All three books are not only sad and satiric, but also all too indicative of the systemic racism the continues to permeate our white privileged society today.
Charles Farley |
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If you think that systemic racism doesn't exist, read these three novels: The Spook Who Sat By The Door, published in 1969 and made into a movie in 1973, tells the fictitious story of Dan Freeman, the first black CIA officer, recruited some time in the 1960s as the agency's token Black. What he encounters as America's first Black spy (aka "spook") and how he responds seems only too real, particularly when compared to two other more recent novels. American Spy, by Lauren Wilkinson, relates how Marie Mitchell, one of the FBI's first Black and female intelligence agents is used by the white power structure in this thriller set in the 1980s and 90s in New York, Martinique, and West Africa. Not much different than Dan Freeman 20 years earlier, as it turns out. And sadly, not much different than how Darren Vender is treated in Mateo Askaripour's Black Buck, set in present-day New York City, where our hero finds himself as the only Black employee in a hep, new startup that sells questionable mentoring services to rich people and organizations worldwide. All three books are not only sad and satiric, but also all too indicative of the systemic racism the continues to permeate our white privileged society today.
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Peter Guralnick's new book, Looking To Get Lost, is an anthology of essays about the creative process, but mostly includes several fine examples of Guralnick's main forte, insightful profiles of American popular music makers, here from Robert Johnson to Eric Clapton, with many engaging stops in between: Skip James, Ray Charles, Merle Haggard, Bill Monroe, Lonnie Mack, Delbert McClinton, Joe Tex, Dick Curless, Johnny Cash, Tammy Wynette, Doc Pomus, and many more, as well as authors Lee Smith and Henry Green. If you don't know Peter Guralnick, it's about time you did, because he's arguable the most articulate, serious chronicler of modern American music in the past 50 years: with a two-volume biography of Elvis Presley, as well as book-length bios of Sam Cooke and Sam Phillips, not to mention three other collections of profiles of many famous and not-so-famous blues, country, and early rock musicians. I've never met Guralnick, even though I lived for awhile in Newburyport, MA, only a few miles from his home in West Newbury, and share a mutual friend in blues record producer Dick Shurman. But I did quote extensively from his profile of Bobby Bland from his Lost Highways: Journeys and Arrivals of American Musicians, in my book-length biography of "the world's greatest blues singer": Soul of the Man: Bobby "Blue" Bland. Check it out. Mary Wilson, one of the founders of the supremely popular Supremes, died on Monday, February 8, this week at the age of 76. I never got a chance to see the Motown trio, but I certainly did hear a lot from them, especially during the 1960s when they were Motown's most successful act, scoring hit after hit, with 12 No. 1 singles during the decade. My connection, oblique as it is, to the group was when I was teaching school in Battle Creek, Michigan. There, I met another first year teacher, Michael Noverr, who moonlighted as a disk jockey, as Mark West, at a rock station in town. Michael introduced my wife and me to Harvey Reese, who was a radio engineer at a station in nearby Kalamazoo. And Harvey, who had turned the radio station's studio into a recording studio after hours, recorded or knew most every aspiring music group in West Michigan, including a locally popular R&B band called Jackey Beavers & the Continentals. Beavers had grown up in Cartersville, Georgia. And, after high school, had joined the Air Force and soon found himself stationed at Fort Custer in Battle Creek. There, he entered and consistently won weekly talent competitions at the base. After the Air Force, Beavers hung around in Battle Creek and became the vocalist for the house band at the El Grotto Lounge, Jr. Walker and the All-Stars. And I knew Jr. Walker, not only because of his huge hits, "Shotgun" and "What Does It Take," but also because I had a couple of his kids in my classes at Battle Creek Central High School. But it was Harvey's friendship with Jackey Beavers that led to our invitation to Jackey's new club in Kalamazoo, where Beavers and the Continentals held court most weekends sometime around 1968-1970. Jackey was an excellent host, seeing that we were seated at a good table not far from the stage and the dance floor. We had a great time that night, but probably would have not given the talented, young performer much more thought, if it hadn't been for the fact that his 1962 song, co-written with Johnny Bristol and Harvey Fuqua, turned out to be the last song ever recorded by Diana Ross and the Supremes in 1969, the No. 1 hit: "Someday We'll Be Together." Beavers went on to record a few regional hits with his Air Force buddy Johnny Bristol and continued writing songs. And still later, he became a minister and focused on gospel, like the song below, until his death in 2008. I have been fortunate in my lifetime to witness some of the world's best performers: Count Basie, Bobby "Blue" Bland, the Drifters, Bob Dylan, Frank Sinatra, the Rolling Stones, Bobby Rush, and Southside Johnny. But the best by far was James Brown, whose shows were much more than shows. They were truly spectaculars! "The Hardest Working Man in Show Business" did not mess around. His bands, often with two drummers, were always tight and professional. The backup singers and dancers, superb. And James Brown himself a true knockout every single time! I was reminded of all those wonderful James Brown shows this week when I heard about the death, at 85, of Danny Ray, Brown's personal valet, emcee, and cape man for more than 45 years. Brown met Ray at the famed Apollo Theater in 1960 where Ray was often in attendance, along way from his birthplace in Birmingham, Alabama. From there, Ray attended Brown until Brown's death on Christmas Day in 2006. Keeping track of Brown's many costume changes and their matching capes. Introducing each show, after the crowd had been revved up by the band: "Right about now, it's star time. Are you ready for star time?" And most importantly, gently draping the cape over the star's shoulders when he collapsed with feigned grief during his signature song "Please, Please, Please." The shows all flowed so seamlessly and joyfully. Owing, in no small part, to Danny Ray's total commitment and caring. The Rev. Al Sharpton wrote on social media: "He was like an Uncle to me as I traveled the world years ago w/ The Godfather of Soul. Danny will never be forgotten. Rest in Peace and Power, family." |
AuthorCharles Farley is an author who lives and writes in Huntsville, Alabama. Archive
January 2023
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