Interview with Lynyrd Skynyrd - May 31, 1975 (Update)

LYNYRD SKYNYRD Interview 
Updated 04/10/2017

By now, most of you surmised that I am not a young pup after reading interviews I've done with the likes of Arlo Guthrie sparking my own memories of Woodstock. So the fact that I interviewed the original Lynyrd Skynyrd in 1975 should come as no surprise. 

Please respect the copyright ownership on all text and photos. 
© 2017 Susan Cross – All rights reserved.

Lynyrd Skynyrd hanging out pre-concert.
From left, Al Kooper, Leon Wilkeson, Theresa Wilkeson, 
Gary Rossington, and Ronnie Van Zant.

(Photographer of all photos on this page: Arlene Muzyka)

Life was just a wee bit different in those days. I had a tape recorder, with a real tape in it, and batteries that were fully charged when I went into the penthouse suite of what was then the Americana Hotel in New York City. (This was the same suite I had been in the week before when I interviewed Barry Hay, the lead singer/songwriter for Golden Earring, a band most recognized for their hit song, 'Radar Love'.)

Al Kooper

As soon as the publicist left the room, Ronnie Van Zant jumped out of his chair to confront me. Although a huge presence on-stage, he actually stood 5’7” tall (with his boots on), towering over my 4’10” frame.

“I want you to know before we get started that I hate writers so whatever you have to say, say it quick!” he shouted in my face.

Standing nose to nose with him (I have always been pretty gutsy) I asked, “Why do you hate writers? You just met me. Why would you hate me?”

“Because writers lie. They take everything I say out of context and then print it to make me look ignorant,” he said.

“You see this? It’s a tape recorder,” I told him. “I intend to record this interview and when it is printed, if you are misquoted, taken out of context or made to look ignorant I swear I will never do another interview with anyone.” 

What was I thinking? I was very naïve, but I meant what I said.

Ronnie Van Zant

“Really?” he said. “Ya know, I kinda like you. And you're shorter than me, too. Sit down.” 

There was no place to sit but the floor so I made myself comfy on the carpet. (Yes, my hair was long and dark then and my signature felt hat was part of my identity.) 

He introduced his friends and when he got to the end, I said, “You don’t have to go any further. I know who Al Kooper is!” 

Kooper just looked at me silently, expressionless. I admit I was disappointed. I would rather have been interviewing him at that moment.

Van Zant proceeded to offer me a drink and I declined. He called room service and ordered screwdrivers for everybody. We chatted for a while, conversationally, and then the tray of drinks was delivered. Van Zant placed them on his lap, offered them to his friends and after they declined he started drinking. Later on, the interview began.

Leon Wilkeson

The resulting article appeared in the front section of a magazine named SWANK. Yes, that’s right, my loyal readers. Susan Cross (under a pen name) had a short article that appeared in a magazine often found under the beds of teenaged boys. 

In my defense, I proudly am included in the same issue as author Henry Miller (Tropic of Capricorn) and Ed Naha (screenwriter who wrote ‘Honey I Shrunk the Kids’), so, yes, some people really did buy the magazines to read the articles.

The two hours that followed were very revealing but I was there for a specific reason—to ask about his relationship with Alabama’s Governor George Wallace who was well known as a segregationist.

Gary Rossington

In Skynyrd’s song, ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ there is a line, “In Birmingham they love the Governor, boo, boo, boo,” expressing the band’s opposition to the Guv’s racist leanings, although it is often taken out of context and misunderstood as a result of another line, “I hope Neil Young will remember, southern man don’t need him around anyhow.” Neil young was recognized for his anti-racist attitude. (There are plenty of explanations of this on the web so I won’t go into further detail here.)

Following is the portion of the article as it was submitted and later published in the magazine.

WARNING: Ronnie Van Zant used blunt language which some people might find offensive. If you are one of those people, either stop reading or cover one eye and skip any words that start with the letter ‘f’ and end with the letter ‘g’.

READ MORE:

Before the Beatles were the Beatles and then there was Billy Preston

By George, Cowboy Clothes

By Susan Cross

This story was told to me by Leroy Cooper during our first session and I transcribed it from the recording. First I wanted to corroborate the story since Leroy was 78 years old and I was checking on his memory. He insisted the club was the Star Club and that they did NOT have a regular drummer during Ray's gig at the club. When I saw Paul, John and George in their 'cowboy clothes' just as Leroy described them I felt I would publish his personal memory of the events that followed. It is all in his own voice.

This is an excerpt from Leroy Cooper's memoir as told to me back in 2007. The material is copyrighted by Susan Cross and cannot be copied, published or duplicated without permission.

