Stranger in a Cool L

Stranger in a Cool Land

Two weeks after the dance, my parents knew who Jimmy was.

For some reason they didn’t seem as thrilled. I mean, all I was asking for was $25.00 to see a show at the forum. So- I had never been to the Forum except as a child to see the circus!


OK, so what if it was James Brown? Big deal! They didn’t know who James Brown was anyway. So what if I was wearing a pair of Jimmy’s old pants. So what if I was only one of 20 white people in the audience- this was 1967-68 after all

Thank god my mom could handle a sewing machine. We had to get the pants just right. Tight- from the waist down –gone were the days of ‘Stovepipes’ - and then flair –big flair at the calf - with an insert of different coloured material.

I couldn’t be seen wearing sneakers. I needed something like Jimmy’s white shoes with the Italian weave on top of the foot.
“No – Beatle boots are gone Mom!”
“Out!”
“No T shirts or sweaters either!”
“ Button-down – bright red!”

Normally I would get up in the morning, wash, come back into my room, put the Beatles or Garry Lewis and The Playboys or The Animals on my portable record player and make my bed singing at the top of my lungs. I loved that record player. I had bought it with my own money from delivering The Montreal Star up in the new area of Seigniory Park near the Pines.

For the first time, my sisters heard something foreign coming from my bedroom.
“I Feel Good” – na-da-na-da dat (horns) “Like I knew that I would now!” …
Or “When a Man Loves a Woman..” and I was not singing. I was listening – getting my Soul lessons for the day.

After school I stopped coming right home and called more often to stay over at Jimmy’s place. Jimmy said his mom's name was Fran. I envisioned someone tall, dark and lanky like him. She was a teacher in Ormstown would be arriving at the house an hour after us.

They lived on Jack Street. (Who the heck was Jack? Dave Mclean would eventually tell me.) Seleda, Jimmy's older sister would retire to her room off the living room and diligently get her homework done. (She is now a Doctor in California and still looks good.)

I had never been further along the river road -Salaberry North, than Dupont Street to go up to St. Andrews for church. They lived way down in a small summer cottage near the water. It was cozy, warm and had a great big bay window. The beauty of that window was not what could be seen out of it,- but rather what was inwardly reflected when darkness fell outside; a Soulful Magic Mirror –reflecting in our minds- a stage, when Sly Stone, Percy Sledge, James Brown, Otis Redding, Sam and Dave, Wilson Picket and Aretha weaved their Soulful Spell into the household. Jimmy would get the records going- Boom Shakalaka! Boom Shakalaka! I Wanna Take You Higher ! When a Man Loves a Woman! Midnight Hour! Soul Man! Funky Broadway! Skinny Legs And All!

Seleda would throw down her pen in mock disgust –interrupted rudely from her studies- and stomp out of her room, hands on hips and yell “Jimmy!” –and on cue, he would grab her hand, pulling her into the magic circle reflected in the land of cool beyond the window …to The Midnight Hour and then Aretha's R>E>S>P-E-C-T… –his head moving back and forward, eyes slightly closed, teeth glittering through smiling lips, knees like pistons up and down –feet landing soft on a springy cloud – and she would be swept up into the dream –all to the beat, like Watusi Cool! Wow! They could move! Saleda was so beautiful when she danced and Jim – Jim was “THE MAN” –cooler than cool. Music loud, the beat, -the beat- oh my, I can still feel it,- the beat -was everything.

Cold winter air sliced through as the door swooshed open. "OH-OH".
I thought Mrs.Williams would be so upset with all her furniture shifted to the side and all hell breaking loose – All I saw at first was a coat flying into a chair, then this small wiry white woman prancing, hips swaying into the magic circle “Mom’s Home!”- as if she had never left it! For a single white lady, she sure could move black!

My mom and I danced when washing dishes to CFOX radio, but this was different –this was new! Where the hell had I been all my life. I had to absorb some of this culture of “cool”!