Respect: The Life of Aretha Franklin (24 page)

She was, in fact, back onstage that summer when she played the Antibes Jazz Festival on the French Riviera. Also on the bill were Archie Shepp, Grant Green, Erroll Garner, Lionel Hampton, the Clara Ward Singers, and Stan Getz.

“I had been told that she looked at Clara Ward the way I looked at Lester Young,” Getz told me. “Clara was the original. Clara was the template. And Clara was terrific, an inspired gospel singer who knew how to entertain. But Aretha went so much deeper. She cried with pain that was almost too intense to consider. I was deeply moved and artistically inspired. But I felt afraid for her. She was channeling more emotion than one human being could bear. I remember approaching her, just to say a few words of appreciation. Her brother was a jazz fan and knew who I was. Aretha knew my work as well. She said something like ‘Oh, yes, Mr. Getz, I enjoy your recordings,’ and then looked away. She couldn’t look me in the eye. She wouldn’t allow any discussion whatsoever. She was too troubled to deal with me, a stranger eager to offer words of comfort and encouragement.”

She returned to the United States in mid-August and showed up at the Atlantic studios in New York, ready to record.

“They were all covers,” said Wexler, “but what’s fascinating is which covers emerged as hits and which didn’t. She sang Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s ‘Border Song (Holy Moses)’ with great passion, and it did all right, but it languished on the R-and-B charts
and never got anywhere on the pop charts. That’s significant because our sales strategy with Aretha never changed. It was the same sales strategy that had been in place with black artists for decades. They hit on the R-and-B charts and then you hope the success crosses over to the white charts, the pop charts. The R-and-B audience, though, didn’t relate to the opaque lyrics of the ‘Border Song.’ The flower children were into ambiguous stories with disconnected imagery, but not Aretha’s core fans. Those fans did relate, though, to Paul Simon’s ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water,’ which can be read as straight-up gospel. It’s a magnificent hymn, a song of hope and redemption, the kind of message Aretha and her audience love. It shot to number one on the R-and-B charts before going top-ten pop.”

After the sessions, Aretha traveled to California to fulfill several professional obligations. There were indications of her fear of flying, a phobia that would build over the next decade.

In September 1970,
Jet
reported on the cross-country train trip Aretha would be making with “warm friend Ken Cunningham.” The article spoke about her European tour, where “the demand for her appearance had been building to a deafening crescendo,” as well as her upcoming TV appearance. It also noted that she was taking the train from New York to Hollywood because of her trepidation about flying. “The slow trip will be kinda romantic,” said Aretha.

In October she recorded the
This Is Tom Jones
television variety show in Los Angeles and was brilliant. She appears healthy, vibrant, and happy. In the first sequence, she wears a glittery silver turban and, with ferocious confidence and subtle aplomb, tears up “Say a Little Prayer.” From then on, she shares duties with Tom, who is obviously inspired and at his blue-eyed soul-singing best. The second sequence has Aretha in a black-and-gold African headdress giving a delicious reading of Tom’s “It’s Not Unusual,” a further
demonstration of her rare ability to turn the superficial into the profound. Together she, Tom, and a gang of go-go dancers rock through “See Saw” and find the beating heart of “Spirit in the Dark.” In the third sequence, seated at the piano—no headgear this time, just a perfectly coiffed Afro—Aretha sings “The Party’s Over” with exquisite restraint and unerring taste. Tom has some trouble making the switch from soul to straight-up jazz, but Aretha shows him the way.

“The show was wonderful,” said Ruth Bowen, “and I congratulated her on her success, but I couldn’t allow her to stay in California. She wanted to hang around and just bask in the sun. Aretha has a strong lazy streak. But I wasn’t about to cancel the New York date I had booked. Philharmonic Hall was sold out. I can’t tell you how many previous New York gigs she had canceled. I just couldn’t go through it again. But she kept putting off the return trip until there was no time to take the train. So I had Cecil, Erma, and Carolyn fly to LA and fly back with her to New York. That’s how Erma and Carolyn wound up singing with her that night.”

