by David Ritz
“It was perfectly harmonious in the studio,” said Cecil. “Curtis may be mild-mannered but he’s strong. These were his songs and arrangements and he knew how he wanted them sung. At Columbia and early at Atlantic, Aretha responded well to direction. But at this point, with so many hits under her belt, she was more assertive. When it came to ‘Something He Can Feel’—the first single—they argued over how she riffed over the vamp at the end of the song. He wanted even more emotion than Ree was giving. She thought she had it nailed in a couple of takes. But somehow, in his gentle way, he got at least a half dozen more takes out of her. When the song shot to number one and stayed there for a month, he proved his case.”
“Humility isn’t my strong suit,” said Jerry Wexler. “But when Mayfield sent us the masters, I had nothing to say but ‘Bravo!’ I realized that Aretha was back. Their rapport was evident. ‘Hooked on Your Love’ and ‘Look into Your Heart’ contain some of Aretha’s most subtle singing. She’s inspired. I couldn’t have provided that inspiration. Only a peer like Curtis could have done that.”
“I was happy and heartbroken at the same time,” said Carolyn. “The same year that Sparkle came out, I released my last RCA album, If You Want Me. It had several good songs and I thought my performances were fine. But nothing hit. At that moment—the same moment that Sparkle had revived Aretha’s career—I knew that my own recording career was over. Confirmation came when RCA dropped me.”
“Carolyn was disappointed and had every right to be,” said Cecil. “A deep freeze set in between her and Aretha. But I knew that, given enough time, the wounds would heal. My sisters fought tooth and nail, but the bad blood never lasted.”
“Some singing groups begin together as sisters but end up as adversaries,” said Erma. “Take the Supremes. No one could have been closer than Diana Ross, Mary Wilson, and Florence Ballard. But their circumstances and conflicting personalities ultimately broke them apart—never to reconcile. When Florence passed away, in 1976, my dad officiated at the funeral at New Bethel. It was one of the saddest days I can remember. So much talent, so much heartbreak. In the case of us Franklin sisters, though, it’s important to remember that, for all our fighting, we always got back together. Always.”
In April, the same month Sparkle was recorded, Jet had this news for its readers: “Aretha Franklin’s soul mate, Ken Cunningham, is trying to establish himself in a filmmaking career. He recently spent some time in San Francisco scouting locations for a movie, Asili-Genesis, for which he wrote the script.” The magazine reported that Aretha had spent a month preparing for the role but that plans had been postponed due to a strike by West Coast film technicians.
That summer of America’s bicentennial saw Sparkle’s release. The critics applauded it, the fans loved it, and the first single, “Something He Can Feel,” held down the number-one spot on the R&B charts for nineteen weeks. The question that had been looming—could she still sell records?—had been answered in the affirmative. The other question, of whether she could find harmony at home, was not as easily answered.
“When she asked me to place a puff piece on Cecil,” said Ruth, “I had to wonder why. Cecil was always a behind-the-scenes man. He wasn’t looking for glory. When it came to the press, Aretha’s sole purpose, like most artists’, was to make herself look good. So why all of a sudden an emphasis on Cecil?”
“Maybe Ken had pushed her too far,” said Cecil. “Maybe she wanted to let the world know that she had one manager and one manager only. I didn’t need that confirmation. I always knew I had my sister’s trust, but for some reason she needed the world to know.”
In July, Jet called the article “Aretha Franklin’s Hidden Asset: Her Brother Cecil” and said, “Not only does he manage her, but he is also vice president of the four small companies she owns.”
By August, Ken Cunningham was gone.
“I asked Aretha if she was sure that she wanted it in the press,” said Ruth Bowen. “Maybe it was better to keep these matters private. ‘No,’ she said, ‘my fans need to know. Plus I want the world to know that I’m eligible.’ ”
Jet, August 12, 1976: “Aretha Franklin, Her Soul Mate End Their Love Match: Aretha Franklin and her soul mate, Ken Cunningham, have separated after one of the more durable ‘soul matings’ in show business.”
