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Surviving the Soul Survivors

this is real, and it ain't pretty

read the ADDENDUMS on this page

or don't bother reading the page at all

throughout this page, DATES are bold

 

This page, which is completely truthful, was added to my website very early in 1996.  When I first began writing, I thought my words might give the impression of anger, which wasn't necessary.  I tried to avoid expressing anger when I wrote this page, and made an effort to write clear, (mostly) unemotional facts.  But some anger did slip in sometimes. 

 

On November 28, 2003, a very unusual event took place.

On December 1, 2003, I took many parts out of the original webpage, "sanitized" it, and added two ADDENDUMS. 

From approximately December, 2003 until approximately March, 2008, other events took place, which influenced my thinking very strongly. 

 

On March 18, 2008, I added numerous ADDENDUMS to this page, for reasons which should be apparent, if you read them.

With all the ADDENDUMS, I turned this page into a BOOK.

 

This is a very long webpage - about 20,000 words.

It might take an hour to read all of it, possibly even longer.

If you don't have the time to really read it, come back when you do have some time.  

 

Soul Survivors Secrets

 

PROLOGUE

A few months before age 14, I left home and went on the road to play music.  I think I looked like an 11 year old. 

I had a fake Alcoholic Beverage Permit, which allowed me to play in places that served alcohol.  It showed my age as 18.  Does this really look like an 18 year old to you?  I'm pretty sure this was one of my very first real road jobs as a full-time member of a band.

This picture was taken after a WNJR "Hal Jackson Soul Show" at Palisades Amusement Park.  Besides doing our own show, we backed up many soul artists at these shows.  Most of them had at least one hit record.  We worked hard, sweated a lot, and did live radio interviews, too.  We did a lot of shows for WNJR. 

The groups I played in, from 1963 to 1968, ranged from 8 to 11 pieces. 

We always had horn sections: sometimes as few as 3, sometimes as many as 6.  Nothing compares to a full horn section for R&B music.  To me, once you've experienced a good horn section, you're hooked forever.      

Playing with an 8 piece soul band in Lowell, Massachusetts. 

This club (the Blue Moon) really loved us, we kept the place full. 

We played this club regularly, as part of our "Boston circuit". 

Then we went to Revere, played those clubs for awhile, and then .... back out on the road.   

I don't even want to remember how young I was.  I think I weighed almost 100 pounds at that time.

Over time, this group changed and transformed many times. 

Musicians left, others were hired.  Sometimes we were 8 pieces, sometimes 9 or 10.  We also changed our name.

Playing with a 9 piece soul band, probably in Chicago. 

Like Boston, Chicago, NYC, and many other large "club cities", we played almost every club with a stage big enough to hold our group. 

It takes quite a large stage to hold an 11 piece group. 

 

Long before the Soul Survivors, I bought a small "suitcase" stereo.  This is approximately what it looked like. 

It was barely bigger than a briefcase.

 

It folded open in a second, ready to plug in and play.  Then, the turntable folded inside, the speakers snapped closed to pack it up, ready to go.  Besides my Hammonds, it was the most important musical tool I owned.  It was so small, it could sit right on the Hammond, in front of me, so I could move the needle back to learn a part - over and over again.  Nobody would ever believe how many hours of education that little inexpensive stereo provided.
 

In The Beginning ....

 

Playing Hammond organ with the Soul Survivors began pleasantly.  I joined them in March or April, 1968, and stayed until nearly the end of May, 1969.

The band I played with just before the Soul Survivors was 11 members: 4 rhythm section, 5 horns, and 2 front singers.

 

Previously, I'd spent about four years on the road with a few different R&B bands.

We played large clubs and showrooms all over the country, five to seven nights a week, approximately 48-50 weeks per year. 

That's a lot of hours of playing, and a lot of practice.

 

I was young, but I wasn't 14 years old anymore. 

I was 18, and by this time in my musical life, I'd started to gain some real confidence in my playing ability. 

I knew how to play good soul music.

 

I was flattered that Ronnie (bass), and John (drums), thought highly enough of my playing to call me for an audition. 

I had formerly played with both of them in two large soul bands with horn sections. 

 

I was excited!  GODDAMN was I excited! 

I went to Long Island to audition and thought, "Oh, man, yeah!  This is it - this is big time!" 

The Soul Survivors recently had a hit record called "Expressway To Your Heart", and I liked it. 