“Erma opened the show,” remembered Carolyn, “and broke it up with ‘Little Piece of My Heart.’ I followed and sang ‘Chain Reaction.’ We each had fifteen or twenty minutes, and we were grateful for the chance. We had helped Ree get through a couple of very difficult months and now she was helping us get the exposure we had both been seeking. She also had dancers and percussionists from Olatunji’s school. When she came out after intermission, there was a symphony orchestra, an eighteen-piece jazz band, and the Sweet Inspirations behind her. It was among her greatest performances. Not that many weeks earlier she’d been in the throes of a breakdown, yet here she was, commanding the stage and thrilling the audience. I realized that, in fact, the truest healing Aretha receives happens when she sings. That’s when she’s able to purge her demons, find her center, and connect with the creative power of a loving God.”

In November, Aretha and Wexler were back in the Atlantic studios in New York where she recorded two songs. The first, “Oh Me Oh My (I’m a Fool for You, Baby),” would be released on the flip side of the single “Rock Steady” a year later. The second, “Young, Gifted, and Black,” would wind up on her 1972 album of the same name.

“Wexler had me come in and play organ that day,” Billy Preston told me. “Naturally, I was honored. I’d known Aretha forever. We’d come up in church together. We were both students of James Cleveland and made in the same musical mold. I love this lady. I remember feeling the way I felt when I first got to play behind Ray Charles. The electrical charge was almost too strong to be contained. I also remember that she and Jerry Wexler were discussing whether she should sing ‘Young, Gifted, and Black.’ Wexler was trying to be diplomatic. He said that Nina Simone had not only written it but nailed it so strong that maybe Aretha should leave it alone. Wexler told Aretha the story of how Ray Charles had told him that he’d never sing ‘The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire)’ ’cause Nat Cole had nailed it so strong. While this discussion was going on, I kept quiet. I was just there as a sideman. But when Aretha turned to me and said, ‘What do you think, Billy?’ I had to say, ‘I think you’ll crush it, Ree. I think you’ll make them forget about Nina.’ And that’s just what she did.”

After the session, Aretha flew to Las Vegas, where,
Jet
reported, Sammy Davis Jr. had promised the International Hotel that if she did not show, he would perform in her place.

“Sammy was a client and a dear friend,” Ruth Bowen said. “He made this guarantee for Aretha as a favor to me. Sammy has had his share of emotional breakdowns so he’s especially sensitive to fragile artists. Besides, given the dozens of cancellations that had marred her history, this was the only way I got the International to book her for two weeks.”

In addressing rumors of a nervous breakdown, Aretha told
Jet
, “I was all fouled up.” The article goes on to say, “Today, apparently at ease with the world, she credits her triumph over her ‘hangups’
to a Detroit doctor and ‘mindreader’ who, she says, ‘straightened me out.’ When the subject gets around to her these days, she confides: ‘I’m together now. Everything’s groovy.’ And she adds, ‘I want to get into acting. And I’m not talking about acting in musicals. I’m talking about dramatic acting.’ ”

A month later, in its December 3 issue,
Jet
caught her in an unusually political mood.

“There was a period when, like many of us, she expressed a degree of militancy,” said Cecil. “We’d come from this highly charged political background and were raised by a father unafraid to speak his mind. And though it might not have been anything the mainstream wanted to hear, Aretha wasn’t about to hold back. Why should she?”

The
Jet
headline read: “Aretha Says She’ll Go Angela’s Bond If Permitted.” The article stated that Angela Davis, the twenty-six-year-old former UCLA philosophy instructor, was being held in New York without bond pending extradition to San Rafael, California, where she faced kidnapping and conspiracy indictments in connection with a courtroom escape attempt that took four lives. “My daddy says I don’t know what I’m doing,” Aretha told
Jet.
“Well, I respect him, of course, but I’m going to stick to my beliefs. Angela Davis must go free. Black people will be free… I know you got to disturb the peace when you can’t get no peace. Jail is hell to be in. I’m going to see her free if there is any justice in our courts, not because I believe in communism, but because she’s a Black woman and she wants freedom for Black people. I have the money; I got it from Black people—they’ve made me financially able to have it—and I want to use it in ways that will help our people.”

Two weeks later,
Jet
reported that Franklin and her family were forming a charitable foundation into which funds from “at least five concerts a year” would be funneled. Aretha said she wanted the money to be used primarily to help welfare mothers.

“I encouraged my sister’s political stances,” said Cecil. “I think they helped her. When she was politically engaged, she regained a
stronger sense of herself. Political involvement took the concentration off herself and her personal problems. It got her out of herself. When her emotional fragility was at its greatest, I’d often give her an article about what was happening in politics—just to bring her back to earth. Some say that her ‘Spirit in the Dark’ was about sex. Some say it was about God. But there was also a powerful political spirit that was sweeping through the country in the early seventies. Aretha was part of that spirit. She contributed to it and, in many ways, gave it a voice.”

