TERRY GROSS, HOST:
This is FRESH AIR. I'm Terry Gross. Today we continue our archive series R&B, rockabilly and early rock 'n' roll with the late R&B singer Ruth Brown. She was one of Atlantic Records' first hitmakers. In the '50s, she was their most prolific and bestselling performer. She recorded over 80 songs for the label between 1949 and '62. She later sued the label for royalties. Her best-known records include "Teardrops From My Eyes," "5-10-15 Hours," "(Mama) He Treats Your Daughter Mean" and "Lucky Lips."
Ruth Brown made a comeback in the '80s when she starred in the Broadway revue "Black And Blue," for which she won a Tony Award. She also co-starred in John Waters' 1988 film "Hairspray" as Motormouth Maybelle. In 1993, Brown was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. She died in 2006. She was 78. I spoke with her in 1997. Let's start with her 1953 recording of "(Mama) He Treats Your Daughter Mean," a song she initially didn't want to record, but it went on to become one of her biggest hits.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "(MAMA) HE TREATS YOUR DAUGHTER MEAN")
RUTH BROWN: (Singing) Mama, he treats your daughter mean. Mama, he treats your daughter mean. Mama, he treats your daughter mean. He's the meanest man I've ever seen. Mama, he treats me badly, makes me love him madly. Mama, he takes my money, makes me call him honey. Mama, he can't be trusted, makes me so disgusted. All of my friends say they don't understand what's the matter with this man. I tell you, Mama, he treats your daughter mean.
(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED NPR CONTENT)
GROSS: You started singing in church. What was the church, and what was the music?
BROWN: Well, that was the rule, you know. My dad and coming from a Southern family - I don't know. I wouldn't say that because it was a Southern family that was the norm, but I think that practically any R&B artist and most of us of my ethnic persuasion started singing in the church. If indeed at all you did have any kind of a talent, the understanding was it was something that was God-given, and you had to give that back. And so my father insisted that if I didn't sing in the church, I was not going to sing at all, you know? And then there were those churchgoing persons who, for whatever the reason, said that what we were trying to do outside the church was the devil's music, you know?
GROSS: Which you liked a lot, right?
BROWN: So the devil got credit for a lot of good stuff. I tell you, he did.
(LAUGHTER)
BROWN: Yeah.
GROSS: So what kind of singing did you do in church?
BROWN: Well, I was sort of twisted between - my father's church was Methodist, and they have sort of just flat-footed, inspirational spirituals I call it. I mean, people just didn't jump up and down and shout and show their joy in the Methodist church. But now, on the other hand, in the summer when I went to North Carolina - which is where my mother's people were - to work in sharecrop in the fields in the summer, we went to a Baptist church, and it was totally different. It was so joyous. And on the other side, if it wasn't joyous, it was so depressing. You know, there were songs like, sit down, sinner. You better sit down. Sit down, sinner. You better sit down. You ain't going to heaven, so you better sit down. If that didn't take your spirit away...
GROSS: (Laughter).
BROWN: ...Nothing did, you know? And then on the other hand, you had, I got shoes, and you got shoe. All God's children got shoes. When I get to heaven, going to put on my shoes, dance all over God's heaven.
GROSS: Another exposure to music you had was when you were in North Carolina for the summers, working in the cotton fields.
BROWN: Yeah.
GROSS: A lot of people sang and shouted there. Sing me some of the things you heard in the cotton fields.
BROWN: Oh, my goodness. "Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child" and "Oh, Lord, Have Mercy On Me."
(Singing) Oh, Lord, have mercy on me. Oh, Lord, have mercy. Have mercy on me. When the world's on fire, when the world's on fire, when the world's on fire, Lord, have mercy, mercy on me.
And then there was, like, (singing) this little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine. This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine. This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.
GROSS: Did you sing yourself when you were working in the fields?
BROWN: Oh, occasionally. But I think that by that time, I had started to listen on the radios back in Virginia and hear some things that I wanted to really get into musically. Of course, I was exposed, first of all, to country and western before anything else, you know? And then after country and western, the war years, I listened to, like, the Andrews Sisters and Bing Crosby and Vaughn Monroe.
GROSS: This is on the radio?
BROWN: Oh, this is radio. Oh, yeah. Well, radio's always been the intermediary, you know, and one thing about radio was that it was one of the reasons that rhythm and blues, as I knew it, eventually turned into rock 'n' roll. There had to be a change because what the kids were hearing - they had the privilege of turning that dial, listening to whatever they wanted to listen to without seeing the color of your skin or who you were or what you looked like. And they were dancing to the music.
