Time Is Tight

by Booker T. Jones

  I started to sing. Impromptu. No one had arranged for music at his service, and that was a travesty. My father was music. He couldn’t be put away without music at the service. “His eye is on the sparrow,” I sang, “and I know…He watches…me.” I felt my father’s spirit give me the strength to continue the song. To remember the words I had not memorized. I had been so fortunate to know him. It had been a blessing to be his son. Happiness and sorrow mixed and swelled up in me. I could have exploded with either one.

  We took his body to be laid next to my mother at Inglewood Park. I felt her spirit come to say hello. It was good to feel her again.

  CANADA—2000—1

  Our ambitious plan was to take our new Dutch Star all the way cross country, park in Montreal, play the Montreal Jazz Festival with the MGs, and have a leisurely drive back home to Marin across Canada and along the US West Coast.

  We made the mistake of entering Canada at the Detroit crossing, where Canadian agents stopped our family and separated parents from children for over four hours. The agents kept asking the kids if we were their parents. It would have been reasonable to ask the kids some questions at an international border, but not to let them see us from 2:30 p.m. to 6:30 p.m.? Nan and I waited, helpless, in another room. That was a misuse of international privilege, mean-spirited and cruel. I was beside myself, struggling to keep my temper. Looking for contraband, hoping to seize the expensive motorhome, the agents found none and reluctantly let us go on our way.

  At Montreal, our reception was warm and enthusiastic, and the concertgoers were gracious and appreciative. Traveling across Canada proved to be a heartwarming experience. We encountered friendly people at every stop. The scenery was inspiring and fulfilling, with lake after lake. The only bummer was the entire Canadian Highway 1 was under construction, and by the time we got to Winnipeg, my new motorhome’s chassis was rattling like a junk wagon. Still, it was turning out to be the trip of a lifetime.

  We trudged happily along in our noisy RV, the Canadian Rockies off to our right. “I’d love to take a side trip to see Pine Lake,” Nan said.

  “You got it, baby.”

  It was a gorgeous day only the way that Canada can be, in the middle of July, year 2000. Around 11:00 a.m. we left Medicine Hat. I sat in the cockpit, rolling west. Around one o’clock, we turned north on Highway 2 to explore the Pine Lake area. After an hour, I noticed a storm on the eastern slope of the Canadian Rockies, a little southwest of us. Thirty minutes later the storm was still there on my left, and I mentioned it to Nan. I started to note my GPS positions to see if it was moving nearer. It was. After forty minutes, I told Nan we should divert.

  I saw the sign for Highway 27. It led directly in the direction of the storm. I had maintained about sixty-five or seventy miles per hour, and the storm was moving at least that fast, because it was at the same location on my right.

  Nan was dead set on spending the night at the lake at Green Acres. “It doesn’t look like much to me,” she said, regarding the storm.

  We drove and argued another fifteen minutes before I said, “Honey, you’ve got to trust me on this one.” I took my best chance and turned left onto Highway 27 and headed due west. If I drove the right speed, we should get behind the storm, then we could head south on Highway 2, provided the storm stayed its course. I wanted to see that storm in my passenger-side window, then in my rearview mirror, or not at all. My calculations and gamble worked, and we arrived safely at a little campground outside Calgary that had one vacant space.

  Nan said she thought I had “overreacted” until she saw the paper next morning while checking out. The headline: “July 14—F3 tornado struck Green Acres Campground in Pine Lake, Alberta.” Known as the Pine Lake tornado, it killed twelve people and caused over $13 million in damage. It was ranked as the fourth-deadliest tornado in Canadian history. RVs were destroyed at Green Acres Campground, where our reservations were, and that F3 twister only hit the campground and a trailer park.

  LOS ANGELES—2000—8

  Lonnie has a fine mind and could easily have been an entrepreneur. The most likely business she’d go into would be something involving cars, her first love.

  Daughter Lonnie and her husband, Tony, gave me three more good-looking grandkids—D’Laynie, Bella, and Charlotte! Lonnie is a wonderful mom and works full time outside the home. She has always been a hard worker.

