The Ballad of Jeana Jackson

‘HEY, MAN, HEY, BERRY, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU’

Jeana Jackson laughed at my question.

      She had been discussing Motown’s move to Los Angeles, and how it seemed as if Berry Gordy had “betrayed” everyone in the company in Detroit. “Motown belonged to us. It was like taking away our baby.”

      I asked if she had expressed those feelings to Gordy himself, since she had been romantically involved with him and, presumably, that gave her license to do so. “Who said I was romantically involved?” There was a pregnant pause.

      “I won’t hold you to that, it’s OK,” Jackson laughed. “That’s funny. You said it so casually. Did that slip? That’s another book.”

Jeana Jackson: from Connecticut to Michigan

      This all came to mind on hearing the sad news that Jeana Elaine Jackson had died on January 25 this year, at the age of 78. She was, indeed, romantically involved with Berry Gordy. “Our love affair resulted in the birth of a beautiful baby girl we called Sherry,” he wrote in his autobiography, To Be Loved. “Jeana and I had a wonderful, but short, relationship.”

      Yet I had not contacted this vivacious Hitsville alumna in 2013 to probe her personal life, although – as you can tell – it proved hard not to ask an obvious question. It was her professional experience which interested me, sparked by the fact that Jackson had worked for Barney Ales, the Motown marketing monarch also widely known as Gordy’s hatchet man. “That didn’t bother me as long as I had a hatchet,” Ales told me as we collaborated on Motown: The Sound Of Young America.

      Jackson arrived at the company by accident. Born and schooled in Hartford, Connecticut, she was a youngster visiting family in the Detroit area one summer when she heard the distinctive tones of disc jockey Larry Dixon on local R&B powerhouse, WCHB. He was familiar to Hartford listeners from his time at nearby WJKO in Springfield, Massachusetts, and Jackson decided to catch him in action at a ’CHB remote broadcast, then at a record hop. Meeting the DJ, she was also introduced to one of his acquaintances: Berry Gordy.

      That Dixon and Gordy knew each other is embedded in Motown history. The disc jockey played Marv Johnson’s “Come To Me” – Tamla 101 – on ’CHB from the get-go, and was the influencer who contacted United Artists Records in New York to suggest its acquisition for national distribution.

‘EVERYDAY PEOPLE’

      Back home in Hartford, Jackson was employed by an insurance firm. After meeting Gordy, she found herself curious about the music industry, and later returned to Detroit. “He was asking me about working for the company, and of course, I went by and did the whole tour [of Hitsville]. It was so exciting, wow! I went to a recording session, met Smokey and Claudette. Everybody was so nice, and so cool – just everyday people. It just became very interesting to me.”

      By this account, Jackson made the move to Detroit in 1963, and began toiling in Gordy’s office, alongside his secretary, Rebecca Jiles. “At first, it was kind of exciting, and then after a while…” Evidently, she wished for more than administrative tasks. “It was exciting going to the studio when the acts were recording. Working in his office was kind of routine. To me, it was just a clerical position, and I wanted to get more involved in the business of music.”

Jeana and the Chairman

      Even so, Jackson was intrigued by the president’s relationships with characters from Detroit’s music scene. “In the beginning, [Motown] wasn’t really organised,” she said, recalling the many occasions when people from the founder’s past would approach him: “ ‘So, hey, Berry, man, what’s happening? Look, I need $500 by tomorrow.’ ” And sometimes Berry might even go into his own pocket, [give the money] and just say, ‘Well, here, remember this.’ Because he had known these people for a long time.” Jackson continued, “Somebody’s wife is having a baby, they need cash, or somebody’s in the hospital, whatever. There were all kinds of stories. He couldn’t get out of his car and walk to the building without three people [approaching him]: ‘Hey, man, hey, Berry, I need to talk to you.’ But he toughened up: ‘We’re still friends and all that, but this is an organisation.’ I got so many calls, saying, ‘I know Berry from back in the day.’ Well, it’s a new day, hello!”

      Nonetheless, she struggled with the monotonous office tasks, so when Barney Ales suggested that Jackson join his team, she was swift to agree. At first, she was based in the 2644-46 building on West Grand, which housed sales, billing, collections, shipping and public relations. “Nobody was dragging their feet in that office. Barney was hard [to work for] but he got the job done. In Berry’s office, it was kind of lax, loose, you know, especially when he wasn’t there.” Jackson acknowledged that Ales could be fearsome, but emphasised that he was approachable. “Just don’t go in there to waste his time, to give him some bullshit story. He’s gonna check it out and you’d better be on the money.”

