Digital Nation by Gary Dretzka

Way back in November, 1995, at the benefit concert staged in Los Angeles to celebrate Frank Sinatra’s 80th birthday, several of the world’s greatest singers gathered to pay their respects to the Chairman of the Board. By then, Sinatra’s failing health had laid waste to most of his own vocal chops, but he clearly enjoyed being serenaded by dozens of his talented friends, colleagues and much-younger admirers, including Bob Dylan, Bono, Luis Miguel and Bruce Springsteen.

At the time, the thoughts of everyone in the audience were on Sinatra, even as to what he might be making of some of the entertainers asked to perform. He had, after all, been no great fan of rock ’n’ roll, and probably didn’t approve of any male vocalist who didn’t show their respect for an audience by wearing a tux. Even so, everyone was on their best behavior, and careful not to upstage Sinatra on this star-studded evening.

It was left to The Genius, though, to at least suggest that The Voice might not, in fact, have been the coolest cat in the room that night.

After Ray Charles performed his roof-raising rendition of "Old Man River" -- referring, of course, to Sinatra’s long and bountiful career -- many in the audience probably wondered if some ambitious producer would return the favor, by saluting this great musician in kind, in his declining years. I know I did.

In the last couple of decades in his life, Brother Ray -- who died Thursday, in Beverly Hills, at 73 -- certainly didn’t lack for praise, plaques and respect. He was inducted into every major musical Hall of Fame worth mentioning, and his work sang for itself.

Nonetheless, as a seasoned entertainment reporter, I knew that no editor was likely to assign me to write reams of copy on the occasion of his death, or wander too far afield for quotes and anecdotes. Charles would receive all due respect from the editors, but his life wouldn’t be celebrated in the same way Sinatra’s -- or George Harrison’s, for that matter -- would be. That was a given.

(I remember being in the same room as the editors of the Chicago Tribune, as they actually debated whether Sammy Davis Jr.’s obit deserved the same prominence as that of Jim Henson, who died the same day. In the wisdom of the boss, at the time, it was decided that the estimable Muppet master’s obit was more noteworthy than Davis, and, instead of pairing the two, relegated the black artist’s praise to the inner depths of the paper. No one could change the mind of the editor, who, amazingly, was a jazz buff.)

This week, the same sort of thing might be going through the minds of journalists covering the near-hysterics, at least in the media, surrounding the funeral of Ronald Reagan: Will postal workers be similarly encouraged to meditate on the contributions of Jimmy Carter, Gerald Ford. George Bush I and II, and Bill Clinton, during the unscheduled federal holidays announced after their deaths? Will pundits and obit writers ignore their warts … and all?

Imagine how Pope John Paul II felt earlier this week, learning that it was the Gipper -- not him, and all those MTV Europe veejays -- who single-handedly tore down the Berlin Wall, thus liberating tens of millions of souls trapped behind the Iron Curtain. It can be argued that the Vatican did more to defeat international communism, by anointing a little-known prelate from Poland to lead the flock, than all of the voters in the United States put together, in two elections.

Indeed, Ray Charles probably did as much for lifting the veil of tyranny on imprisoned nations as Reagan … no offense, intended. His spirit, courage and, yes, genius were a staple in cultural diplomacy when the future president was hosting Death Valley Days.

Charles faced far more adversity than Reagan and Sinatra -- overt racism, abject poverty and heroin addiction, in addition to blindness from age 5 -- and probably played before as many people. Rather than trash other people’s musical tastes. Charles embraced them all … and made everything sound better. This included R&B, jazz, rock, soul, gospel, blues, pop, Broadway, ad jingles and, perhaps, most notably, country music (for examples, check out this or this, two of dozens of out-of-the-way sites that honor his contributions).

If Charles held any grudges or malice, it was well hidden within a bright and optimistic public face that was as welcome on late-night talk shows as any stage in the world. His music was charged with sexuality ("What'd I Say") and humor ("Hit the Road, Jack"), and his voice had few equals. He was country way before country was cool, or integrated.

"Georgia on My Mind," his chart-topping cover of the Hoagy Carmichael standard, not only was his signature piece, it became Georgia's official state song in 1979. He was an active, if often unaccredited crusaders for civil and human rights in America and South Africa.

To my mind, Charles deserved a Congressional Medal of Honor, if only for giving the world the Raeletts.

Like Sinatra, Charles had a slot machine designed in his honor. It was the first to offer prompts in Braille, and play "America the Beautiful" during the bonus round.

Ray Charles deserves the same kind of media attention that should have been accorded Sinatra and Reagan, in a less exploitative media world. This is to say a lot, but not to the point of self-satire and faux reverence.

He was that important a man and artist. That he won’t receive a tenth of it, doesn’t diminish his life, career and spirit one iota.

- by Gary Dretzka

June 10, 2004

Home | Movie City News | Contact Us
Report broken links and other web problems to Webmaster
©2008. Movie City News, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Movie City Indie and MCG are trademarks of Movie City News.