Hot and loud and vulgar music, non-stop for five hours

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To the older generation rock 'n' roll came to mean Teds and violence. There was a riot in Berlin. Some countries banned rock 'n' roll altogether. In Singapore police were called in to stop British soldiers jiving in a cinema foyer after a midnight premiere of Rock Around The Clock. The Rev. Albert Carter of Nottingham denounced rock 'n' roll from his pulpit: 'The effect of rock 'n' roll on young people is to turn them into devil-worshippers; to stimulate self-expression through sex; to provoke lawlessness, impair nervous stability, and destroy the sanctity of marriage.' In Miami, Florida, the head of the local censorship board described rock 'n' roll dancing as 'nothing more than shoving boys and girls around' and 'vile gyrations'! Racialist Asa Carter of the North Alabama White Citizens' Council was scared too: 'Rock 'n' roll is a means of pulling down the white man to the level of the 'Negro'. It is part of a plot to undermine the morals of the youth of our nation. It is sexualistic, unmoralistic, and the best way to bring people of both races together.' Many older musicians hated rock 'n' roll: 'Viewed as a social phenomenon, the current craze for rock 'n' roll material is one of the most terrifying things ever to have happened to popular music ... Musically speaking of course, the whole thing is laughable ... Let us oppose it to the end.'

They used to call him 'Groundhog' because he had some dirty ways

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a story involving saxophonist Evelyn Young. The band would often cross into Mexico to visit a favoured bordello when they had some time off in Houston, and on one occasion Evelyn, who liked to dress in men's clothing, insisted on joining the pilgrimage. The bordello was a rather informal affair: lacking actual rooms it had curtained-off areas each equipped with a bed for the patron. Evelyn. undetected as a woman by the girls, had made her selection along with the others and things were proceeding swimmingly for everyone until a scream and a lot of Spanish expletives came from Evelyn's 'room’ and her girl went tearing through the cubicles, breaking down the ropes and curtains and jumping over beds and bodies.

"Keep Your Big Mouth Shut" very popular with the birds in Manchester

 

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To those of you who may be shipwrecked in the Pacific Ocean in the near future, I offer the following advice; head for Hawaii. There, in a club in downtown Honolulu you will find one of the greatest ravers of all time, the legendary Screamin' Jay Hawkins. [Jay had by now fully recovered from his stab wound inflicted by his ex-partner, a girl called Shoutin' Pat.] "I Put A Spell On You" is the big one. Jay starts by doing a special war-dance, prowling around the stage with tambourine in one hand, and Henry in the other. Accompanied by rolling drums he stalks across stage as though looking for blood. Crash! Jay bashes Henry over the head with his tambourine and leaps back across stage. One, two, three, four, and in comes the well known "Spell" beat. Halfway through Jay leaps back with arms outstretched as a vivid green flash lights up the entire club. Jay's other self-composed song was "Alligator 'Wine," which really shook some of the younger birds - dig the opening line "Take the blood out of an alligator!" ... Tremendous ...  

"Solomon Burke loves to eat," said our man Jalacy Hawkins when asked about the King Of Rock 'n Soul during a crowded car-ride from Blackpool to Manchester. "If a chick goes out with Solomon she has to like food, all kinds of stuff. Solomon has his flat filled with hamburgers all hours of the day and night.'' Jay used to live next to Solomon in New York, so he ought to know. Jay digs chicken gumbo, by the way, and Ginny sure cooks a mean chicken gumbo! I look forward to the day when hamburger sales increase, and Solomon comes to spread some much-needed soul amongst us. Long live the King Of Rock 'n Soul!

Lotti the Body and Titty Tassel Toni toured with rhythm and blues shows

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Otis's stance on civil rights frequently jeopardized his career. An anonymous letter complaining about one of his Sentinel columns illustrates the kind of reactions his activism provoked. It read:

Dear Johnny Ignoramus Otis,

Why don't you stick with stupid rock and roll music and stop trying to solve the "race problem." There is no race problem here and radicals like you keep trying to stir up trouble so you can have something to write about. ... the government should take you and all your civil rights idiot friends and send you all to Berlin and put you on the front line. Then the Germans can take care of you mongrels the same way they took care of the Jews.