They were managed by Phil Basile and Audrey, of Breakout Management, who also managed Vanilla Fudge. 

There was a rehearsal studio at their office - I believe it was on Ocean Boulevard in Oceanside.

 

The audition went fine. 

I met the three singers, Kenny Jeremiah, Charlie Ingui, and Richard Ingui, and they played some tapes of their songs. 

They were very good singers. 

Ronnie and John were there, but no guitar player at that time. 

No dope, either. 

 

I learned their songs immediately, and was hired on the spot. 

I recall a lot of positive energy in the air that evening.   

We rehearsed for about three hours, and the six of us could have easily gone out and played a show that night. 

 

It was as simple - or as natural - as that.  

 

I had experience with the bass player and drummer - we had no problem communicating musically. 

The singers didn't play instruments, so they told us what they liked and wanted to hear. 

It was basically like playing in the old soul bands, Ronnie, John, and I, doing much different material, but quite a bit busier, especially without the horn section.

 

We did the usual round of auditions, rehearsals, replaced the guitar player a few times, then a guy named Steve was hired. 

He was the guitar player during my stay with the Soul Survivors. 

At that point, we had a working band: Ronnie, Steve, John, and I, plus the three singers. 

We tried out some horns, and soon went out to do live shows. 

We did a lot of live shows.

{{  momentary interruption: Hammond organs and Leslie speakers are, essentially, furniture.  They were never designed for travel, they were designed for permanent installation in a home or church.  Unlike other musical instruments, there weren't any velvet lined cases to protect them.  The keyboard cover on a Hammond can be broken off just by leaning on it too hard.  The legs can break if you shove the Hammond across a door threshold.  They're truly great instruments, and they really are sturdy, but they require just a few minutes of care and respect if they're to be moved from place to place.  }}  

During this year, all my Hammonds and Leslies were damaged or wrecked by the "roadies" employed by Breakout Management. 

At that time, a new Hammond B3 and 2 Leslie speakers cost about $2,800.00. 

Used, I could buy them for about $1,600.00 to $2,000.00 - if any were available when I needed them.  That was pretty rare.

I had to pay cash for mine - I was too young for credit or loans. 

 

I hope you'll never know what it feels like to see your nearly brand new Hammond B3 flying out the back of a truck from about 4' off the ground. 

I watched one of mine "fly" in State College, Pennsylvania.  It didn't survive.  I'm not even sure where the remains went.

 

I think that was a form of logic back then. 

The more equipment you damage, the harder it seems like you're working.  So you must be real good at your job. 

 

Several sets of padded covers and ROKs (special organ moving equipment) disappeared, as well as some of my suitcases and clothing bags.  

Enough dope can do strange things to people.  And these people seriously smoked some dope.

 

A Hammond B3 weighs about 280 pounds.  A Leslie speaker weighs about 175 pounds. 

Altogether, I had five or six Hammonds and nine or ten Leslies while playing with the Soul Survivors. 

 

My damaged instruments needed repair, and were "stored somewhere".  I never knew "where".

They might have been in Breakout Management's office/rehearsal room in Long Island - I really don't know. 

Maybe that's where all my padded covers and organ moving equipment (ROKs) were, too.

When I asked where my belongings were, nobody knew for sure.

 

I had the use of an empty garage, where I could store and repair my instruments. 

The old man who owned the building was a Hammond electronic tech.  I'd known him since I was about 12 years old.

He had helped me work on my equipment many times - years before the Soul Survivors.

He was very old - much too old to ask him to go and get my instruments. 

I asked management, several times, to please drop off my damaged equipment at his garage.  All I got was excuses. 

 

NOTE: My previous four years were spent on the road, constantly traveling and playing in soul bands.  I owned ONE Hammond B3 and TWO Leslies. 

They were never seriously damaged.  A few nicks and scratches?  Certainly.  Some minor repairs?  Yes.  Replacement?  Never. 

 

As the weeks dragged on, personality clashes and arguments began to increase. 

For all the good it did, Kenny tried to be the peace keeper. 

Charlie, Richard's brother, could be counted on to side with Richard, no matter what the situation was. 

Blood is thicker than reality or sense, and Charlie had very little sense. 

If Richard said the sky was maroon, Charlie would agree. 

Can you say "puppet"? 

Except for Kenny, who didn't smoke dope, everybody stood around, getting stoned, watching the eruptions, and waiting to see where they would lead.