In Hamburg, Germany, I was with Ray and we played in a place called the Star Club. It was a very popular venue in Hamburg at the time. It was very impressive. They met us at the airport with Mercedes Benz convertibles, a whole parade of them.

We went to the club and there was a house band playing there. There was all these guys with English accents and they were wearing cowboy clothes and boots. That seemed real funny to us because they were from England, not from the States. Every night, all we did was play shows but they had to play for the dancing and we used to laugh because they had this black drummer at the time. He was a showman. He really impressed me. He was in the Air Force and just passing through, fillin’ in. We lived at the same hotel as this band

They would say, “Come on over and listen to some records,” in their English accent. You know and we used to hang with them. There were two or three of us to a room because we weren’t making the big bucks, and these guys were all bunched up in one room. We would go and listen to records. Back then, they weren’t the Beatles yet.

So when they came to the States to be on the Ed Sullivan show we were watching these guys and somebody said, “Hey, they are the same guys that were in Hamburg, Germany. They changed their haircuts.” When we first saw them in Germany they were playing rock ‘n’ roll. Now they were doing this other music.

I said, “Wow, they made it. They made it.” From then on they were the Beatles and they were big, big, big, big. What a difference a day makes. What a difference.

*****

Billy Preston

One year we were in Liverpool and we usually packed the place out, but this time the crowd was a little slim. We asked what’s happening?

They said, “They have a local group that’s real big. And they’ve got a movie out A Hard Day’s Night.” We had a big show that same night and that sort of hurt our crowd. So I said this new outfit must be dy-no-mite!

In Ray’s band at the time, Billy Preston was sitting next to me on the front line. He played organ and I played the baritone sax, and he met The Beatles at the rock ‘n’ roll show over here in the States.

Years later we were over in England again and the guys were laughing at Billy, saying the Beatles are big and you are supposed to be such good friends with them and everything.

I said “Why don’t you call them?” You know how guys put you on. “Have another drink. Why don’t you call the Beatles, you’re supposed to know them so much.”

He said, “Okay I’ll call ‘em,” We thought we could get a good laugh.

He calls and the housekeeper answers and she said, “They’re not in at the moment and did you want to leave a message?” So he left a message. Two or three days later he heard from one of them.

They said, “This is so and so and we bought your record contract.” At the time Billy was signed up with Ray Charles. They said, “Oh yeah, we bought it and we want you to join the group.” After that, he was like the fifth Beatle.

This must have been in the ‘60s. I remember he was driving a little ‘67 Plymouth and he was getting five hundred a week. He was always complaining about money.

“I’m tired of these cheeseburgers and I got to have more money,” he told Ray. He got with the Beatles and the next time I saw him he had a white Rolls Royce.

One time we were playing in San Francisco at The Fairmont Hotel there up on Nob Hill. It was real ritzy. We were on stage and I said, “Ray, Billy Preston’s in the audience.”

Ray said, “Aw he’s too big to sing with us now.”

Somebody announced Billy. McCartney and the other guys brought him up to the bandstand and he stayed up on the bandstand with us the rest of the night. The Beatles were sitting right next to him in the audience and Billy stayed up there with us. He didn’t forget. He admired Ray. I’ve never seen anything like him.

Anything Ray would play on the piano Billy would play exactly what Ray was playing and I thought this boy is a genius!

He was a young man at the time. He was so young guys would tell him how to dress. He was eating cheeseburgers and milk shakes. And I didn’t get to see him after he got to be a big wheel. He used to come through here and I was determined to try to get out to see him but you know you can’t get to people when they get that big. It changes.

Copyright © 2011 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

The Audition -- #FridayFlash

© Susan Cross, January 22, 2011 May not be copied or reprinted in whole or part without permission from the author. It is posted here for inclusion in the #FridayFiction stories.

She hadn’t relaxed enough yet for her body to mold into the faux-leather seat on the train. Looking out the window her thoughts were chasing each other trying to catch up with her emotions. After she had settled her crimson satchel on the seat next to her she rested her hands delicately in her lap. Carefully manicured fingernails were not adorned with any of the latest trends. No two-toned polish or rhinestones. No false, squarely filed extensions painted to match her lipstick. Instead she wore clear lacquer applied to her own healthy nails. They were filed across, squared but gently curving at the edges. Her hands appeared to belong to someone else, as if they were transplanted onto her slim wrists.

She was relieved that nobody was sharing the car to notice her movements. Her goal was to slow down her thoughts and relax for the two hour ride. According to the schedule, the length of time going in each direction was the same but as is always the case, looking forward to a destination gave the illusion of time crawling with each turn of the wheel on the track. The element of the unknown added to her anxiety. The trip home would be quicker because she knew what awaited her when she arrived.