Otis devoted a 1962 column to a contrast between the Cinnamon Cinder nightclub on Sunset Strip, one of the city's most popular rock 'n' roll clubs, and the Peppermint Stick in Sherman Oaks. The Cinnamon Cinder pretended to be a private membership club in order to keep out Blacks. When whites came to the door they were signed up for club membership instantly, but when Blacks appeared they were turned away because they did not have membership cards. The Peppermint Stick, on the other hand, welcomed youths of all races. The police left the Cinnamon Cinder alone but routinely harassed the Peppermint Stick. He proposed that the activist Congress of Racial Equality broaden its repertoire from sit-ins at lunch counters and conduct a "twist-in" at the Cinnamon Cinder.

this wild jungle African music was going to ruin our children’s minds

 

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Hy did rather well with Old Town Records. The overarching rubric for Hy would be scuffle, always a scuffle: a-scuffle and a-hustle. I have a little drama of Hy in the studio. Now, he’s in a studio after midnight, very low rate or maybe nothing at all. Maybe he slipped the engineer some few bucks on the side? And all he’d need would be maybe a drummer, a pianist, and a saxophone player. There’d be four or five groups waiting in the wings, and Hy would say, “Next!” Out would come these bedraggled kids off the street or the subway. The piano player would say, “Where’s the music?” “We ain’t got no music, man.” “Well, what key?” Hy used to talk back, “We don’t study keys, motherfucker; play the music!”

paid Negro prostitutes to beat him with a whip and urinate in his face

 

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I couldn't wait to get to Los Angeles to get me a zoot suit. I had a pair of drapes but they were too conservative for my countrified taste. As soon as I made my first payday, I started paying on a brown chalkstripe, thirty inches in the knees, with fourteen inch bottoms and a coat down below my knees. I chose the long intermission between matinee and evening performances one Sunday to spring my new suit on the cats in the band, and in my youthful ignorance I thought my zoot suit was going to make a big hit. Feeling very Cab Callowayish, I tipped into the Brownskin Cafe next to the Club Alabam, where some of the cats were enjoying Tila's great chili. The first cat to spot me was Merle Anderson, the tenor sax man, and he almost choked on a mouthful of chili. "What is that shit you got on?"

Daddy Rabbit with the do-rag habit, Ice Cube Slim in his pork pie brim.

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The 1950s were the glory days for the signifying spin doctors, who seemed to be on the air everywhere. There was Doctor Hep Cat in Austin, Texas; two Doctor Jives in New York City and another one in Durham, North Carolina; Doctor Daddy-O in New Orleans and Houston; Doctor Jazzmo in Shreveport, Louisiana; Doctor Bop in Columbus, Ohio; and Doctor Feelgood in Atlanta. In addition, the country's black appeal outlets were the launching pads for Jocko and Hot Rod, Jocky Jack and Joltin' Joe, Moohah and Gatemouth, Honeyboy and King Bee, Butterball and Spiderman, Sugar Daddy, Daddy Deep Throat, and Daddy Rabbit, Satellite Poppa and Poppa Stoppa, Ravin' Ramon and Rockin' Leroy, Alley Cat and King Kong, the Black Pope and Prince Omar, Lord Fauntleroy and Sir Walter Raleigh, Genial Gene and Frantic Ernie, Jive Master Kolb, and Jack Walker the Pear-Shaped Talker.

trick was to get all that crazy fun we had backstage out to the public

                                                       

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My partner in these endeavors, Hal Zeiger, assured me he had greased the cops, so there shouldn't be any problems. But certain church and parent groups had begun making noises about the negative effects of R&B music on the young. We were informed that they would be sending a large committee to monitor the affair. I knew where the group was seated, and during the dance, I kept an anxious eye on them hoping they would approve. We almost never had fights or disturbances at dances, but with 3,000 or 4,000 exuberant kids, we just prayed that everything would go smoothly. I brought Chuck Berry on, and the crowd cheered. I glanced up in the balcony where the protectors of teenage morality were seated, and they seemed to be smiling. Then Chuck Berry blasted forth with: 

          

          We did it in the kitchen . . .
          We did it in the hall . . .
          I got some on my finger . . .
         And I wiped it on the wall. 

The kids squealed with delight. Holy shit!