      Later, Ales gave Jackson even more opportunity. “ ‘This isn’t a job for you, sitting a desk all day,’ ” she remembered him saying. “ ‘You’re outgoing, you’ve got a great personality.’ “ Towards the end of the ’60s, she took on promotion duties, connecting with radio stations and distributors around the country. “I started out local in Detroit, then I expanded. I did a lot calling out to different areas.” During much of its first decade, Motown depended on its distributors’ promotion staff. “They didn’t just have Motown, they had other product, too,” said Jackson. “So we were just in the basket with everybody else. I had a very good rapport with other promotion people, even those with other labels. I wanted to prove to the people who weren’t sure about what I could do.”

NO PROBLEMS IN NASHVILLE

      Among the notable connections she made were with E. Rodney Jones at WVON Chicago and Norma Panella at WWRL New York, but she dealt with pop radio, too. “Al Klein had a lot to do with that,” she said, referring to Motown’s regional promotion director for the south and west of the country. “He was super, very knowledgeable. I don’t think even Al knew how many people loved him. When I said I wanted to go to Nashville, [other] people said, ‘You don’t want to go there, they don’t play black music, blah blah blah.’ I had no problems in Nashville, I got records on [radio playlists]. Al would even call ahead, he’d say, ‘By the way, I’ve got a partner coming in, Jeana Jackson, she’s great.’ He kinda prepped them, so I was welcomed. I really appreciated that.” Among the hits she remembered promoting were the Spinners’ “It’s A Shame” and Rare Earth’s “(I Know) I’m Losing You.”

Father and daughter

      When she wasn’t working on the business side, she co-wrote songs as a lyricist, including “True Love Can Be Beautiful” (recorded by the Jackson 5 and Jimmy & David Ruffin) and “Loving You (Is Hurting Me)” (the Fantastic Four, David Ruffin). “Once she found out about scheduled writing sessions [at Motown],” wrote Sherry Gordy for her mother’s obituary, “she would drop in to fuel her passion for writing.” Later, she authored “Daughter, You’re Still Your Daddy’s Child” with Marvell Thomas, as well as a song with Lamont Dozier, as he told me earlier this week. “Jeana was a friend, although we lost touch over the years. She was a great girl who enjoyed life, was kind, and this was reflected in her ability to come up with some meaningful lyrical ideas. She helped me with the lyrics on ‘Steppin’ In The Shoes Of A Fool’ for Z.Z. Hill.”

      For all her criticism of Motown’s exit from Detroit, Jackson made the move west, too – shortly before the company did in 1972. In Los Angeles, she enrolled in the Estelle Harman Actors Workshop, going on to appear with fiancé Renny Roker in The Ballad of Billie Blue, a movie about a failing country music singer. (Roker had an interesting story of his own, as a principal of Canyon Records, then as an actor in film and TV, including Gomer Pyle, USMC and Hill Street Blues.) Jackson also worked at Capitol Records, recruited by president Al Coury and assigned to Larkin Arnold’s R&B division – a stint which included an “acting” spot as a lover’s voice on the intro of Tavares’ “To Love You,” on their Hard Core Poetry album.

      “She had a great voice,” agreed Ales, “she had a great personality, and she was a pleasure to work with.” Further testimony was the fact that he hired Jackson for his post-Motown tenure at Rocket Records and Pablo Records. “There were few people I could depend on as much as Jeana. I’ll never forget her.” Another former Motown colleague, Miller London, told me, “Jeana was simply a wonderful person.”

Jackson left the music industry in the 1990s, relocating to Las Vegas with daughter Sherry and taking up a post at Desert Radiology until her retirement. Then, she had intended to write her memoirs – and given what she told me that I could never commit to print, I know it would have been one illuminating tale. Rest in peace, Jeana.

Music notes: Jeana Jackson’s “True Love Can Be Beautiful” and “Loving You (Is Hurting Me)” – here on this playlist in two versions apiece – were written with Bobby Taylor and Leonard Caston. (She told me that she continued to keep in touch with Taylor after he emigrated to Hong Kong.) For the six-minute Stax drama of “Daughter, You’re Still Your Daddy’s Child,” Jackson collaborated with Marvell Thomas, son of Rufus (and sister of Carla). For Z.Z. Hill’s “Steppin’ In The Shoes Of A Fool,” she wrote the song with Lamont Dozier, as noted above. The playlist closes with two of the Motown hits she worked when on Motown’s promotion team. Tavares’ “To Love You” doesn’t appear on Spotify, but can be heard via the link above under the song’s title.