  LOS ANGELES—2018—2

  Even during times when I couldn’t pay my bills, having my large family made me feel like I had all the trappings of wealth, each child such a unique treasure.

  Our first child, Olivia, is a loving and attentive daughter, mother, and wife. She’s smart and a hard worker who pays attention to details and the big picture.

  Olivia remodeled her home, essentially acting as the general contractor for the project—a complete remodel while she was pregnant.

  Livvy loves to laugh and is a talented mathematician.

  A graceful and passionate dancer, she got into UCLA’s dance program, which is very competitive. Not satisfied with just one major, she also doubled in Spanish. She is still very proficient in Spanish and speaks to her child in Spanish.

  Olivia’s not afraid to try new things, and she loves to travel. She has a fun giggle, and she’s a dog lover.

  Our daughter Cicely is a natural-born leader with an active native intelligence. In second grade, she predicted the next perfect square in an algebraic formula that she devised. Her older brother Michael said, “Maybe in high school, but certainly not in second grade! Call a math psychologist, quick!” She’s a party planner with an eye for beauty in clothing and home decor. While in third grade, Cicely rewrote the play Annie to accommodate six other neighborhood kids and convinced her mother to cook for the parents and kids for the play’s performance at our house. How she managed to corral five boys to give up their street hockey games for Annie rehearsals is still a mystery to me.

  Cicely’s generous with her time and maintains her friendships. She’s funny too. She’s very natural with young children and babies. Cicely is a sweetly sensitive person. She loves her twin brother, Ted.

  Our son Ted wants everyone to get along. He appreciates calm and peace. Ted’s an amazing soccer player—he worked very hard at this and accumulated thirty-seven scholarship offers when time came to go to college. It came down to two schools, and he chose Cal Berkeley because of the educational opportunities it provided.

  Ted is a creative writer—his word choices and combinations are unusual and spot-on. He is a curious young man who loves to read. Teddy is very helpful with a project or day-to-day work. I won’t go into the studio without him.

  Like Olivia, Ted loves his dog! He enjoys his friends, likes to philosophize, and is a loving son. He loves his twin sister. Ted seeks out new environments and loves to travel. Teddy plays fantasy soccer and community soccer.

  TIBURON, CA—1992–2011—3

  Nan and I made lifelong friends in the Bay community. Numerous people offered support and love, and we joined fun groups. Nan took up hiking with a great group of women and enjoyed the exercise and making new friends. We joined a couples’ film group, and a book club sprang out of the original hiking group. Some of my buddies created a men’s pool group.

  Mary Crowley was one of the first people we met. She is a sailor and environmentalist. She is spearheading the cleanup of the ocean, gathering world leaders and sailors alike. Lisa and Michael Coffee became dear friends of ours. Lisa has always been there for Nan, even hosting an after-wedding brunch for our son Michael.

  Nan became very involved in the kids’ school and soccer games. As do most parents, we found ourselves shuttling the kids to dance, soccer, and so on. I started working on this book in the stands at some soccer games. Additionally, the older boys flew up from LA and spent many weekends with us. The family remained our center, and we relished the time together.

  The kids all took piano lessons and eventually decided to stop. Nan and I proudly attended dance perform
ances, piano recitals, football games, track meets, and soccer games. Our children worked hard at school and their outside activities; they were involved in community service in multiple organizations. We vigorously promoted higher education, and six of our children went on to get college and graduate degrees.

  In my spare time, I took the ferry to San Francisco for Pro Tools courses at SF State and Pyramind music schools, as well as a screenwriting course at College of Marin.

  LOS ANGELES, CA—2007—8

  To my astonishment, Booker T. & the MGs were presented with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the Recording Academy, an award that recognizes a rich contribution of a band to a musical genre. That my peers thought our band was worthy of this recognition humbled me.

  My children continue to amaze and humble me as well.