 

At the core of the clashes were problems between Richard and myself. 

Directed at me, more than anyone else, Richard was a control freak. 

He constantly tried to run my life, make my decisions, and convert me to his way of thinking. 

His mouth never stopped running.  Richard tried to wear you down to his way of thinking, no matter how long it took.

 

Besides playing Hammond, my other responsibility was conducting rehearsals. 

That's probably because I was the most musical and least stoned, knew what a Bb chord was, where to find one, and what voicings were needed. 

(Keyboard and guitar players play chords - other musicians play one note at a time.) 

 

Most rehearsals focused on the correct method of cleaning dope on a screen, rolling joints, and getting high as the ceiling while "being creative". 

Pot was always a major component of our rehearsals. 

The more dope Richard smoked, the more preposterous he got.

 

One of the main problems was music. 

I loved soul music - mainly STAX music. 

My words can't adequately describe it, it's something you have to feel. 

 

I almost always brought my small, portable stereo and a large collection of STAX records on the road with me.

I'd play them in my hotel rooms.

Richard and I never stayed in the same room, so he must have spent a lot of time listening through walls. 

Too much STAX, too much Otis, Eddie Floyd, MGs, Sam and Dave, Pickett, James Brown, and all the rest of the R&B I lived on. 

I was verbally abused, put down, and ridiculed for this endlessly.  I mean endlessly. 

 

I don't remember confrontations with anyone else in the group.  Confrontations were Richard's specialty.

 

When the REAL soul acts were in the area - James Brown, Aretha, William Bell, Solomon Burke, Chuck Jackson, Ben E. King, Maxine Brown, Joe Tex, Sam and Dave, Wilson Pickett, or any STAX, Chess, or Motown show - I'd go almost anywhere to see them if it was possible. 

New York, Newark, Baltimore, Philadelphia, Washington, Boston - if I could go, I went.  Trains, planes, a bus, overnight hotel cost - I didn't mind at all. 

I regularly went to the Apollo, RKO, Small's Paradise, Royal, Mosque, Howard, Uptown, Paramount, and plenty of other black show rooms, clubs, and theaters. 

 

That was the music I wanted to hear.  But that didn't meet with Richard's approval.

 

Richard constantly ridiculed me - always in front of other people.

He never got tired of belittling me, insulting me, and putting me down - making me feel like a piece of shit, because I knew what I wanted to hear.

 

Factually, white boys from NYC typically didn't go to "those places" back then. 

Keep in mind, this was 1968, near the time Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated, on April 4, 1968. 

1968 was a big year for Civil Rights movements, and there was a lot of racial tension, including riots, all across the country. 

People try to say it doesn't exist, but racism has been around for a long, long time.

 

ADDENDUM

added December 1, 2003
I'm being straight: I was not an innocent bystander - I was definitely a contributor to the arguments.  I undoubtedly caused some arguments myself, because my real love was STAX music. 

I wanted to play more like what I heard on all my STAX records: simpler parts, and a more powerful groove.  Since 1963, I'd spent years learning to play STAX keyboard parts, note-for-note.  I learned to feel that musical groove, and it became automatic and natural for me. 

I didn't love Soul Survivors music.  Aside from any personal differences, the music quickly became too frantic and busy.  I contributed by arguing that we were losing what we started with - we were getting busier every time we played.  What seemed at first to be "slightly busy" music progressively became frantic.  It really wasn't the songs, it was the way we played them.  It just got crazier, week after week - and the music fell apart.

 

Leslie West (Mountain) rehearsed in the same place on St. Marks Place that we used in New York City. 

Richard loved that music.  I couldn't even listen to it. 

I'd get out of there and stand around outside the building instead of going deaf. 

So - as expected - I was all wrong. 

Nobody would ever believe how loud those guys could play inside that rehearsal room - and the place was only about 20 feet by 20 feet! 

I'm talking about seriously, incredibly loud.

 

I vaguely remember some "songs" that Richard was "writing". 

They did nothing for me, they were nonsense. 

I couldn't relate to Richard's "musical direction", because he had no direction. 

He was trying to learn to play guitar, and was about twenty years out from that goal. 

He just didn't make sense to me, musically, so there wasn't too much to get enthusiastic about.

 

How do you fake having enthusiasm for something that doesn't make sense? 

I was hired to play Hammond organ with the Soul Survivors. 

