The Godfather of Soul is Dead. Long Live The Godfather of Soul

It’s hard to believe that James Brown is gone. It is even harder to believe that he was 73 years old. It seems like only yesterday (do I hear Paul McCartney singing in the background?) that he jumped on to my TV stage and with just one whirl of his magic cape, turned the world on its dancin’ feet. I’m indebted to that guy. He gave my book “Stuff Happens,” the ultimate James Brown compliment, “This book has a lot of soul.”

I first met James Brown at one of his sold-out concerts in the early 60s. As far as I could see, I was the only white person in the audience. But, no one was looking at me. All eyes were up there on the stage watching future magic in the making. He certainly added magic to The Lloyd Thaxton Show.

Years later, while walking down the halls of NBC, I passed the Johnny Carson stage door. A band was rehearsing for that night’s show. The sound was unmistakable. It was the sound that only James Brown could convey. I walked on stage and, sure enough, there he was rehearsing in front of the band. When he saw me, he stopped mid-note, ran over and gave me a big hug. I felt good.

Then, one day I came home and found this message on my answering machine, “Lloyd Thaxton. This is James Brown, the Godfather of Soul. God bless you. Good-bye.”

That other Godfather has a real treat in store.