Aretha never admitted that she had, in fact, decided to do disco. During our discussions, she clung to the position that during that dance-craze era, she remained one of the few artists to buck the trend. When shown a copy of La Diva, the album in which she presented herself as a disco queen singing disco music directed by one of the most celebrated disco producers, she said the record was not disco at all, merely modern rhythm and blues.
Her search for a disco hit had begun with Nile Rodgers and Bernard Edwards, architects of Chic, one of disco’s more elegant aggregations.
“They came in with completed tracks that were smokin’,” said Cecil. “I thought it was a slam dunk, but Ree had reservations. She thought the songs needed retooling and she also had some tunes of her own that she wanted included. Nile and Bernard were very respectful of Aretha, but at that point they were riding high. They had those huge Chic hits like ‘Good Times.’ Aretha needed them far more than they needed her. They were happy to produce her—everyone wants to produce Aretha Franklin—but on their terms, not hers. Those discussions didn’t get very far.
“The crazy thing is that the Rodgers/Edwards songs that Aretha rejected—‘I’m Coming Out’ and ‘Upside Down’—were the same songs they gave to Diana Ross. Both were big hits. When that happened, Aretha acted like she didn’t care. She thought the songs didn’t measure up to her standards. She’ll never admit to a mistake, but, boy, passing on the Chic producers was a huge mistake.”
Enter Van McCoy, whose training as a producer began under the tutelage of Leiber and Stoller, one of the greatest writer/producer teams in the history of R&B. Erma had recorded McCoy’s “Abracadabra” and Aretha sang his “Sweet Bitter Love” during her years on Columbia. In 1975, McCoy’s own album—Disco Nights—included “The Hustle,” an international hit and one of the most enduring of all disco anthems. He had also produced a smash on David Ruffin, “Walk Away from Love,” a masterpiece of seventies soul.
“Van was a humble cat,” said Cecil, “and was easy to work with. Maybe too easy. Aretha was still convinced that she had songs of her own—and one written by her son Clarence—that were smashes. She loaded up the record with that stuff. Van was able to get her to do a couple of his tunes, but, far as I’m concerned, it should have been all McCoy songs, since he was on a hot streak. That would have increased our chances. I don’t blame Van for going along with Aretha’s program—you always want to please the Queen—but I think we paid a price.”
“I realized that if this record had no hits,” said Ahmet Ertegun, “it would probably be Aretha’s last on Atlantic. Her contract was coming due and of course I wanted to keep her. I was more than happy to accommodate her ideas for the cover. She felt as though other singers—like Gloria Gaynor and Donna Summer—had become grand divas during this disco period. She wanted to reestablish herself as the grandest of the divas. Thus the title, La Diva, and the cover art in which she was in a Cleopatra recline. I saw some humor and irony in the imaging, though I’m not sure Aretha did. In any event, we gave the record a concerted promotional push. Van McCoy was a bankable producer and I thought a few of his tracks had hit potential. What I thought, though, made no difference. When the record came out in 1979, it made no impact on the marketplace. From then on, I had a hard time getting Aretha on the phone.”
“When it became clear that La Diva was not selling,” said Cecil, “Aretha blamed Atlantic.”
“In my very long career,” added Ertegun, “I’ve yet to have worked with an artist who took responsibility for a commercial failure. The fault is always with the label.”
“One of the times that Aretha renewed our relationship was when she was thinking about leaving Atlantic,” said Ruth Bowen. “When it came to the most serious matters, she always got in touch. She’d forget whatever she was mad at me about and we’d chat like the old friends that we are. She was convinced that her long dry spell had to do with Atlantic’s lack of promotion. She didn’t think they were pushing her product the way they used to. I couldn’t say that Aretha wasn’t delivering the kind of product worthy of her artistry. To say that would cause another rift in our relationship. In all honesty, I could say that I didn’t think Atlantic was the same kind of R-and-B-centric company as when she’d signed with them in the sixties. They’d gotten so heavy in white rock and roll that maybe they had forgotten how to sell soul. Of course that’s what Aretha wanted to hear. She wanted to hear me say that it never hurts to look around and see what’s out there. Maybe there was someone who could do a better job promoting Aretha Franklin. In the meantime, she asked me to put out some press items about how happy she was with Glynn Turman. I had no problem doing that.”
In the winter of 1979, Jet ran a cover story celebrating Aretha’s happy marriage: “Aretha Adopts New Lifestyle with New Family.” She called Turman her “sweet gorgeous man” and described her domestic situation as nothing less than perfect—no tension, no arguments, harmony all around. While Glynn was in New York doing off Broadway, Aretha said she was delighted to play the part of the happy homemaker in LA. She vowed never to do another taxing national tour of one-nighters again. Always eager to preview future plans, she revealed that she was “working out the final details of opening a very elegant boutique in Detroit—either downtown in the new Renaissance Center or in the suburb of Birmingham, Michigan. It’ll be called Aretha’s Champs-Elysees de Paris of Detroit and it’ll have all the beautiful and unusual things you can’t find in other stores.” The article pointed out that a year earlier she had weighed 108 pounds and she was now up to 145. But that didn’t seem to bother her. She would trim off the weight for her upcoming gig at Harrah’s in Lake Tahoe. Besides, she said, “I can take off the pounds whenever I really want to, or when Glynn tells me, and he ain’t doing no complaining—yet.”