Just like in a lot of other things, this had to make some changes because now it was going to be something that was exposed. People were dancing, even though they had ropes down in the center of the barnyards and all. When I played the dances, the ropes fell down lots of times, and the white kids and Black kids danced together. Nobody said a thing about it until some big official, a sheriff or something, would come up and say, stop the music and put the ropes back in place. So the music itself had already started to become the common denominator, you know? I've seen - long before Doctor King and everybody started their marches and protests, which eventually we knew would happen. But I've seen the music be so effective long time before that.
GROSS: We're listening back to my 1997 interview with Ruth Brown. We'll hear more of it after a break. This is FRESH AIR.
(SOUNDBITE OF RAY CHARLES' "THE RAY")
GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. Let's get back to my 1997 interview with rhythm and blues singer Ruth Brown. She was one of Atlantic Records' first hitmakers. She recorded over 80 songs for the label between 1949 and '62.
(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED NPR CONTENT)
GROSS: Ruth Brown, you started your singing career singing at USO clubs.
BROWN: Yes.
GROSS: Was this during World War II or after?
BROWN: Well, it was between 1941 and 1945, you know, which was - Pearl Harbor was December 7, 1941. And these were the war years.
GROSS: Well, you were a teenager. You were...
BROWN: I was, indeed.
GROSS: You were in your early teens during part of this.
BROWN: Indeed, I was.
GROSS: So what was it like for you as a young teenager to be singing for soldiers?
BROWN: Well, to tell you the truth, I sort of snuck in to sing with the soldiers. My dad didn't know it in the beginning. Because I had gotten a job working at the USO, working behind the soda fountain. And so I was allowed to go into the USO because I had a part-time job in there, so everybody thought. But my basic reasons was to get in and work and sing with that little USO show that was rehearsing there quite often. And I was supposed to been in choir practice, and my dad walked in one night unannounced, and I was up on stage. I never forget, I was singing "Chattanooga Choo Choo" (laughter).
And I tell you, my dad, he just didn't have to say a word. He had a look about him, you know? And there was something in his stride, you know, when he walked. And all he did was walk to the edge of the stage and look straight up at me and beckoned. You know, he didn't open his mouth. All he did was come to the edge of the stage, beckon and point, like, with his finger and say, come on down, you know? And you knew what he meant, and you knew what to expect when you got down off of that stage.
I met the force (laughter). May the force be with you. The force was with me, even then when I came down because my dad didn't even wait for me to get outside the building. He decided that if I had ignored him, then he was going to make what I had done public. And he gave me my whipping right there in public, you know? Course, that didn't stop me. I kept sneaking around trying to sing with these shows and did quite a few of them.
GROSS: You say at some point that you realized that you could make more money singing two nights a week than your father could make working a full week.
BROWN: That's right.
GROSS: And I'm wondering, as a girl, what impact that realization had on you?
BROWN: Well, it was really important because I was the oldest of eight children. As the oldest, I was the first one that had to go to work. My dad was a dockhand and a laborer. And I know that he made up to 35 bucks a week, which was big money for him. But when I went out and sang and earned $35 in one night, I knew that something here was wrong, you know? Something was definitely wrong.
And I'm sure that had it not been for the fact that he was a young father with all these children, if the opportunity had presented itself, he very possibly could've been a great singer because he had a wonderful baritone voice. And I look back on all of that, I realize, he was very - probably very frustrated sometimes because he saw in me a lot of what could've very possibly happened for him, you see?
GROSS: You won one of the amateur nights at the Apollo...
BROWN: Yes.
GROSS: ...Sessions, and I guess it was the late 1940s.
BROWN: Yes.
GROSS: And then, in - oh, it must've been 1948 or '49, Atlantic Records wanted to sign you. And they were going to bring you up North again, this time for a paid date at the Apollo.
BROWN: Yes.
GROSS: What happened to you when you were driving up North to play the Apollo?
BROWN: I remember it well. Outside of Chester, Pennsylvania, I'm still not sure what happened. Maybe the gentleman driving might've gone to sleep at the wheel. I don't know. All I know is that I heard a - I remember a screeching of tires, and I remember a crash, you know? And I remember then finally hearing somebody say, the girl in the back is dead. And that - they were talking about me. And finally, when they came to move me, when they went to straighten my leg, my left leg had been broken three or four places and was back up under my body. They tried to straighten me out to pick me up, and that's when I screamed. And they realized that I was indeed not dead, just in a state of shock. But I...