I
n late January, Aretha was in New York, where, at the Atlantic studios, she recorded “First Snow in Kokomo,” certainly her most abstract composition. It is the only Aretha song written out of rhythm. There’s no groove whatsoever. Aretha explained to me that Kokomo, Indiana, was the home of Ken Cunningham’s mother, a woman she adored. She had gone there with Ken on a family visit, and she fell into a reflective mood as she described how Cunningham and his New Breeder artist friends were hanging out and playing music. A couple expecting a child dropped by. The atmosphere was calm. For a few blissful days, Aretha found a way to get off the grid. No touring, no recording, no career demands.

“There were moments in her relationship with Ken when she could finally relax,” said Carolyn. “In many ways, that relationship was healing. You listen to ‘Kokomo’ and you begin to understand the kind of life that, from time to time, Aretha fantasized for herself—a life of domestic bliss. When she played the song for me in the studio, I felt sad, knowing that, given her talent and ambition, that kind of calm and easy life would probably never be realized. At the same time, it was a beautiful moment that she let you see the completely chilled-out Aretha. It’s Aretha as the observer of
life rather than Aretha in the center of the action. Erma and I both sang background on the song and were extremely moved. It showed us that Aretha had the quiet heart of a poet. It was a very simple but also a very poignant statement. In the end, though, it was something of a fairy tale.”

“The song really resonated with me because it came at a time when I was at the end of my own fairy tale,” said Erma. “Mine was about having a big career and becoming a major star. In truth, I had forged a small career and was a minor star. In 1971, I felt it was time to wake up to reality. I loved singing. I loved show business. I loved the records I had made. But I could not maintain myself as an entertainer. I was no longer able to make a living. I decided to leave New York, move back to Detroit, and raise my children. I needed a regular job with a steady paycheck and benefits. I found that job at Boysville, a wonderful child-care agency and the largest in Michigan, where I worked my way up as a program developer and fund-raiser. I bought a house in northwest Detroit and was blessed when my daughter, Sabrina, then a teenager, moved in with me. I found a great deal of domestic happiness that eluded me for years. To me, that’s the theme of ‘First Snow in Kokomo’—the dream of domestic happiness.”

“Being a single woman without children,” said Carolyn, “I was in a much different position than Erma. My intention was to continue to pursue my career, both as a performing artist and writer. I still had my deal with RCA in place, and I was planning on not only composing the majority of the songs for my next album but producing it as well. I hated to see how Aretha never got the credit for being her own full-fledged producer at Atlantic. I was determined that would not happen to me.”

“Aretha came out of the sixties, when producers dominated,” said Ruth Bowen. “The artists were beholden to the producer. Wexler ran his operation with an iron fist. He wasn’t about to give up producing money to an artist. Look at Motown. The producers were in control. The artists were interchangeable parts. It wasn’t until Marvin Gaye rebelled against the system and produced his
own
What’s Going On
that things began to change. But that wasn’t until 1971.”

“I started pushing for Aretha to get producer credit around the time of
Spirit in the Dark,
” said Cecil. “Everyone knew that she was the key element in putting those records together. But if you look at the albums, you keep seeing the names of Jerry Wexler, Tommy Dowd, and Arif Mardin as producers. It’s true that Jerry was the man in charge. It’s true that Tommy was a great engineer and Arif a great arranger. But Aretha had the big vision for how the songs should sound. Aretha had the arrangements—both instrumental and vocal—in her head. She provided the harmonies, she provided the grooves, she had the musical vibe that made her records distinct. But Aretha didn’t want to rock the boat. She was making big money with this team. She was turning out hit after hit, and she was afraid of making too many waves. She figured that she had enough problems of her own without creating problems with her record company. She was not a happy person.”

“The fast-paced thrills that are an essential part of show business do not promote personal happiness,” said Ruth Bowen. “Most entertainers are too overstimulated, by adulation or wealth, to keep their feet planted firmly on the ground. Aretha is no exception. Even though she was deeply in love with Ken Cunningham, she also had not cut off her relationship with Dennis Edwards. That complicated things enormously. But even more demanding than her romantic desires was her career. Her career wanted her attention and got it. And, believe me, she wanted her career as much as her career wanted her. If you ask me, that was her essential relationship.”

