I grew up as a young teenager in the highly segregated, deep south during the 60’s. In northwest Georgia. I also got to hang around a lot of the rich boys and girls because my parents - neither of whom had the privilege of attending college - somehow were able to scrape enough together every month to send me to one of the best private schools for boys in the entire southeastern US. It happened to be located in my hometown.

Paradoxically, it was these rich whites that just couldn’t get enough of black R&B and soul music - way earlier than this music reached widespread popularity nationally. This was a time when black bands couldn’t book gigs in public places throughout the south; when the bands travelled, they couldn’t stay at most hotels or eat at most restaurants.

But in the backyards and huge patios of the well-to-do, they privately hired these black bands to come and entertain for their teenage childrens’ parties. My high school, being private, was able to book the (”I’m a Girl Watcher”) Okasions for our Senior dance - could never do that in a segregated public school (only in the segregated private schools). Same held forth at the private fraternity houses at the college campuses throughout the south - the best parties invariably had a live, black soul band.

Carolina beach music was was our bread and butter - but nearly every performance included a set of covers of James Brown and his patented histrionics. It was wildly popular in that controlled way the privileged (even as teenagers) enjoy the finer, exclusive things in life. And it was the south’s thing.

James Brown was born just across the river from Georgia. He’s almost considered our own. James died Christmas Day 2006 in Atlanta. He entertained us blacks and whites alike.