GROSS: You were unable to talk until then?
BROWN: Yes, I couldn't speak. But I did end up in Chester hospital and was there for 11 months and something. In fact, my contract with Atlantic was signed while I was a patient in the hospital. They came over for my 20th birthday and brought the contracts, and I signed them on my bed in the hospital there at Chester. And when I finally did get out of the hospital, they brought me to Philadelphia. And I stayed up in north Philadelphia on Butler Street with Cab Calloway's sister, Blanche Calloway.
GROSS: Well, I guess this brings us to your first record made in 1949...
BROWN: Yes.
GROSS: ...For Atlantic Records.
BROWN: Yes.
GROSS: It was called "So Long."
BROWN: Yes, ma'am.
GROSS: Tell us about your memories of this first recording session.
BROWN: I remember going in the studio on crutches to do this tune. And, in fact, it was not my record session at all. Atlantic was, at that time, recording a section of music with Eddie Condon. It was Eddie Condon, Sid Catlett, Bobby Hackett, Joe Bushkin, Ernie Caceres, you name them. The great musicians were there. And they were doing something called cavalcade of music. I don't know if it was Herb or Ahmet who had the bright idea...
GROSS: From Atlantic Records?
BROWN: Yes - the bright idea to include me on one of the tracks in there just to sort of get me - you know, they found this opportunity that they could put me on this album with Eddie Condon, which they did, but not thinking that the single that they had me on was going to take off the way it did. And that was the very first tune that I'd recorded, a tune called "So Long" that I'd heard a young singer years back when I was still in Virginia called Little Miss Cornshucks. She had done this tune, and I used to hear it by her. Her real name was Mildred Cunningham (ph).
One of the most interesting little artists I've ever seen. She used to sit on the side of the stage with her legs hanging over, with a straw hat and bare feet and a straw basket. And they would put one little light on her, and she'd sit there and sing this song "So Long." And people would walk up and put money in that basket. I've never seen anything like her since that time, with the exception of maybe Judy Garland, who sat on the side of the stage and sang "Over The Rainbow." But I saw Little Miss Cornshucks sitting on the side of the stage long before I saw that, you know? But that's where I got the song.
GROSS: Well, Ruth Brown, let's listen to your version, your first recording, 1949, of "So Long."
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "SO LONG")
BROWN: (Singing) So long. Hope we'll meet again someday. Hope that maybe then you'll say, darling, I was wrong. So long. Gee, I hate to see you go. You're the world to me, you know? You've been mine so long.
GROSS: That's Ruth Brown, her first recording made in 1949. Ruth Brown, this recording made the rhythm and blues charts. But your next few records didn't do as well. Was it hard for you to find the right material?
BROWN: Yes, it was in a way. But as I said, I didn't have that much to do about it. And I think that one of the things that made the difference was that when I went with Atlantic Records, I was the first female on that label. And I consequently had an opportunity to hear all of the good material when it came. And they had a lot of wonderful staff writers over there, you know, like Rudy Toombs and Tony Orlando and Bobby Darin and Neil Sedaka and Otis Blackwell and Leiber and Stoller, all these young men who were writers and bringing material.
But as long as I was with Atlantic, in those early years - and they had not become as big a label - but when they started to fill out with other performers and their roster got so big, I wasn't the one to see the good material all the time. You know, there were a lot of ways for it to be spread around. And I think that somewhere, that's where I felt as though we sort of lost track of each other, 'cause I didn't get some of the good material again.
And then once again, the record company had become so big and was continuously becoming bigger. They had people now like Ray Charles and the Clovers and the Drifters. And they had - who else? - Roberta Flack and Aretha Franklin, and you name it. You know, LaVern Baker was there by that time. So Ruth Brown wasn't the one that always got the good material.
GROSS: When you became a rhythm and blues star, you toured with some of the rhythm and blues and rock 'n' roll shows. And I'm wondering if you could give us a taste of what it was like for you as a performer to be in those rock 'n' roll shows.
BROWN: Oh, it was wonderful. But of course, they came along a little later. I think they started, there was a father and son team out of West Virginia who booked all those shows, called the super shows. The Weinbergs (ph) were the promoters, and they put these shows together. They had this brilliant idea. And at one time, there were people on the bus like the Clovers, the Drifters, the Five Keys, Lester Young, Buddy Johnson's orchestra, Ella Johnson. And then you would have, like, a Sam Cooke, you know? And you would have a John Coltrane, and you would have Paul "Hucklebuck" Williams and Charles Brown and Roy Brown. And sometimes there were about 10 acts on one bill, and the ticket only cost about $7.50, you know?