Outside the window the fields were flashing past. Grazing cows and horses were a blur. She wondered how the speed of a train compared to that of a car on a highway. Remove the traffic lights and stop signs and each could cover the same distance but the train seemed to beat the car, even with the occasional stops at stations.

The relaxation exercise was working. Her breathing slowed, she opened her eyes, picked up her satchel and headed toward the rest room. Inside the tiny room, she used the toilet and washed her hands. Then she opened the satchel which held just the necessities. In an instant, she pulled her long brown hair back and secured it into a pony tail. Next she removed a plastic bottle containing a skin cleansing product. In seconds she saw her bare face in the mirror. No makeup; no lipstick. It was a familiar routine. She wore a white blouse tucked into straight-legged jeans. A red belt pulled tight accentuated her waist.

She strolled back down the aisle, head erect. She returned to her seat, folded her legs under her and leaned her head against the window. She wondered if she would ever take this trip again. Once she detrained she took a cab rather than walk the 9 long blocks. She had saved up for this trip to the city.

At the studio, about 40 women stood in line waiting. She had filled out the forms on the website. A man walked back along the line asking each woman’s name and then giving her a sticky nametag with just a number printed on it that corresponded to the number on the form.

Some of the women dressed casually, others overly stylish. She preferred to show off her assets for this audition, thus accounting for her non-descript attire. Some women wore gloves. She had removed hers in the cab. The line moved quickly. She was next.

“Number 22,” the man said. She stepped forward and followed him down a hallway and through a door.

She approached the table on the stage. It was covered with a black cloth. Bright umbrella lights were angled toward the table. A woman told her to put her hands on the table facing the camera with fingertips touching. Then she was asked to turn them over showing her palms. In the bright light, her skin looked translucent. A man appeared with a bottle in his hand.

“Are you left handed or right handed?”

“Right handed,” she replied.

“Good,” said the director. He signaled for the cameras to start rolling.

“Using your right hand, slowly open the bottle and pour a small pea-sized dab of lotion into the palm of your left hand.” She did as she was told.

“Great. Now rub the lotion onto the top of your right hand, slowly,” he said. “Good. Now rub your hands together – be careful not to get any lotion onto your nails. We want the impression that the lotion is so soothing and nurturing that you are having a life changing, almost sexual experience.”

She rubbed her hands together as she had been told. Her face was reflecting the pleasure she would feel if the lotion were truly changing her life, even though the camera was focused on her hands and nobody was paying attention to her body language.

“Thank you. You can go.”

She left having no hint of how she had compared to the others. She would wait for days to find out if she had been selected. She walked outside, hailed a cab and returned to the train station.

Her parents had told her she was beautiful, but she knew better. Her facial features were not symmetrical. Her lips were not full and luscious and could not hide her imperfect teeth. The industry's view of beautiful did not sync with her parents' idealized perception. She had dreamed of being a model for years but she accepted the reality that her face would never appear on magazine covers. She was hoping her one great feature would be enough. She closed her eyes as the train rolled towards home picturing herself in a film studio.

Tomorrow she would get up and go to work at the supermarket. She had been the only employee at the store that had ever worn gloves to work every day. Co-workers thought she might suffer from scars or discoloration but they never asked. Protecting her hands from the unwashed fruit and juicy packages of meat was essential. Maybe one day, her long slender hands would help fulfill her dreams. She would become a famous hand model.

Interview with David 'Fathead' Newman

Let's Talk A Bit
By Susan Cross

During the many afternoons I spent with Leroy Hog Cooper he talked about so many of his friends. Some of these people were relatively new friends, people he knew during his 20 year stint at Disney World playing in the Dixieland band, the jazz band and at private functions held in the park and hotels on property. Others were people he met after he retired and became more involved in the local jazz, blues and society bands that filled up his calendar and kept his lips on the mouthpiece of his various horns.

However, in the beginning of our time together, Leroy spoke mostly about his old friends. The ones he knew growing up. The ones that he played with in the school band. And the ones he played with in clubs. Probably the most important one of these was a fellow who was a couple of years younger than Leroy that he knew in school. They both played saxophone. And eventually, this friend would be the one that changed Leroy's life forever. His name was David Newman, also known as Fathead.

Here is the transcript of a telephone interview I did with David on April 23, 2007. Unfortunately, at that time I didn't have enough information to ask more relevant questions and my interview was mostly targeted at his relationship with Leroy. David was soft-spoken, warm, friendly and expressed his love for Leroy, just as Leroy had expressed his love for David.

Susan Cross:  How long were you with Ray Charles?

