Part 2 and Part 3 of this lengthy look at "... visiting Detroit" by Rob Moss

Detroit’s musical and cultural legacy to the world has few equals. Forgetting the Motown and associated soul people of the 1960s and beyond for a second, the line up of native sons and daughters is awesome. Jackie Wilson, Aretha Franklin, Little Willie John, Hank Ballard, John Lee Hooker and Della Reese amongst scores of others, pioneered all shades of R&B and Blues throughout the 1950s, the city was a hotbed of jazz, counting luminaries like Kenny Burrell, Marcus Belgrave, Hank Jones within its considerable ranks, at the same period, and many famous white rock and pop figures grew up on its streets – ‘Sonny’ Bono, Alice Cooper, Iggy Pop, Madonna, Bill Haley, Mitch Ryder, Bob Seger to name a few. And lest we forget, Eminem and a whole posse of Detroit rappers currently fly the city’s ‘musical’ flag. Added to this is the quite amazing list of Detroiters who found fame and fortune in other areas of endeavour. Ex President Gerald Ford, ‘missing’union leader Jimmy Hoffa, General Custer, Rosa Parks, Charles Lindbergh, Francis Ford Coppola and actors Steven Seagal, Charlton Heston, Tom Selleck, Jeff Daniels and Robert Wagner, all hail from Detroit and its environs. Little wonder then that, with a modicum of organization and structure, it was possible to exploit the rich and diverse musical heritage that abounded, and create the surge of commercial success that enveloped the city in the 1960s.

During its industrial and artistic zenith in the mid 1960s, Detroit’s population topped 1.2 million, automobile production reached unprecedented levels and the city flourished. Then, like the Aztec Empire and many other great dynasties throughout history, the flames came and the city went into decline. In this case, it was the Detroit riots of 1967 that signaled the beginning of a gradual migration away from the city, particularly by whites, and reduced the population to around only 800,000 by 2004.This was accompanied by a gradual decline in car demand which reduced employment levels too. Yet the quantity and quality of Detroit music productions did not recede – quite the contrary. Led by Motown, local companies continued to flourish on a local, national and international basis well into the mid 1970s. The vast number of clubs, bars, cinemas, theatres plus recording facilities which still honeycomb the city is testament to the level of creativity, innovation and plain old entertainment that existed within its boundaries during those ‘glory’ years. Although many of the buildings of interest to soul fans have either disappeared, changed purpose or deteriorated over the years, Detroit is still a fascinating place to visit – assuming, of course, you can find your way around. One of the first people Mike Terry introduced me to was Frank ‘Just Brother’ Bryant, who was extremely helpful with both information and directions. He showed me where the famed United Sound Studio was located (surprisingly close to Hitsville) and accompanied me on a tour of the studios inside, where we met Frank Garcia and Will Davis (Don’s brother) who both provided precious insights into recording techniques, studio assignation and historical chronology. United has a spacious ground floor studio, suitable for orchestra and/or big band recording, and a much smaller one on the first floor. It is the latter that was used for most of the 1960s recordings, mainly because it was less expensive, but also because it was much more accessible in the early hours of the morning. With a little imagination, the odd photo and some first hand recollections, Will, Frank and Frank brought those bygone recording sessions into clear view. The Gold and Platinum discs that adorned the walls also provided a salutary reminder of the huge number of hits and non-hits that were made there. 

The names Al Kent, Ronnie Savoy and Rob Reeco are frequently credited on Detroit records, either as artists, writers, producers or arrangers, predominantly Ric Tic, and Golden World productions, but many others too. They are, in fact, all brothers and share the surname Hamilton – Albert, Chico and Robert respectively. To visit the family home on the west side of the city and chat to Al was a most inspiring and illuminating experience, and one I repeated several times over the years. We sat out on an expansive, elevated first floor balcony that was level with the tree line and perfectly located to see all the comings and goings of the street below. This, it transpired, was the special place where he had written most of his songs, usually in the early hours when he couldn’t sleep. I was fascinated by the process of songwriting and pushed him to enlighten me further, both generally and specifically. When he shared credits on songs, usually with either his ex wife Norma Toney, his brothers or favoured partners like Hermon Weems or Richard Morris, it was because they had amended or added something to the substantive song he had already completed. It was rare that he would suggest additions to other people’s songs. Norma Toney would usually assist with lyrics rather than melody, having, as Al put it “…a woman’s sensitivity and a poet’s awareness”. Weems and Morris also tended to contribute more to lyrical reworkings, particularly if a recent or local colloquialism could be utilized in verse, or assistance was required on the introductory first few seconds of the recording.