The magazine reported that Ken was no longer living in her Encino home. It was also noted that at a recent TV-show taping, when Aretha gave her father an Ebony Music Hall of Fame award for his contribution to gospel music, her entire family was onstage—with Cunningham conspicuously absent.
Ironically, the cover of this same issue of Jet featured Glynn Turman, the soon-to-be-next man in Aretha’s life. The story promoted Turman’s new movie, J.D.’s Revenge. Interviewed on his ten-acre ranch in Malibu, the actor discussed his upbringing on the streets of Harlem and Greenwich Village, his tenure at the Tyrone Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis, his ongoing role on the TV soap opera Peyton Place, his volunteer teaching job at the Los Angeles Inner City Cultural Center, and his passion for raising Arabian horses.
Aretha didn’t recall seeing the splashy profile in the same Jet that announced her breakup with Cunningham. It would be another five months before she and Turman met.
Press reports of Aretha’s upcoming film appearances continued: She was slated for the starring role in a remake of Morning Glory, the 1933 classic in which Katharine Hepburn played an aspiring actress; she would play Bessie Smith in a biopic directed by Gordon Parks. But Morning Glory was dropped, and the Smith project abandoned.
“Our first discussions were promising,” said Gordon Parks, the photographer and director of Shaft. “Aretha was talking to several acting coaches and seemed serious about learning the craft. By nature, singers are actresses. The lyrics of their songs demand a certain kind of dramatic reading. But then came her crazy demands about the script. She wanted a sanitized version of Bessie’s life that would avoid any comparisons to her own. She was insistent that Bessie not be seen as an excessive drinker. Bessie’s biographers had all detailed her bisexuality, but that was also a no-no for Aretha. Musically, Aretha would have been perfect—that’s what got me interested in her to begin with—but I couldn’t go along with her restrictions. Her point was that a less-than-heroic Bessie Smith would besmirch her own image. I pointed out that a less-than-heroic Billie Holiday did not besmirch the image of Diana Ross. In fact, it got her nominated for an Oscar. But Aretha wasn’t persuaded, and our discussions broke down. I can’t remember who walked out first—me or her—but neither of us was about to budge.”
While Sparkle continued selling, Aretha returned to the studio, this time with Lamont Dozier, a member of the Holland-Dozier-Holland writing-producing team responsible for a slew of the great Motown hits with the Supremes, the Four Tops, the Isley Brothers, Junior Walker, and Marvin Gaye. Given Dozier’s enormous talents, the new album, Sweet Passion, was strangely uninspired.
A year earlier, Donna Summer’s erotic “Love to Love You, Baby” pushed disco into the center of pop culture. In 1976, Diana Ross entered the disco fray with her “Love Hangover,” a decided hit. Other sixties soul artists, like Johnnie Taylor, jumped on the bandwagon. Taylor’s smoldering “Disco Lady,” for example, is one of the great tracks in all rhythm and blues.
“I understood Aretha’s attitude about disco,” said Wexler. “She didn’t like it. And I didn’t either. She saw it as a passing fad and a superficial form. She thought it lacked soul. She was certain that the giants in her field—like Curtis Mayfield and Marvin Gaye—wouldn’t pander to popular tastes in such a vulgar manner. Lamont Dozier was certainly one of those giants, and I was glad to see her team up with him. The problem was that she insisted that he include no less than four of her original songs, none of which were really record-worthy. But [people] couldn’t tell that to Aretha—especially not a producer like Lamont, who’s a lovely man and an especially gentle soul.”
“I had a different attitude about disco,” claimed Cecil. “I s
aw it as R-and-B with a busy bass line and heavy four-on-the-floor beat. The best of disco was as good as anything. If Aretha had been given ‘I Will Survive’ instead of Gloria Gaynor, it would be one of her hallmark anthems. If Aretha had hooked up with Giorgio Moroder and Pete Bellotte, the guys who produced Donna Summer, I guarantee that she’d have a hit. I always thought Ree should do a duet with Barbra Streisand. To me, that always made sense—marry two markets. But Aretha wasn’t interested. So here comes Donna Summer singing ‘No More Tears (Enough Is Enough)’ with Barbra. Number-one hit. I can name a dozen number-one disco hits that Aretha passed on. She thought classic soul and disco didn’t mix. Given the right artist like an Aretha Franklin, disco could be turned into classic soul. Look at what Nile Rodgers and Bernard Edwards did with Chic.”
