Nancy Wilson and Me…

It's all natural. I was taken to singing lessons but the teacher told my mom that my voice would soon change, so lessons would be a waste. But my voice didn't change. The confident attitude didn't change either.
Nancy Wilson

“Little” Jimmy Scott, I used to love how he made one word sound like three, just bending the notes. I heard him when I was ten, when he was with Lionel Hampton’s band. Jimmy is from Cleveland, and my father had his early records like The Show Must Go On and Everybody’s Somebody’s Fool. We are very much soulmates as far as the lyric and delivering them is concerned. In 1966, I recorded a song that I had never heard Jimmy sing. It was “I Wish I Didn’t Love You So.” When I finally heard his 1962 version some years later, I realized that our intros and the first fifteen bars were identical. We had approached the song the exact same way. We feel the same way about songs.
Nancy Wilson and the influence of “Little” Jimmy Scott

***The Swingin’s Mutual (1961) signed by Nancy***

I met Cannonball Adderley in 1958. Talk about a cliche, I met him on the corner of 52nd Street and Broadway. I was still with Rusty Bryant. The band was in New York to record before heading up to Buffalo. Rusty and I were walking down the street when we ran into Cannon. Rusty and Cannon knew each other, the three of us talked for awhile. Cannon said his band was breaking up, (his brother) Nat was going with Lionel Hampton and Cannon was going with Miles Davis. Soon after meeting Cannon, I saw him again in Columbus, Ohio. Rusty and I were playing at a club there called Marty’s 502, Cannon played there with Miles.

Nancy Wilson
It was a great time. I was having a ball, especially after I really caught on in 1964. That was the year of my popular live album (The Nancy Wilson Show) and How Glad I Am. my biggest hit. At that point, I looked back and realized how lucky I had been over four and half short years, recording on Capitol and with George Shearing, Cannonball (Adderley). Ronnell Bright, Jimmy Jones, Gerald Wilson and everyone. It doesn't get better than that.

Nancy Wilson on her 1960s Capitol recordings

I was trying to pull audiences together, to make people see that harmony wasn't that hard, that being black or white made no difference. My message was about artistry, and my audience was made up of people. I had no idea who was in the camera lens or in a darkened club. They were just people who wanted me to do my best. I was completely comfortable, and they became comfortable. Music can do that. It can change the way people feel and think.

Nancy Wilson

***How Glad I Am (1964) signed by Nancy***

Nancy Wilson, a wonderful singer and elegant song stylist, glides effortlessly between blues, jazz and pop. With her flawless diction and impeccable phrasing, she won three Grammys, an Emmy for her TV variety show, and released over seventy albums in her storied and lengthy career, including an astounding forty-seven records in her nearly twenty year association with Capitol Records (1960-1979). Oh yeah, and she’s incredibly beautiful too!

Nancy remembered the rigors of recording at Capitol, "We all did it at Capitol Records - Nat Cole, Peggy Lee, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Dakota Staton. Every six months, you were in the studio recording... It took only three days to make an album then. I would pick the songs with (producer)John (Levy) and (arranger) Dave (Cavanaugh), then I'd hear the chart for the first time at 8pm on a Wednesday night or whenever we'd record. The band would run it down, that would be the first time I heard how it would sound. Then we'd record three songs a night over three days." Nancy makes it sound so easy, but it took an incredible amount of skill, preparation and, even, some luck. There was no rehearsing, “I’d just pick up a chart and sing it. I would know the melody lines to the songs I picked in advance... I would listen to demos of the songs and have the words and melody down. I was always extremely prepared before I entered the studio. I knew the material, but my approach on a song - how I would phrase the notes, tell the story - was always decided on the spot after hearing the arrangement.”

***Just For Now (1967) signed by Nancy***

Born in Chillicothe, Ohio, a small town forty-five miles south of Columbus, Nancy grew up singing in the church. As she said, "I wasn't allowed to sing in my mother's church because I liked to sing songs like 'Margie', 'Street Of Dreams' and 'The Nearness Of You,' so I went over to the Methodist Church to sing in its choir. By the time I was ten years old, I was the choir's lead singer." Her natural talents were extraordinary, so extraordinary that by the time she was fifteen, she had her own local television show, "At the time, there was a citywide talent contest in Columbus. I was sent to represent my school. But when I auditioned at radio station WTVN and they heard me, I was asked not to participate. They wanted to have a contest and felt that if I were included, I would run away with it. They gave me a TV show, I sang on the air twice a week. I was fifteen years old. The stage never bothered me, I enjoyed it. On TV, viewers would write in asking me to dedicate a song to someone. I was on the air fifteen minutes twice a week, after the news. The show was called Skyline Melody."