GROSS: So you're saying...
BROWN: But it was wonderful.
GROSS: Did Lester Young share the bill with the Drifters and the Clovers?
BROWN: Oh, of course. With me. Of course.
GROSS: Must've been an awfully interesting bus ride (laughter).
BROWN: It was interesting, but we were so young and naive. I didn't realize the greatness of a lot of these people I was working with. I even worked with Joe Louis, the heavyweight champion of the world. A lot of people don't know that, but he went on the road and toured with me and did comedy, you know?
GROSS: What kind of comedy? Did you...
BROWN: He did just what it is he does. He played the boxer. And he had a little guy with him named Leonard Reed, who played his second. He was the one that he was always trying to punch out, you know? And Joe came out with us when he lost his heavyweight title to Ezzard Charles. He came on the road and rode the bus with us - Joe Louis, Billy Eckstine, the Count Basie Orchestra, Nipsey Russell, my dear friend Redd Foxx. You talk about shows. You will never see anything like that...
GROSS: (Laughter).
BROWN: ...Again.
GROSS: We're listening back to my 1997 interview with Ruth Brown. We'll hear more of our conversation after a break. And we'll hear from another rhythm and blues star, LaVern Baker. I'm Terry Gross and this is FRESH AIR.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "AS LONG AS I'M MOVING")
BROWN: (Singing) I want to go north, east, south, west. Every which way, as long as I'm moving, long as I'm moving. Long as I'm moving, long as I'm moving. Long as I'm moving, baby, I don't care. You got big broad shoulders built like a trailer truck. You got big broad shoulders built like a trailer truck. Let me run with you, daddy.
(SOUNDBITE OF RAMSEY LEWIS TRIO'S "THE 'IN' CROWD")
GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. I'm Terry Gross. Let's get back to my 1997 interview with rhythm and blues star Ruth Brown. She was one of Atlantic's first hitmakers and recorded over 80 songs for the label between 1949 and '62. She was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 1993.
(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED NPR CONTENT)
GROSS: Was there ever a point during your adult life when you couldn't earn a living singing and you had to do other jobs?
BROWN: Oh, yes. Of course.
GROSS: What did you do?
BROWN: Of course. I did domestic work.
GROSS: This was...
BROWN: I drove a school bus.
GROSS: You did domestic work after you had had rhythm and blues hits?
BROWN: Oh, sure. This was during the '60s. That wasn't too long ago. This was during the '60s, the advent of The Beatles and the British invasion. And the business became a little more complicated, but that wasn't really the reason I left because I chose. I really chose. Somewhere down the line, it started to sort of ease back 'cause I had two wonderful children, and I wanted to spend more time where they were. And it went back a few years before that that I had thoughts of it because my mother used to take care of my sons.
And I remember coming home one time to visit. My only tie to my children had been material things - you know, things that you could send money home for and purchase gifts. And I came home, and my oldest, of course, was jovial and jumping up. But my baby - my baby, who my mother had chosen for her own - the only thing she didn't do was give him birth. That's why she loved him so much. When I went to reach for my baby, he didn't want me to touch him, and he screamed and yelled, you know. And I think that was probably the first day that I said to myself, well, I got to do something about this. And that was one of the reasons that I finally decided to come in, so to speak.
But in those times, I did many things. I did domestic work. I cooked. I worked in day care. I worked in the home for retarded children. I worked in drug abuse as a counselor. I drove a school bus. I worked in Head Start. I worked wherever I could bring a paycheck home, you know.
GROSS: Well, how did you feel after the adulation that you'd get on stage cleaning other people's houses?
BROWN: Well, I didn't feel anything about it because what I was doing was earning a living, a clean, decent living. And it was what my mother had done all of her life. So I felt no shame about it because I did that with as much dignity as I do anything else. I did a good job. I was a good housekeeper, you know? And it wasn't until my needs were of such that I was cleaning house one day, and I heard my music. I heard a disc jockey talking about my greatness and how great Ruth Brown was. And at that time, I think I was scrubbing a floor. And that is when I sort of made up my mind that there was some money that belonged to me that I had not been receiving. You know, I had not gotten a royalty statement in almost 30 years. I hadn't seen one, you know? And my records were being sold all of the - out of the country. And he was talking about how big this was in Japan and in Germany, and I had no idea about this.
