Al Jarreau Had Many Friends Over the Years—and I Was One of His Closest

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Photo by Stig Ove Voll - Creative Commons license

Al Jarreau

Al Jarreau

Renaming Cawker Park, at 30th and Locust, for Milwaukee’s late, great Al Jarreau happily reminds me of the eventful times he shared over the years with me, and many other local friends. And they are very well worth remembering.  

For me, it all began in the 1940s when my family lived at 1716 N. Fifth St. between Walnut and Vine, next door to Alwin Lopez Jarreau—his full name—and his family. Included were his parents, Emile and Pearl; brothers Alpheaus and Emile, and sister Rose Marie. We later moved to First and Vine, and the Jarreau family to Fourth and Reservoir. 

Yet, I stayed in touch with Alwin (which I always called him)—especially as fellow students at Lincoln High School, where my late sister, Janet, also was a close friend and one of his classmates.

At 820 E. Knapp St.—across from the quaint Ogden movie theater—Lincoln also was hard-by fine expensive East Side homes near Lake Michigan. And me, Alwin and other students, often walked the area in awe during warm weather lunch periods. Included were mutual pals, John Givens and Tonish Jones.

Lincoln Follies

It was at Lincoln, where Alwin began to exercise his vocal talent in the chorus and the gala Lincoln Follies annual auditorium stage show with the great John Taylor who a member of the Ink Spots. In those days, portly Mr. Beduhn, chorus director and assistant football coach, taught a music class we loved. Never one to abide bad behavior, he’d call-out loud-mouths for discourteous “attention gaining devices.” 

Many of us worked in the school’s top-floor cafeteria in order to eat lunch for free. As Alwin would later say, “We were poor people, and we did what we had to do.” But, of course, dishing out the food and washing dishes and metal trays also made for great fun and lasting friendships.

The two of us never forgot Mr. Beduhn and heaped praise on him during Alwin’s historic, Nov. 11, 1994, in-studio appearance—at my invitation—on WNOV-AM radio’s “Carter-McGee Report.” On that occasion, I asked him who was the best singer between him and Taylor—who also was on the show—and Alwin self-effacingly laughed, “He was.”

Alwin played basketball at Lincoln and, as an intellectual, was student council president and elected governor of Badgers Boys State. Following graduation, he attended Ripon College and graduated with a bachelor’s degree in psychology in 1962. He later earned a master’s degree in vocational rehabilitation at the University of Iowa.

Countless Accolades

When I heard of Alwin passing at 76 on Feb. 12, 2017, in Los Angeles, I was crushed. How can this be, I asked myself, recalling our close friendship as well as his countless accolades and awards.

While far too numerous to mention, the most prestigious include seven Grammies; his 2001 star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame; singing the National Anthem in Milwaukee during baseball’s 1982 World Series, and his movie and TV theme songs for Night Shift (1982), Moonlighting (1987), Glengarry Glen Ross (1992), After All (1999) and High Crimes (2002). 

As adults, our times together were many and varied, beginning in 1983, in New York. As I crossed Seventh Avenue escorting a young lady to lunch near Carnegie Hall, I suddenly heard a loud “Dickie Carter!” And there was a grinning Alwin and a male friend walking toward us. Although the first time we’d seen each other in years, you’d never have known it. Then we all had a pleasant lunch at the Carnegie Tavern.

Alwin later became close friends with my daughter, Milwaukee-born Sherry Carter, Black Entertainment Television host of “Video LP” and co-host of “Video Soul,” with Donnie Simpson.

 Perhaps my most fond personal memory of Alwin is of Nov. 11, 1994, when he helped me make local radio talk show history on WNOV-AM’s groundbreaking “Carter-McGee Report.” With James “Pookie” Hudson, Mel Rhyne, John Taylor and Willie Higgins, Alwin crowded into our studios to exchange stories and perform on the most popular, highest-rated Black talk show in Milwaukee’s history. 

 Observed nationally as Veterans Day, Nov. 11 commemorates the sacrifices made by the men and women of America’s military. But the veterans we honored that bright morning in Milwaukee—led by Alwin—were a different brand. They were an eclectic group of accomplished musicians with local roots. And what a morning it was. 

Our thought-provoking program—which I co-hosted in 1994-95 with ex-alderman Michael McGee Sr.—had been going strong for seven months and was the city’s best call-in talk show ever. It was better than Charlie Sykes on WTMJ, Mark Belling on WISN and garnered much higher listener ratings than the Black WMCS-AM.

