The Nancy Giles Pennysaver

I was ten when “Soul Train” first hit the small screen, and there had never been anything like it on television.  Yes, there was “American Bandstand,” but this was so much cooler, with black kids of all shades and sizes, and more Afros per square inch before, or since.  It was like a televised dance party with a bunch of my friends.  That is, if the party had brighter lights, and my friends happened to be the “Soul Train” dancers, with stylish clothes.  And forget the records; the recording artists were right there.  Lip-syncing, sometimes (which was kind of lame), but lots of times they sang live, and you’d groove to Kool And The Gang,  Gladys Knight and the Pips, The Jackson 5,  Al Green, Barry White (with the entire Love Unlimited Orchestra, mostly white people on the string instruments but they could GROOVE),  James Brown (who sweated profusely but never slipped while he danced).  Aretha.  Stevie.  Everybody wanted to crash that party, even Elton John and David Bowie.  My sister Susan and I grew up standing in front of the set, shaking our respective “groove things” and putting our hands together until we learned some of the moves; Mom would take an occasional look and comment about the clothes: “I love the colors!!”  And, of course, the legendary “Soul Train” dance line was a part of every wedding, reunion, and bar mitzvah I’ve ever gone to.  Frankly, it’s not a party until you have a “Soul Train” dance line.  That’s just a fact. 

This cultural phenom started small.  In 1970, a local Chicago DJ named Don Cornelius wrote, hosted, and produced a televised pilot version of his radio show with his own money (a whopping $400). Cornelius set the tone each week with his velvety voice and killer instinct for talent and trends.  The show was such a hit that the next year it relocated to Hollywood and was syndicated to stations across the country.  (And can we talk about the power of hearing the phrase ”..this has been a Don Cornelius Production“ at the end of every show?  This cool black dude with shades, a suit, and a ‘fro, owned the show! And that blew my mind!)  

“Soul Train,” like that dancing choo-choo that opened the show each week, was the little engine that could.  It ran for a staggering 35 years, bringing African-American music and culture (and sometimes a little history lesson) into living rooms across the country and around the world. “Soul Train” was a democracy of dance.  And forty years later, at a time when the country seems so polarized, ”Soul Train” is a sweet reminder of how sharing a culture got us kids in sync, dancing to the same beat.  Thank you, Don Cornelius, for showing the world that black is beautiful, and that our music rocks the world. Now and forever, “we wish you love..peace..and SOUL!”

It’s times like this when I completely lose my sense of humor. I have a chance to be on “The Early Show” on CBS tomorrow morning (at 7:15) to be part of a segment about Dr. Laura’s remarks and that nagging question that’s been bugging a lot of white people for quite some time: if black people say “nigger,” then why can’t they say it too?

I’ve been in a heated discussion with the very sweet segment producer on an off for the last two hours. At first the segment was going to be about the media build up and tear down of the cranky Jet Blue flight attendant who got pissed off at a passenger for trying to get their bags out of the overhead compartment before the plane had come to a complete stop. Apparently the flight attendant was conked on the head by the bag, expletives were exchanged, the flight attendant shared some more expletives over the airplane’s PA system, then grabbed a few beers and left the airplane via the emergency exit (that converted into an inflatable slide). He vaulted into instant folk hero status, with tens of thousands of people logging into a Facebook page of support. The story 24 hours later is that the flight attendant had “attitude” from the get-go and why is he whining? He should have just done his job and shut up…

Anyway, “The Early Show” had a segment in mind about this story and how big it blew up and why? And the tendency of “media” to build something up and then gleefully tear it down, and why do we watch? And I’m thinking of another point: why the hell is bad behavior celebrated, even rewarded? The “cast” (how insulting to call them a cast) of “Jersey Shore,” who aren’t even from Jersey, by the way, drank, vomited, punched and thrusted their way into “stardom” (but why am I using quotes? They’re considered stars!) and big ratings for VH-1. (I think “Jersey Shore” is the highest rated show on that network. Hate to do research on something so damn stupid, but I will, and report back about it.) So when the second season began (these days six episodes of something constitutes a “season”), those wacky non-Jersey-ites, no fools they, demanded, and got, $10,000 an episode. And for season 3 they demanded, and got, $30,000 an episode.

And Charlie Sheen can continue to be drunk, disorderly, smash cars, and menace and physically abuse wives, girlfriends, ladies-of-the-evening…just as long as he shows up to play his part on “Two And a Half Men.” Because he’s bringing laughter to the world, and doesn’t that count for something, judge? It’s not all about show-bizzers being rewarded for bad behavior (though I think Charlie did get a big raise this year); the corporate world is just as bad. Look at Carly Fiorina. Remember how her incompetent leadership ran Hewlett-Packard into near-bankrupcy? Her punishment? A $30 million dollar severance package. And no one at BP seems to be responsible or taking the blame for their (how many millions of barrels) oil leakage causing the worst natural disaster in US history. That jackass who “wanted his life back” won’t lose his job. No. He gets a transfer to Russia and about $40 million for a job horribly done. I mean, WHY AM I PAYING MY PARKING TICKETS? Oh, wait. I know why. Because if you’re rich, or famous, or infamous, the rules don’t apply to you. And even if you’re famous for being trailer trash you’ll still get headlines and a shot at a reality show or fragrance line.

EEK. My head hurts.

Dr. Laura doesn’t deserve ink, she’s an idiot. And here’s the definition of “idiot,” because I want to be precise:  A mentally retarded person with an intelligence quotient of less than 25; adult person mentally equal or inferior to a child two years old; a very foolish or stupid person (Webster’s New World Dictionary).

Works for me.