A musical Note hits the road
I am one of four siblings three girls and one boy. My brother was a somewhat quiet but mischievous child. Since there is almost six years difference in our ages, I took on the role of little mother. While in high school I decided to join the band and tried to tackle the tenor saxophone. Well I marched in the band but could not play. I had neither the desire nor discipline to practice but I marched well and looked great in my uniform. My white bucks skin shoes flashed as we performed our intricate formations.
I also tried playing the piano but starting at sixteen, going to school, and working after school, left me no time to practice. My brother on the other hand started taking music lessons earlier and his teacher was a dapperly dress gentleman name Mr. Lynch. Mr. Lynch would walked from one student’s house to the next and charge the grand sum of .75 cents. Mr Lynch soon told my mother that he had taken my brother as far as he could so the music teacher at the high school took over.
At fourteen he started his first band. His appetite for learning to play instruments was insatiable. He was now playing bass guitar, piano, organ, and yes my tenor saxophone, saving it from gathering dust. I would watch in awe as he painstakingly made sheet music for the band members from the one arrangement he had bought. All of the guys were older but this was Bishop’s band and he ran a tight ship.
Going off to college he formed another band featuring other music majors thus The Mighty Majors were formed. This band traveled the south playing at clubs and colleges. He played with some of the greats like Aretha Franklin and Ray Charles.
Traveling the roads of the south during this time was dangerous for Blacks and a group of well dressed young Black males was thought to be easy pickings for rednecks with an axe to grind. Some of his travels happened during the time when some restaurants were just starting to allow Blacks to come in the front door. On one such occasion, after ordering food my brother observed the cook spitting in their food. This was a really large order so when it was brought up front it was refused. The owner was not happy but she was less happy when her cook was confronted with what he had done and he admitted his guilt. Fired on the spot, this made him very mad. As the band drove down the road, a car full of white men were chasing them. A little .38 gun caused then to back off. My little brother was following his love of music, but the trip was not be easy or safe. I will recount more of my brother’s musical career later!