He wails, writhes, wiggles and sets everyone’s pulse beating faster!
From the Tiger Beat Archives, April 1966
James Brown. Mr. Dynamite. “Is that one person or two?” you ask.
In reality, James Brown and Mr. Dynamite are one and the same. But in essence, there are two faces to this talented performer. One is the powerful driving never-to-be- matched Mr. Dynamite. The other is the soft-spoken, sharp minded gentlemen, Mr. Brown. Thousand see and love the one face. But few see the quieter, personal face of the man who refuses to go unnoticed!
Thousands of fans and soon-to-be fans view the public’s James Brown in the fantastically popular James Brown review. But view is hardly an accurate word, for audiences don’t “view” a JB show. They stomp, they stand, they feel!
The reserved seat tickets have already been sold, but they line up outside the doors early. They’ve been waiting for weeks and they just can’t wait any longer. They’re all here–old folks, young folks, black folks and white folks. All have come to see the same attraction, the kid, Mr. “Out of Site,” Mr. “Night Train”… James Brown.
It begins like the calm before storm. The JB band and the Parkettes, six female dancers, begin an evening of the “soul” music popularized recently by duos like the Righteous Brothers and groups like the Animals, but attributing its origin to the early Negro Spirituals.
The show goes on. A male singer comes on stage. “Is that James Brown?” A woman asks. “Naaaaw” another answers. An hour has passed and the crowd is getting anxious. Then the bandleader begins… “Shindig… Tami Show… King of Rhythm and Blues… Mr. Dynamite…” You’ve heard them all. James Brown steps onto the stage.
The excitement, bottled up until this moment, let’s loose. Some screen, some stomp, some clap, some just sit and stare. He throws a kiss to the crowd. They respond!
Dressed in a deep brown suit with yellow stripes, a yellow shirt with white cuffs, cocoa butter suede boots, he sits down at the organ and is half hidden. They don’t care, they know that he’s there and that’s all that matters. “Try Me,” “With Every Beat of My Heart,” “Night Train” and others played slow on the organ. It talks with the King pressing the keys.
Now he’s up and they begin cheering again. The cufflinks come off and so does the tie. He throws them into the eager crowd and they scramble to touch or maybe, just maybe to catch part of what was once James Brown. He through for now and others take the stage. There’s a female singer, then another male vocalist. Next, TV Mama, 275 pounds of shaking mama, singing “all of me, why not take all of me!”
And then it’s time. The music swells. You can’t hear the name, you can’t hear at all. You just look and there he is. The star. JAMES BROWN. Moving down stage on fast feet, he grabs the mic, singing all in one gesture. He sharp again, this time covered with a cranberry suit with bell bottom pants, matching vest and black patten boots. It’s James Brown, the slight… Short… Boy… With a big head of hair… The boy the whole show is built around.
Then suddenly he dips. He can dance! Slithering, sliding, crooning–the beat’s behind him and he belts out “Out Of Sight,” “Papa’s Got a Brand-New Bag,” and “I Got You,” all of his compositions. His body gyrates as if electrically charged. His feet slide every which way as if they were on ice. The crowd is with him now!
James sings a love song, “Prisoner of Love,” another self-penned tune. “Love you, I want to love you” he pleads! He’s kneeling now, begging the microphone to let him love. He makes them feel, and they’re going wild!
There’s been a little clapping between numbers. The audience is too anxious. They can’t wait to hear the next song. And he brings it. It’s the final one in the show, the song that started it all ten years ago, “Please, Please.” He’s kneeling over the mic once more begging. The crowd is hysterical and begins to surge toward the stage. There’s no holding them back. From the wings one of his boys brings a blue velvet cape, covers his shoulders and leads him from the stage. But he stomps his feet, runs to the mic and cries “please, please!” The boy brings him a gold cape and straightens him up. It’s no use, he breaks away, he must give them something more! His clothing–he throws them the tie, the links–and the crowd can’t stop. They press forward until they touch him! He’s through now, he walks from the stage. The crowd is out of control!
But wait! Seconds pass and he’s back. He’s got to love them. They have to love him. The clothes are new–a black shirt, gold slacks and a gold vest. They’re all up now, hundreds rushing forward. His boys begin to lead him off stage bodily. But he won’t go. Not yet! Just a minute more. He’s got to give all. He sings the last note and they guide his faltering steps. What a finish! Dynamite. James Brown.
The show is over. But Mr. dynamite doesn’t go backstage. James Brown is back there. Mr. D is a figure that remains on the stage. It’s Mr. B backstage and Mr. B in the hotel room where he talks about the ball of fire they call dynamite.