David Newman:  From September 1954 to 1964; 10 years. Then I went back in 1970 to 1971, so altogether 11 years.

Susan Cross:  What was your relationship with Leroy?

David Newman:  We were very good friends and colleagues. We go back a long way. Growing up in Dallas, I was a few years behind Leroy in school, being younger than he was. We got to know each other when we both had the same band director at Lincoln High school, Mr. Miller.

Susan Cross:  Was that Uncle Dud?

David Newman:  Yes. That was his nickname. I lost touch with Leroy when he went to college and then into the Army. When he got out and came back to Dallas, we got back together.

Leroy joined the Ernie Fields big band and was playing the baritone sax by then. He had started on the alto, but he was such a big man he was blowing the buttons off of it, not literally, but figuratively. The baritone was very fitting for him being the big guy that he was.

Susan Cross:  How did Leroy join Ray’s band?

David Newman:  Ray’s band needed a baritone sax and knowing Leroy, I recommended bringing him into the band. Later on, I also got James Clay to join.

When Leroy joined, it was a small band. It became a big band in 1960.

The movie, Ray, was inaccurate and so unfortunate.

Susan Cross:  When did you start playing the sax?

David Newman:  When I was about 8 or 9.

Susan Cross:  Was it your first instrument?

David Newman:  No. My mother had me taking piano lessons for about 2 years and the other kids were calling me a sissy. So I told my mother that I wanted to play a more masculine instrument. She asked me, like what? I said, I don’t know. A horn, maybe, a saxophone. So I started taking lessons on the alto sax which was the second smallest, soprano being the smallest. Mr. Miller gave me lessons.

In our youth, there was a place called the American Woodlands Hall. All the musicians would go there and jam and get to know each other. That went on for years.

Leroy’s dad was a fine musician. I never heard him play, but Buster Smith was my (and Leroy’s) main influence growing up, and he knew Leroy’s dad and said he was a fine musician.

Susan Cross:  Who are your favorite sax players today?

David Newman:  James Moody, Jimmy Heath, Benny Golson, Eric Alexander, Javon Jackson.

At the end of the conversation, David told me to feel free to call any time if I had more questions. Unfortunately I did not make a second call. David died less than 2 weeks after Leroy in January 2009. Their music lives on. You can learn more about David 'Fathead' Newman click here.

Copyright © 2010 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

Unchosen -- #fridayflash, poetry

Little girl, little girl
hurting so much.
Why does it hurt so bad?
When do I get my shot,
something for the pain?
Please nurse,
Something for the pain.

If I can't have sometihng
then at least give the doctor some pain
so that he knows.
It isn't fair for him to deny me
when he doesn't hurt.
Give him a chance to suffer
if only for a short while.
I have little doubt
that he'll give us each a shot
if he has a taste of this.
He'll not endure what I do.
Sitting there on my bed
looking down with his sad eyes
feeling sorry for someone
lying on under the white sheets below him.
Let him join me and see
if he doesn't hit us both up.

Why am I so lucky
to be given the chance to prove my strength?
I did not ask to be the messiah.
He chose to be the doctor.

Interview with Wanda Sykes - May 2009

This is an interview I did with Wanda Sykes for Orlando Home & Leisure Magazine prior to her appearance at the Hard Rock Live in Orlando in 2009.

Susan Cross:     Which do you enjoy most, standup, TV or movies?

Wanda Sykes:   My first love is standup because that’s where everything started. TV, movies came along as being known for doing standup. But I do have to say that I love the paycheck of TV and the New Adventures of Old Christine is the best show I’ve had in TV. I absolutely love it over there. The writers are great but I do still love the excitement of doing standup.

Susan Cross:     Since you and Julia [Louis-Dreyfus] have backgrounds as writers do you contribute or stick to the script?

Wanda Sykes:   I am scripted. They do a great job so I’m not going to do something to change what works fine. The character of Barb is pretty defined so it makes it a lot easier to follow the script.

Susan Cross:     Is there something that you would like to do that you haven’t done?

Wanda Sykes:   I have a show coming up and that will probably be the top rung for me – doing the White House Correspondent’s Dinner on May 9th [2009]. I’m very excited about doing that. Actually that wasn’t even on my radar when I thought of different things I want to do so when it came up it was like WOW! Before the President? It’s exciting and scary at the same time. I’m one bad joke away from getting deported or something. I made sure all my taxes are up to date; everything is good; staying out of any scandals or anything; I don’t have any dealings with Bernie Madoff, so that’s all good.

Susan Cross:     Do you think that aging is different for men and women?

