Charles Hyatt, Contributor
I HAVE always been a little scared to pray for anything that I felt that I really wanted. If the thing, whatever it was, was likely to come my way, then let it. That way, I felt, it would be the hand of providence directing it to come to me for a purpose, either to make me a better person or to teach me something.
You see, I am one of those who fervently believe in prayers being answered.
One thing I avoided praying for is riches. How would I behave if I suddenly became rich? In my normal hard-working state in my young days I used to have a short wick where tolerance was concerned and it took a lot of thinking and control to keep me out of trouble. So what would happen if I became suddenly wealthy? Would I be the same person that people liked before, or would I not give a damn?
That scared me! I often told myself "Pray not for what you want, you might get it and it might destroy you!" That sort of cowardice, as some may call it, may have deprived me of many things, but I never missed them because I never had them. What I had I enjoyed and there were always others who had less than me, yet that did not prevent them from enjoying the real meaningful things in life, as I saw it.
Looking back though, sometimes I wonder.
On my way to take up my scholarship in England I took the opportunity to spend some time in the United States. Many of my friends, mentors and fans were living in New York and, apart from the fact that I'd never before been to that country, I was longing to be with them again.
In those days the U.S. dollar was worth 5/- shillings sterling and there were no restrictions on the amount you could get to buy from a bank in Jamaica. I left Jamaica with a little over US$500 and my hand luggage was a six-pack of J Wray and Nephew Overproof rum and a borrowed overcoat.
RELIEVED ME OF THE LOAD
The last I saw of the rum was in the airport in New York, when one of my friends relieved me of the load. In those days, 'whites' was like gold in New York. From that day, for the duration of my stay, I never had to buy a drink in New York. I was fed on I.W. Harper bourbon. My glass was never empty when I was with that group.
I drank to everybody's health until I nearly ruined my own.
On the way to the apartment I was to stay in, on 125th Street in Harlem, we drove past the 'Birdland' and 'Baby Grand' nightclubs and the Apollo Theatre. You can't imagine my excitement! Then to see on the marquee that the Count Basie Band was appearing at the theatre made my head spin. To top it all I was going to be living just a couple blocks from there.
I was in heaven.
This was on a Saturday. No sooner had I got indoors it started to rain and it poured for the next three days. I had intended that the first thing I would do on landing in New York was to have a real American hotdog. The first time that I ate anything it was rice and peas and chicken at the apartment. That was the same thing I had for my last meal in Jamaica.
On the following Wednesday the sun came out in all its New York spring splendour and I was treated to two tickets to the Apollo. I phoned Leonie Forbes, who was also on her way to London but had stopped over in New York to visit her relatives, and told her that we were going to see Count Basie. Her excitement was akin to mine.
On the bill that night along with the Count were Lambert, Hendricks and Ross, who were making their last performance as a group as Annie Ross was leaving to return to her home country, England. The Supremes, awaiting their first smash hit, were the openers and Redd Foxx was the M.C. There was also a novelty act whose name I have forgotten.
After the intermission the houselights slowly dimmed with changing colours and the front curtains went up to the strains of the Count Basie Band, as if far away, playing Splanky, a tune that was moving with great speed to the top of all the charts. While layers of glistening gauze curtains parted you could barely discern the band moving on a platform towards the front of the stage as the stage lights faded up on the greatest band of the time.
Apollo went wild. Tears streamed down my cheeks. To see my favourite orchestra in such a magical setting, sounding so good, was more than I could ever ask for.
Appearing with the band was a female vocalist, resplendently decked out in a leaf green satin gown, making her debut at the Apollo. She opened a little nervously, but by the time she got into her second number she was well away and the crowd ate her up.
After the show my friends took me to a bar and introduced me as the person who brought the 'whites'. I could do no wrong from then on.
Later in the night a reverend gentleman, complete with his white collar, joined us and I was told that not only was he the father of the female vocalist with the band, but he was also her manager. I told him how much I enjoyed her performance and volunteered to predict that she was going to go places. After all, if the Count was happy to feature her fronting the band then she must have something going.
To this the reverend suggested that if I was so sure of her future, maybe I would like to buy a piece of her. In other words, would I be prepared to put up some money where my mouth was? Well, I couldn't just back down then, so behaving as if I was some kind of rich Jamaican potentate I enquired how much would that require. He replied: "Whatever you can afford, $100, $200." I was stunned. I had more than $400 in my pocket. We discussed contracts and lawyers.
My thoughts then went to the likelihood that I was being set up to be taken for a ride, so I waffled on for a while trying to extricate myself without acrimony. Set up by a parson? Ah! But this was America! I made some sort of offhand promise and we got back to the more serious business of the night, polishing off a fifth of bourbon. I never saw the reverend again and this convinced me that I had done the right thing.
The reverend's name was Franklin and his daughter was Aretha Franklin.
Nine months later in England, when I heard her first transatlantic smash hit Spanish Harlem, I could kick myself. Did I let down the fates that were working for me? Or then again, would I have lost my $200 by not being on the scene in the U.S.?
Anyway it was viewed, it was a lost opportunity to learn.
