A Woman Like Me Page 19

  Fascinating, too, is the fact that my first appearance at the Hollywood Bowl came not during a rhythm-and-blues show but a Beatles tribute. The night was simultaneously serene and surreal. Stepping in front of a symphony orchestra and singing “Blackbird” to the lush accompaniment of a thousand and one strings brought tears to my eyes. That’s when Eric Gardner, a major manager, heard me and asked to sign me. I was thrilled.

  It was another instance of how hearing me on a record is one thing while hearing and seeing me live—as did Mike Kappus who led to Andrew Kaulkin who led to Eric Gardner—is another thing altogether. The big changes in my career have come as a result of my live performances. And my live performances came as the result of Jim Lewis’s teachings.

  • • •

  There have also been moments of sweet revenge.

  Janie Bradford, who cowrote “Money (That’s What I Want)” with Berry Gordy, is one of my only female friends from the Motown era. (I must add Claudette Robinson, Smokey’s first wife, to that list. Claudette is sweetness personified.) Janie was gracious enough to honor me at her yearly Heroes and Legends Banquet in Beverly Hills. All the old Motowners were in the grand ballroom, including the fattest cat of all, Berry Gordy. I walked out there proudly, aware that, of all the women my age, I was the only one who could still fit into an ultrasvelte size six gown. That made me feel great.

  After accepting my statue onstage, I settled in at the podium. I spotted Mickey Stevenson in the audience. “You remember Mickey Stevenson,” I said. “I’ve known him since he first began practicing being Berry Gordy.” With one barb I paid him back for every disrespect and hurt he’d inflicted on me. “If I’m a hero at all,” I continued, “it’s because I have a daughter who’s an inner-city school teacher in Detroit and two grandchildren in college. And if I’m a legend at all, it’s because I know people in Detroit who Berry Gordy still owes fifty dollars to, from when they worked with him on the Chrysler line. I’d like to say that people in this room helped to get me where I am, but they didn’t. But that’s okay. I’m here, I’m standing tall, and I’m going to sing you a song.”

  A cappella, I sang “I Do Not Want What I Have Not Got” and got a standing ovation.

  Afterward in the bar, G. C. Cameron, once a Spinner and then a Temptation, gave me news about Norman Whitfield, Motown’s meanest producer.

  “Norman’s dead,” said G.C.

  I looked him in the eye and uttered a one-word reply. “Good.”

  G.C. nearly fell off the bar stool.

  • • •

  As I approach sixty-seven, I’m still not where I want to be, but I sure as hell ain’t where I was.

  I’ve had two years of extended engagements at Café Carlyle on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. That’s high cotton. It’s where Bobby Short and Eartha Kitt once held court. It’s one of the most prestigious cabaret gigs in the country, a warm intimate room that I love to play.

  I also love Andrew Kaulkin and his record label of tattooed elves. He’s stuck with me and helped me express my soul in interesting ways. He’s the first music exec I’ve met who merits trust.

  My circle of intimates isn’t large, but it’s precious. The lights of my life—my daughter, Terrye; my grandchildren, James and Marissa; my husband, Kevin; and my friends Robert Hodge, Jerome, David Freeland, and cousin Margaret—are the reasons that, at my advanced age, I’m still smiling every day.

  I wish I were making more money and could travel in private jets like the British rockers whose songs I’ve sung, but I’m okay back there in coach. I’m still living for the city, but now there’s more than one city. I’m playing London as well as Chicago, Sydney as well as Cincinnati.

  I won’t lie and tell you that it’s easy. Before I hit the road, getting myself together to create a presentable Bettye LaVette takes all my effort. I’m a lot more relaxed staying home, tending to the backyard, the cats, and watching political news. My passion for old movies is stronger than ever. All I want to do is watch Bette Davis in Now, Voyager or Myrna Loy and William Powell in The Thin Man. The sublime glamour of those black-and-white masterpieces excites my imagination. Those are the images that coaxed me into show business in the first place. I love the depiction of a world inhabited by beautifully flawed people who drink martinis, decorate their homes with fabulous art deco furnishings, and speak with caustic wit. I envy their elegance and will not stop trying to emulate their sense of the sublime.