Wanda Sykes:   For men it seems like they don’t talk about it as much as we do. It doesn’t seem like it’s as much of a concern for them. Men, they get older, they just date younger. We have all kinds of things going on – body issues and all kinds of stuff. With men, a little Viagra and that’s pretty much they’re chore – date younger.

Susan Cross:     If you were going to be reincarnated what would you like to come back as?

Wanda Sykes:   Oprah!

Susan Cross:     In your personal life have you gotten green?

Wanda Sykes:   Yes, but the doctor gave me an ointment and he said it should clear up. Oh, you mean GREEN. Oh yeah, I recycle; I drive a hybrid; I do the light bulb thing. You try.

Susan Cross:     Is there anyone you’ve worked with that you’d like to work with again?

Wanda Sykes:   I’d like to work with Jane Fonda again but hopefully I can get her to lift that restraining order. And Chris Rock but I would have to lift my restraining order against him. Steve Carell is great.

Susan Cross:     Have you seen a change in your fan base over the years?

Wanda Sykes:   Yeah, people are getting fat. I got to play bigger venues but it’s not because there’s more people it’s because the people are just more! We’re all at the age where we’re spreading. Even me, I need a bigger stage. I’m getting more of a cross section of people now and that’s good.

Copyright © 2010 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

Beautiful Red Hair - #fridayflash (critiques welcome)

By Susan Cross

My older cousin spoke first. “Can you believe that your mother never told you?” she asked me.

I sat silently, processing the information and then smiled. “Your mother was my mother’s sister. When this happened, you lived three houses away from us. Grandma and Grandpa lived upstairs. That means they all knew. So, in my mind the real question is how could they all have kept this from all of us for a lifetime?”

Both cousins were thoughtful. They obviously had not considered that. Their mother and father were also guilty. Our grandmother was part of the conspiracy. Our grandfather had a stroke three years after it happened and lost his speech. We were all toddlers then, and my younger cousin hadn’t even been born.

Then there was my father. He was a good man. Mother had divorced him when I was three. My memory was cloudy but I remembered another man moving into the house right after my daddy moved out. He loved me very much. In retrospect, maybe too much. I remembered him treating me with hugs and kisses but not bestowing the same affection upon my mother.

My memory is very good. Sometimes that’s a blessing, sometimes a curse. When I was four, I remember, this man and my mother got into the old two-toned Ford Galaxy. I was in the back seat. Mother drove in silence. It seemed like a very long ride. The car stopped in front of a house with a wrought iron fence around the front yard. There was an unusual pattern in the fence—circles with lines going up through them, pointed and sharp at the top. He got out. My mom was still and silent and I could hear the sound of the engine running. He took his grocery bag full of clothes and such, got out of the car and walked toward the gate. The car pulled away from the curb and started driving.

“If you ever mention his name again I will kill you. You understand?” she said. I was silent, holding my breath.

Back in the here and now, these thoughts were racing through my mind as my cousins sat silently watching for my reaction. Then one of them spoke. It was the older one.

“Don’t you want to know? I mean, if it’s true aren’t you curious?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I said. “I mean, what good could come of it?”

The cousin stood up and crossed the room. She had an envelope in her hand. There was writing on it. “Eleanor’s baby boy.” Three words. She opened the envelope and inside was a small piece of paper. Hamilton Park Hospital, Hamilton Park, New Jersey. April 27, 1953. Mother: Eleanor Hanson. Father: Marty Johnson. Adopted by the Zimmerman family.”

This was the evidence that I had a brother—no, a half-brother. As far as I knew, the only thing I had in common was our mother. I was evaluating the situation.

“Don’t you think he’d want to know that he has a half-sister?” my younger cousin asked. “Really, it makes sense to at least try to contact him. I found him on the Internet and he still lives in New Jersey. You could at least email him.”

My younger cousin was very rational and pragmatic. She looked at me and said, “Out of all of the cousins, we are all women and none of us had children. In fact, we are the end of grandpa’s bloodline.” She paused and looked down at the floor. “If his is your half-brother and he has children then it would mean that our bloodline will continue. I’d kind of like to know.”

“Well,” I said, “if you would like to follow up on it, feel free, but please keep me out of the whole thing.”

The expression on my older cousin’s face was somber. “You really wouldn’t want to make contact with him?”

“Let’s do some role playing,” I said. “I’ll be him and you be me. Okay?”

She hesitated.

“Hello?” I said as I positioned my hand by my left ear as if clutching a telephone.

“Hi,” she said. “I’ve been doing some research into my family’s genealogy and I think that we may be related.”

“Really? Who is this?” I said, playing my role as him.

“I found some papers after my mother died and found out that she had a baby boy that was adopted. According to your web page, you already know that you’re adopted and are interested in knowing more about your birth mother,” she said, acting as me. “Is that true?”