 But on that memorable 8-10 a.m. nearly 29 years ago—which came to be known as our “Music, Music, Music” show—we outdid ourselves with a landmark broadcast. Before it was over, camera crews from three TV stations had arrived to film what was happening. But, mostly, to see and hear Alwin. 

Uplifting Spirits

I originally got the idea for the show a week or so earlier after learning that Alwin would be in town Nov. 11 for a concert the Riverside theater. Seeking to uplift the spirits of our listeners after airing so many heavy programs, I called one of his out-of-town phone numbers and extended the invitation. 

His response: “Richard Carter? For you? Absolutely.” That was it for Alwin, until he called me at home from his hotel the night before the show. We recalled our days in the neighborhood, at Lincoln High School and New York City in 1983, when he yelled “Dickie Carter” as we met crossing Seventh Avenue near Carnegie Hall. 

During the next few days, I lined up Pookie—with whom I had worked closely on my authorized Spaniels’ biography—and the others. When Alwin and I spoke again, I told him we’d be joined by Pookie, along with noted locals Taylor, Rhyne and Higgins. And he was delighted.

“You mean they all gonna’ be there?” he asked. “Uh-huh,” I replied. “I can’t wait,” he said. After telling him where the studio was located, he said. “See you in the morning.”

As many Milwaukeeans remember, the four opined on musical and human interest topics and recalled the halcyon 1950s and ‘60s. Backed by Rhyne’s organ stylings, they joined on Pookie’s “Goodnight Sweetheart, Goodnight” and improvised words on a blues tune Rhyne wrote that very morning called “I Want to Slash and Burn and Slish-Shosh all Night Long.” 

The second hour of the program was given over to a flood of callers who loved what they were hearing. Many wanted to hear Alwin hits such as “We’re in This Love Together,’’ “Tenderness,” “Gimme’ What You Got,” “Teach Me Tonight,” “We Got By” and “Breezin’” from his album with George Benson. Several were old friends who recalled his 1976 Valentine’s Day appearance on TV’s “Saturday Night Live.” 

Following is the editorial I wrote, and read on air, that historic morning:

“In the last few years, I’ve devoted much of my writing to original Black rhythm and bluesz­a truly American musical form. But like many music lovers, I also love jazz and pure-dee blues -- some of which you’ve heard this morning on this program. This makes today’s show so very special to me and Mike and, I hope, to our countless listeners.

“The awesome talents of Milwaukee’s own Al Jarreau, the incomparable one. Along with the great John Taylor, Mel Rhyne, Willie Higgins and the legendary James “Pookie” Hudson” makes this another unique day on our program. All of these men are nonpareils in the music business. I’ve known Alwin since we were kids. In fact, our families once lived next door to one another on Fifth St., between Walnut and Vine.”

“I met John Taylor as a teenager, marveled at his lilting voice, the times his group opened for the Spaniels at the Colonial theater and his success when he joined the original Ink Spots. Mel Rhyne, of course, is a familiar name to jazz buffs. His fine work with a number of jazz greats place him in very select company. And Willie Higgins? What can you say about the man? This is his encore performance on this program.

“In 1954, the Spaniels, led by Pookie, released “Goodnight Sweetheart, Goodnight” and changed the landscape of popular music in America. More than any other song, this one helped R&B evolve into rock ’n’ roll and the nation has never been the same.

“What a great pleasure it is for me, and I know for Mike, to be able to talk to such artists—each and every one with strong links to Milwaukee …”

Our “Music, Music, Music” show was so popular that, owing to a huge demand, we offered, and sold, individual tapes for the bargain price of $5. 

With our time winding down, I asked Alwin, on-air, his thoughts about the morning‘s festivities. “This was like church,” he said. Indeed it was. And I’ll never forget it.

After signing off, Alwin and I took photos outside amid hugs and he said, “You look good, Rich.” As I thanked him, he expressed his admiration for my daughter, Sherry Carter, whom he’d visited in Washington, DC in 1992 for her BET shows.

I then reminded him how pleased I was three years earlier when he did not portray Nat King Cole in a proposed big-screen bio pic. This, due to Hollywood’s color-blind casting of Black actors as historical figures they don’t resemble, which I’d addressed in a 1991 New York Times op-ed column. Very light skin Alwin as very dark skin Cole would have been a sacrilege.

“After all these years, many of them still think all Black people look alike,” I said. “Ain’t it the truth,” he replied, shaking his head.

Such honesty is one of the things I remember best about Alwin Jarreau, my lifelong homeboy pal. There may never be another like him. Indeed, he belongs to the ages.