of ignorance…' he would say to us."

"People like Duke Ellington, Nat King Cole and Adam Clayton Powell used to come to the school. Every Wednesday night we had a celebrity speaker. They were so happy to see a bunch of kids trying to get educated. I enjoyed it. I played in the school band three years. I was the lead alto player which was a big deal. We had to try out for the school band like a football player. You earned a scholarship. I didn’t have to pay for nothing but books. Everything else was a freebee, food, dormitory.

"Every time Nat King Cole Trio would come through to play, our band would play the opening for them and then the Nat King Cole trio would play. All those bands would come through there and we would see those musicians dressed in those latest styles.

"Nat King Cole, he brought his wife. Well he wasn’t married to Maria then. He brought his girlfriend down. He was playing some job for the school so we used to go and watch them play tennis. I was really watching his girl in those tennis outfits. You know, a little young boy, he was laughing at us. Teenagers. Oh man, he was hitting the ball."

"We school boys didn’t have nothing. We’d be listening to the bands and the professor would say, “Stay in school.”

In another session Cooper talked about his experiences in Birmingham and the south touring with Ray Charles in the early days.

"Down there It got so bad when we’d play a gig they’d say, “No drinking in this dressing room. And if we catch one of you drinking in the dressing room you’re all going to jail. Everybody was calling home on the public phone out there. “Don’t stay too long on that phone.” Picky, picky, picky, picky, picky. To me, Birmingham was the worst place in the world.

"Nat King Cole was from Birmingham and I read that they had him going through the back door in the auditorium. Well with Ray, when our bus came in, they had us pull around to the back and we had to go in the back door."

Before the Beatles were the Beatles and then there was Billy Preston

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 05:36:00 +0000

By George, Cowboy Clothes

By Susan Cross

This story was told to me by Leroy Cooper during our first session and I transcribed it from the recording. First I wanted to corroborate the story since Leroy was 78 years old and I was checking on his memory. He insisted the club was the Star Club and that they did NOT have a regular drummer during Ray's gig at the club. When I saw Paul, John and George in their 'cowboy clothes' just as Leroy described them I felt I would publish his personal memory of the events that followed. It is all in his own voice.

This is an excerpt from Leroy Cooper's memoir as told to me back in 2007. The material is copyrighted by Susan Cross and cannot be copied, published or duplicated without permission.

In Hamburg, Germany, I was with Ray and we played in a place called the Star Club. It was a very popular venue in Hamburg at the time. It was very impressive. They met us at the airport with Mercedes Benz convertibles, a whole parade of them.

We went to the club and there was a house band playing there. There was all these guys with English accents and they were wearing cowboy clothes and boots. That seemed real funny to us because they were from England, not from the States. Every night, all we did was play shows but they had to play for the dancing and we used to laugh because they had this black drummer at the time. He was a showman. He really impressed me. He was in the Air Force and just passing through, fillin’ in. We lived at the same hotel as this band

They would say, “Come on over and listen to some records,” in their English accent. You know and we used to hang with them. There were two or three of us to a room because we weren’t making the big bucks, and these guys were all bunched up in one room. We would go and listen to records. Back then, they weren’t the Beatles yet.

So when they came to the States to be on the Ed Sullivan show we were watching these guys and somebody said, “Hey, they are the same guys that were in Hamburg, Germany. They changed their haircuts.” When we first saw them in Germany they were playing rock ‘n’ roll. Now they were doing this other music.

I said, “Wow, they made it. They made it.” From then on they were the Beatles and they were big, big, big, big. What a difference a day makes. What a difference.

*****

Billy Preston

One year we were in Liverpool and we usually packed the place out, but this time the crowd was a little slim. We asked what’s happening?

They said, “They have a local group that’s real big. And they’ve got a movie out A Hard Day’s Night.” We had a big show that same night and that sort of hurt our crowd. So I said this new outfit must be dy-no-mite!

In Ray’s band at the time, Billy Preston was sitting next to me on the front line. He played organ and I played the baritone sax, and he met The Beatles at the rock ‘n’ roll show over here in the States.

Years later we were over in England again and the guys were laughing at Billy, saying the Beatles are big and you are supposed to be such good friends with them and everything.

I said “Why don’t you call them?” You know how guys put you on. “Have another drink. Why don’t you call the Beatles, you’re supposed to know them so much.”

He said, “Okay I’ll call ‘em,” We thought we could get a good laugh.

He calls and the housekeeper answers and she said, “They’re not in at the moment and did you want to leave a message?” So he left a message. Two or three days later he heard from one of them.

They said, “This is so and so and we bought your record contract.” At the time Billy was signed up with Ray Charles. They said, “Oh yeah, we bought it and we want you to join the group.” After that, he was like the fifth Beatle.

This must have been in the ‘60s. I remember he was driving a little ‘67 Plymouth and he was getting five hundred a week. He was always complaining about money.

“I’m tired of these cheeseburgers and I got to have more money,” he told Ray. He got with the Beatles and the next time I saw him he had a white Rolls Royce.

One time we were playing in San Francisco at The Fairmont Hotel there up on Nob Hill. It was real ritzy. We were on stage and I said, “Ray, Billy Preston’s in the audience.”

Ray said, “Aw he’s too big to sing with us now.”

Somebody announced Billy. McCartney and the other guys brought him up to the bandstand and he stayed up on the bandstand with us the rest of the night. The Beatles were sitting right next to him in the audience and Billy stayed up there with us. He didn’t forget. He admired Ray. I’ve never seen anything like him.

Anything Ray would play on the piano Billy would play exactly what Ray was playing and I thought this boy is a genius!

He was a young man at the time. He was so young guys would tell him how to dress. He was eating cheeseburgers and milk shakes. And I didn’t get to see him after he got to be a big wheel. He used to come through here and I was determined to try to get out to see him but you know you can’t get to people when they get that big. It changes.

The Callback

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 04:13:00 +0000

This story was written as a follow up to a previous Friday Flash called The Audition which can be viewed here.
© Susan Cross

The phone rang. Her mother answered and called to her, “It’s the agency, dear.” She couldn’t believe it—she had gotten a call back from her audition! After setting the appointment she went and packed her satchel to head out to the train station.

Before she knew it she was seated comfortably heading for the city. She followed the same rituals as last time, using the toilet, washing her face, pulling her hair back. She wore the same white blouse tucked into straight-legged jeans with her red belt pulled tight accentuating her waist. Truth be told, these were the only clothes she had that didn’t give away her small town origins.

