Mixing Music and Politics
IN THE HANDS OF FATE?
This month, four years ago, Stevie Wonder sang “Happy Birthday” to Hillary Clinton. It was just days away from the election, and both of them were guests on syndicated radio show The Breakfast Club. The Democratic presidential contender was pictured smiling at the tribute in song and also, perhaps, at Wonder’s outfit: a black, custom-made “first female president” jacket, complete with Clinton’s name in large letters down both sleeves.
With an endorsement like that, what could possibly go wrong?
Welcome to an election edition of West Grand Blog, with word of those occasions when Motown’s stars wore their hearts on their sleeves, literally and figuratively. A couple of them wrote material which was overtly political, and which – in at least two instances – has held up over time. One singer ran for, and held, public office in Detroit; another talked about doing so. Still another sang for presidents in the nation’s capital.
Then there’s the boss, who ensured – instructed? – that during Motown’s first ten years, his artists did not publicly discuss politics or politicians. The major exception was the Supremes’ endorsement of presidential candidate Hubert H. Humphrey in 1968, complete with press conference and photo opportunities. The Democrat’s subsequent loss to Republican Richard Nixon suggested the limits of entertainers’ influence, no matter how many Number One hits were theirs.
Yet early in his career, Berry Gordy made a political move, co-authoring a campaign song and persuading Jackie Wilson to record it for use during an election race (or, technically, a re-election race) in 1958. “Let George Do It” was written for George Edwards, the former hospital accountant who represented Detroit’s 9th district in the Michigan state legislature, and who was married to Gordy’s sister, Esther. A lyric excerpt: “George was elected in ’54/And did a mighty fine job so we wanted more/He got re-elected in ’56/To help us out of an awful fix.”
REAL BIG CAMPAIGN SMILES
During Motown’s start-up years, Edwards was also the company’s part-time comptroller. In her autobiography, I Remember Motown, tape librarian Fran Heard recalled being asked by him for campaign help. “I would ask several of my girlfriends who were loyal Motown fans,” she wrote, adding, “That Saturday before voting, we would meet up at Pops and Moms Gordy’s to line up for the parade route. We would ride in convertible cars and pass out flyers for Mr. Edwards to people along the parade route, and smile real big campaign smiles.” The girls got results: he served for more than 20 years in the Michigan state house.
Martha Reeves was elected to public office, too, serving four years on the Detroit City Council. Yet she became the object of considerable criticism for dividing her time between politics and music, such as playing gigs in the U.K. while the council was debating controversial issues. When she lost her re-election bid in the August 2009 primary, she told the Detroit Free Press, “It was an education that I didn’t think I would get anywhere else...I’m glad it’s over, but I don’t regret it at all.” Declared the newspaper, “Star power doesn’t get Reeves an encore.”
The singer’s true political legacy is a piece of music. “Dancing In The Street” came to acquire that significance in the years after its release in 1964, as America’s civil-rights turmoil intensified and riots roiled the cities. “Our song was speaking to the times,” said its co-writer and producer, Mickey Stevenson, earlier this year. “It was giving out a message to the parents that everyone should be with each other, peacefully, and it was giving out a message to those who have radical ideas. And it still seems relevant.”
“Dancing In The Street” was the work of Stevenson, Ivy Hunter and Marvin Gaye. This year, the message of another Gaye creation, “What’s Going On,” has gained greater relevance than ever through the Black Lives Matter movement. The song needs no further discussion; it’s been invoked, analysed and covered beyond measure, worldwide. A more politically-pointed composition by its singer has not lasted so well: “You’re The Man,” recorded and released in the spring of 1972, as the Democrats sought a candidate to beat Nixon that fall.
Thereafter, Gaye turned for inspiration to sex and separation. “When I was doing Here, My Dear,” he told biographer David Ritz, “the only politics that interested me were the politics of my divorce.” He went on, “To me, the presidents passing through – Ford and Carter – were non-people. At least Nixon was someone to hate.”
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MR. PRESIDENT
In the year of Here, My Dear, one of those “non-people” was serenaded by Diana Ross. During a Democratic National Committee fundraising dinner in Washington in September 1978, she sang “Happy Birthday” to a surprised President Jimmy Carter, about to turn 54. Fifteen years on, when the Democrats’ next president took office, Ross honoured him, too, with a rendition of “God Bless America” from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. She was resplendent in red, white and blue, to the visible delight of Bill (and Hillary) Clinton.