  Matthew, my oldest stepson, has hiked the PCT and the CDT and is currently on the AT. In 2002, he received a BA from Berkeley in comparative literature. In 2006, he received a master of public policy degree from UCLA with an emphasis on natural resources management and policy. In 2013, Matthew received a master of environmental science degree from Yale University, specializing in hydrology and water resources science. Before taking off on his latest trek, Matthew was a consultant in an environmental firm. Nan says he’s our runaway.

  Brian received a BA from Claremont McKenna College in 2001 with a major in economics. In 2004, he earned a JD from Loyola Law School, Los Angeles. In college, Brian played both football and rugby. Brian is a phenomenal gardener and turned his yard into a natural succulent extravaganza. He also loves to cook and has prepared many wonderful meals for Nan and me in his home. If you need help with anything, Brian is there before you ask.

  In 2002, Michael received a BA from Princeton University in politics. In 2008, he received a master of public health degree from Yale School of Public Health. Michael earned a doctor of science from the Harvard TH Chan School of Public Health in 2013 in social and behavioral sciences. He played football in college as well. Michael loves to cook and became a vegetarian early in his twenties. He is a messy cook—I mean, the kitchen is a whirlwind after he is done. But the plates of food are creative and nutritious.

  In 2007, Olivia earned her BA from UCLA in Spanish and world arts and cultures. She also received a master of business administration from UCLA’s Anderson School of Business.

  Cicely got her BA from Princeton University in 2012 with a major in political economy. Cicely danced from grammar school through high school in a dance company in Marin. She was also a cheerleader for two years at Princeton. Cicely, always a self-starter, has been working in NYC since graduating. She also bought her first apartment and is finding all the joys and woes of home ownership.

  Graciously, she has a bedroom set aside for us whenever we travel to NYC.

  Theodore Jones received a BA from Berkeley in 2012, majoring in cultural anthropology. Ted played soccer in college and was team captain during his junior and senior years. Everyone thought Ted would play professional soccer, and he did too, until he picked up a guitar. Trading in one passion for another, Ted has dived into music, and his guitars line the walls of his apartment. People tell me they love seeing the two of us together on stage—how tight the musical connection is and how close we seem. My time with Ted on stage came as a big surprise and a huge blessing.

  Chapter 18

  Representin’ Memphis

  WASHINGTON, DC, the White House—February 21, 2012—12

  B.B. asked me if I remembered Shinny Walker.

  Of course I remembered Shinny. With the outline of his gun showing through his topcoat, he was the quintessential Beale Street music manager, sending young bluesmen into clubs or studios and onto buses for tours. Memphis musicians had to go through him to have a career during that era.

  Then he asked me if I remembered Tuff Green. I played my first gigs on piano in Tuff’s band, and B.B. made his first demo at Tuff’s home studio.

  He wanted to know if I remembered George Coleman and Phineas Newborn. “I was Phineas’s paperboy, B.B. His house was the first on my route, and I was always late throwing my papers on days he was practicing.”

  “How about Ben Branch and Earl Forrest? Remember them?”

  “I sure do.”

  “How’s Floyd?”

  “Which Floyd? Floyd Newman or Floyd Golden?”

  “Floyd Golden. Him and Gwen, how are they doing?”

  “They’re fine, B.B. Thanks for asking.”

  Floyd Newman was a baritone sax player at the Flamingo in Memphis who was in B.B.’s band from time to time. Floyd Golden was my brother-in-law. He and B.B. were classmates at Manassas High School in Memphis.

  The conversation was taking place on a makeshift stage in the East Room of the White House. B.B. was positioned across the stage from me, so it was an awkward interruption of the rehearsal for me to linger there talking to him about old times. In addition, his mike was live, so every word of our conversation was heard around the room.

  Directly, I went back to my place at the Hammond B-3 across the stage. I was music director and band leader for In Performance at the White House: Red, White and Blues, a PBS special. The show was created to celebrate Black History Month and was hosted by Taraji P. Henson.

  Besides B.B. King, featured performers included Jeff Beck, Gary Clark Jr., Shemekia Copeland, Buddy Guy, Trombone Shorty, Warren Haynes, Mick Jagger, Keb Mo, Susan Tedeschi, and Derek Trucks.