Before she knew it she was walking toward the office and opening the door. There was only one other girl in the small waiting area. She took a seat and shyly struck up a conversation with the other woman. This woman was wearing a suit and looked much older than she was, maybe in her mid 30s.

“Hi. I’m Mary Jane. I’ve never been called back after an audition before,” she said to the stranger.

“Don’t be nervous Mary Jane. I’ve been here many times. I’ve even gotten a few jobs for my troubles. My name is Abigail. Perhaps you’ve seen some of my TV spots although you probably wouldn’t know it if you did.” Abigail laughed at that notion, and then continued. I like your red belt. Do you have lipstick to match?” she asked.

“Well, no. I don’t usually wear makeup. I just focus on my hands, keeping the nails trimmed and lacquered,” Mary Jane replied.

“Well, I think you might look good with some lipstick. You should try it some time. Red would be a good color, sort of like mine. It would make the color in your belt pop, as they say, and perhaps you would be considered for other ads if you got noticed.”

Mary Jane only wore lipstick on special occasions. A local square dance; a movie date with James and occasionally when she and her mother went to a mother-daughter luncheon at the local women’s club. She chose the softer, more delicate shades.

“Mary Jane Tomlinson?” the receptionist said, her voice lilting into a question mark. She had assumed that Abigail would go first since she had been waiting longer. This didn’t seem to disturb Abigail, though. Mary Jane rose and followed the receptionist into a hallway.

She was ushered into a small office and a man invited her to have a seat. There were no family pictures on his desk or walls. The décor consisted of posters for various ad campaigns.

“I’m Mr. Ballinger. I assume you’re Mary Jane?” he said as he reached out his hand and took hers gently. “You really stood out in the audition. Your hands are very special and the way you applied our product was just perfect. I would like to see that again if you don’t mind,” he said.

“Of course, Mr. Ballinger.” Mary Jane felt her heart beating a little faster. He had noticed her!

Mr. Ballinger had a bottle of the moisturizer on his desk and handed it to her offering her a seat. She sat down.

“I’d like you to put a small pea-size dab on the top of your left hand and rub it across your skin slowly and sensually. Look down at your hand as you’re doing it and make your facial expression match the feel of the lotion.”

Mary Jane did as she was told.

“Now turn your hand over and put a little bit larger dab onto the palm of your hand. Yes, just like that. Look down and rub the lotion liberally on the palms of your hands.”

Mary Jane’s eyes were closed as she felt the warmth of the lotion on her skin. As her eyes opened just a crack she saw that Mr. Ballinger had unzipped his pants. She saw his ‘thing’ standing up high as he moved towards her. She was afraid she was going to be sick.

“I want to feel the lotion now. Are your hands still moist? Place your left hand in my pants under my balls and hold them, not too tight.”

Mary Jane was horrified! What had she gotten herself into? She wanted to run out the door but she also wanted the job.

“Now with your right hand stroke my cock from the bottom to the top and back again. Yes, just like that. Keep moving your hands like that. It feels very good.”

Within a few minutes, she couldn’t maintain her calm disposition and she pulled her hands away. “I’m sorry Mr. Ballinger, but I just can’t do this. I thought you called me back because you liked my audition and I was going to get the job as a hand model. But I can’t do this.”

“Wait Mary Jane. I think you’ve done a wonderful job. If you’re able to come back next week, we can shoot the commercial and possibly some stills for print magazines as well. Would that be alright?”

“I-I guess so. You’re serious? About the job, I mean? You wouldn’t ask me to do this again?”

“No, no. Next week is the photo shoot. You can make the appointment with my receptionist on the way out. Really I was just testing the product and I believe it’s good. Thank you for coming in.”

Mary Jane moved quickly past him to the door and into the reception area. She glanced at Abigail and wondered if she had been asked to do the same thing in order to get her jobs. Maybe Abigail was his girlfriend and had held back that information. She made the appointment and as she turned to leave she asked Abigail what she thought about the hand lotion.

“Hand lotion? I’m here about the lipstick commercial, sweetie. Did you get the job?”

Ray Charles - Traveling in the South

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Mon, 31 Jan 2011 21:36:00 +0000

Through The South
By Susan Cross

This is an excerpt from Leroy Cooper's memoir as told to me back in 2007. The material is copyrighted by Susan Cross and cannot be copied, published or duplicated without permission.

Traveling in the South

Ft. Lauderdale, Florida

There was a Jewish boy in Ray’s band when we were going through all of this named Donald Peake. I didn’t know anything about his religious background. There were about two or three white boys in Ray’s band during these critical times. I took it upon myself to try to be a protector of Peake’s down south and in Florida. Guys were selling Muhammad Speaks, it was the Muslim newspaper, and when they would see him with us, they’d have a circle on him; they were getting ready to do something. I’d come in the circle and say, “Man, he’s with us,” and blah, blah, blah. He’d be terrified, you know, and who wouldn’t? Having all these crazy people around you.

Miami, Florida

When we used to work in Miami, we couldn’t even stay on the beach. We had to stay up in Hollywood and travel down to the job. Ray was the only one who could stay down there. But we had a good old time and accepted how things were. One of our girls, one of our Raelets had bought some snake boots over in Germany. She paid about 700 or 800 dollars for these fabulous snake boots that come up to her knees. She had on a fur stole and all that and we were off in Miami. She went in the bar next door to the motel where we were living and the cops took her for prostitution. Ray had to go get her out of jail. She was just sitting at the bar having a drink and she told ‘em she was with the band but they didn’t believe her.

Things are better now. The hip hoppers can wear those snake boots and they’re all over Miami. Can you imagine putting one of them in jail? They can buy the jail.

Birmingham, Alabama

Ray started going to towns like Yazoo, Mississippi and Birmingham, Alabama. That was frightening. Back in the day, we were in the bus station and I had to be in the black part of the bus station. I was shooting the pinball machine.

This big cop came over with a fat stomach, a regular cop, and he asked the guy, “What do that big one do?”

“Oh, he’s a saxophone player.”

He said, “Can he blow it? Is he good?” In other words, he just wanted to have some kind of confrontation with me. And I kept ignoring him.

It got so bad when we’d play a gig they’d say, “No drinking in this dressing room. And if we catch one of you drinking in the dressing room you’re all going to jail. Everybody was calling home on the public phone out there. “Don’t stay too long on that phone.” Picky, picky, picky, picky, picky. To me, Birmingham was the worst place in the world.

Nat King Cole was from Birmingham and I read that they had him going through the back door in the auditorium. Well with Ray, when our bus came in, they had us pull around to the back and we had to go in the back door.