“Yes. Are you saying that you know my mother?” I asked.

“If your name is Marc Zimmerman and the birthday on your site is accurate, I think I might,” my cousin said.

“I can’t believe this! Who is this? What was she like?”

And that’s the point where I laughed. It was not a ha-ha laugh. My cynicism got the best of me.

I looked at my cousin and asked her, “And what do I say next? How do I answer that question? She was crazy? She was married and divorced three times? She never told anybody about you? Her judgment was terrible? She was an abusive, cruel mother? She was diagnosed with mental illness and refused to take her meds? Oh, but she had beautiful red hair and she was really pretty.”

Again, I laughed. What would be the point? What purpose would that serve? That was all so long ago. Our mother was dead. I stood by my decision not to contact him. If I had the only words I could think of to say to him were, “You were the lucky one.”

Copyright © 2010 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

Photography by Charles Wells

Photo of Leroy Cooper taken in the studio, copyright Charles Wells Photography

Writing for a magazine on a monthly basis is almost like having a 'real' job with a flexible schedule. In my case, almost all of the stories (they don't call them articles anymore) that I wrote were the result of my pitches to the editor and were featured in the Arts & Entertainment section. Fortunately, I had a lot of ideas and contacts in the music business, but I ventured out into other areas of A&E to mix things up on occasion.

As I've said before, I've interviewed many celebrities and written stories/articles about them. In some cases, I worked with publicists and attended concerts in order to provide my editor with a review and supporting material about the artist.

It was my good fortune to work with the same photographer for most of my stories. After the first experience working with Charles Wells (Chuck), we got into a groove. I knew what photos would complement my content but conveying my ideas to Chuck could be a challenge. He stands about a foot and a half taller than I do. Sometimes I had to stand on a chair to see things from his level and sometimes he had to kneel on the floor to see things from mine. The size difference gave us an advantage because we saw the same image from different perspectives. Together we made a great team and our professional relationship was successful.

Why am I telling you this? My photo on this blog and the one of Leroy Cooper were taken by Chuck. He also took pictures of Carlos Santana and Tony Bennett (whom I interviewed) when they performed at the University of Central Florida. We worked together every month for almost two years.

Rather than describing more of Chuck's work, take a look for yourself. You will probably be surprised at some of the celebrities (musical, artistic, political, etc.) that he has photographed. To view his gallery, follow the trail of breadcrumbs that leads to this link: crumb, crumb, crumb, http://www.charleswellsphotography.com/. His photography still appears in several magazines. He also does studio work and sometimes is lucky enough to travel on assignment.

Saturday Night Blues

Silent Nights
By Susan Cross

It's Saturday morning. I'm sitting here thinking about what has changed in the past year. A year ago on a Saturday morning, I would have been planning my day and then looking forward to going to see Leroy Cooper play with the Smokin' Torpedoes. By then, Leroy had become the main attraction of the band and played solos on almost every song. When Coop stood up from his chair and started blowing the bari, people would stand up and applaud when he was done and sat back down.

It really wasn't fair to the other members of the band who were also accomplished musicians. Before Coop joined them, everyone applauded after each musician's solo but eventually Leroy seemed to fill the stage and the anticipation of his performance became the highlight of each number. Jeff Willey was blowing his lungs out on the harp. Rob Mola was tearing up his git-ar. Tom Bastedo was blasting out the rhythm on his drums. And Mo Baker was thumping out the bass.

Looking back, it's hard to imagine the band before Leroy joined. There were several other sax players before him but nobody compared to him once he was established.

Once Leroy moved on to join the Josh Miller Blues Revue, the other members of the Smokin' Torps left, one by one, and the whole band took on a new flavor. It was like going from strawberry to pistachio; both were delicious but strawberry was always my favorite.

Tonight, there is no music up at Harry's. I'll go to my meeting of the National League of American Pen Women this afternoon and come home. Maybe my hubby and I will go to dinner and a movie. It's about nine months since he stopped performing on January 10 and passed away on January 15 but not a single Saturday night goes by that I don't miss the sound of his horn.

Copyright © 2009 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

What happens when a writer finishes writing?

When To Type 'The End'
By Susan Cross

At what point would a writer be considered no longer writing? My book is gaining momentum and going into final edits. That feels good.

Suddenly I am faced with the question: What will I do when the book is completed?

When I started working on Leroy 'Hog' Cooper on Sax, I was already a contributing writer to several magazines. I did interviews with local and national celebrities and then wrote articles about them. Often, it was my good fortune to attend a concert or a show as part of my job. Afterwards, I sat tapping away at the keys happily.