An invaluable experience for a precocious teen, Nancy had plans to finish college, but after one year at Central State College in Ohio, the lure and siren call of performing was too great. Nancy left school to join Rusty Bryant’s band and toured extensively with him, honing her craft. A chance meeting in New York introduced her to Cannonball Adderley who, in turn, introduced her to John Levy, a powerful agent and producer who represented top artists like Ahmad Jamal, Ramsey Lewis, George Shearing and Dakota Staton.

Nancy recalled her break after moving in 1959 to New York City, "I would hang out at this club in the Bronx called The Blue Morocco with my roommate Sonya La Forte, who sang with Johnny Hammond Smith. Irene Reid was the house singer. I sat in with the band a few times. One day, Irene broke her leg, so the club called me to replace her... To get John Levy up there to hear me perform, I thought the impact would be stronger if John saw and heard me, rather than just sending him a demo tape." Nancy's instincts were remarkable and correct, as John Levy was suitably impressed by her performance and they maintained a professional relationship for the entirety of Nancy's nearly fifty year recording career, and sold millions of records.

***A Touch Of Today (1966) signed by Nancy***

On a personal note, I am extremely grateful for Nancy's largesse and generosity in helping kickstart my great friend Gary Stromberg's PR career and subsequent role as a movie impresario. I asked Gary for a paragraph or two explaining this connection. Thankfully, my strict adherence to "less is more" does not apply to Gary, and his words follow:

“In my mid-twenties, I was a carefree young hipster hanging out on the Sunset Strip exploring the evolving world of sex, drugs and rock n roll, LA style. Clubs like the infamous Whisky-A-Go-Go, Pandora's Box and The Trip ere beginning to spring up on every block. The streets flowed with the bodies of zonked out hippies, believing in a new world order. Nobody I knew had a job, unless you called playing music or dealing pot and hallucinogens work. Staying high and getting laid was pretty much all I cared about. I knew my prolonged adolescence wouldn't last forever and I'd eventually have to grow up and get a real job, but I was in no hurry.

I was living at the time on Havenhurst Avenue in West Hollywood in a rather run-down apartment building with a faux art deco exterior, and one long poorly lit central hallway on each of its two floors. The occupants of these one-bedroom run-down pads were people like me. Floaters! Across the hall from me lived Judy; single, sexy and eager to catch a break. Not sure what she wanted from life, but she was open to suggestions.

One late afternoon, Judy barged into my place, with an urgent request for a favor. Seems she was cruising through the famous Schwab's Drugstore on Sunset Blvd. minding her own business when this guy sidled up next to her and started a conversation. He seemed friendly enough so she listened. He said he was buying something for his wife and needed help in making a selection. They talked for a few minutes and as Judy started to leave, the guy said, "Hey I have an idea... why don't you come over to my house and have dinner with me and my wife tonight? My name is Kenny Dennis and I'm married to jazz singer Nancy Wilson, and we are having a few friends over for dinner tonight and it would be great if you could come!"

Judy told me she believed the guy was who he said he was, but she didn't want to go alone, and Kenny said it would be cool if she brought someone. I don't know if I believed the story or not, but what I did hear was 'free meal' and that was enough for me to agree to go with her. After Judy put on her thrift store best to make herself look good, and I put on my cleanest dirty shirt, we piled into my old "keep your fingers crossed" red 1960 Triumph convertible, and off we went. The address Judy had written down was in a ritzy section of Los Angeles where most of the well-to-do black entertainers lived, called Baldwin Hills. We jokingly referred to it as the James Baldwin Hills.

My car barely made it up to the top of a steep hill where stood a very large, expansive one story ranch style home, popular in the 60’s. Kenny met us in the driveway, dressed in jazz musician chic and cautioned us about the Doberman we would encounter when he ushered us into the house. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “The dog is well trained.” As we walked up the driveway I looked for a rock I could put in my pocket, just in case!

As it turned out, Judy and I were the only invited guests, but Kenny explained that he didn’t think we’d come if we thought we were the only invitees for the evening. The spacious house contained some very impressive furnishings and contemporary art. Nancy soon made a graceful entrance down a circular stairway, which looked like a scene from some 1940’s movie. It all seemed a bit strange to me, but what the hell, this was quite a joint, and Nancy and Kenny were a very big deal to Judy and I.