When we went to Mobile, Alabama they wouldn’t even let us in the arena unless we got rid of everybody we had white in the band. So the road manager told him we don’t have any whites, we have near whites. So the cops accepted that. The girls put powder on [Don] Peake, brown powder and he was scared that night. They made all the white patrons leave and we had to play to the black audience. The white people stayed outside the arena so they could wave to us when we left.

Things changed. Joe Namath, when he got popular years later opened up a club in Birmingham. We played the circuit in the south with Joe Namath. We went to his club and they had us in the biggest hotel downtown. I forget the name of it, and they had a massage parlor on the mezzanine. The manager of the hotel was telling the band, “You had your back rubbed?”

I said, “Wait a minute; that’s not for us.”

“Oh yes, they’ve got some nice girls up there.”

“This is not Birmingham. Time’s have really changed,” I thought.

We played the Bachelor’s Club in Ft. Lauderdale and we were treated royally everywhere and I said it can’t be the same south; it can’t be the same place.

The Audition -- #FridayFlash

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Sun, 23 Jan 2011 05:50:00 +0000

© Susan Cross, January 22, 2011 May not be copied or reprinted in whole or part without permission from the author. It is posted here for inclusion in the #FridayFiction stories.

She hadn’t relaxed enough yet for her body to mold into the faux-leather seat on the train. Looking out the window her thoughts were chasing each other trying to catch up with her emotions. After she had settled her crimson satchel on the seat next to her she rested her hands delicately in her lap. Carefully manicured fingernails were not adorned with any of the latest trends. No two-toned polish or rhinestones. No false, squarely filed extensions painted to match her lipstick. Instead she wore clear lacquer applied to her own healthy nails. They were filed across, squared but gently curving at the edges. Her hands appeared to belong to someone else, as if they were transplanted onto her slim wrists.

She was relieved that nobody was sharing the car to notice her movements. Her goal was to slow down her thoughts and relax for the two hour ride. According to the schedule, the length of time going in each direction was the same but as is always the case, looking forward to a destination gave the illusion of time crawling with each turn of the wheel on the track. The element of the unknown added to her anxiety. The trip home would be quicker because she knew what awaited her when she arrived.

Outside the window the fields were flashing past. Grazing cows and horses were a blur. She wondered how the speed of a train compared to that of a car on a highway. Remove the traffic lights and stop signs and each could cover the same distance but the train seemed to beat the car, even with the occasional stops at stations.

The relaxation exercise was working. Her breathing slowed, she opened her eyes, picked up her satchel and headed toward the rest room. Inside the tiny room, she used the toilet and washed her hands. Then she opened the satchel which held just the necessities. In an instant, she pulled her long brown hair back and secured it into a pony tail. Next she removed a plastic bottle containing a skin cleansing product. In seconds she saw her bare face in the mirror. No makeup; no lipstick. It was a familiar routine. She wore a white blouse tucked into straight-legged jeans. A red belt pulled tight accentuated her waist.

She strolled back down the aisle, head erect. She returned to her seat, folded her legs under her and leaned her head against the window. She wondered if she would ever take this trip again. Once she detrained she took a cab rather than walk the 9 long blocks. She had saved up for this trip to the city.

At the studio, about 40 women stood in line waiting. She had filled out the forms on the website. A man walked back along the line asking each woman’s name and then giving her a sticky nametag with just a number printed on it that corresponded to the number on the form.

Some of the women dressed casually, others overly stylish. She preferred to show off her assets for this audition, thus accounting for her non-descript attire. Some women wore gloves. She had removed hers in the cab. The line moved quickly. She was next.

“Number 22,” the man said. She stepped forward and followed him down a hallway and through a door.

She approached the table on the stage. It was covered with a black cloth. Bright umbrella lights were angled toward the table. A woman told her to put her hands on the table facing the camera with fingertips touching. Then she was asked to turn them over showing her palms. In the bright light, her skin looked translucent. A man appeared with a bottle in his hand.

“Are you left handed or right handed?”

“Right handed,” she replied.

“Good,” said the director. He signaled for the cameras to start rolling.

“Using your right hand, slowly open the bottle and pour a small pea-sized dab of lotion into the palm of your left hand.” She did as she was told.

“Great. Now rub the lotion onto the top of your right hand, slowly,” he said. “Good. Now rub your hands together – be careful not to get any lotion onto your nails. We want the impression that the lotion is so soothing and nurturing that you are having a life changing, almost sexual experience.”

She rubbed her hands together as she had been told. Her face was reflecting the pleasure she would feel if the lotion were truly changing her life, even though the camera was focused on her hands and nobody was paying attention to her body language.

“Thank you. You can go.”

She left having no hint of how she had compared to the others. She would wait for days to find out if she had been selected. She walked outside, hailed a cab and returned to the train station.

Her parents had told her she was beautiful, but she knew better. Her facial features were not symmetrical. Her lips were not full and luscious and could not hide her imperfect teeth. The industry's view of beautiful did not sync with her parents' idealized perception. She had dreamed of being a model for years but she accepted the reality that her face would never appear on magazine covers. She was hoping her one great feature would be enough. She closed her eyes as the train rolled towards home picturing herself in a film studio.

Tomorrow she would get up and go to work at the supermarket. She had been the only employee at the store that had ever worn gloves to work every day. Co-workers thought she might suffer from scars or discoloration but they never asked. Protecting her hands from the unwashed fruit and juicy packages of meat was essential. Maybe one day, her long slender hands would help fulfill her dreams. She would become a famous hand model.

Leroy Cooper...Drafted during Korean War

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 04:09:00 +0000

This is an excerpt from Leroy Cooper's memoir as told to me back in 2007. The material is copyrighted by Susan Cross and cannot be copied, published or duplicated without permission.

…Uncle Sam sent me a letter and I got drafted.

I went in the Army. They handed me a machine gun and said, “I’m going to send you down to the heathens. I’m going to send you down to F company where they don’t even give you commands, they give you whistles.” I said to myself, ‘Oh my goodness. I’ve got to audition for this band!’

They would have an all white outfit with a black leader. I went up to an all black band to audition and I tried to get out of playing the baritone. They said “What do you play?” I said ‘Alto.’ They said, “We only need a baritone.” I said, ‘Oh, oh, oh, I play the baritone.’ He said, “Okay, can you read?” I said ‘Yeah’ I saw music they had and it was something I had played every night so for my audition I took this song and said to this guy, ‘Kick it out for me.’ And he said, “Kick it out yourself.” And I kicked it off because I knew the song without the music and I played it and they were shocked.

