PJ was trying to be a pimp, I say trying because as I remember it, the girls were always taking money from him. That was much later in the saga because looking back now my first memory of us was sitting at the piano at the age of 9, trying to write our first song, “Ruby”.
‘I saw Ruby walking down the street, and to myself, I would repeat, 'Ruby, Ruby, come to me, oh, oh, oh'.”
We never got past the second verse,
“When I saw those real tough eyes, chills ran up and down my spine, and in my heart, I wished she was mine, oh, oh, oh.”
I never expected we would be running the streets just a few years later. I looked up to him, and he, like a true twisted mentor, tried as hard as he could to corrupt me. He introduced me to my first girl (one of his 'ho’s), my first cigarette, my first shoplift, my first drive, and my first real conversation with a girl on the phone. I was too painfully shy to talk to her, so I smoked a cigarette and let the nicotine do the talking. That was my gateway drug to being cool.
He failed at almost everything, except influencing me to try to be a little crook. He wasn’t quite as bad as Jerry Horn, his then-best friend, and I have a scar on my knuckle to prove it, where Jerry cut me for interrupting their date with a couple of girls. I was just supposed to wait in the car and got impatient. I went up the stairs and knocked, and when the door cracked, this fool just slashed my hand when I pushed on the open door. Together they were crazy, but PJ was a poet at heart, and Jerry was just certifiably crazy and should have been in jail.
This song is about PJ and his soft, creative nature, which I tried to salvage many years later through music—our first love. I left California and the potential gangster life in the late '60s and returned a few times, only to find him sleeping in his car in the park or standing in front of a liquor store. He was the closest thing to a brother I had. Every time I saw him, it was worse. Funny, on one visit, I actually played him this song to try to snap him out of the painful life he was living, and he said I should change it and make it about a girl! Luckily for me, the last visit I made I captured a few videos of him and his then-wife who stabbed him in the stomach, lacerated his spleen, and put him in the hospital where he almost died. This short footage was shot after she got out of jail for the attack and moved back in with him. Go figure! His beautiful son, PJ Jr., has always been like a son to me, and how he survived all the turmoil in his life to be who he is now is still my inspiration.
I promised you I was going to drop a few unheard tracks and stories from the vault, so I hope this song tells the story and keeps PJ in your heart. He was a true Original Gangster with the heart of a poet.
Speaking of gangsters, looking back at old photos can really bring the past to life. Not long ago, I found an old photo of my dad from the early '40s when he was acting in Hollywood.
Back then, the movie industry was just like the rest of America—segregated. That meant black actors like him often got stuck playing servants or other small, demeaning roles.
My dad's scrapbook was full of autographs from famous people like Edward G. Robinson, Peter Lorre, and Lana Turner. He was well-respected by these big stars, but he still didn’t get to play the kind of roles that showed off his real talent.
Luckily, there was a whole separate movie industry for black actors, directors, and producers. They made their own cowboy and gangster movies where black actors could be the heroes. My dad was right there, in the thick of it. I’ve seen pictures of him from the first "King Kong" movie, where he actually got a few lines and was right up front in the scenes.
He also played cooler parts in those black-made movies—gangsters and cowboys. I remember one photo of him on a white horse, wearing a big ten-gallon hat. It made me so proud that I even wanted to change my name to “Dusty,” though my mom was having none of that.
Those photos didn't just make me proud, though. They made me dream of being anything I wanted. Whether it was a cowboy, a gangster, or what I finally became—a musician.
If you’re curious about these stories and my own journey, keep your eyes peeled. I’m going to share more next month.
“BRIGHT” the story of my renaissance from LA hippie to an American Gypsy.
THE ROOM, CARIBBEAN NIGHTS NIGHT CLUB 1974 AMSTERDAM
I always have a little gig info for you and this newsletter is no exception.
We’ll be at Cardea Barangaroo again on Thursday the 9th of May and it’s almost sold out. You can get Tix for that gig as well as Friday June 28th, both on sale now HERE.
The Brass Monkey has always been one of our favorite venues, and we’re looking forward to playing some fresh new tunes with a funky, solid rhythm section and some new-school blues and our own brand of jazz flavoured funk. Come check us out—we can’t wait to rock the house. Tix »»» The Brass Monkey
On another note ♫✨We're planning some very special private performances in the near future. These invite-only events will take place in secret exclusive locations around Sydney and its surroundings. If you enjoy Jazz, Soul, and Gospel up close and personal, make sure to get your name on the list. All paid subscribers will receive invitations as soon as the dates are confirmed.
Also, I’m thrilled to announce that we will be playing at Bird's Basement in Melbourne on August 8th. Melbourne fans, get ready! Details will follow soon.
To all our loyal supporters, thank you for your time and indulgence. To our paid subscribers, a million thanks for your unwavering support. I appreciate each and every one of you.
Included: All new song, album and video releases. A peak at my gallery from which you can order exclusive prints of some of my photo work. Automatic notification and invites to my private home concerts and more………
As always, stay peaceful and stay blessed. 🙏🏾
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