By then, Ross was accustomed to the company of politicians. She had performed at another inaugural event in January 1974, a celebration for incoming Detroit mayor Coleman Young at the city’s Masonic Temple.
Young evidently had Motown’s support. The Originals recorded campaign songs for him (“Young Train,” “Young Ideas”) co-written by Esther Edwards, and it’s thought that Gordy personally donated to his election effort. In 1984, the Four Tops – back with the label – cut “Be A Part Of The Heart Of Detroit” for the city’s image-boosting effort, while Sammy Davis Jr. waxed “Hello, Detroit,” a new tune by Gordy and Willie Hutch. When Michael Jackson donated $125,000 to the Motown Museum in 1988, Young was present for the ceremony, with Gordy.
And so to Motown’s most socially-conscious, politically-active artist, but what to single out? Stevie Wonder’s adult career is chock full of politics, whether in song (“You Haven’t Done Nothin’,” “Front Line”) or in active support for civic causes – the most accomplished of which was his role in honouring the late Rev. Martin Luther King with a national holiday. In 1980, Wonder’s “Happy Birthday” anthem gave that campaign a boost, then he began taking part in rallies and making financial contributions.
A HOLIDAY UNDER LAW
In 1982, Wonder and King’s widow presented a petition of six million signatures to the Speaker of the House of Representatives. The following year, the House and Senate voted in favour of the King Holiday bill – the musician was present to watch the upper chamber’s roll call – and President Ronald Reagan signed it into law.
Two years later, Wonder publicly floated the idea of running for mayor of Detroit. “Maybe it won’t be ’93,” he said during a press conference promoting his holiday-time shows at the Fox Theatre. “It might be four years after that. I hope it’s as soon as possible, but I am serious.”
At other times, Wonder supported politicians whose views aligned with his. In 2000, he played at the Democrats’ national convention when Al Gore was the party’s presidential hope, and again in 2008 when Barack Obama was its candidate. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, “Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours” became the latter’s campaign song that year. In 2012, Wonder wrote “Keep Moving Forward” for Obama’s re-election effort; in 2016, he sang at fundraising events for Hillary Clinton – and had that fateful jacket made.
Which brings us to 2020. Wonder appears more animated, more distressed, by this year’s presidential election than by any before. “To those who say they care, move more than your mouth,” he declared in June. “Move your feet to the polls and use your hands to vote.” By last month, his rhetoric had intensified. “Why can’t we hear love, the greater truth, as opposed to being consumed and bombarded by conspiracies and lies,” he asked in a video speech. “Where’s our love for each other?”
MAKING HIMSELF HEARD
For most of the past 50 years, Wonder has used the platform of his popularity to send thoughtful, positive messages. Now, social media has extended his reach still further. “We can’t take the chance that someone else will do what we have to do,” he said in September. “We can’t put it in the hands of fate.” Better still, this determination to make himself heard has yielded new music, released just days ago.
“You say that you believe in all lives matter/I say, I don't believe the fuck you do/You say, all things in time/I say, that's why I'm not gonna put it in the hands of fate.”
It remains to be seen whether “Can’t Put It In The Hands Of Fate” or “Where Is Our Love Song” will motivate America’s voters on November 3, but at least Wonder is playing to his strengths, rather than his choice of clothing.
Music notes: Berry Gordy, shocked and saddened by the death of President John F. Kennedy 57 years ago, was moved to write a song about him. It’s the opening track on West Grand Blog’s latest playlist, as recorded by Liz Lands; copies of the single were said to have been distributed at the 1964 Democratic National Convention by a young political operative, Joseph Lieberman, who would later run for vice president (and be mentioned in song by Stevie Wonder). Elsewhere on this playlist is a selection of other Motown tracks with political undertones, oblique or obvious. They include the Miracles’ “I Care About Detroit,” deployed in 1968 by the city’s Central Business District Association to help polish its post-riots image, and “Hello, Detroit” by Pat Lewis (the original Sammy Davis Jr. recording, cited above, doesn’t appear to be available on digital music services). Music to play, perhaps, if you’re waiting in line to vote on the third day of November.