He said “Okay, just mess around with the horn. I got to go to the office for minute.” I hadn’t played a horn in awhile because I’d been in training so I started messing around with the horn, blowing, and it felt good to me. I was just blowing away and the 55 piece band was sitting on the stage and they applauded. They said “Who was that?”

In Ernie Field’s band when I thought I was just keeping up I was a big deal to these guys. They knew who I was. I was only 21. They said, “We’re gonna get you in the band.”

Meanwhile I went down to my outfit, this machine gun company, and I was getting ready to go to Korea to fight. If you ever witnessed this, it was like a jail sentence. They said, “The following EM have been alerted for FECOM.” That was Greek to me. I said, ‘EM?’ They said, “Yeah, FECOM. Far East Command.” I said, ‘What does that mean, man?’ They said, “You’re going to Korea to fight.” I said ‘Oh Lord.’ They said, “Send all of your civilian clothes home. You won’t need them.” They gave you $10,000 insurance and they asked, “How do want your people to get the money? Ten thousand at once, or break it down?” I said, ‘Wait a minute. You can tell me nicer than that, man.’ I mean, they were sending us off to die. They said, “How do you want your people to be paid?” I said, “Just give it all to them at once, if something happens.” I went to mail my clothes home.

That’s not a good feeling. I was going to Korea, and in the machine gun company. They said, “The biggest man in the squad formation, the biggest man carries the ammo, the ammo bearer. One man carries the ammo, one carries the tripod.” I said, ‘I’m an ammo bearer, man. What do I fight with?’ They said, “You don’t need nothing. You just gonna carry the ammo. They knock you out first anyway.” Oh man, that’s not a good feeling.

Anyway, two days before I was shipping out, I’m in the barracks. Some guys were crying. It was sad, a depressing time. The CO who was the captain said, “Private Cooper?” I said to myself, ‘What have I done this time?’ So I said, ‘Sir, are you looking for me? Cooper?’

“Who is this damn band?” he asked. I said, ‘What do you mean?’ He said, “Who are you?” I said ‘I’m Private Cooper.’ He said, “This band sent a direct order and drafted you away from us. You’re going to that band.” In other words, going to that band is more important than going to Korea to fight? And I said, ‘Pardon the expression, sir, but don’t bullshit me.’ He said, “No. They’re sending a jeep for you as we speak.” Then a jeep pulled up and said, “Are you Private Cooper? We’re looking for Private Cooper. Get your gear; you’re outta here.”

I threw my stuff in the jeep. My buddies waving and I would never see them again. We went up to where the band lived, and we slept on mattresses. And they had two sheets and they were complaining that the sheets weren’t ironed.

On the same post, Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, they had 20 or 40 square miles; four or five bands. It was a city out there. I got up to the band, and, oh boy, at the PX I saw women walking down the streets; I’d been in the jungle down there.

I used to work hard up there and then not in much time, about ten months, I was a Sergeant. I felt so impressive in the band and when the man gave me those stripes, I didn’t want it. I wanted to hang with those fellows. He said, “No, I’m giving you a direct order, I’m making you a Sergeant.”

They gave me an 18 piece band to be in charge of. I was booking one of my jobs. One of my duties was to book Friday night parties for the different outfits on the post. Where did they send me? To the 91st battalion where I came from! This time I had Sergeant stripes, got my own driver and Jeep and I go back down that hill and there was the same Sergeant that kicked me out and told me I would never be nothing, I walked in and said ‘Request command to see me.’

“Oh yes sir, go back in.” I went into the office. “Close the door, son.” He pulled his liquor out and said, “You drink son, don’t you?” We drank and we had this party and all these girls came from St. Louis and talked about the band and after we finished business we talked about anything; telling jokes and everything. Then he said, “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

In the Army days they called me Boogie Red. I don’t know what that was about but that was my nickname. I said ‘You remember Boogie Red?’ He said, “You used to be down here?” ‘I told you all the time I was a musician,’ I said.

I keep thinking about those Army experiences and I think the angels are watching out for me.

Leroy Cooper, Ernie Fields, Charlie Barnet and Uncle Sam

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 03:47:00 +0000

Uncle Sam's Big Band
By Susan Cross

This is an excerpt from Leroy Cooper's memoir as told to me back in 2007. The material is copyrighted by Susan Cross and cannot be copied, published or duplicated without permission.

After I left school, I went to Waco, Texas, with the little band. While we were there we met a big band leader that had a territorial band. There was a guy named Ernie Fields from Tulsa, Oklahoma that had a big band and part of his band had quit him. I’ll tell you who he had in his band: J.J. Johnson, the trombone player that wrote for the movies; Miles Davis was in that band; Gene Ammons; and Yusef Lateef. All of these guys went on to be big names but back then they were young so they left his band.

Someone from Ernie Fields band called down to where we were staying in Waco. They heard there were some musicians staying there, and they wanted this trumpet player to come join them. We were all high and everything, drinking our wine.

I said, ‘Tell ‘em you got the greatest saxophone player in the world sitting here.’ The guy put him on the phone and he said, “You want a job?” And I said, ‘Yeah.’

I was all cocky; I was tough and I was big and he said, “Okay, I’ll send you a train ticket to come to Oklahoma.” There was four of us, they sent us train tickets. All the people in Waco said we were going to be nothing and we said, ‘We’re going to join Ernie Field’s band in Tulsa, Oklahoma.’

So we caught the train, and I got to the band, and they were more professional than I was accustomed to. These guys were warming up and I heard the sounds coming out of their instruments, and I was afraid to toot my little horn. So I was just sitting there. The bandleader could see I was terrified because I was just a teenager so he said, “I’ll tell you what. Just play anything you want to play and tell the piano player what key you want to play it in. The guys didn’t even want to speak to me—that’s how musicians are. So I played Lady Be Good. And they got all friendly and introduced themselves. I thought, Wow I made an impression.

They wanted me to take Yusef Lateef’s place. He was a famous tenor saxophone player. I didn’t play tenor, I played alto. So that night in bed I thought, the baritone is the same pitch as the alto, it’s an E-flat instrument. They had an opening for a baritone player and the baritone player didn’t have to play solos because it was a bit awkward. So I told the band leader at rehearsal to let me try the baritone. He said okay. I didn’t have a baritone so one of the guys lent me one. So I got on the baritone and I wasn’t used to playing those notes and going through all those changes, and finally I told the bandleader, ‘Look, you can just give me bus fare back to Dallas and I’ll try again.’ I was giving up.

Back in those days, the band leader was like the father. He called everybody Hoss.