On the musical front, Wexler was able to coax Aretha down to Florida. On February 16, Aretha showed up at Criteria studios in Miami together with her sisters and her cousin Brenda. She was also armed with three original compositions.

“Aretha had written the basics of ‘Day Dreaming’ some time
earlier,” said Carolyn, “and when I first heard it, I knew it was a monster. It was about Dennis Edwards and a famous limo trip the two of them had taken together from Saratoga Springs to New York City with the champagne flowing and the curtains drawn. It’s a head-over-heels-in-love song with a silky-smooth feel-good groove. Ree had Erma, Brenda, and myself come to Miami to sing it with her. We were all stoked. It had
hit
written all over it.”

“That was a marvelous day,” said Erma. “At that same session Aretha cut her ‘Rock Steady.’ Jerry Wexler had the good sense to fly in Donny Hathaway. He was an almost painfully shy guy, but, brother, when he played that opening line on organ, we were off and running. That line defined the song. Aretha absolutely tore up the vocal. We knew it was an instant classic.”

“The third original Aretha wrote for that session was ‘All the King’s Horses,’ ” said Cecil. “If ‘Day Dreaming’ was the upside of Aretha’s friendship with Dennis Edwards, ‘King’s Horses’ was the downside. As she said, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put their two hearts together again. I’d been trying to tell her that Dennis was hardly a staunch supporter of monogamy, but she had to learn that for herself. No matter, she got a couple of good songs out of that relationship. And on ‘King’s Men,’ she switched over to celeste, an instrument that gave the song a sad and lonely feeling.”

When released in 1972, “Rock Steady” and “Day Dreaming” were top-ten hits on both the R&B and pop charts. “All the King’s Horses” reached number seven on the R&B charts.

A month later, Aretha was in California. Wexler had convinced her to record a live album over three nights at Bill Graham’s Fillmore West in San Francisco, one of the principal palaces of late sixties/early seventies hippie culture. Making that happen wasn’t easy. The first obstacle was money.

“Aretha was getting from forty thousand to fifty thousand a show,” said Ruth Bowen, “and Graham wouldn’t pay anywhere
near that. His club didn’t have that kind of capacity. Neither Aretha nor I was willing to compromise.”

“I stepped in and said that Atlantic would make up the difference,” said Wexler. “We’d underwrite the funding. That’s how much importance I ascribed to the project.”

The next problem was Aretha herself, who was not enamored of the alternative-culture crowd.

“She was afraid she didn’t belong there,” said Wexler. “She saw the flower children as devotees of bands like the Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead. She was afraid they wouldn’t understand or relate to her. She had, after all, come out of gospel and R-and-B. She saw hippies as somewhat alien. But I liked the venue—Bill Graham was a friend—and I saw it as a chance to broaden her market. The hippies loved the blues. Graham had booked B.B. King and Buddy Guy, and I saw no reason why Aretha wouldn’t be absolutely sensational in that setting.”

“I’ve played a million gigs,” said Billy Preston, her organist during those nights. “I’ve played a million churches, a million buckets of blood, a million nightclubs, and a million concert halls. But never, ever have I experienced anything like playing for Aretha at the Fillmore. It wasn’t that the hippies just liked her. They went out of their minds. They lost it completely. The hippies flipped the fuck out. Fans say that
B.B. King Live at the Regal
or
Ray Charles Live
in Atlanta or James Brown
Live at the Apollo
are the greatest live albums of all time. And, no doubt, they are great. But, brother, I was there with Aretha at the Fillmore. I saw what she did. And I’m proud to say that I helped her do it. What she did was make history.”

“Give King Curtis major props,” said Wexler. “By the time she got to the Fillmore, his Kingpins were tighter than tight. What Basie was to jazz, King was to R-and-B. His band was locked and loaded, a unit that included the Memphis Horns, a rhythm section of Billy on organ, Cornell Dupree on guitar, Jerry Jemmott on bass, Bernard ‘Pretty’ Purdie on drums, and Pancho Morales on congas. I suggested that, in addition to her repertoire of hits, she
add ‘Love the One You’re With,’ a hit for Stephen Stills, and ‘Make It with You,’ a Bread hit. She smashed them both.”

