by David Ritz
“The place was beautiful,” said sister-in-law Earline. “Aretha was proud of her home and entertained often—mainly her family. She was generous in having me and Cecil and her sisters stay over whenever we wanted. It was a good period. She seemed stable, but stability with Aretha is an illusion. Her emotions—her big highs and her deep lows—don’t let her stay stable. If the stability lasts for a few months, she’s lucky. After that—watch out!”
On January 16, 1973, her stability was shaken by the death of Clara Ward. C. L. Franklin was by Clara’s side. Both he and Aretha performed at her funeral in Philadelphia.
“It was a great loss for our family,” said Cecil. “My father lost perhaps his closest friend. And Aretha lost another mother figure—the singer whose style, in music and fashion, influenced her the most.”
After her sister’s death, Willa Ward found a notebook in which Clara had recorded her impressions of key figures in her life. “My baby Aretha,” wrote Clara. “She doesn’t know how good she is. Doubts self.”
In February, Aretha was in California to perform on the Quincy Jones network television special We Love You Madly, a tribute to Duke Ellington. Aretha was especially thrilled to be appearing along with Duke, Count Basie, Ray Charles, Sammy Davis Jr., Tony Bennett, Joe Williams, Billy Eckstine, Sarah Vaughan, and Peggy Lee. Among her seniors, she more than held her own. She was part of the show’s youth contingent, which also included Roberta Flack and the band Chicago.
“She had no objection to Sarah and Peggy,” said Ruth Bowen, “but she didn’t like Roberta Flack being on the show. She felt that one so-called soul singer was enough. Ever since Roberta had joined Atlantic, Aretha didn’t like the attention they were giving her. I had to reassure her that Roberta was a much different kind of artist and that she in no way stole Aretha’s thunder. The issue came up over and over again and finally I gave up trying to calm her down. I let Atlantic deal with it.”
“Aretha knew that I was Roberta’s producer,” said Joel Dorn. “Because of that, every time I ran into her at the studio, she looked at me with daggers in her eyes. I was always extra polite, but I never got past her cold-blooded stare. I’ve dealt with chilly women before, but she was absolute ice. You’d think I killed her dog.”
In March 1973, she returned to the studio to cut Let Me in Your Life. The hope was that, back with the Wexler crew, she could reverse the downward sales slide that had started with Hey Now Hey. The hope was not realized.
Bill Withers’s title song is a routine cover. Other covers are more convincing: Ashford and Simpson’s “Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing,” Bobby Womack’s “I’m in Love,” Leon Russell’s “A Song for You” (with Richard Tee on keys), plus a well-wrought dramatization of “The Masquerade Is Over.” But there is also tedious filler—“Oh Baby” and “If You Don’t Think So,” two inferior Aretha originals. The feeling is of uninspired obligation. The only showstopper chart topper is “Until You Come Back to Me (That’s What I Got to Do),” by Stevie Wonder, Clarence Paul, and Morris Broadnax—the single that went number one on the R&B charts, crossed over to number three on pop, and became a permanent part of Aretha’s repertoire.
In his liner notes to the album’s reissue, soul scholar David Nathan pointed out that for the first time during a recording session Aretha had let a journalist watch the proceedings. Loraine Alterman from London’s Melody Maker quoted Wexler about why these sessions were so different from her earlier work on Atlantic.
“These are the first arranged sessions we’ve done with her,” he tells the reporter. “Everything we’ve done with her has always been woodshedded in the studio with just the rhythm section there.”
In retrospect, the decision appears to be a mistake. Spontaneity is missing.
The album cover reveals a slimmed-down mink-covered Aretha, her Afro a bit softened and highlighted with a hue of red.