“I see something in you, Hoss.” he said, “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you give Hal McIntyre or Mooney who played with Duke Ellington’s band, (he was playing lead alto) you give him a dollar or two when you can afford it, and get him to teach you our book. So I got a room down the hall from Geezil Minerve, who went on to play with Duke Ellington, and I would worry him every day to teach me something. I was practicing every day. He was strict and he was from Orlando, Florida. He was a West Indian guy. And he would kick things up. I would say, ‘Slow it down,’ and he would say, “HuH Hut hut”, so being under him I improved. I got this new instrument that was a baritone and I got to where I could play. Sometimes he would get his flute and I could keep up with him on the flute, and in fact I was getting pretty good and they told me anytime a band comes through, worry the baritone player to death about the ins and outs about the instrument.

Basie’s band was forming in Oklahoma City and I was living in Tulsa. So when they came to Tulsa I would worry the baritone player to death. His name was [Jack] Washington. I would ask him, ‘Why do you do this, and why do you do that?’ He would say “Leave me alone.” But still we messed around.

Ernie Fields gave us our first trip to New York. The band went to do the show at the Apollo Theatre. Charlie Barnet’s band was playing there. Charlie Barnet’s band had all these big studio musicians. I remember the drummer had all these drums up on the stage. I had never seen that many drums and our little drummer had some little $1.98 drums. He was my buddy so he said, help me put my drums up on the stage. He was ashamed to take his drums up.

That night, Charlie Barnet had a birthday party and said everybody’s invited. So I went up there and I was drinking up the booze. And I was shaking hands and they didn’t know we were little country bumpkins from Oklahoma that didn’t know nothing. I went out on the stage and sang that first night. Our little drummer got a job with Dizzy Gillespie so when they took the program out I said ‘We don’t have nobody to sing.’ Lemon Drop was the song. So I said ‘I’ll sing it.’ I was 19 and I would do anything. This was at the Apollo Theatre where they would throw bricks at you; I went out there and sang my little song, baboom boom boom and blew with them so long that I got ahead.

The bandleader was teaching me stage decorum. I went out there and I turned around and he said “back up, back up.” I was learning how to entertain. The band paid me more money than I ever had in my life. He called me into where everybody got paid, this was in the late ‘40s, and I never had seen $100, and this man counted me out 100 bucks and he kept going. I thought ‘He’s counting out the money for the band.’ And then he got to $125 and he said, “Okay. Spend it wisely.”

I said ‘I get all this money? And you get paid like this every week?’ He said, “Yeah, boy.” And I said, ‘Wheee! I got money in my pocket!’ I spent it wisely. It was January and I was wearing my little Texas raincoat. I said I need a coat, so one of the little guys hanging around said “I’ll show you where you can get a coat cheap, and uh maybe I can get one if you get it cheap enough.” I thought he’s pulling my leg because everybody in New York needed a coat in January. He took me to a dry cleaner and all the unclaimed stuff was on the rack. He said, “Pick you out a coat.” Oh man, I got this nice, warm overcoat and the guy said “Give me 20 bucks.” ‘20 bucks?’ I said. The other guy I was with said “Fifteen.” I paid $15 and had a nice warm coat and the other guy got him a coat for about five. So I spent 20 bucks and both of us had coats.

He said “Now you need some snow boots.” For my little $125 I had a new suit and everything for the first time in my life. I wanted to go to a barber shop and get the works—shoe shine, nails—like I had seen it in the movies, so they fixed me up. I thought, ‘Oh, I could get used to this.’

They did a record while we were over in Jersey and a Broadway producer saw me. I didn’t know the baritone was popular like that and he said, “I think I can use you in a Broadway show.” I’m with this band over here and he was paying over 2, and I was traveling. Too much was happening too fast, but in the midst of all this Uncle Sam sent me a letter and I was drafted.

The French Cognac Kiss

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Mon, 27 Dec 2010 04:10:00 +0000

The weather outside is frightful here in Orlando. The gusting wind chill has us down in the 40s or 30s. Tonight we get the light freeze. Tomorrow night, the hard freeze. The fronds on my Addy tree are dying and I'm crying all over again.

Good news? I didn't spend $1000 or more to fly to Orlando from the freezing north before the blizzard hit, pay for a hotel room at Disney, buy the package to get in all the parks and meet the characters in the hopes of getting out of the cold! Maybe to people from your neck of the woods this is warm but for us, losing palm fronds is not a good sign. Disney elves replace their plants EVERY SINGLE NIGHT while Cinderella is asleep in her castle. Not me. I'll wait until spring.

This is the one time of year that Mickey and Goofy aren't sweating out in the sun, if you know what I mean. I don't want to spoil any secrets here for the young 'uns. I'll check the cupboard and see if my Christmas guests left me any cognac. I tried to hide it behind the wine and other bottles yesterday. I kept pushing the vodka with OJ, cranberry or whatever. At the end of the long day, the Stoli bottle was empty and the Smirnoff still unopened so I thought maybe my Cognac was safe.

I crept into the kitchen and took the small snifter from behind the wine glasses where it hides discreetly, I pulled the Courvoisier out from its dark corner and alas, there was barely a quarter inch of the golden brown liquid clinging to the concave rounded bottom of the corked glass bottle. Would it be enough? I feared it would not so I put the snifter back into its hiding place and instead went to the next shelf.

Reaching my short, stubby fingers up high, I stood on my tippy toes and grabbed two small, stemmed liqueur glasses and brought them down to my line of sight. Yes, yes, I would share the last of the nectar with my beloved. I uncorked the bottle and poured. Halfway to the top of the little glass, just slightly longer than my middle finger, I stopped and moved the lip to the second glass. As I watched the darkness dribble into the clear glazed flute I hoped that it would match the amount in its twin. Drip, drip, drip...I turned the bottle 180 degrees so that the opening was facing directly towards the target and one last little drop plopped in. And that was all.

Putting the pair together I saw that one had the equivalent of an extra few sips and I remembered that this is the holiday season. So I put both in the microwave for 5 seconds and with miniature drinks in hand, went in and handed the fuller one to my hubby. We clinked and we drinked--okay so I'm pushing it there--and it tasted good. One sip at a time the warmth trickled down my throat into my tummy and when the glass was empty, once again, I felt like I was back in sunny Florida. My husband smiled as he licked his lips, put his tongue in the glass to get the last taste, and then in my mouth as we kissed to share the French kiss of Cognac.

Time to turn out the lights.

**A special thank you to my good friend Absolutely*Kate Pilarcik for giving me a holiday boost. You can read more about A*K here.