“Jump,” the one dance song from Sparkle, was as close as Aretha came to a disco hit. It was released as a single in September 1976 with “Hooked on Your Love” as the B side, but it never rose above number seventeen.
“I wouldn’t call ‘Jump’ true disco,” said Carolyn. “When I heard the original version—the first draft of the song that Curtis showed me—it was a more traditional R-and-B dance groove, more related to ‘Chain of Fools’ than ‘YMCA.’ When he started recording with Aretha, Curtis modified the groove to sound a bit more current, but the song never made it into the clubs where disco fever was really happening.”
In November, Aretha, forever a loyal Democrat, sang at Jimmy Carter’s inaugural celebration at the Sheraton Park Hotel in Washington, DC.
Earline Franklin, Aretha’s sister-in-law, remembered that the first month of the new year—1977—was marked by two events.
“Cecil and I were staying at the Beverly Comstock,” she said, “when we learned that, at this very same hotel during the same time we were there, the actor Freddie Prinze had shot himself. That shook us all up. The next night we were at Aretha’s house in Encino when she was all excited about having met Glynn Turman at a benefit for Rosey Grier’s youth foundation, called Giant Step. Aretha’s always been man-crazy—she falls in and out of love easier than anyone I’ve ever known—so I didn’t pay all that much attention. But the next day she was still talking about him. And the next day as well.”
In March, though, Jet reported that “the fizzled breakup of Aretha Franklin and her longtime mate Ken Cunningham was now sizzling again.” When the magazine called Aretha to ask about their relationship, she said, “Well, Ken is on the patio reading Roots.”
That same month, Billboard carried a photo, taken at the benefit concert for Giant Step, of Aretha Franklin, Jacqueline Onassis, and Rosey Grier above a caption that read “Impressive Trio.”
She threw herself a thirty-fifth birthday party at the Beverly Hills Hotel, hiring a caterer to provide the soul food. She was miffed when she learned that the hotel prohibited outside food. So she rented a private bungalow at the hotel, and, after entertaining her guests in the lavish Crystal Room, Aretha invited her guests—some 150 of them—back to her rooms, where the soul food was brought in the side door.
Sweet Passion, the Lamont Dozier–produced album, came out in May to tepid reviews and weak sales.
“Jerry Wexler was no longer with us,” Ahmet Ertegun told me, “and I tried to get more involved. My hope was that the momentum from her Curtis Mayfield album, so spectacularly good and such a strong seller, would favorably impact Sweet Passion. It didn’t. Unfortunately, after Sparkle, Aretha never had a successful album on Atlantic again. I saw her several times during my trips to Los Angeles, but she was mainly concerned with breaking into the movies. Her focus on music had lessened. I recall casually mentioning Natalie Cole and how I thought that Natalie’s producers, Chuck Jackson and Marvin Yancy, might be ideal for Aretha. The idea incensed Aretha. I had no idea of the history between Aretha and Chuck and Marvin. I had stepped into a land mine. It must have been two years before Aretha talked to me again.”
Back in 1974, two Chicago producers, lyricist Chuck Jackson—Jesse’s brother—and music man Marvin Yancy, had brought Aretha a group of songs. At the time, Aretha was recording You.
“She turned them down cold,” Yancy told me in the early 1980s. “She had absolutely no interest in cutting them. She said that they weren’t up to her standards.”
A few months later, the Jackson/Yancy team recorded those songs with twenty-five-year-old Natalie Cole, a superb vocalist with a phenomenal stylistic range who was then at the beginning of her career. Natalie’s interpretations were strikingly Aretha-like.
“There’s no soul singer who isn’t markedly influenced by Aretha,” Natalie told me when we collaborated on her memoir, Love Brought Me Back. “In the beginning, I thought of myself as a straight-up soul singer. All those comparisons to Aretha, my idol, were incredibly flattering. Personally, I didn’t think I was in her league.”