“After the six mill we paid for her new contract,” said Wexler, “the album didn’t perform. Stevie’s song wasn’t enough to save it. On the heels of Hey Now Hey, another underperformer, I knew that the Franklin franchise was in trouble. We needed something new. I don’t say this to disparage Aretha because, in all ways, she was a great contributor to her own productions. And when we agreed to list her as a coproducer, her attitude changed. She was less accepting of our ideas and far more emboldened to initiate her own. I had to fight with her to let Donny Hathaway play on these sides. She thought it would be over-soul. She also wasn’t thrilled about having Deodato play on ‘Let Me in Your Life.’ She thought it would be under-soul. We were starting to have our issues. Earlier, she’d basically go along with my program. Now she had a program of her own. Well, in the case of Quincy, that program didn’t work. This was another instance where I felt her concept was scattered and emotionally disconnected.”
An emotional disconnection was also evident in Aretha’s personal life.
“It wasn’t long after she moved into the town house that she started having what she described as nightmares,” said Erma. “She started calling me back in Detroit nearly every day with stories of these terrible dreams. She said they were foreboding. Her voice sounded shaky—which is not at all typical of my sister. She asked whether I could come stay with her in New York, but my job wouldn’t allow it. Carolyn was able to get away, though, and Carolyn wound up staying with her for a while.”
“She was really off-kilter,” said Carolyn. “I’m not sure what was causing the distress—maybe all the travel with Ken, maybe the pressure of the gigs, maybe the tension over her negotiations with Atlantic; I’m not sure. But it became increasingly difficult for her to get out of bed. She did an enormous amount of crying and ultimately we had no choice but to get her to a hospital.”
From Jet, April 12, 1973: “Aretha Buries Rumors About ‘Going Crazy’: It was no small wonder that many of [Franklin’s] followers registered dismay over erroneous reports coming out of New York that Miss Franklin was ‘hospitalized for a nervous breakdown.’ So moved was the soul queen by the concern exhibited by her admirers that she called the first press conference of her career to explain that her three-day hospitalization at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York was caused by acute physical exhaustion, a medical fact attested to by her personal physician, Dr. Aaron O. Wells.” In the same issue of Jet, there was an additional item: A “hot rumor that Aretha Franklin has a semi-nude scene in a soon to be released movie. The movie, still untitled, was filmed last fall while the Soul Queen was vacationing in the Bahamas.”
“Aretha used Jet for decades to clean up and clear up her image,” said Ruth Bowen. “The truth is that she had suffered something of a breakdown but was adamant that the public see her as healthy. I tried to tell her that there is no shame in having mental-health challenges. Most of us have mental-health challenges in one form or another. But she couldn’t tolerate letting me know that. ‘Who doesn’t know that you have the blues, Aretha?’ I’d ask. ‘For God’s sakes, you’re a blues singer. You’re supposed to have the blues.’ Didn’t matter what I said. My job was to keep what she considered ‘dirt’ out of the press and to drop in items—like the one about her appearing semi-nude in a film—into the magazines. I invented half of those, but if it made her happy, so be it. In turn, she made me happy by helping me put together a testimonial dinner. By then she had completed her hospital stay and was regaining her emotional balance.”
That same winter, Aretha—together with Sammy Davis Jr. and Ray Charles—sponsored a testimonial dinner for Ruth Bowen at the New York Hilton, the proceeds going to the foundation for research and education in sickle cell disease and to the Miss Black America scholarship fund.
“It was a beautiful evening,” Ruth remembered. “Aretha was fully recovered and at her best. She could not have been more gracious. Before singing like an angel, she praised me to the sky, like a grateful daughter acknowledging the love of a mother. The ballroom was packed with every star in the galaxy of show business. I told them that I’ve been blessed to have served
two queens in my life—first Dinah and now Aretha. Tears were flowing so strong until I made a mess of my makeup.”
“The evening for Ruth turned out good,” Cecil remembered, “but afterwards Aretha fell back into depression. These were rough times. I couldn’t figure out how to break her out of the blues. These blues were deep. Ken certainly wanted to help, but you can only help Aretha so much. At a certain point she resists help. She says, ‘You’re making me feel helpless. Leave me alone. Back off.’ I know when to back off. I’m not sure Ken did.”
