May the Godfather rest his soul

2/6/2007

“I don’t know karate, but I know crazy.”- James Brown
Soul Brother Number One. Mr. Dynamite. The Hardest Working Man in Show Business. Minister of The New New Super Heavy Funk. Mr. Please Please Himself...
Man, do I miss the Godfather of Soul, James Brown.
The master of funk music, renowned for his shouting vocals, feverish dancing and long and intense concerts, scored hits in every decade from the 1950s through the 1980s. He often worked himself to the point of exhaustion in concert, usually losing several pounds and requiring glucose injections and oxygen to recover afterwards.
Love him or hate him, James Brown is universally recognized as one of the most influential figures in modern music. He was one of the first inductees into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and Rolling Stone magazine ranked him #7 on its list of the100 Greatest Artists of All Time.
James Brown died a month ago, on Christmas Day, and still has yet to be laid to rest. His burial, or lack thereof, is just another strange twist in the long and winding web of craziness that was James Brown’s extraordinary life.
Brown was raised by his aunt in a brothel, picked cotton and shined shoes, and was jailed at 16 for armed robbery. He was married four times and, from these and other relationships, fathered five sons and three daughters. He was arrested more than once for drug possession, assault, and domestic violence, and was even accused of charging at an electric company repairman with a steak knife.
My favourite James Brown misadventure is the tragic tale of how he unleashed his mighty wrath on a few poor souls who were using his bathrooms without permission.
In 1988, James stormed into an office building he owned in Augusta, Georgia, carrying a pistol and a shotgun. A class was in session, and Soul Brother Number One ordered everyone out. Witnesses said Brown looked dishevelled and mumbled incoherently about people using his bathrooms. He raised his guns, locked the bathrooms in question, and fled the scene in a pick-up truck.
The police gave chase and eventually shot out two of the truck’s tires, but Brown continued driving on the naked steel rims for more six miles, before crashing into a ditch.
The singer maintained he was only protecting his property. “Well, I came to my office, and I found somebody using my bathroom facilities without my consent,” he said.
Mr. Please Please pled guilty to 11 charges, and was sentenced to six years in prison. He served two.
Today, the real reason the Hardest Working Man in Show Business has become the longest lingering man in a casket is rather simple. His children want to get rich.
Apparently, the kids are planning to put the body in a mausoleum, and convert the singer's South Carolina home into a museum that would include his grave. Family members plan to consult with the Elvis Presley family on how they opened Graceland, Presley's mansion in Memphis.
Graceland attracts 600,000 visitors each year, and has made more money for Elvis in death than he made while alive. You might say, James still has some work to do.