“The highlight, of course,” said Billy Preston, “was when she left the stage to get Ray Charles, who was sitting somewhere in the back of the club. I know Ray well. I know how he hates to sit in. That’s not his style. But even Ray couldn’t refuse the Queen. That happened on our last night. It was a Sunday.”

“I rarely go out to hear anyone,” Ray told me. “But I happened to be in San Francisco that night when my friend Ruth Bowen called to say that Aretha was performing in the city and I should go see her. There are many female singers I like—I love me some Gladys Knight, I love me some Mavis Staples—but Aretha is my heart. It also doesn’t hurt that Aretha is the name of my mother. Anyway, I love Ruth and I love Aretha and I figured that I’d have my man find a table way in the back where I’d slip in, hear a set, and slip out. When I got there, who do I run into but my old friend Jerry Wexler. He tells me that they’re recording an album that night. ‘Ray,’ he says, ‘will you sing a song with her?’ ‘Don’t think so, Jer. Not tonight. Besides, I really don’t know her material.’ ‘Her material is your material, Ray.’ ‘Just came to listen,’ I say, ‘not to sing.’ So Jerry leaves me alone and I’m just digging the show. Excuse my French, but I have to say that this bitch is burning down the barn—I mean, she’s on fire. She does a version of ‘Dr. Feelgood’ that’s a hundred times better than the record. She’s turned the thing into church. I’m happy all over when suddenly she turns up at my table shouting to everyone, ‘Look who I’ve discovered! I discovered Ray Charles!’ That was a line that Flip Wilson was using on his TV show, when Columbus comes to America where he tells everyone he’s discovered Ray Charles. Next thing I know, she’s taking me by the hand leading me to the stage. What could I do? This is Aretha Franklin, baby. She sits me at her electric piano and has me doing her ‘Spirit in the Dark.’ Never played the thing before. Didn’t know the words. But Aretha’s spirit was moving me and I got through it. She had me play a long solo on electric piano. Couple of months later, Wexler called and said he wanted my duet
with her on the record. I messed up the words so bad, I said no. But then Aretha called and begged me and finally I said, ‘What the hell.’ Looking back, I see it was history in the making. Aretha and I did some Coca-Cola commercials together that turned out great, but in terms of real records, this is the only one. At the end she calls me ‘The Right Reverend Ray,’ a label I’m proud to say has stuck.”

“I remember there was discussion about how she should end the concert,” said Cecil. “Aretha wanted to do ‘Reach Out and Touch (Somebody’s Hand),’ the Ashford and Simpson song that Diana Ross had turned into a megahit. Wexler thought it might be corny for the flower children. But Aretha argued that it was perfect because the hippies were all about handholding and love.”

“We were all crying,” said Brenda Corbett, Aretha’s cousin, who was a member of the Sweethearts of Soul vocal trio. “It was one of those times when you thought, despite what was happening in the world, that peace and love might really prevail. Of the hundreds of concerts I did with Aretha, this was probably the most exciting.”

“I saw it as a breakthrough,” said Wexler. “The crowd at the Fillmore was not only emotionally connected to Aretha but proved to be musically sophisticated. They were deep into every riff played by King Curtis and Billy Preston and Ray Charles. They followed Aretha’s every vocal nuance. If she had let them, they would have carried her from the stage and held her on their shoulders like a conquering monarch.”

Before he left, Wexler encountered a reporter who questioned him about Aretha’s drinking problem. “That pissed me off,” said Wexler. “Here she had just sung the concert of her life. She was at the absolute height of her artistic powers. And all this schmuck of a scribe wanted to know is was she smashed on booze. Well, who gives a fuck? Everyone at the Fillmore was high that night, me included. You had to be an idiot not to be high. If Aretha was a little tipsy, it didn’t make a shit. She sang her ass off and that’s all that mattered.”

Wexler described himself as Aretha’s greatest defender, but a
Jet
article implied that he was seeking to control her nonmusical activities. The magazine reported that “Atlantic Records’ bigwigs moved relentlessly behind the scenes to quietly, but quickly put the kibosh on Soul Queen Aretha Franklin’s publicly announced plans to stage a benefit concert in Los Angeles for imprisoned Black activist Angela Davis. As a result, there’ll be no such benefit by Miss Franklin in Miss Davis’ behalf.”

“That was absolutely bullshit,” said Wexler. “Aretha and I share a common politics. We are both fire-breathing liberal Democrats. We might have had different lefty causes, but not in a million years would Ahmet or I even hint that she suppress her point of view.”