Great emphasis was given to creating an easily distinguishable hook at the start of a song so that the listener would be able to recognize it immediately. Al reminisced fondly about the success of this method and effect the secret agent/ James Bond theme had on their writing particularly on songs like ‘S.O.S.’, ‘Agent Double O Soul’ ‘Headline news’ and the Alvin Stone album with the Fantastic Four. Like many others, he had a special affection for the Fantastic Four, and the golden voice of lead singer ‘Sweet’ James Epps, and confessed that his most enjoyable sessions were with the group. The bulk of his songs were given to them. When the subject of his own vocals, and ‘The way you’ve been acting lately’ in particular, was broached, he became far less serious. The only reason that he sang himself was because he couldn’t afford to pay a vocalist! On the same theme, I asked him what Edwin Starr’s writing contribution to S.O.S. was, as he is clearly credited on the record. Writing credits were often used as ‘currency’ at that time, and this is what happened on this occasion, in lieu of immediate payment. As it turned out, the song was a major hit and would have earned Edwin Starr far more writing royalties than an initial singing pay off. Al Kent’s reputation and notoriety around Detroit led to him connecting me up with many other people, several of whom actually came to visit him while I was there. Because his brother Chico (Ronnie Savoy) lived in the same house, he made an appearance after a time and producer/ songwriter Don Mancha arrived not long afterwards.

 With sixties Detroit tunes playing in the background, it wasn’t long before more anecdotes, memories and stories were exchanged. The mention of Ed Wingate’s name incited a mixture of disdain and grudging respect from all three. Chico remembered when their older brother Robert first came up with the idea of building a studio, how he had scouted the location and begun construction and how he had brought ‘Mr’ Wingate in to the operation to finance the venture. Ed Wingate was a successful businessman in Detroit, having built the now legendary Twenty Grand motel and entertainment complex, and set up City Cab, the oldest black owned taxi company in America, during the early 1960s. Although he had initially agreed not to involve himself directly in musical matters or recording decisions, choosing to leave that to the professionals, this soon changed. His life long partner, Joanne Bratton and he began to involve themselves in production decisions, even though they had little musical background or technical talent, which caused consternation and resentment among many of the producers, arrangers and songwriters. This interference would ultimately lead to all three Hamilton brothers leaving Golden World forever. Bob Hamilton was murdered not long afterwards in an unrelated domestic incident. Ronnie Savoy does not hide his bitterness to the shabby way he feels Wingate treated them especially considering who began the whole enterprise in the first place. Wingate also made lots of money from nefarious activities in and around Detroit’s gambling community, and was anxious to wisely invest the large amounts of cash he frequently carried on his person (along with a Smith and Wesson protection kit) in the recording industry, or other cash friendly endeavours. It was no surprise that he was very popular with musicians and singers because he would always pay them, in cash, after each session. Many of the musicians who were supposed to be under contract at Motown, would frequently sneak over to Golden World to play on Wingate’s sessions. If they were found out and ‘fined’ by Berry Gordy, Wingate would often pay the fines for them too. The entire operation, including ownership of the recording facility, the Myto publishing arm, a host of labels, including Golden World, Ric Tic and Wingate, and the contracts of the artists, including JJ Barnes, Edwin Starr, Fantastic Four, was sold to Wingate’s ‘mentor, Berry Gordy Junior in 1966 for a six figure sum. Interesting that, when the sale was announced, Joanne Bratton was named as ‘President’ of the company. Prior to his recent death in May, 2006, he remained tight lipped about his time at Golden World, choosing to decline repeated requests for interviews.