  B.B. played the opening notes to “The Thrill Is Gone.” Soon after, a man in a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves slipped in a side door and stood in back.

  It was the president. Barack Obama.

  This was music that came from the Mississippi Delta and that birthed rock and roll. That it was being played in the East Room under portraits of Thomas Jefferson wasn’t lost on anyone. The political implications were huge, and that essence filled the air. It would be a historic concert.

  President Obama told me he’d like to enter the room to “Green Onions” instead of “Hail to the Chief.” At the concert, I hit the “Green Onions” funky organ intro when he and the first lady appeared at the back of the room. They walked to the stage to the music shifting and bouncing like they might break out dancing. The first couple walked onstage dignity intact, but not before I got a little tradition-breaking wink and smile before he took the podium.

  SAN FRANCISCO, Private Fund-Raiser—Spring 2012—3

  My wife, Nan, a coach’s daughter, is competitive. Some of President Obama’s reelection team members told her the president’s enthusiasm was waning. Probably due to the fact he had slipped a few points against challenger Mitt Romney. Nan was disturbed. She saw her opportunity at an election fund-raiser in San Francisco when she and I had a private photo with the president.

  The occasion was at the expansive home of Robert Mailer Anderson and Nicola Miner, daughter of the late Robert Miner, founder of Oracle. I had been asked to provide music, along with Les Claypool and Charlie Musselwhite, for the $38,500-per-plate dinner.

  Nan told the president of the United States, “Next November, you’re going to kick butt.”

  Big grin from Mr. Obama, and he replied, “With your help.” She was embarrassed after the fact when she realized what she had said.

  I appreciated his warmth and relaxed demeanor. During the twenty-minute talk, a man of quick wit and human caring who was unafraid to speak to the very powerful on behalf of the less fortunate was revealed to me. I became respectful of his courage and humanity and his regard for generations to follow. The president underscored values that were close to my heart, and I was proud that our country elected a person willing to represent all of us, regardless of skin color or differences of beliefs and origins.

  Clearly, a black man at his core, born of a white mother, Barack Obama identified himself as a humanitarian and a fighter, defiantly optimistic about uplifting this and future generations.

  WASHINGTON, DC, the White House—April 9, 2013—9

  I retu
rned to the White House after President Obama’s reelection as music director and band leader for another PBS special, In Performance at the White House: Memphis Soul. Al Green, Ben Harper, Queen Latifah, Cyndi Lauper, Joshua Ledet, Sam Moore, Charlie Musselwhite, Mavis Staples, and Justin Timberlake were all on the show. I told the producer that President Barack Obama would prefer “Green Onions” for his entrance song instead of “Hail to the Chief.” The producer was highly skeptical until the White House staff returned the answer—Yes, the president would like “Green Onions.”

  President Obama made the mistake of singing a few bars of “Let’s Stay Together,” revealing a smooth singing voice and sounding almost as good as Al Green. It’s just from that point on, he was asked to sing anytime he stepped on the same stage as an R & B band.

  Before the show, during the photo op in the reception room, the president included me, Nan, our three children—Olivia, Cicely, and Teddy—and Nan’s twin sister, Janine, and her husband, David. Walking in, President Barack Obama pointed a finger at Nan and said, “I did what you said!” All smiles.

  At the photo op, the first lady (a Princeton graduate) had a long conversation with Cicely about Princeton. Michelle broke the line to run after Cicely to wish her good luck. C. C. said to her mom, “Is this really happening?”

  ATHENS, GA—2009—1

  Andy Kaulkin took us all over LA, driving aimlessly to listen to music in his car. It was an old Chevy that he should have traded in years ago. I never said anything because he truly loved driving that old car. A music aficionado, Andy played me all kinds of music, and we had vibrant discussions, becoming friends in the process. After a few of these sessions, he played something by the Drive-By Truckers, an awesome southern rock band. Something went off in my brain. Every new song I had written started with a guitar. Drive-By Truckers had three guitars.