The result of the Cole/Jackson/Yancy hookup was a string of blockbuster hits, including “This Will Be (an Everlasting Love),” “Inseparable,” “I’ve Got Love on My Mind,” and “Our Love.” Natalie was suddenly a star, and Aretha was infuriated, especially when, in 1975, Natalie ended Aretha’s eight-year Grammy streak by winning best female rhythm-and-blues vocal performance.
“The first time I saw Aretha was at an industry banquet,” Natalie remembered. “She gave me an icy stare and then turned her back on me. It took me weeks to recover. I mean, this is the woman whom I revere! She began this make-believe feud that I still don’t understand. I give her the highest respect—then, now, and always.”
“Natalie’s rise corresponded with Aretha’s decline—at least in terms of sales,” said Carolyn. “To many, Natalie looked like the future and Aretha represented the past. That idea enraged Aretha. Unfortunately, she took out her frustration on Natalie.”
“It took many years to accept Natalie,” said Cecil. “It really wasn’t until the nineties when Natalie started singing her father’s pop material that Aretha felt less threatened.”
“Berry Gordy used to say that competition breeds champions,” said Ruth Bowen. “So maybe Aretha’s competitive spirit helped maintain an edge. Personally, I thought that attitude didn’t come from a will to win but just old-fashioned insecurity and fear. It didn’t matter who the female vocalist happened to be—Mavis Staples, Gladys Knight, Diana Ross—Aretha was convinced they were after her throne. I’d say, ‘Look, Ree, these ladies have thrones of their own. They don’t need yours.’ But she didn’t like hearing that. But it was more than just female singers. It was females period. Other than the women closest to her—her sisters, her sister-in-law Earline, her cousin Brenda, and me—she couldn’t maintain a relationship with another woman. In nothing flat, she’d find fault with them and cut off the friendship before it started. Even in those relationships that did last—like mine—there were endless fall-outs when I was on her shit list for months at a time.
“I kept saying, ‘Aretha, Natalie’s a wonderful girl. Just wish her well and move on.’ But it got to be a thing with Aretha. I’d call it an obsession. Then she told me to call Jet and get them involved.”
Jet, on June 23, 1977, ran an article entitled “Still on a Throne, Aretha Loses Weight, Looks Ahead.”
The weight gain she attributed to not being able to exercise due to a pulled muscle. A photo of her and Ken Cunningham underlined their reconciliation. She discussed film roles under consideration. Concerning Natalie, Aretha claimed that she wanted to avoid a rift: “It’s easy for a singer to sometimes pick up on another singer’s sound,” she said, “but that’s just copying. It’s really a compliment that she sounds like me on some songs. In fact, when I listen to her I hear little things that remind me of myself at the beginning of my career. I think Natalie’s doing a fine job but in my estimation she’s just a beginner.”
A month later, the magazine said that Aretha was out on the town with Glynn Turman. In response, Ken Cunningham told Jet, “If I have to pick up a newspaper to find out what’s happening between us, that is just kind of
cold. Every time I pick up a paper, I’m finding out something about Aretha.” He was referring to a column appearing in the New York Daily News indicating that the Franklin/Cunningham relationship was over. “I love Aretha,” Ken added, “and I know that we are going to be together. She is the mother of my son, so she is a part of me. We’ve been through so much together and I want her to know that I still love her.”
“No doubt Aretha kicked Ken to the curb,” said Erma. “Later she said it was due to the conflict between Ken and Cecil, but I don’t think so. I think she fell for a handsome and charming movie star—Glynn Turman. End of story.”
Delighted to feed the flames of the Aretha/Natalie feud, Jet put both their pictures on the cover—along with Diana Ross’s. The headline: “Is There Room at the Top for Big Three of Song?” When asked about Natalie, Aretha said, “I don’t think she has the ability or the equipment to take anything from me and I’d say that to Natalie herself.”
In October, Billboard mentioned that Aretha would play England for the first time since 1968. Jeffrey Kruger was named as the promoter.
“The deal was set,” Kruger told me. “I had spoken to both Cecil Franklin and Ruth Bowen. It was to be a tremendous event. There were to be six concerts in London alone—plus other dates in Ireland and Scotland. This was to be Aretha’s grand tour of Great Britain.”
