One sunny San Francisco morning in the 1990s I was sitting in my office trying to decide which pile of papers and journals and telephone messages piled on my desk to tackle first, when the actual telephone rang. “Hi Steve, it’s Molly! I’m here downtown working on a project. Want to have lunch with Ray Charles today?”
Holy crap. Molly is my sister from another mother, as grew up together on the same street. She’d become a hotshot “set designer” and more in “the industry” in Los Angeles, running a team working all manner of movies, TV shows, commercials, and so on. She told me this was a commercial and they were filming high up on a rooftop in the financial district.
Whatever other plans I might have had that day went out the window and before long I was out the door to catch a bus downtown. I’m not too impressed by stars and celebrities, having met too many of them, but, Ray Charles? The man known as a genius who overcame poverty, racism, addiction and blindness to become one of the handful of most renowned American musicians ever? Starting in the 1950s, his voice became as instantly recognizable as Louis Armstrong’s or Frank Sinatra’s or Willie Nelson’s. Sinatra even called him the one true genius of American music. A brilliant pianist - he could play Bach and Mozart while still in school - and bandleader, he developed a blend of jazz, blues and pop and pioneered what came to be called Rhythm and Blues, and then tossed out some country albums that even those fans loved. Some say he invented modern soul music. His live shows became legendary, with big or small bands of top musicians and soulful backup singers called the Raelettes. He was undeniably an icon of American culture, winning just about every accolade there is. His foundation has awarded many millions to good causes, and early on he refused to play for segregated audiences.
I found the address and took the elevator to the top, where a guard checked my name and let me through a door that opened out onto the sunny roof. It was a bustling scene there with a big crew and props all over, a semi-tropical set but with snow (?) on some of it. I soon spotted Molly and we had a big hug and she told me they were shooting a commercial for the Brazilian beer Antarctica. I'd been to Brazil recently and recalled it as sort of a Brazilian Budweiser, present all over. The other star appearing in the commercial was Shakira, a rising Brazilian singer on her way to becoming a superstar - she more recently did a Super Bowl halftime show with Jennifer Lopez. I didn't see Shakira around, but Molly promptly steered us over to a director’s chair in which sat Ray Charles, all dressed in black.
Molly introduced us and ran off to attend to business. Charles had his big shades on and was smiling but silent. I had to say something, so I volunteered “It’s a big honor to meet you sir. Those records you made in the late fifties and early sixties with the likes of Hank Crawford and Fathead Newman on the horns just blew me away as a kid and I still play them.” He kind of sat up straight and turned his face to me. “You dig those? Really? Man, that’s good taste!” and we both laughed. Emboldened, I continued “Oh yeah, and if I had to choose I think your Berlin concert one from 1962 might be my favorite of all. There’s just something about that one.” Ray nodded his head and smiled even bigger and said “You got that right, man. Remember, that was right when that big wall had gone up there and we didn’t quite know what was going on, but it was tense so we just played our asses off!”
We chatted a bit more, including about Brazil, where I’d recently been to interview national icons Gilberto Gilbert and Caetano Veloso. He had been there and met them and seemed impressed I even knew who they were. People bustled around us, and Ray was kind of swiveling his head around, seemingly checking things out. In fact it seemed he had some sort of sixth sense for when an attractive female was passing nearby, and there were quite a few, including Molly. When one came close he’d say “Hello there!” And of course they’d come over to meet the great man. He’d take their hand in a shake but also hold their forearm in his other hand for a moment. It seemed he could tell a lot from that. He’d make them laugh. The guy was more charming and forward than I could or would ever be. But then he was Ray Charles. He once confessed that for him women were as addicting as heroin, which he was hooked on for 17 years, with multiple busts. He fathered a dozen kids with ten women and near the end of his life he invited them all to get together - ten showed up - and gave each $500k (one wonders if the other two then wished they’d made it). He died in 2004.
I wish I could recall more of his smooth banter, as most everything he said were snappy and funny one-liners. It’s hard to imagine how strange it must have been to be the center of attention and adulation and the boss for so long while being unable to see who was around, but he sure mastered that role.
The call came that it was shooting time. They were firing up some kind of fake snow machine (?). I'd been on film sets before and knew there was often endless waiting around. So when an assistant came to take him to his spot, I said goodbye, and he held out his hand for a solid shake (with just one arm) and we said goodbye. “You be good, man,” he said in farewell. “I try, sir,” I replied, and he laughed again. I went over and said goodbye and thanks to Molly who was too busy to talk much, grabbed/stole a sandwich from the big food table, and headed for the door. The same guard was there and I just shook my head as he let me out, saying “Ray Charles, wow.” He just nodded and then showed me the back of the laminate pass hanging around his neck, which had Charles’ autograph scrawled in felt pen. I hadn’t even thought to ask for one, as I’ve never really cared about those, but on the bus back westward, I couldn’t help but think that in his case I should have made an exception. Ray Charles, wow.
When later I showed my great friend Russ a photo taken of me with Ray, he yelled “Holy shit, that’s amazing!” Then he got his trademark evil grin on his face and added, “You two look like you’re wearing the same shades. But the poor guy would have needed them even if he could see - look at your nerdy white pants!”
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