Each month, magazines would be delivered and I would look for my articles and their placement. I also checked to see if there were editorial changes. I was pleased to see that most of them passed my editor's tests. I have built a nice, thick portfolio in which I take pride, but things have changed. The magazine business has been transitioning from print to web. I have watched Rolling Stone, a music bible, go from a volume to something resembling the size of a Bed Bath & Beyond Catalog.

In mourning Mary Travers, I found myself singing, "Where have all the magazines gone?" I don't mean to make light of Mary's passing. I learned to play guitar while listening to Peter, Paul and Mary records. Looking out my window, however, I see flowers blooming in the garden (here in Florida) and magazines disappearing from book store shelves.

So, back to my original question: What will I do after the book is published? Market the book I suppose. At that point, will I stop being a writer and become a marketeer? (No, silly, not a Muskateer; no Disney ears here, although I'm close by).

When I'm reading I always hate turning that last page and finishing a book when it's really good. I want to drag it out and make it last. I don't feel that way about writing this book. I just wonder, what next?

Copyright © 2009 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

Ghostwriters in the wind

May We Have A Word
By Susan Cross

There is a great distinction between a ghostwriter and a co-author. In my case, I was never hired to be a ghost (I'm not transparent and I'm still alive) which is good. On the other hand, there is a benefit to being a ghostwriter. Ghostwriters exchange their services for money -- up front before a project has begun. In addition to selling their services, they give up the right to use their name on the book cover or get any credit for what they've done.

I suppose if I were offered an up front payment that covered the cost of my time and expenses, plus compensated me for lost income during the course of the interviews, editing and writing process I might have considered accepting the job and taken no credit -- just money. However, my services included much more than simply interviewing and transcribing.

I spent countless weeks researching and corroborating stories. It occurred to me that there would be added value to interviewing my subject's friends and colleagues to add substance to the person that he was from the perspective of others who knew him. A complete discography needed to be provided and I had to verify everything on the list. I was fortunate to find an expert who could help with details and professional photographers who could provide excellent photos going back to 1975 during the peak of Cooper's career.

Putting everything in order, making sense out of disconnected memories, deciding what should go into the index...well I won't bore you with the specifics, but in retrospect, whatever payment I would have received up front would simply have covered my being a ghost. None of the other work would have been done. The result would have been a relatively short, one-dimensional transcription of memories. The memories are good, and they are entertaining but the additional material transforms what might have been a memoir into a well-rounded, full-length book, based upon conversations with Leroy Cooper about his life and the wonderful contributions from his old friends of whom he talked so fondly.

By the way, if anyone knows the origin of the term ghostwriter feel free to leave me a comment. I really don't think Caspar, as smart as he was, could do the work I'm doing.

Note: Most of you are too young to remember Jim Morrison's song, "Riders in the Wind" (ref. title to this post) so forgive my reference (but check out the song, now I can't stop singing it).

Copyright © 2009 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

Blue Note Books to publish Leroy Cooper on Sax

It's All About Leroy
By Susan Cross

Looks like I've found a publisher and chosen a title. Blue Note Books, a small publishing house, is very excited about this project. The title: Leroy Hog Cooper on Sax.

We have set a very aggressive schedule with a target date of October 15 to have books in hand. My to do list is as long as my grocery list but one by one I'm picking the items off the shelf and crossing them off.

Yesterday I sent a "Request for Permission" letter to Perseus Books asking if I could use a quote from page 302 of Brother Ray where Ray Charles speaks about Leroy Cooper and his contribution to Ray's success. My hope is to use that quote on the back cover so that Leroy's fans will know just how Ray Charles felt about his long-time bandleader. The quote also mentions other members of the band, some of whom I have spoken with and have received permission to use their interviews in the book.

Now I'm moving on to requests to use photographs of Leroy taken with Ray Charles during the '60s. Both photographers are French and knew Leroy to some degree. Their pictures would add another dimension to photos taken in the last years of Leroy's life.

I've lined up 3 professional authors/editors to handle that process and next week I'm pursuing the issue of cover art. I want to oversee that process personally since I have a vision for my book.

Check! Check! Check! I have lined up a row of dominoes and when the check marks are next to every item on the to do list and the book goes to the printer, I'm going to tap that first one and watch them all fall, pop a balloon and eat some cake with buttercream frosting. Yum.

Then the first half of the work is done, leaving the second half which may require more work than the initial steps: marketing the book. I have a marketing strategy but am still fine tuning the plan itself which will become an ongoing project. Once the first printing is sold, (hopefully within the first month -- I have been known for my optimism) we will move on to the next printing. By then I will have a stack of excellent reviews and endorsements to select from for the back cover, if I have room.