Red Corvair

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 03:03:00 +0000

What's the point? I figured out that the only revolution I had to fight was my own. I decided that sex, drugs and rock n roll were the way for ME to go. I realized I wasn't going to change the world, I could only change myself. And I did. I got the hell out of Dodge and moved to Florida where the sun shone every day and people were nice to me and we were all broke so I didn't stand out in the crowd. We all shared our drugs and our bodies and our food. Nobody went hungry even if all we had to eat was spaghetti. We did have some University of Miami kids in our apartment complex and they were the rich kids, but they used their money to buy ribs, burgers and anything we could make on the grill on weekends. They fed all of us.

And then when we were all stoned one little moment changed everything. Hank was on his way home from waiting tables at 2 AM and decided to take the shortcut through the ghetto. The bars had just closed so all the drunks were out in the streets. He was tired. It was late. He was going slowly but wanted to get home. A woman stepped out in front of the car and he hit her--the crowd started running to his car and he freaked and stepped on the gas and came home.

When he got to our building he saw my light was still on so he came to my door and we visited for awhile. We talked for about an hour about work and school. Then he said he was really tired so he went to his apartment and I went to bed.

My bedroom was on the corner of the building next to an alley where people sometimes parked their cars. I awoke to the sound of sirens and walkie-talkies and when I looked outside I saw the cops surrounding his red Corvair. I watched them cuff him and put him in the black and white and drive away. I started banging on doors and waking people up. Nobody knew anything. One of the rich college kids was the son of a lawyer. He called his dad. His dad called the court and found out what had happened. He wired money down to get Hank out of jail while the accident was investigated.

The woman was dead. She was black. It was 1969. It was the south.

It was a long drawn out process and Allen's father paid for everything--an attorney, fines, whatever. When it was all over, Hank got a ticket for careless driving.

It changed all of our lives. We were mostly northerners and killing a person (black or white) was a horrible thing, even if it was an accident. Down south there were no charges because she was black. Hank changed. I changed. We recognized that there was no justice. He was so sorry. I thought he was going to kill himself. He was just barely managing to pay for school with that job and he could never go back to the restaurant. He dropped out of school, bought an old pickup truck and hit the road. I was devastated. He was a good kid. His life was ruined. He would rather have gone to jail. He killed a woman and they just gave him a ticket.

We took more drugs. But, one thing we learned was that if one of us was in a bind, the rich kids would come through for us. That was always kind of amazing. Allen and Hank weren't roommates. They weren't best friends. We just all lived in this 40 unit apartment building with a pool in the middle. It looked like a converted motel. It was very communal and we all did the dishes and listened to the Who. Everybody helped everybody else. It was a whole new life. I was so used to being shunned, flat-chested, not pretty enough, and having my mother telling me that I ruined her life, and my family hated me because I was a hippie.

I guess I was on Hank’s side. It was an accident but that woman’s life was worth more than the cost of a traffic ticket. I wonder what happened to him after he left town. A little piece of me left with him in that pickup truck.

Leroy Cooper leaves Ray Charles - the 1st time

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Mon, 08 Nov 2010 05:02:00 +0000

Hit The Road, Jack
By Susan Cross

During one of our interview sessions, Leroy Cooper told me a story about why he left the small Ray Charles band the first time. Leroy remembered clearly how his feelings were hurt. Just as clearly, he remember his friend, Marcus Belgrave, coming to his rescue. Leroy and Marcus had known each other before they were in Ray's band together, but that's another story. This story speaks for itself and the fact that he remembers the kindness of his friend over 50 years later gives some insight into Leroy's humility and love for his friends.

*****

Ray’s band was in Chicago and I went to Dallas on a break. Our next gig was in Chicago at the Regal Theater. I had to pay everything I had in my pocket for cab fare from the bus station to the south side. I didn’t realize that Chicago was that big. It left me with about two or three bucks in my pocket. I went to see the road manager.

Let me have a loan ‘til payday, I said to Jeff Brown, Ray’s first road manager. Payday was the next day. I had just spent every penny I had on a bus from Dallas to Chicago to rejoin the band.

“I’m sorry, Cooper, I don’t have any money,” he said.

I couldn’t believe it! I said to myself, what am I going to do? A country boy in the big city. I went to Woolworth’s and bought me a jack size bag of popcorn; I ate popcorn and I drank ice water to survive.

We were down in the band room in the theater after I’d asked for a loan and he said he didn’t have anything, he came downstairs and told the straw boss in the band, “I don’t like the neckties the guys in the band are wearing.”

There was a little shopping center up there and he said, “Go buy some kind of neckties that I like.” I was looking in another direction and he put his hand in his pocket and came out with a Philadelphia roll. That really made me feel bad. I said, Wow, he didn’t have any money and he brought out a roll like that.

“What kind of ties should I get?” He said, “I don’t care.”

Marcus Belgrave

The trumpet player, Marcus Belgrave [right] saw me and he said, “You don’t have no money do you?” I said no. So he straightened me out until payday. But I said to myself once I get back to Dallas, I won’t worry about leaving home anymore. That was the first time I was out of the band for a year and it was because of Jeff Brown. He used to not treat me too nice when I was first in the band. I was sensitive.

Here was this man, the road manager, having money in his pocket and not letting me have enough to survive. That’s when I said, when I get back to Texas I’ll be staying there, (I didn’t tell them that) and that’s what I did.

Ray was living in Dallas back then. When they got me back to Dallas, I was home. When they got ready to go back out I said I’m not going, man. They traveled by car in those days. I lived out by the airport in Dallas. Ray came out to my house.

“What’s wrong? How come you’re not going?” he asked me after we had returned to Dallas from Chicago. I had decided I would never tell him that I was upset about what happened in Chicago.

Interview with David 'Fathead' Newman

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 19:09:00 +0000

Let's Talk A Bit
By Susan Cross

During the many afternoons I spent with Leroy Hog Cooper he talked about so many of his friends. Some of these people were relatively new friends, people he knew during his 20 year stint at Disney World playing in the Dixieland band, the jazz band and at private functions held in the park and hotels on property. Others were people he met after he retired and became more involved in the local jazz, blues and society bands that filled up his calendar and kept his lips on the mouthpiece of his various horns.

However, in the beginning of our time together, Leroy spoke mostly about his old friends. The ones he knew growing up. The ones that he played with in the school band. And the ones he played with in clubs. Probably the most important one of these was a fellow who was a couple of years younger than Leroy that he knew in school. They both played saxophone. And eventually, this friend would be the one that changed Leroy's life forever. His name was David Newman, also known as Fathead.