I always played my best, I took my responsibility very seriously. 

I wasn't hired to book concerts, move equipment, drive trucks, or model myself after Richard and agree with everything he said. 

I wasn't impressed, and didn't kiss his ass, telling him that his "songs" were going to be tomorrow's smash hitS!  (Guess what?  They weren't.) 

His idea of "music" wasn't music at all - he was just looking for anybody else to write some music that he could hook his lyrics into. 

That left either Steve or me to "write" with. 

I think chemically (drugs), Steve might have existed on another planet.  He constantly stayed high.

 

I knew the difference between playing stoned and playing straight, paying attention to the other players. 

My interest in real soul music didn't agree with Richard, and my dope consumption didn't match his.

I liked pot sometimes, I just didn't want to smoke it daily.

I wasn't eager to waste time, smoking pot and writing nonsense songs with him. 

 

ADDENDUM

added March 18, 2008
Right after Steve was hired, intense rhythm section rehearsals really started.  Richard left us alone at first.  The musicians created the foundation for the singers.  The songs were no more difficult than brushing your hair.  We were experienced players, we didn't need any help from anybody.  Our early shows proved that.

I had no problem conducting rehearsals as long as Richard didn't interfere.  When we had horns, I had to arrange parts that let the horns do their parts.  The rhythm section had to make space for them. 

We rehearsed until we were so tight, a drop of water couldn't leak out.  As musicians, we worked together to compliment each other.  Musicians have plenty of tools at their disposal: we understood dynamics, we knew when to play unison an octave apart, stop time, when to put 7ths or 3rds or 5ths on the top, how to anticipate accented upbeats - we were musicians.  We knew how to back up singers - that was our job. 

Any musician that reads this can understand.

Richard couldn't understand 5ths, inversions, dynamics, and arranging rhythm or horn sections if they all fell on top of him.  But Richard had to get himself involved - he had to be in the middle of everything.  He had to be in control.

Richard constantly wanted more.  Louder Marshall amp stacks, distortion, Jimi Hendrix guitar parts, fuzz tones, more bass lines, busier drum parts - always more.  Richard wanted me to start playing Vanilla Fudge style organ.  He wanted to turn something rock solid into chaos.  In time, that's exactly what he did. 

Richard couldn't stop pushing - he never shut up - and he didn't have a clue in the world what he was talking about.  Richard didn't shut up long enough to know he had exactly what he needed.  And he demolished it.

I remember a trombone player, a very nice guy, came in from Boston to audition.  We played part of "Tell Daddy" for him.  I played his part, to show him what we needed.  We ran it down, and repeated it.  Musically, things were going along just fine.  The guy could play, and he had a memory for the lines and the accents.  That guy should have been hired.

Then Richard opened his mouth. 

I don't remember what was said, but within 3 minutes, the guy packed up his trombone, and said, "fuck this!". 

Out the door he went. 

 

Richard's mouth ran off the tenor and trumpet players in a very short time, too.  They wouldn't take his verbal abuse. 

They just packed up their horns and walked out.

I should have done the same, after Richard's first few abusive confrontations. 

 

But unlike horn players, I had a huge problem - about 2,000 pounds of problem.

Obviously, it wasn't very easy for me to "pack up and walk out" like the horn players.

Below, you'll read how I "solved" the problem.  I solved it in about 2 seconds. 

 

We played a show for Annette Funicello (one of Disney's original Mouseketeers).  It was a big, outdoor birthday, or maybe an anniversary, party.

Before we started to play, Richard got into some shit with one of her bodyguards. 

In a few seconds, there were about TEN bodyguards there.  We were surrounded by bodyguards.

The strange thing is, except for Richard, nobody had any idea - not a Goddamn clue - what the fuck "IT" was ABOUT.   

Whatever "IT" was, this scenario just happened out of nowhere, when Richard started running off his mouth to the wrong guy. 

Those bodyguards were NOT playing around - they were seriously pissed off.

Bottom line: Richard's mouth almost got the whole group thrown out of there on our asses. 

We did play the show, and the tension in the air motivated us to get the hell out of there as soon as we finished playing.

You can bet your ass we were never hired by Annette's manager again.

 

I also remember a show someplace way up north - New Hampshire, Maine, or somewhere. 

The roadies got the Hammond out of the truck in sub zero weather, and it wouldn't even start.  Its moving parts were literally frozen. 

