It goes beyond the music. One of the founding fathers of rock, Little Richard Penniman, is gone and I feel a personal loss.
When I worked in Los Angeles, I stayed at a place on Sunset Boulevard popular with music stars. Little Richard lived there. My nephew, then about 9, wanted to spend a weekend with me. He decided it was a cowboy boots night and was in the bathroom changing. I was on the balcony looking out over Sunset when I saw a limo drive in. I told Nick, come on and see somebody famous. I didn’t really know who it was. We both were in bare feet when we reached the lobby and I looked out to see Little Richard. At that point I realized my nephew would have no idea who this singer, liked by my mother, was. I pushed on and went outside. I asked him if he recognized the man. Nick’s eyes got big as saucers and he yelled “The Taco Bell dude!” Little Richard was featured in the chain’s “Run For The Border” ads. Thank goodness. “Mr. Penniman, I’m from Atlanta, a long time fan, would you mind if I got a photo of you and my nephew?” He said, “I’m from Macon. Let’s get one of all of us.” He handed my camera to an aide and that’s how I got one of my favorite photos. Fellow Georgian Little Richard, and my nephew and me in bare feet on Sunset Boulevard. My mom got a kick out of it.
Often overlooked, Little Richard, Chuck Berry and Fats Domino played to audiences of mixed races at a time when blacks had to use water fountains reserved for them. Through music in the ’50s and early ’60s they brought young people together who didn’t care about segregation laws. I worked with a man who was a kid when fire hoses and police dogs attacked blacks in Birmingham. We were sitting around talking about the music of our youth. “Bob, we listened to the same people,” he said. We did. The power of music is greater than racist laws. Until he died, every trip to New Orleans for me included a trip to Fats Domino’s house to pay respects. The book about him, “Blue Monday: Fats Domino and the Lost Dawn of Rock ‘n’ Roll” by Rick Coleman tells the story well. Berry, Domino and now Penniman are gone. And I feel a personal loss. Theirs was more than the soundtrack of our young lives. They offered a bridge across cultures leading to the realization we had quite a bit in common.
So Thanks, Mr. Penniman for making a little boy’s day and for a lifetime of making his uncle’s feet move to a beat as only you can. And thanks for bringing us together to celebrate music at a time such assembly was frowned on. That’s part of your legacy too. RIP.
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