“If you read the version of her life that Aretha gives to the magazines,” said Carolyn, “you’d never think she had a care in the world. Everyone was always beautiful—her family, her man, her career. She loved to give that impression. I know that was her heart’s desire. She longed for simple happiness. But I was living there and I know that things were anything but simple. Sure, there were times when Ree would stay at home and cook and enjoy the simple pleasures. But if you think she stopped thinking about how to get her career back on track, you’re wrong. And if you also think there weren’t career clashes between her and Glynn, you’re doubly wrong. Aretha liked to think of herself as the kind of woman who put her man first. But that was fantasy, not reality. In reality, she always came first.”
On January 10, 1979, Donny Hathaway, suffering from severe mental illness, committed suicide by leaping from the fifteenth-floor balcony of his room at the Essex House in New York City. He was working on a second album of duets with Roberta Flack.
“I was the one designated to call Aretha with the news,” said Jerry Wexler. “After all, I had brought Donny to Aretha in the first place. She had seen his talent and called him one of the most marvelous players, writers, and singers she had ever encountered. Because Aretha had suffered with depression of her own, she was sympathetic to Donny’s disease, but she had no idea of just how sick he was. None of us did. When I told her the tragic news, she let out this small cry of absolute anguish. He was thirty-three years old.”
“Donny’s suicide devastated Aretha,” said Cecil. “He was one of the few artists whose musical soul was comparable to hers. She related to him on a very deep level and put him in the same class as Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder. She was in shock for weeks. A month later, when we went to play Harrah’s in Vegas, she dedicated her performance of ‘You Light Up My Life’ to Donny.”
According to Billboard, at that same show she did a Judy Garland/Al Jolson takeoff on “Swanee.”
In March, Jet ran a picture of Aretha and Glynn together with President Jimmy Carter and his wife, Rosalynn, at a Lincoln Center tribute to Marian Anderson.
In the spring, Cecil began speaking to other labels.
“He and I had several candid talks,” said Ertegun. “I knew that Jerry Wexler had discussed the idea of doing classic Norman Granz/Ella Fitzgerald songbook albums with Aretha. I made it clear that I disagreed with the concept. I knew that Aretha wanted hits and so did I. I saw no reason in the world why she couldn’t have hits. After all, Atlantic was still in the forefront. We had Chic on our label. That’s when Cecil told me that Aretha and the Chic producers had not proven compatible. ‘No problem,’ I said. ‘I’ll call my friend Robert Stigwood and get Barry Gibb to produce her.’ Stigwood’s label, RSO, had put out Saturday Night Fever. Cecil liked the idea and said he’d take it to Aretha. I was convinced I had come up with the perfect solution.”
“Aretha called me one day and said, ‘What do you think of Clive Davis?’” Cecil remembered. “‘I think he’s one of the sharpest shooters in the music biz,’ I said, ‘but no one’s sharper than Ahmet.’ That’s when I mentioned Ahmet’s idea of working with Barry Gibb. She seemed intrigued.”
“I was absolutely adamant on keeping Aretha at Atlantic,” said Ahmet. “I flew out to California and was pleased to be invited to her home for dinner. Aretha’s a marvelous cook. She could not have been lovelier. It was old-home week. We reminisced about the past and I expressed my faith in her future at our label. The Barry Gibb idea came up briefly. When I left, I felt good about having done damage control. A few weeks passed before word came back from Cecil that Aretha found the Bee Gees–style production ‘unsuitable.’ Gibb went on to write and produce an album on Barbra Streisand that yielded ‘Guilty,’ an enormous dance hit.”
“Aretha kept talking about Clive,” said Cecil. “How Clive had started his own label—Arista—and had big hits with Barry Manilow. How Clive had big hits on Melissa Manchester. And, more to the point, how Clive had revived the career of Dionne Warwick with ‘I’ll Never Love This Way Again,’ produced by Barry Manilow. Aretha thought Manilow might also be the right producer for her. I didn’t see that. To me, Manilow was far too pop for Aretha. No matter, I had my marching orders. Put out feelers and see if Clive Davis was interested in signing her. ‘Of course he’s interested in signing you,’ I said. ‘There’s no label out there who’s not interested in signing you.’ That wasn’t entirely true. Columbia and RCA had told me that we were asking too much money for an artist who hadn’t had a hit in years. But that wasn’t the kind of thing that Aretha wanted to hear, so I never mentioned it. On the other hand, I proved to be absolutely right about Clive. He was dying to have Aretha on Arista.”
In May, Aretha played for Jesse Jackson’s Operation PUSH Excel-A-Thon at LA’s Dodger Stadium to raise money for deprived students.
And then, on June 10, after having ended her show at the Aladdin Hotel in Las Vegas with a rendition of Earth, Wind, and Fire and the Emotions’ “Boogie Wonderland,” Aretha was given news that would permanently change her life.
During a robbery at his home on LaSalle Boulevard in Detroit, her father had been shot.