Pianist, singer, composer
(1946– )
Both my grandmothers lived in the Bronx and had pianos, but nobody in the family could play them. That was the setup for me to learn, because everyone could sing. I can only think that the pianos were there, just waitin’ for me to come along—destined to play them because of the musical gift that was given to me. My grandmother put me in front of the upright and I just kind of knew it. I was four or five when I started playing piano by ear.
When I was about eleven years old I took piano lessons and learned to read music, but for a long time I fooled the teacher because she’d play the song and I would just remember and repeat it. Then she got hip to me and stopped playing, so I had to learn to read the notes. I played Bach and Chopin—classical music—and then I got a scholarship to a place called Chatham Square. It was at that time I realized I was never going to be a classical pianist and that I didn’t want to be one. I quit and started playing more on my own.
I was raised on Jackson Avenue in a three-story building that my grandmother owned. When it came time for junior high school, our neighborhood school wasn’t that great, so I was bused to Junior High School 22, which was a better school about fifteen or twenty minutes away. We were the first black students to go to that school so I felt a big responsibility because I was going to get this good education and I was going to represent the whole black race. Don’t mess up now! I wanted to do well. Nobody told me that, but I felt it on my own.
In that junior high school a lot of good things happened. They had musical programs, and when the teachers found out that I played the piano I got out of class a lot. That worked out really well for me. I was recognized for what I could do musically, and they made a way for me to do it. Some of the kids saw me get that special treatment, like getting pulled out of class, so I wasn’t exactly a favorite among my peers. I can remember almost getting into a fight with a girl because she thought I was stuck on myself, you know. Teacher’s favorite. The girl was bigger than me, so my younger brother, who was bigger than both of us, intervened and got me home.
Because I was such a standout in junior high school, when I got to high school I became almost like wallpaper. I disappeared. I didn’t want to be the one that got called out in that same way anymore, so I played very little piano in school in those days.
But I loved playing handball in the Morris High School yard, which was right across the street from us. I was really good at it. I’d hit those low balls, you know. I still have a great affection for handball even though I don’t play anymore. I play table tennis. I have a Ping-Pong table in my home that looks like a piece of art deco furniture and I’m real good at that game too.
One of my grandmothers was a minister and she gave me the job of being her church pianist. As a church pianist you come across many people who get up and sing but often start in one key and end up in another, so I learned how to follow. From that early training where the ladies get up with those big hats, full of the spirit and end up not where they started, I could play even if I didn’t know the song. My grandmother paid me to be the pianist. Even when she didn’t have enough money because the congregation was too small, she’d pay me from her own pocket. And she’d make sure she paid me what she agreed upon, because she said that a deal was a deal. She instilled certain values in me. A deal is a deal. Keep your word.
My grandmother was married and owned this house that we all lived in. I always liked the fact that although she was this minister when she came home she was the wife who cooked for her husband. She changed her roles and put on the hat that she needed to wear and didn’t have a problem with that. She didn’t have to be the head honcho at home. She was an interesting study for me to see—a woman who did many things and handled each thing in its place. Later on I could see how hard that was because some men might get jealous and not want a woman to be in control. She handled all of that really well.
It was through a church in Harlem, not my grandmother’s church, that I met Nick Ashford. He was homeless and had come to New York to make his fortune as a dancer, but that didn’t work out too well for him. He came to the church where he was told he could get a free meal. In addition to his dancing Nick wrote gospel songs, and since I played piano we were like a natural pair.
We all get honored in so many different ways as we go along, but the one that really got to me was when I was honored by the Bronx borough president Ruben Diaz Jr. to be part of the Bronx Walk of Fame. It touched my heart in a special way because it’s where we come from. It’s where we started. When I think that I represent the Bronx to such an extent that my name is on the Grand Concourse—that gives me a sense of real pride.