Visiting Detroit part 3 by Rob Moss

Considering the immense size of the country, Americans travel huge distances for work, play and pleasure. Chicago is over four hours drive from Detroit, yet the natives drive it as though it were a local hop. It was not uncommon during the sixties for local artists and/or musicians to drive there, record a song or two, or perform a concert, and return either the same day or the day after. Similar priorities applied to New York, Buffalo, Toronto and Cleveland. This explains the high quality of American motorways, and the preponderance of Interstate Highways between, and within, major centres. It also shows how easy it was for other record companies to send their artists or producers to Detroit in the hope of capturing some of the ‘magic’ being created there. Conversely, local musicians were recruited to do the same in other cities. Driving around Detroit is relatively easy once familiarity with the main arterial roads has been mastered. Traveling ‘as the crow flies’ is wrought with time-consuming futility of effort. It becomes easier to understand how certain musicians and producers could attend so many sessions on the same day, in different studios, once experience of the city’s geography is gained. A detailed map is essential, and journey planning is strongly advised. God only knows how the wide eyed soul boys from England, who visited Detroit several years ago, managed to negotiate their way around the city using buses and taxis only. It must have cost them a fortune in time and money.

Greater Detroit includes the city itself and many townships and suburbs that lie outside its boundaries. Woodward Avenue stretches north from the downtown core to the metropolitan outskirts almost twenty miles away. It runs through the center of the city creating a physical and cultural divide. The west side is regarded as being more up-market, middle class and relatively safe, while the east side contains more welfare housing, deprived neighbourhoods and challenging environments. Both sides are not threatening during the daylight hours, but change after dark. Unless you are trying to find Eminem and his homies, it’s probably best to stay west of Woodward once the sun has set. I once expressed some trepidation to a well-known producer, on one of my first visits, about entering predominantly black areas to seek out former stars. His response was immediate and forthright. “A white man with short hair – no problem, everyone will think you are a cop.” He later confessed to be ‘packing’ for his own protection. When I suddenly stopped the car to see if there were any records in a ‘yard sale’, in front of a large house we were passing, he became very animated. “You gotta stop doing that man! If anyone has had trouble with the cops and believes you were apprehending them, there could be big trouble.” Message received and understood.

Notwithstanding any misplaced security fears (and with ‘police’ protection), I soon learnt to ignore the puzzled stares encountered on many home visits. Just Brother Frank Bryant proved to an invaluable source of information on a wide variety of people and places around the city, and he led me to many of his former colleagues and co conspirators, from both behind and in front of the microphone. One of the most interesting was his childhood buddy Willie Kendrick who seemed genuinely shocked to learn that anyone was interested in his music, and took great delight in playing my tape of his RCA records to his mother, who, I presumed, had never ever heard them. The story of how he joined the Just Brothers, recorded with them for Johnny Nash’s Joda set up in New York, only for it to come out with someone else’s vocal on it, and then sign for Jack Ashford’s Pied Piper outfit, while the brothers went with HDH, and stories about those recordings in RCA’s studios in Chicago, had me spellbound. The other key player in the same saga was Johnny Terry, who ‘managed’ the Just Brothers and had set up the deal with Nash. Frank took me over to his palatial house, formerly owned by his brother in law Eddie Holland, one autumn afternoon. His story is a microcosm of the greater development of black music in the modern age. As an inmate of the Georgia Juvenile Correctional Institute, he met two young innovators who would go on to achieve worldwide fame – Bobby Byrd and James Brown. It was Terry’s pen that wrote ‘Please, please, please’ to give Brown his first hit in 1959, and launch a career that only recently ended. His talent as a singer led to a three year stint with the Drifters, between 1963 and 1966, with whom he recorded some of their most famous songs, including ‘Saturday night at the movies’, ‘Under the boardwalk’, ‘At the club’,’I’ll take you where the music’s playing’ and many others.

During this period, he began to produce records with various artists and musicians in Detroit, including a throwaway B side instrumental, which would eventually prove to be the most lucrative creation of his career. ‘Sliced tomatoes’ was recorded at United Sound Studios by a hastily assembled group of musicians that included Richard ’Pistol’ Allen, Eddie Willis, Joe Hunter and Jimmy and Frank Bryant, collectively named The Just Brothers. Although it wasn’t successful on initial release, it gained considerable attention when re issued on HDH’s Music Merchant label in 1972. Terry’s contacts in New York allowed him to broker deals on recordings he had overseen in Detroit on artists like Jack Montgomery, The Honey Bees and Just Brothers but, although they were of the highest quality and are much revered today, all failed to garner sufficient sales. His career faltered significantly in 1967, when he reneged on a deal and was ‘blackballed’ by local music types, before being arrested during the Detroit riots.