“The other thing is that Ken was encroaching into Cecil’s territory,” said Ruth. “Aretha’s first serious man—Ted White—had managed her and I could understand why Ken saw himself falling into that role. But after Ted, that role had been given to Cecil by none other than Reverend C. L. Franklin, the man Aretha respected more than anyone in the world. When it came to management, Cecil was a lock. I was able to mentor Cecil, but I knew better than to invade his territory. When it comes to advising talent, boundaries are critical. You don’t want to step on the toes of people who have known the artist a lot longer than you. I’m not sure Ken was wise to get Aretha in so many different business situations—from movies to clothing lines. Looking back, those plans faded. I’m not blaming Ken. Aretha’s always been big on branding. From the first years we worked together she talked about opening an Aretha soul-food restaurant in every major city. Not even one ever appeared. Cecil and I couldn’t tell her outright that she lacked the business skills to pull it off, but we knew how to distract her. Ken kept pushing.”
In speaking about Ken, Aretha was always complimentary. In her long litany of male friends, he received her highest marks. However, the relationship didn’t last because she felt that Ken didn’t grant Cecil the respect that her brother deserved.
“The cracks in Ree’s relationship to Ken certainly contributed to her nervous condition,” said Carolyn. “This was her second or third so-called full breakdown. I mean that literally—where she just couldn’t write, rehearse, record, or perform.”
“But here’s the thing about my sister,” said Erma. “You think these breakdowns are a pervasive pattern. And in a sense, they are. Ultimately, though, she doesn’t stay down. Ultimately, she gets back up. It may take her a while, but her commitment to her career is strong as steel.”
By springtime, Aretha felt renewed.
“Rev. Wyatt T. Walker’s Canaan Baptist Church in Harlem got a surprise visit Easter Sunday morning from soul sister No. 1 Aretha Franklin,” wrote Jet. “In response to a request from Rev. Walker, Aretha got up and sang ‘Amazing Grace’ for surprised church-goers. According to one observer, it was almost 30 minutes after she finished singing before the church calmed down so the service could continue.”
That same month she sang “Rock Steady” on Soul Train.
In July, she played the Newport Jazz Festival concert at the Nassau Coliseum along with Donny Hathaway, Duke Ellington, and Ray Charles.
“Angel” started making its climb up the charts.
“ ‘Angel’ definitely revived her spirits,” said Carolyn. “She was really afraid that Hey Now would be a total sales failure. I think she sent me a dozen roses two or three different times to thank me for the song. The hit put her back on track, and she and Ken were getting along again. When you’re in the music business, a hit is something that makes everyone happy and seems to solve all your problems—at least for a while.”
By the holidays, Aretha was upbeat. She hired a yacht and went on a cruise to the Bahamas, resting up before her upcoming 1974 tour. In addition to Ken Cunningham, she brought Cecil, his wife, Earline, and Norman Dugger, her personal assistant and longtime road manager.
“After being in and out of all those hospitals, the cruise did her a world of good,” said Dugger, who would serve as Aretha’s fiercely loyal lieutenant for the next thirty-eight years. “She was just about as relaxed as she could ever be. Aretha’s never ever completely at ease, but for the most part the cruise did a lot to cool her out. She kept talking about all these dishes she wanted to cook up and put into a book.”
Jet reported that “Aretha Franklin returned from a yacht cruise around the Bahamas with ideas for a cookbook that would include recipes like Ken’s paella (for Ken Cunningham), Norman’s potato salad (for Norman Dugger), and a collection of other jaw teasers like pecan pie, fried ribs, home made ice cream and cracklin’ bread. The Soul Queen still insists that despite all the tasting and testing she’ll maintain her size nine to 10 figure after dealing with all the good recipes. She’s still on the vinegar cider and honey and water conditioner. A mixture of the three ingredients three times a day will keep those calories away.”
On January 14, 1974, she went into the studio to start recording what would be With Everything I Feel in Me, an album that would mark a further decline in quality and sales.
The revealing cover has her in a mink coat that’s slipped down her shoulders to show major cleavage. She has a come-hither, check-me-out smile on her ultra-slender face. There are two Carolyn originals, an original Aretha song, and a bunch of covers, all in the heavy-gospel-pop-R&B recipe cooked up by the singer and her coproducers.