Dinner, which Nancy proudly claimed she prepared herself was delicious, and the conversation flowed easily. Kenny seemed intent on talking with Judy, which left Nancy free to converse with me. It was hard not to be star-struck by this beautiful woman, whose voice and musical talent I was in awe of.

At some point in the conversation Nancy asked me what I did for a living, which was a question I was hoping she wouldn’t ask. “I’m between jobs,” I think I responded, hoping to change the subject. Nancy persisted. “I might be able to get you an internship with my PR company. I could make a call if you’re interested.”

The following week I was sitting in the swanky Beverly Hills office of Gene Schwam, President of Hanson & Schwam, one of the biggest and most prestigious entertainment business PR agencies. Gene was Nancy’s publicist and friend. The office was a beehive of activity. Probably a dozen people engaged in all kinds of office stuff. Fancy people; men in suits and ties, women in nice dresses. I was out of my league.

Gene seemed genuinely interested in me, I guessed because Nancy was his client, and he wanted to honor the favor she asked of him. I don’t remember the interview but the end result was Gene offered me a job, a chance really. I mentioned to him that I didn’t own any suits, so I didn’t know if he would allow me to work there. “No worries” Gene said, and the next day when I showed up at the office, I was presented with three expensive looking suits, which Gene probably removed from the rear of his closet, three dress shirts with Gene’s initials sewn into a cuff. GS it said, which just so happened to be my initials. A few silk ties completed my new wardrobe. I couldn’t believe my luck.

My job was to shadow Gene, doing whatever he asked of me, and picking up what the PR business was all about. I’m a quick study, so I made rapid progress at H&S, and loved the feeling I got sporting my new duds. I could tell Gene liked how I handled myself and encouraged me to keep learning.”

I don't think that Nancy Wilson ever really knew the full extent of her influence, or what she unleashed. That small dinner party helped launch one of the most successful and heralded careers in public relations in entertainment history. To wit, The Doors and Jim Morrison probably don’t get signed by Elektra Records, The 1974 Concert in Zaire, which preceded the Ali-Foreman Rumble In The Jungle, with James Brown, Celia Cruz and The Spinners doesn’t happen, and, most significant of all, Car Wash, one of the cinematic triumphs of the 20th century, doesn’t get made. Yes, aside from her music, Nancy left an indelible and lasting mark on culture and the arts.

***Goin’ Out Of My Head (1966 recordings) signed by Nancy***

Erin and I saw Nancy many times over the years. She was always so exquisitely dressed and elegant. Her shows were like theatrical performances with humorous banter amidst the drama of her torch songs, especially "Guess Who I Saw Today?", the ultimate lying, cheater's song. As she once remarked, "I was always aware that there was an audience out there and that, as a performer, I had to make a warm connection. Audiences want to see a song as well as hear it. That's why I've always enjoyed performing in smaller venues. People can see all of me there."

There was always a warm connection when we saw Nancy in small venues like Blues Alley in Washington, DC and the Blue Note in New York City. After the shows, Nancy was kind and generous while she signed, and she was impressed with the quality and condition. “Wow, this record is in very good shape, you must take very good care of it," she said, as she inscribed The Swingin’s Mutual with George Shearing to our daughter Kendall. When I gave her How I Am Today, her signature hit, she flipped it over to look at the song titles, "Yes, this was an important record for me, there's some very good songs on here.” “Especially the way you sing them,” I added. She complimented me, “You know, you have a very nice collection of music here. Thank you for sharing them.” It was an interesting response given how little time she spent listening to her own recordings. As she said later in an interview, “I just don’t have an appetite for it. It kind of gets on my nerves when I go to someone’s house and they think they’re doing me a favor by playing my records for me. I have all that music in my head. I don’t have to hear it again. I know the charts, I can hear them playing and me singing.” Fortunately, the rest of us mere mortals can listen and revel in all her musical glories.

***Broadway-My Way (1963) signed by Nancy***

Nancy Wilson, a gracious and elegant performer who influenced many in her storied career. It’s not a straight line from her to Ray Charles to The Doors to Muhammad Ali to Car Wash to Travis Scott, but maybe it is?!

Hope our paths cross soon, and thanks G for your words.