'Soooouuul Train'
Comments (...)It was with heavy heart that I recently read of the passing of Mr. Don Cornelius. Back in the formative days of my youth — while all my friends were imagining themselves as Pete Rose or Joe Namath or John Havlicek, I would sit in my room under cover of darkness and dream of one day having the ability to exude coolness on the level of Don Cornelius. That's right ... an almost translucently pale, Midwestern farm boy, lil' Charlie Mason imagined himself as the ultra hip, afro-sporting, bell bottom wearing black host of "Soul Train."
Up to that point in my life, the musical environment I was immersed in had consisted mostly of old scratchy country and western records: Buck Owens and George Jones and Johnny Cash and Merle Haggard. There was also whatever little music-themed programming that was available on the three TV stations we received (sometimes four, if the weather was right). On Saturday mornings, after returning home from grocery shopping, we’d plunk down and watch the Monkees make bad puns and sing “Last Train to Clarksville” for what seemed like the 700th time. Then there was "Lawrence Welk" with the caterwauling Irish tenor in the background and the overly joyous tap dancing guy, or "Hee Haw," which now that I look back, had some great musical segments. (At that time though, I was beside myself with anticipation for Junior Sample to do his “BR-549” spot).
I occasionally caught the “white kids dance show,” yet never found Dick Clark’s "American Bandstand" to be an indispensable, must see program. Dick always sort of creeped me out anyway. He was much too calm for a rock show host, and he exhibited a disconcerting niceness to the teens — a trait that these days would immediately earn you a spot on some police watch list. Every now and then, if I managed to stay awake long enough, and kept the volume at a nearly inaudible level (so as not to wake anyone), I could enjoy "Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert" or "The Midnight Special with Wolfman Jack," who they say had mellowed considerably from his border radio days.
But the musical epiphany, that one moment which changed everything, came on the day I happened upon Don and his "Soul Train" show. That voice, a deep baritone, dug into my soul in a way few had before. He was Mr. Smooth, Mr. Streetwise, a well-spoken hipster in a patchwork jacket and tinted glasses. Don’s “cool,” at times, came through stronger than the broadcast signals picked up by the cheap rooftop antenna. Most of my pre-teen peer group would have noted Billy Jack or Fonzie as the pinnacle of the coolness mountain. They were simply no match for Don.
Then there was the music — soulful and funky and oftentimes possessing that certain “something” you just couldn’t find in other genres. There were The Bar-Kays, James Brown, the Ohio Players, Parliament-Funkadelic, Earth, Wind and Fire, Mandrill, and Sly and The Family Stone. Horn driven, bass heavy funk bands would be followed by the soulful strains of Al Green or Marvin Gaye. Mr. Cornelius had provided the key to unlock the gate to my inner peace and happiness.
All these years later, through life experiences endured and the usual array of human ups and downs, I’ve found that absolutely nothing can lift a mood or relieve a burden quite like drawing the blinds, playing “Holy Ghost” from the Bar-Kays or James Brown’s “Get Up Offa That Thing” at heartbeat altering levels, and pretending I’m in a "Soul Train" line from 1974.
Thanks Don, we’re gonna miss you.
Chuck Mason, a self-described opinionated wiseguy, resides in Princeton. He can be reached at chuckthebluzguy@msn.com.
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You have to put down billy jack and fonzie way to ruin your letter. REAL COOL BRO! |