  I also still love my champagne. There’s a distinct possibility that, like my parents, I objectively can be called an alcoholic. If so, also like my parents, I am a highly functioning one. My drive to succeed has not been stymied by my fondness for intoxicants. And if my singing has improved over the years—and I do believe it has—my dependence on wine and marijuana has done nothing to impede that progress.

  I’m going to smoke marijuana and drink until the doctors give me a death sentence. And even then, I may well continue smoking marijuana and drinking champagne.

  A friend recently said that he read a book about how sex can get better in old age. I don’t buy that. No one has enjoyed sex more than I have. It’s one of the primary pleasures of my life, beginning when I was a teen. I’m so glad that I was free in an area where so many people are hung up. Along with cooking and singing, I’ve learned to fuck with the best of them. And yet, unlike singing and cooking, I can’t say that sex is better than ever. It’s still good, still important, and still a part of what I see as a healthy physical life. I have to say, though, that I don’t have the energy I once did. Age will tire you out. The road will tire you out. And I don’t care what you say, when you’re in your sixties and fatigue is all over you, you just don’t make love with the energy of crazed youth. Those days are gone.

  I’m not about to give up my stubborn assertion that the church and its teachings can do more harm than good. If God wants to grab hold of me and convert me to his side, he knows where to find me. I’m not running from God, but neither am I chasing after him. I also do not view, as someone once suggested, music as my religion. Music’s simply something I do, something I am, a restless force that, if it’s not brought out, will drive me crazy. I have to do it. I don’t know why, and at this point, I don’t care why. I accept the fact that, the way some people are programmed to design buildings or knit sweaters or develop software, I’m programmed to sing.

  Finally, my ability to get up to perform in public without making a fool of myself is due principally to Jim Lewis, my professor in all things musical. I still value the lessons learned from other men, not only remarkable musicians like Rudy Robinson, but lovers/friends like Ted White, Clarence Paul, Don Gardner, and Grover Washington, who, despite the complexities of our relationship, offered me genuine care. In my lifetime, I’ve learned a helluva lot more from pimps than preachers.

  So to the people in the wild life and the respectable life, the people who have encouraged me and those who’ve blocked me, to the producers and the critics and the whores, the fans and the detractors and promoters, the supporters and the cynics, the gracious and the greedy, the honest and the crooked, the dealers and the dope fiends, to friends who are alive or dead, to everyone who has ever heard my voice and to those of you who have been patient enough to take the time to read my story, all I can say is . . . thank you. I like sharing this world with you. I like being alive.

  Encore

  While I was preparing my fourth record for ANTI-, which is to be released around the time of this book, I was sent a song from Kim McLean, a writer who really gets me. Before I go, I want to leave you with her words, which I recently recorded.

  THE MORE I SEARCH (THE MORE I DIE)

  I’m an open book, I ain’t got no secrets

  My story bleeds poetic lines

  For all my deep introspection

  It’s still my heart that they can’t find

  They just go on, they just
keep on talkin’

  They never doubt the things they do

  But as for me, I’m still a mystery

  Eluded by the simple truth

  In my vain humiliation

  I’ve wandered through shame’s dark halls

  I’ve donned a new name, assumed me a new nature

  Foolin’ nobody, just creatin’ walls

  So many chances I’ve taken

  So many choices I have made

  I choose again, today, to seek love

  God, if it’s you, please let me in

  The more I search, the more I die

  I wanna feel, I wanna be alive

  Am I saved, or am I broken?

  Am I healed, or just justified?

  The more I search, the more I die

  Still I search to find me a vision

  To feel ambition and dream once more

  I’ve lost it all, but some folks say I’m lucky

  Am I the victim, or did I just close the door?

  So here I am, you can take me or leave me

  But if you don’t mind as you go

  Give a little nod for mere compassion

  For the sake of both our souls

  The more I search, the more I die

  I wanna feel, I wanna be alive

  Am I saved, Lord, or am I broken?

  Am I healed, or do ya think I’m just justified?