So I began this battle - this uphill battle it was - to maintain and reclaim something that was really mine. I refused to beg because I was going to fight for - I knew what was mine. You know, if these records are being sold, then I'm entitled to my part of whatever they're being sold for. And I finally - now, after all these years, I'm getting record royalties back again for the first time in many, many years, you know?
GROSS: You made a comeback in the '80s with a series of music theater revues, including "Black And Blue." And I'm wondering now how, when you're performing on stage, the feeling and the audience compare with the earlier part of your career in the '50s.
BROWN: I cannot explain to you what it's like now. It's kind of awesome. But the beautiful thing is that there are a lot of young faces out there that are now becoming aware of this music that I was a part of, and a lot of them not because they knew my music. But I did another crazy thing one day. I did a film called "Hairspray," and I gained a whole following of new young people with that crazy movie, you know?
GROSS: It's a great movie. It's a John Waters movie...
BROWN: Yes, ma'am, with Ricki Lake.
GROSS: ...About - yeah, with Ricki Lake.
BROWN: Yes.
GROSS: It was her first big role.
BROWN: Yes, yes.
GROSS: And it's about one of those dance shows in Baltimore...
BROWN: It was a spoof.
GROSS: ...Kind of like "American Bandstand" but one set in Baltimore.
BROWN: It was a real show.
GROSS: Yeah.
BROWN: I remember the reality of it. And it was in a time when John Waters was a young man. He grew up hearing that, and I remember those situations very, very well. And I had said, well, I'm not going to do this film. Especially when they took me to wardrobe and brought that white wig out, I said...
GROSS: (Laughter).
BROWN: ...Not on your life, you know? But, of course, it was the - oh, I can't call his name. He died.
GROSS: Divine.
BROWN: Divine. Divine. I call him the divine Divine. He came to me and said, girl, put that wig on your head and make some money (laughter). And I said to him, no, I'm going to lose every fan I've got in the world if I come out with this white wig. And Divine said, well, I'll tell you what. For every one you lose, I'm going to bring you two. And every time I see that film, and it runs continuously, and I've gone into grocery stores and see young people following me around, my ego says, oh, they know who I am - Ruth Brown - that kind of thing. And then they will eventually say, aren't you Motormouth Maybelle (laughter)?
GROSS: That was your role in the movie, yeah.
BROWN: That was my role and continues to be my claim to fame, you know. That cult film has really been wonderful. I always - I go to the mailbox quite often now and find a little check with John Waters - God bless him - on it. And he writes to me and send me crazy Christmas cards and things until this day.
GROSS: I would like you, Ruth Brown, to choose - if you have one - your favorite of your early recordings, and we'll play that.
BROWN: Oh, there are so many that were good. But I think if I had to choose one, it would probably be, at this point in my life, "Oh What A Dream."
GROSS: And why are you choosing that one?
BROWN: Because this whole life has been a dream. I tell you...
GROSS: (Laughter).
BROWN: ...When I look back at it, I can't believe some of the things that did happen. And when I look back on it now, it's - I don't know. It seems like a dream. That's what it is, you know?
GROSS: Well, let's hear your 1954 recording, "Oh What A Dream."
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "OH WHAT A DREAM")
BROWN: (Singing) Woke up this morning, and I looked around. So disappointed, I laid back down. Oh, what a dream, what a dream I had last night. Dreamed I held you in my arms. But I'm still waiting for that day to come. Oh, what a dream, what a dream I had last night. Dreamed we were walking down the aisle. The organ was playing here comes the bride. You looked down at me. You began to smile. When I looked around, everybody began to cry. I opened my eyes. You weren't there.
GROSS: That's Ruth Brown recorded in 1954. Well, Ruth Brown, I want to thank you very much for talking with us.
BROWN: Well, thank you, Terry. I've done all the talking, you see.
(LAUGHTER)
BROWN: I always warn people, you know? I say, whenever I get a chance to be interviewed, don't ever say tell me something about yourself, 'cause honey, I got about 60 years here to talk about.
(LAUGHTER)
BROWN: But you've been very kind.
GROSS: And I've enjoyed hearing your story.
BROWN: Thank you.
GROSS: And thank you very, very much.
Ruth Brown recorded in 1997. She died in 2006 at the age of 78. In 2016, Brown received a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.
Coming up, we talk with another rhythm and blues star, singer LaVern Baker. This is FRESH AIR
(SOUNDBITE OF RAY CHARLES' "DAWN RAY") Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
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