“There’s only so long you can continue the formula,” said Wexler. “We were aware of this. We thought that by including a couple of Bacharach/David songs—‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ and ‘You’ll Never Get to Heaven’—we might strike lightning in the bottle, but we didn’t. Because she had successfully thinned down, she was in an ebullient mood. She wasn’t high on drugs but definitely on an emotional high. She was certain this would be the greatest album of her career. I remember questioning her about her inclusion of a love song by James Cleveland. James is King of Gospel but hardly king of love songs. I thought it was filler. Aretha thought it was great. It stayed. And the entire album laid a giant egg. It’s the first time an Aretha Franklin Atlantic album failed to have a single in the top forty.”
Before the record was completed, Aretha went on tour. In early March, she played Chicago, where, according to Jet, “She electrified the capacity audience at the Auditorium Theater with her new size-8 figure. Garbed in a painfully-tight white satin, silver-trimmed backless pant suit, her majesty leaped to the piano and revealed to her subjects: ‘I looked at myself in the mirror and said to myself, Go on child, you done really got yourself together.’ ”
A week later, she played the Apollo. John Rockwell’s review for the New York Times indicated what the Aretha Franklin show would be like for decades to come:
“Miss Franklin seems intent these days on approximating a kind of Liza Minnelli cabaret glamour, complete with glittering cutaway costumes, a top hat and supper-club bumps and grinds.”
On March 25, 1974, Aretha celebrated her thirty-second birthday.
“Ken gave her a surprise party at their East Side town house,” said Ruth. “Ken is almost as dangerous in the kitchen as Aretha. The boy can burn. He assembled us in the living room, and when Ree came downstairs, wearing her dressing gown, we jumped up and sent her into shock. She loved it.”
Three days later Jet hit the newsstands with this item:
“Ken Cunningham, Aretha Franklin’s consort and manager, is also a screenwriter and has a dynamite movie script… and is looking for investors to match his bread and turn it into a movie.”
“I planted that item,” said Ruth Bowen. “I planted most of the press items that Aretha felt would help the cause. The black press was always more than willing to accommodate her. I didn’t always like doing it because many of the items were nothing more than ads for investors in the projects that she and Ken were cooking up. I knew those projects weren’t going anywhere, but rather than argue with the Queen, I did her bidding. After all was said and done, that was my job.”
In May, Jet published still another cover story of Aretha, and this one didn’t make brother Cecil happy. The reporter wrote, “It is to Ken that she looks for direction in most of what she does professionally. He produced the
show that she recently put on at the Apollo and which she will be taking to Japan for a concert tour this summer and to Europe in the fall. Ken also influences greatly when and where she’ll appear.”
“More and more the world was getting the idea that Ken was her manager,” said Cecil, “not me.”
“ ‘No one is going to drive a wedge between you and your sister,’ I told Cecil when he called to complain,” said Ruth. “ ‘Just be patient. Things will come around. Meanwhile, if she wants to give Ken a little of the spotlight, let her. Now is not the time to make waves. She’s happy, and that’s all that counts.’ Cecil listened to me. He always did.”
In the June issue of Ebony, Ruth turned the spotlight on herself. She arranged for a feature article with a headline that read: “First Lady of Talent Booking.” The piece described Bowen’s toughness in the white-male-dominated business. At the time, Queen Booking was twelve years old. Her star client remained Aretha, who told the reporter that “Ruth is my friend as well as my agent and she is unique in that she cares as much about you, the person, as the you that earns her 10 percent. She tells you straight when she thinks you’ve gone crooked—on or off stage.”
A photo showed Ruth consulting with Aretha on her wardrobe for an upcoming performance. Bowen was also quoted as saying how she “represented most of the Motown acts, from the Supremes to Stevie Wonder.” As the acts grew, though, they were raided by big-time bookers and often “placed with a white agency.” According to Ruth, her biggest star resisted the raiders. “Those cats just didn’t know Aretha,” said Ruth. “Nothing can shake her from her loyalties and her love.”
During the summer when the Watergate scandal resulted in Nixon’s resignation, Cecil remembered a certain joy in the Franklin camp.