Here is the transcript of a telephone interview I did with David on April 23, 2007. Unfortunately, at that time I didn't have enough information to ask more relevant questions and my interview was mostly targeted at his relationship with Leroy. David was soft-spoken, warm, friendly and expressed his love for Leroy, just as Leroy had expressed his love for David.

Susan Cross: How long were you with Ray Charles?

David Newman: From September 1954 to 1964; 10 years. Then I went back in 1970 to 1971, so altogether 11 years.

Susan Cross: What was your relationship with Leroy?

David Newman: We were very good friends and colleagues. We go back a long way. Growing up in Dallas, I was a few years behind Leroy in school, being younger than he was. We got to know each other when we both had the same band director at Lincoln High school, Mr. Miller.

Susan Cross: Was that Uncle Dud?

David Newman: Yes. That was his nickname. I lost touch with Leroy when he went to college and then into the Army. When he got out and came back to Dallas, we got back together.

Leroy joined the Ernie Fields big band and was playing the baritone sax by then. He had started on the alto, but he was such a big man he was blowing the buttons off of it, not literally, but figuratively. The baritone was very fitting for him being the big guy that he was.

Susan Cross: How did Leroy join Ray’s band?

David Newman: Ray’s band needed a baritone sax and knowing Leroy, I recommended bringing him into the band. Later on, I also got James Clay to join.

When Leroy joined, it was a small band. It became a big band in 1960.

The movie, Ray, was inaccurate and so unfortunate.

Susan Cross: When did you start playing the sax?

David Newman: When I was about 8 or 9.

Susan Cross: Was it your first instrument?

David Newman: No. My mother had me taking piano lessons for about 2 years and the other kids were calling me a sissy. So I told my mother that I wanted to play a more masculine instrument. She asked me, like what? I said, I don’t know. A horn, maybe, a saxophone. So I started taking lessons on the alto sax which was the second smallest, soprano being the smallest. Mr. Miller gave me lessons.

In our youth, there was a place called the American Woodlands Hall. All the musicians would go there and jam and get to know each other. That went on for years.

Leroy’s dad was a fine musician. I never heard him play, but Buster Smith was my (and Leroy’s) main influence growing up, and he knew Leroy’s dad and said he was a fine musician.

Susan Cross: Who are your favorite sax players today?

David Newman: James Moody, Jimmy Heath, Benny Golson, Eric Alexander, Javon Jackson.

At the end of the conversation, David told me to feel free to call any time if I had more questions. Unfortunately I did not make a second call. David died less than 2 weeks after Leroy in January 2009. Their music lives on. You can learn more about David 'Fathead' Newman click here.

Unchosen -- #fridayflash, poetry

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 15:29:00 +0000

Little girl, little girl
hurting so much.
Why does it hurt so bad?
When do I get my shot,
something for the pain?
Please nurse,
Something for the pain.

If I can't have sometihng
then at least give the doctor some pain
so that he knows.
It isn't fair for him to deny me
when he doesn't hurt.
Give him a chance to suffer
if only for a short while.
I have little doubt
that he'll give us each a shot
if he has a taste of this.
He'll not endure what I do.
Sitting there on my bed
looking down with his sad eyes
feeling sorry for someone
lying on under the white sheets below him.
Let him join me and see
if he doesn't hit us both up.

Why am I so lucky
to be given the chance to prove my strength?
I did not ask to be the messiah.
He chose to be the doctor.

Interview with Pat Travers, 03/2008 - Boom Boom--Out Go the Lights

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 02:44:00 +0000

It seems that the title of this entry "Boom Boom--Out Go the Lights" caused quite a reaction. I had over 100 hits on this post from all over the world, many of which had a duration time of 0 seconds. Perhaps they were looking for a more juicy news story. I've changed the title of the post, putting the subject matter first and the name of the song second. I didn't mean to alarm anyone or get on any government lists. I should have thought before I started with a title like Boom Boom...Let's try this again.

Pat Travers has toured the world -- performing, writing and composing music that is catalogued on more than 40 albums. Over three decades after his first album was released, Travers is still experimenting with his music but as a Central Florida resident his priorities have changed just a bit.

When I called him to do the interview I asked him if it was a convenient time. He said it was, that he was just in the middle of making a PB and J sandwich for his son who had just come in from school.

Susan Cross: When did you first come to Orlando?

Pat Travers: I came here in 1980. I was living in Miami at the time. We were recording a live show at the Great Southern Music Hall in downtown Orlando. We took a break because they were doing some sound checking and I had a friend drive me around. I was a young man looking to buy a house and I was ready to leave Miami. I moved to Rosemont where I lived for 22 years. I’m in Apopka now. I’ve been all over the world and I think that Central Florida is a great place to live.

Susan Cross: What local activities do you enjoy?

Pat Travers: I tried golf for awhile but I could never break a hundred so I got into martial arts. For the last four years I’ve been doing karate training. I’m a black belt now. It was probably the hardest thing I ever had to do.

Susan Cross: How does touring affect your family life?

Pat Travers: My wife is fantastic; we’ve been married for almost 17 years and been together for 20. For my kids, it’s what they were brought up on, but I try not to be away for too long.

Susan Cross: Of all the albums you recorded, do you have a favorite?

Pat Travers: I think the Crash and Burn album I did in 1980 came out pretty good. An album I did in Miami called Black Pearl is another one I really like.

Susan Cross: What are you working on now?

Pat Travers: I’m working on a new album. I’ve been getting more and more bluesy in the past several years. I figure that’s more dignified at my age. We were a party band for years but I prefer to do something that will appeal to a broader demographic. The tunes will be more song oriented.

Susan Cross: Do people in the area know your background? Do you get recognized?

Pat Travers: Yeah, sometimes I walk down the street and they say, hey aren’t you…? But I go to the grocery store and I’m just a normal dad.

To get up to date view the website here Pat Travers or look for Pat on Facebook.

Interview with Wanda Sykes - May 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 16:20:00 +0000

This is an interview I did with Wanda Sykes for Orlando Home & Leisure Magazine prior to her appearance at the Hard Rock Live in Orlando in 2009.

Susan Cross:     Which do you enjoy most, standup, TV or movies?

Wanda Sykes:   My first love is standup because that’s where everything started. TV, movies came along as being known for doing standup. But I do have to say that I love the paycheck of TV and the New Adventures of Old Christine is the best show I’ve had in TV. I absolutely love it over there. The writers are great but I do still love the excitement of doing standup.