  The more I search, the more I die

  The more I search, the more I die

  Acknowledgments

  I would especially like to thank:

  My mother, Pearl Haskins, who taught me so much more than I thought she did; my father, Frank Haskins, who adored me; my sister, Mattie, who taught me what it means to be a woman; Raymond Philpot, who taught me how to drive and brought me to Jim; Jim Lewis, who taught me what it means to be a singer; my daughter, Terrye; my grandchildren, Randall James and Marissa, whose future I look forward to; Margaret Nell Wilson, ofttimes my link to life; Robert Hodge, who is my never-failing hand; Jerome Andre (“Shavers”), so much a son to me, so sincere a friend; David Freeland, my intellectual muse, for whom I am so thankful; Dave Godin and Ralph McKnight, who unfortunately never got to see the results of their never-ending belief in me; Rudy Robinson, my music director for more than thirty years; John Goddard, the keeper of the crypt; Frederick Wilhelms III, to whom I will be forever grateful and will miss terribly; Mike Kappus, Tom Gold, and Rosebud (my booking agency), the first people to come to my aid. I thank them for their continued faith in me. Andrew Kaulkin and everyone at ANTI- (my record company), who have given me the complete freedom to sing anything that I wish. They have my undying gratitude. Tresa Redburn (my publicist) at Department 56, my red-lipped wonder; Eric Gardner (my manager) and Panacea Entertainment, who are helping me to write the next chapter; and Michael Stevens, who gave me my greatest shot. I will be forever grateful. David Ritz, for his patience and understanding and mad writing skills in helping to put this book together; my band (Alan Hill, Brett Lucas, Charles Bartels, and Darryl Pierce), who have been with me since this coming up out of the crypt. Last, but certainly not least, my husband, Kevin Kiley, who it took me fifty years to find and who I am sure I cannot live without.

  The following are all people who have helped me in one way or another to get to this point: Willie Jones, Armicee Jones, Betty Chavis, Jerry Wexler, Don Gardner, Evans King, Mary Card, Donnie Sadler, Phil Parnell, Kimberly Ellis, Joycelyn Goins, Paul Williams, Gilles Pettard, David Cole, Dave Thomas, David Nathan, Andy and Allison Taylor, Bill and Stella Greensmith, Bryan James, Jon Tiven, Randall Grass, Dennis Walker, Rudy Calvo, Alan Mercer, Robert Mugge, Jay Sielman and the Blues Foundation, Norman Fidel, Richie and Vickie Noorigia, Bob Davis and the Soul Patrol, the Southern Soul Yahoo Group, the Soulful Detroit web forum, and David Rosenthal and Penguin Group (USA) for allowing me this new journey.

  I would also like to thank Joe Rosen, Rene Hill, Julius “Juice” Freeman, Henry Moore, and David Hood for the photos.

  Because I am so often asked who influenced me, and because I started singing at sixteen, I thought that no one had influenced me. However, giving it some thought, I have come up with the following. Here they are: R. H. Harris and his protégé Sam Cooke, Johnny Tanner of the Five Royales, Mahalia Jackson, Fred Astaire, Bing Crosby, Judy Garland, Roy Rogers, LaVerne Baker, Ruth Brown, Little Willie John, Hank Ballard, James Brown, Doris Day, Bobby Bland, Etta James, and Baby Washington.

  And to all of the people who could have helped me when I needed help, and didn’t, and the ones who hurt me and didn’t have to (you only made me stronger) . . . well . . . you know who you are, and . . . well . . . you know . . .

  • • •

  David thanks the brilliant Bettye LaVette, one of my favorite artists and people in all the world; as well as Kevin Kiley, David Vigliano, Eric Gardner, Rabbi David Rosenthal, Vanessa Kehren, Aileen Boyle, Brian Ulicky, Gregg Kulick, Margaret Nell, and Robert Hodge. Love to my family—Roberta, Ali, Jess, Herny, Jim, Charlotte, Nino, James, Isaac, Elizabeth, Esther, beloved nieces and nephews, and especially Pops who, at ninety-five, inspires us all. Gratitude to Alan Eisenstock, Herb Powell, and Harry Weinger for undying support in times of need. I believe.