The recipient of Terry’s miscreance was ace songwriter Don Juan Mancha, who I met at Al Kent’s house, and who provided a great deal of pertinent insight and information about the Detroit recording scene. Having worked in New York with Luther Dixon on songs like ‘She said goodbye’, which he wrote for Billy Hambric, ‘Mama’s gonna whip ya’ on the Luv Bugs, and countless others, Mancha found his way to Detroit and began free lance writing projects. At Thelma Records he wrote for Emanuel Laskey (‘Peace loving man’ ‘Sweet lies’), Billy Kennedy (‘Groovy generation’ ‘Sweet things’) and Martha Star (‘Love is the only solution’), whilst at Golden World he worked with The Adorables, Freddie Gorman and Rose Battiste, amongst others. He agreed a production deal with Johnny Terry in 1966, and provided songs for Jack Montgomery (‘Dearly beloved’ ‘Don’t turn your back on me’) Just Brothers (‘Carlena’) and Honey Bees (‘Let’s get back together’). His partner and financial provider during that time was a local ‘businessman’ by the name of Don Montgomery. It was his surname and JFK’s nickname ‘Jack’ that changed Marvin Jones professional personae for good. Through a deal negotiated via Johnny Terry with Scepter Records in New York, three songs were recorded on Jack Montgomery. Two were released, ‘Dearly beloved’ b/w ‘Do you believe’ on Scepter, but the third was illicitly taken by Terry for negotiation elsewhere, where it eventually gained a release on Revue Records as ’Baby take a chance on me’ b/w Instrumental. Despite Don Montgomery’s desire to administer a ‘spanking’, Mancha opted to ostracize him and the artist (Jack Montgomery had elected to join Terry) choosing to disclose details of the incident publicly.

Jack Montgomery’s career went into a steep decline, which culminated in his murder in his north Detroit apartment several years later, after a drug deal turned nasty. Mancha continued to write and produce records for many different artists nationwide, including ‘Nutbush city limits’ for Ike and Tina Turner. His surname found fame when he provided it as the pseudonym for one Clyde Wilson, better known as ‘Steve Mancha’, when it was decided that his real name was ‘too black’ for public consumption. According to Don, one of names they considered for Wilson was ‘Corey Strickland’. ‘Friday night’ and ‘Did my baby call’ wouldn’t have quite sounded the same. Don Mancha provided a fascinating insight into the way many small labels were financed in the 1960s, when he explained how criminal elements frequently funded such endeavours. It became expedient for producers to use this source as it was almost always in cash, and came quickly. Profit sharing and money laundering aside, the artistic struggle marched on unabated.

One of the artists Don Mancha worked with at Thelma was Billy Kennedy. Frank Bryant had kept in touch with him over the years, and willingly took me to see him perform with his band one night, over the Detroit river, in Windsor, Canada. He had completely forgotten ‘Groovy generation’ and ‘Sweet things’ but listened to them again, excitedly. Memories of his time with Emanuel Laskey on the ‘live’ Thelma reviews, and their time ‘hanging out’ at the Twenty Grand returned and he remembered how he had signed with the label in the first place.He first met Emanuel Laskey at a bakery where they both worked. Laskey had introduced him to label owners, Mr. And Mrs. Coleman, who were sufficiently impressed with him to offer a contract. His only Thelma release was initially popular in the Detroit area, but suffered by having both sides played at the same time on radio, DJs not knowing which song to focus on. He had written a great deal of material over the years and had continued to perform. The show stuck to soul standards and blues songs, which were delivered with inspired fervour. Within six months of our meeting I received news that he had passed away. Don Mancha’s writing partner at Thelma was Clarence ‘Clay’ McMurray, who had owned and operated his own Red Cap label while still at high school, and would go on to become a staff producer at Motown. Meeting him was a tremendous privilege and led to the creation of my own small label, inspired, to a large degree, by the unreleased material he had recorded decades before. It was too good to be left to gather dust on a shelf somewhere in the safety of west side Detroit.

Rob Moss