Susan Cross:     Since you and Julia [Louis-Dreyfus] have backgrounds as writers do you contribute or stick to the script?

Wanda Sykes:   I am scripted. They do a great job so I’m not going to do something to change what works fine. The character of Barb is pretty defined so it makes it a lot easier to follow the script.

Susan Cross:     Is there something that you would like to do that you haven’t done?

Wanda Sykes:   I have a show coming up and that will probably be the top rung for me – doing the White House Correspondent’s Dinner on May 9th [2009]. I’m very excited about doing that. Actually that wasn’t even on my radar when I thought of different things I want to do so when it came up it was like WOW! Before the President? It’s exciting and scary at the same time. I’m one bad joke away from getting deported or something. I made sure all my taxes are up to date; everything is good; staying out of any scandals or anything; I don’t have any dealings with Bernie Madoff, so that’s all good.

Susan Cross:     Do you think that aging is different for men and women?

Wanda Sykes:   For men it seems like they don’t talk about it as much as we do. It doesn’t seem like it’s as much of a concern for them. Men, they get older, they just date younger. We have all kinds of things going on – body issues and all kinds of stuff. With men, a little Viagra and that’s pretty much they’re chore – date younger.

Susan Cross:     If you were going to be reincarnated what would you like to come back as?

Wanda Sykes:   Oprah!

Susan Cross:     In your personal life have you gotten green?

Wanda Sykes:   Yes, but the doctor gave me an ointment and he said it should clear up. Oh, you mean GREEN. Oh yeah, I recycle; I drive a hybrid; I do the light bulb thing. You try.

Susan Cross:     Is there anyone you’ve worked with that you’d like to work with again?

Wanda Sykes:   I’d like to work with Jane Fonda again but hopefully I can get her to lift that restraining order. And Chris Rock but I would have to lift my restraining order against him. Steve Carell is great.

Susan Cross:     Have you seen a change in your fan base over the years?

Wanda Sykes:   Yeah, people are getting fat. I got to play bigger venues but it’s not because there’s more people it’s because the people are just more! We’re all at the age where we’re spreading. Even me, I need a bigger stage. I’m getting more of a cross section of people now and that’s good.

Leroy Cooper - One Man Band - in his own words

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 19:40:00 +0000

Saving Music History
By Susan Cross

This is an excerpt from Leroy Cooper's memoir as told to me back in 2007. The material is copyrighted by Susan Cross and cannot be copied, published or duplicated without permission.

Listen!

If the title doesn't show at first, refresh the page to listen.

Leroy Cooper had a wonderful life. His musical accomplishments include about 20 years as baritone sax player and bandleader for Ray Charles.

In addition, he was a great story teller. I had the great honor of sitting wth him and listening to him recount his tales. Here is a little clip about how his interest in music first developed.

To see Leroy back in 1975 leading the Ray Charles Orchestra, click here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spJ1zGY6w5I

You can hear Joe Adams introduce him. The man with the very large Afro hairstyle playing keyboards when Ray comes out is the magnificent Ernest Vantrease, a.k.a. The Deacon. Ernest was with Ray for about 30 years and now plays keyboards for B.B. King.

Copyright © 2010 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

In a Corner Near the Ceiling

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Cross) — Fri, 10 Sep 2010 04:31:00 +0000

It was Christmas Eve, 1975. My mother came home from work and found me in the hallway struggling to breathe. She frantically called the doctor and then carried me to the car and started driving. My gastroenterologists were all Jewish so they were at the office that day. Dr. Leo, the oldest, was like a father to me. He had been treating me for about ten years for the intestinal disease. He came out to the car and carried me inside to a treatment room.

When he saw my swollen abdomen he knew. I looked nine months pregnant when just that morning I had been emaciated. His brother, Dr. Albert, gave me a shot of morphine but the pain didn’t subside. The third doctor was the youngest so he carried me to my mother’s car, a 1969 blue Chevy Nova and drove with his hand on the horn, blaring, running red lights. I was stretched out in the back seat holding on, bracing my body against the agonizing pain. The next thing I remember was being revived in the ER. I heard voices, “DOA.” “BP is dropping.” I saw the blur of bright lights and heard the wheels of the gurney rolling on the hard floors. I closed my eyes and drifted.

I awakened in a little room. There were doctors surrounding my bed. I remember smiling and telling them I wasn’t afraid. They said they were trying to put an IV in my arm but my veins had collapsed. They were going to have to do a cut-down. I didn’t know what that meant, but I told them the pain was gone now so I didn’t care. One doctor told me that I was in shock so they couldn’t sedate me. He apologized for what they were about to do. I watched as they prepared my left arm for surgery. One doctor used a scalpel to make a two inch cut just inside my elbow to reach the vein. He threaded a tube into it and kept threading it until it stopped. I felt a twinge near my shoulder. Then he stitched the incision closed around the tube. I saw the bag of fluid hanging on the IV pole. The fluid was dripping rapidly from the sack down the tube and into my arm.

I slipped away. I wasn’t on the table anymore. I was hovering in a corner near the ceiling of the room looking down at my body and at the backs of the men wearing white jackets. I watched them fussing over my empty shell. I heard no voices. I saw a doctor pound on my chest; then again. And I slipped from the air back into my body and looked up into the doctor’s eyes. I smiled at him. I wanted to tell him how incredible it had been to be watching from above but I was too weak to talk.

The doctors said they didn’t want to operate until I was stable. They waited until 3 o'clock Christmas Day and then moved me into the operating room. The surgeon introduced himself to me. He had an Italian name and I felt bad because he had to work on Christmas. He put a large mask over my face. He said it would give me the maximum amount of oxygen. The mask was so large that I couldn’t turn my head with the straps holding it tightly, covering my nose and mouth. I listened to nurses talking and the sound of the metal instruments being prepared for surgery. It seemed like hours.

Then the surgeon told me there was no more time, he was going to operate to relieve the pressure inside my body. My blood pressure was so low that they were afraid to anesthetize me completely, he said, so they gave me very little anesthesia. I was awake when the surgeon started to make the incision, but compared to the pain I had of my failing organs, the knife was like a fingernail scraping against my skin. I was strapped down to the table and couldn’t move. The anesthesiologist was watching the surgeon so he didn’t see my pleading eyes looking up at him. I couldn't talk. My tongue felt swollen in my mouth because of the oxygen. Finally, I wiggled the big toe on my right foot. Since he was looking in that direction he was startled by the movement. Then he looked at my face, horrified when his eyes looked into mine, and increased the drip. Finally, it was dark and quiet and I felt no pain.