Macon Magazine

We know that story well – Walden and his brother Alan went on to help launch many iconic music careers, among them Otis Redding's. Otis grew up idolizing Richard, as did James Brown, but when the sonic bomb of Little Richard detonated, the hometown folks weren't the only ones left shaken. Bob Dylan, Ringo Starr and Keith Richards all adored Little Richard. He was Elton John's biggest influence. Waylon Jennings, a fan since the beginning, got fired from his first job as a DJ for playing two Little Richard records in a row. Filmmaker John Waters styled his iconic pencil-thin mustache after the one Little Richard wore. Little Richard taught Mick Jagger how to strut his stuff onstage and Paul McCartney how to woooo! He taught whole generations of gender-fluid, nonconforming misfits how to weaponize their differences in the name of art – think of David Bowie, Prince, Lady Gaga and Janelle Monae. THE TRUTH BEHIND 'TUTTI FRUTTI' As a teenager, Richard sold refreshments at the City Auditorium, where Sister Rosetta arpe, the pioneering guitar player, gospel singer and rock 'n' roll foremother overheard him singing her songs before the show. Impressed and sensing a kindred spirit, she invited him to open the show for her that night, and made sure to pay him well. From that moment, performing became Richard's singular pursuit; his fascinating array of formative experiences molded him into a dynamic artist. Kicked out of his house at 14 by a homophobic father who bitterly rebuked him as "half a son," Richard crashed at the home of Ann's Tic Toc owner Ann Howard (who he considered a second mother) and sang backup with bands that played there, toured the Chitlin' Circuit, went on the road with black vaudeville shows and snake oil salesmen, and performed as his drag alter-ego Princess Lavonne. His nonstop energy landed him a record deal with RCA, and by age 18, he'd had his first recording session. His early music is good, but missing the unhinged chaos that's an earmark of his sound. When his father was murdered by a patron of his own bar, Richard moved back home to help provide. Around that time, he met Esquerita (born S.Q. Reeder Jr.), a South Carolina native and fellow performer. Richard was fascinated with Esquerita's large hands, and with the noises he could coax from a piano with them. Esquerita also wore pancake makeup, eyeliner and a cartoonishly large pompadour. Richard took notes. In September 1955, Richard traveled to New Orleans to record for Specialty Records. He'd spent the previous year hounding label owner Art Rupe for the opportunity, but his studio performances lacked the fire of his live show. Producer Robert "Bumps" Blackwell called for a break and took the singer to a nearby bar, where Richard beelined for the piano and pounded out something he'd written – a wild, nasty song that always electrified a crowd, a song whose now- iconic nonsense refrain "Awop-Bop-a-Loo-Bop Alop-Bam-Boom" began as a sassy euphemism Richard would holler at work in lieu of the swear words he wished he could unload on his manager at the Macon Greyhound station where he washed dishes. Blackwell's jaw hit the floor. e lyrics to "Tutti Frutti" were wildly risqué for the time – "aw rooty" was originally "good booty," for starters – but the producer knew a hit when he heard one. A songwriter who'd been hanging around the studio helped with a sanitized re-write, and, at the very end of their allotted time, pushing through hoarseness and exhaustion, Little Richard banged and clamored and "Woo!"-ed his way through an exuberant recorded version of the song that would make history and etch itself into our collective cultural consciousness. UNDENIABLE INFLUENCER In Georgia Public Broadcasting's 2018 documentary "e Macon Sound," the late Capricorn Records impresario Phil Walden said, "When I first heard Little Richard say 'Awop-Bop-a- Loo-Bop Alop-Bam-Boom,' I knew I didn't want to sell insurance. I didn't want to be a doctor, lawyer or an Indian chief. I wanted to be in rock 'n' roll." JUNE/JULY 2020 | maconmagazine.com 35

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