The other side of James Brown comes out as he sits eating dinner at his hotel, describing his life as a youngster. He talks very slowly and gestures often emphasizing certain points.
James was born and reared in Augusta, Georgia where he never experienced the feeling of a close family. He says “When I was young, I was so poor my underwear was made out of flour sacks. My clothes were hand-me-downs from distant cousins.”
James never mentioned being unhappy in his poverty saying that children are usually happy in their surroundings because they’ve never seen anything better. Now a trendsetter in men’s clothing, James is proud of his wardrobe which supports close to 500 suits and hundreds of pairs of boots all of which he designed himself.
Dressed sharply in all the black pants and a long-sleeved, turtleneck sweater, he remembers that he has always liked good clothing. “I was never allowed to be a kid. I never got toys for Christmas. My father would give me a new suit and five dollars. No adults had five dollars then, let alone little kids. It made me concentrate on what I was going to do with all the money and how long I could make it last. I spent most of it on high style shoes. From the time I was old enough to earn money, I was always one of the best dressed kids in school.”
When he graduated from high school, James was faced with a big decision. He was offered three professional baseball contracts. At the same time he had fought three welterweight boxing matches and promoters were eager to keep him in the ring. But there was another thing blurring his attention.
He tried out in an amateur talent show in his hometown of Augusta (playing the piano), won first prize, and has stayed in music ever since. Unusually, he says “Boxing was my first love and baseball my second, but it just worked out that music was the best thing at my disposal. Anyway, boxing is not as pretty as I once thought it was.”
From that time on, the talents of Mr. Brown have grown and matured and today he packs houses at New York’s famed Apollo Theater for five shows a day, weeks at a time.
But it was a long road to success, success which is still young. Quietly, rather shy, James discusses the motivation which sparked his entry into show business, “I wanted to show that any man, regardless of race, color or creed can be something if he tries. The Negro has got to realize that the world is no longer against him. It takes a lot of guts. Ten years ago I created a monster and it’s turned out to be a good monster. I believe in myself. I believe in James Brown.”
Ten years ago when James set out to create that monster, he thought of all the things which were to go into its making. He recounts them as he describes the things which make up Mr. Dynamite. “First, there’s my unusual hairstyle, which has its own little thing going. My shoes and clothes are different. I sing different. I work hard, and above all, I’m a businessman.”
Bobby Bennett, who sings first tenor in the Flames, the vocal group that backs up Brown, is James’ hairdresser. Both Bobby Brown and James feel his hair is an important part of his act and spend a good deal of time working on it. Bobby relates, “I set James hair every day, and sometimes twice a day, on magnetic rollers. After it’s dry, I back comb the top, style it and spray it with hairspray. It takes an hour and half for the whole job.” When asked if all the attention to his hair embarrasses James, Bobby says “If you’re not a self-conscious person, it’s not embarrassing. It takes a self-conscious person to think something is wrong. Hair beautifies a person and adds to their personality. Anything you can produce for the liking of others, well, it just becomes a part of you.”
Talking in a soft, coarse voice, James distinguishes between the backstage businessman and the onstage wonder. “In the dressing room, I’m not jolly, screaming and hollering. I’m a businessman. When everything is done and everyone has done their job, then I start laughing and playing.” He goes on to describe how he feels while on stage saying “it’s the only time I’m completely free. I can ad lib. I can think ‘here stands a miracle. To go from poverty to this’ I just thank everybody for letting me be the one they chose. One time in Augusta, I played at a theater where I used to shine shoes when I was nine years old. In the middle of the performance, I stopped the show. I told them the story and let them know how thankful I was. Today I’m a star, but more than ever I’m thankful. It makes me think that every man or woman can do what they set out to do. I appreciate everything.”
He writes 95% of his own material as well as doing all his own arranging and choreography. In the coming years he hopes to touch on every phase of show business. “I like to create things,” he says “there’s so much left that can be done, I feel that I have just scratched the surface.”
There are many years ahead for James Brown, many years of maturing and unleashing talent that has yet to reveal itself. The King of Rhythm and Blues has two faces, Mr. Dynamite and James Brown. But both have an ingredient which binds the–undying determination. It’s that determination which is going to keep them united and hailed in the world of show business for many years to come.
Editor’s note: This was one of two stories submitted to Ralph Benner in December 1965 which resulted in Tiger Beat offering me an internship beginning in January 1966. In 1968 I was promoted to Editor.
Comments on this entry are closed.