Somewhere, I have to leave room for my little tiny head shot to give myself some credit. Leroy gave me the story but I'm doing all the work. I don't like the sound of 'ghostwriter' since I am not a ghost, I am a writer. The inability to edit someone else's words is the part of writing a memoir that makes it frustrating, but I can cope. It's not about ego. It's all about Leroy.

Copyright © 2009 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

Leroy Cooper and the Ice Capades?

Taking Notes 
By Susan Cross

Leroy always greeted me at the door with a large smile, a hug and a kiss. I miss him terribly. We would go into what he referred to as the prayer room. We sat opposite each other – Leroy on a black and white hounds-tooth chair and me on a white chair. I placed the little recorder on the hounds-tooth ottoman between us. I pushed the tiny red record button and then the stories began.

While Leroy was on a break from the Ray Charles band he told me about an unusual gig he played in Vegas.

“We were working intermissions for the Ice Capades in the Latin Hotel. We were the opening act. They’d put plywood on the ice and we’d be so cold. I was with the house band. The name of the show was Funky Soul. Good show. A lot of people was on the show. A lot of no names. Most of them almost made it. We had one hour of happiness. We played through the show until the end. No stopping.

“I was trying to keep up with the band with the baritone and they were telling me to kick your legs up high. I said, ‘Give me a break.’ I had a little comedic spot. The guitar player was about 6’4” and skinny, and they used to have us stand next to each other because I was so large.

"That’s when Metrecal was popular. All this stuff was going on and then it would get quiet and I’d be standing with Terry and they’d say something like, “I thought you were on Metrecal.” People would howl with laughter.”

For those of you who don't remember Metrecal, it was the magical weight loss potion of the day back in 1960.

Copyright © 2009 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

Writing memoirs

Someone Else's Memories
By Susan Cross

Think it's easy? You sit down with a subject and a list of interview questions. Place the recorder on the table between you. Ask the first question. Now comes the fun part. The subject, especially if that person is a celebrity, answers the question and his response triggers a memory so he keeps talking. Before you know it 3 hours are gone and you have a lot of very valuable information that was related in stream of consciousness in no chronological order.

In my case, my subject, Leroy Cooper, legendary blues, jazz and big band musician rambles on about his 20 years with Ray Charles, most of those years as bandleader. While speaking about one member of the band, David "Fathead" Newman, he wanders back through his childhood when he and Fathead were in the school band together in Dallas. Now we're back in Leroy's childhood, school days and college stories, all of which are interesting and relevant. Guess what? Leroy's old childhood friend was the one that got him into the Ray Charles band?

Somehow this brings him back to Dallas and picks back up at when Leroy got his first big break with the Ernie Fields Big Band, going to New York and then having his musical career being interrupted when he is drafted into the Army during the Korean War.

Well, you get the idea. Obviously, this information didn't all come out of one session, but still, only one interview question has been answered. Starting out with the expectation of spending a few weeks together and gathering the information you need for your book, you suddenly realize that this is going to be a long, long process. You could just stick to the interview but in a case like this, so much would be lost: gigs with other famous musicians; leaving Ray Charles -- the first time, the second time and the last time; the stories of segragation; touring Europe, etc.

Two years later, the recording sessions are done. Another month or more goes into the transcription. You put all the files together and read the draft of the manuscript as it was originally recorded. How did this happen? There is absolutely no order to all of these wonderful stories, and now the work begins.

When a memoir is written by a "ghost writer" the contract between the subject refers to him as "writer" and you as "editor" although it hardly seems fair. He has spent many afternoons telling stories to an interested person (who by now has become a family member) and you have months of intense work to do just to transform the draft into a manuscript that will capture your reader's interest from page one and maintain it through to the epilogue.

There are a lot of steps in between. You have to do fact checking; interview key people who are 'characters' mentioned throughout; find photographs that will be used to illustrate the subject's experiences and get permission from the photographers to use those pictures; approach professional editors (hopefully friends who are successful authors) who will see if your manuscript makes any sense; then decide whether to submit to a traditional publisher or go the new and popular self-publishing route.

Ah, and did I forget to mention the marketing? Yes, you are also responsible for marketing your work. Most tradtional publishers don't have large budgets to market the work of first time authors so that next, very important step is to create a marketing plan and execute it.

And you thought writing a memoir was easy? Maybe it is if it's your own memoir and starts out with, "I was born in (year) in (place) to middle class parents. . ."

There are still other considerations along the way but I'll save that for my second book: How to Write a Successful Memoir.

Copyright © 2009 Susan Cross – All rights reserved