  Selected Discography

  Vinyl 45s/Singles

  “My Man—He’s a Lovin’ Man” / “Shut Your Mouth”

  Atlantic 2160—1962 (No. 7 R&B, No. 101 Pop)

  “You’ll Never Change” / “Here I Am”

  Atlantic 2198—1963

  “Witchcraft in the Air” / “You Killed the Love”

  LuPine 123—1963

  “Let Me Down Easy” / “What I Don’t Know (Won’t Hurt Me)”

  Calla 102—1965 (No. 20 R&B, No. 103 Pop)

  “I Feel Good (All Over)” / “Only Your Love Can Save Me”

  Calla 104—1965

  “I’m Just a Fool for You” / “Stand Up Like a Man”

  Calla 106—1966

  “I’m Holding On” / “Tears in Vain”

  Big Wheel 1969—1966

  “Almost” / “Love Makes the World Go Round” (instrumental)

  Karen 1540—1968

  “Get Away” / “What Condition My Condition Is In”

  Karen 1544—1968

  “A Little Help from My Friends” / “Hey Love”

  Karen 1545—1969

  “Let Me Down Easy” / “Ticket to the Moon”

  Karen 1548—1969

  “He Made a Woman Outta Me” / “Nearer to You”

  Silver Fox 17—1969 (No. 25 R&B)

  “Do Your Duty” / “Love’s Made a Fool Out of Me”

  Silver Fox 21—1970 (No. 38 R&B)

  “Games People Play” / “My Train’s Comin’ In”

  Silver Fox 24—1970

  “Take Another Little Piece of My Heart” / “At the Mercy of a Man”

  SSS International 839—1970

  “He Made a Woman Outta Me” / “My Train’s Coming In”

  SSS International 933—1970

  “Never My Love” / “Stormy”

  TCA 001—1971

  “Heart of Gold” / “You’ll Wake Up Wiser”

  Atco 6891—1972

  “Your Turn to Cry” / “Soul Tambourine”

  Atco 6913—1973

  “Thank You for Loving Me” / “You Made a Believer Out of Me”

  Epic 50143—1975 (No. 94 R&B)

  “Behind Closed Doors” / “You’re a Man of Words, I’m a Woman of Action”

  Epic 50177—1975

  “Doin’ the Best That I Can Pt. 1” / “Doin’ the Best That I Can Pt. 2”

  West End 1213—1978

  “Doin’ the Best That I
Can (Special New Mix)” / “Doin’ the Best That I Can (Remix)”

  Mixes by Walter Gibbons, West End 22113-X—1978 (12-inch single)

  “Right in the Middle (Of Falling in Love)” / “You Seen One You Seen ’Em All”

  Motown 1532—1982 (No. 35 R&B)

  “I Can’t Stop” / “Either Way We Lose”

  Motown 1614—1982

  “Trance Dance Pt. 1” / “Trance Dance Pt. 2”

  Street King 1122—1984 (12-inch single)

  “The Rhythm & the Blues” / “Have You Tried Jesus?” / “The Rhythm & the Blues”

  This 45 is from a musical that Bettye appeared in. Bettye is the featured vocalist on “Have You Tried Jesus?” Get Down 5484—1984

  “Surrender” / “Time Won’t Change This Love”

  Motorcity 39—1990 (12-inch single—UK)

  “Good Luck” / “Good Luck” (instrumental)

  Motorcity 83—1991 (12-inch single—UK)

  “Damn Your Eyes” / “Out Cold”

  Bar None—1997 (cassette-only single)

  “Yours and Mine” / “Serendipity”

  The Dynamites, Outta Sight Records—2012

  Track: “Yours and Mine” (duet with Charles Walker)

  CDs and LPs

  Tell Me a Lie, Motown, 1982 (LP); Reel Music, 2008 (CD)

  Tracks: “Right in the Middle (Of Falling in Love),” “Either Way We Lose,” “Suspicions,” “You Seen One You Seen ’Em All,” “I Heard It Through the Grapevine,” “Tell Me a Lie,” “I Like It Like That,” “Before I Even Knew Your Name (I Needed You),” “I Can’t Stop,” “If I Were Your Woman”