NOTE: Hammond organs use a motor to drive the tone generator.  No other instruments used a motor. 

 

Richard went completely fucking berserk, right on the stage, in front of a sold-out club full of hundreds of people. 

Maybe screaming at me would make the Hammond organ start? 

If he would have stuck his mouth inside the back of the Hammond, he could have defrosted the fucking thing himself. 

I had to listen to his ranting and raving all night on the trip back to New York City. 

Playing Hammond and putting up with his abuse and aggression wasn't enough - I should have been able to control the weather, too? 

 

If it seems as if I didn't like Richard, that's right.  I learned how to dislike him.  He taught me how.

 

Richard was in the habit of inviting himself into hotel rooms without knocking. 

If the door wasn't locked, he strolled right in and made himself at home, like he owned the place.

 

On one momentous occasion, the Soul Survivors played a concert for Vassar College. 

I'm almost positive it was Vassar's annual Christmas party. 

I believe it was at the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel, on Broad Street, in Philadelphia. 

This happened in late December, 1968.

 

About an hour before the Vassar College concert, I was trying to get dressed for the stage. 

I was facing away from the door, taking a shirt and slacks out of my suitcase. 

I was wearing socks, underpants, and an undershirt.

 

Richard walked into my hotel room.  His girlfriend, Cheryl, was with him.

They did NOT knock on the door. 

I HAD NO IDEA THEY ENTERED MY ROOM. 

I didn't see or hear them enter.

I didn't know the door was unlocked. 

About 20 minutes earlier, when I took my shower, I DEFINITELY, POSITIVELY LOCKED THE DOOR.

 

locking hotel/motel room doors has been a constant habit for me since I first went on the road, in 1963

I guess Richard felt the need to protect her from such an offensive, disrespectful situation.

 

Without a sound, Richard came up behind me, sucker punched me in my face, and opened a gash over my left eye with his ring. 

Instantly, blood was pouring out of the cut. 

I tried to crawl under a bed, but I couldn't, so I locked myself in the bathroom. 

I weighed (at the most) about 103 pounds at that time, Richard weighed about 190.

 

Outside the bathroom, a small riot was taking place. 

Richard's girlfriend was screaming.

The guys in the band, the roadies, and other people - strangers whose voices I didn't recognize - had come into my hotel room. 

They were all yelling, arguing, and taking sides.  I could hear everything through the walls. 

Everyone was trying to persuade me to unlock the bathroom door.   

 

Richard shouted and argued, trying to justify sucker punching me. 

Richard might have convinced himself and Charlie, but I don't think anyone else agreed with him. 

This went on for quite awhile, I believe about 60 minutes.   

 

Richard hit me hard enough to knock the diamond out of his ring. 

He was complaining and whining because he couldn't find his diamond in the carpet. 

 

I refused to come out of the bathroom until everyone left the room.

I tried to stop the bleeding with towels, but I couldn't. 

I made a real mess in there, and ruined the hotel's towels.

 

After about 30 more minutes of yelling through the bathroom door, everyone did finally leave the room. 

I came out of the bathroom, locked the room door with the regular lock, deadbolt, and the chain, and put on slacks and a shirt. 

In a few minutes, they were bloody, too.

 

Then I called the police, and asked them to please send somebody up to my room. 

I wasn't going to open the door for anybody until the police came.

 

I had never been injured before, and I was really scared at the sight of so much blood. 

I'd left a bloody trail to the bathroom, blood was all over the bed, walls, and the carpet. 

The bathroom looked like a disaster area.

Multiply this by about 20 times, and you'll get a better idea.

 

The manager of the hotel joined the rest of the people in the hallway, and tried to get me to unlock the door.  I didn't let him in. 

The manager really didn't want the police involved in "the incident", but I had already called the police. 

 

There was a very large crowd out in the hall.

 

When the policemen arrived, I let them in, and explained what happened. 

I guess it was pretty obvious. 

There were about 30 people - almost all of them strangers - in my hotel room within minutes. 

Soon, two more police officers arrived.

 

Richard voluntarily admitted what he did to me in front of four police officers and at least 12 or more witnesses.

(band members, roadies, doctor, hotel manager, assistant manager, other hotel employees, some girlfriends, and a whole crowd of curious hotel guests)  

What Does "Sucker Punch" Mean?

Imagine .... you're minding your business, concentrating on a shirt in your hands or something, and - without a word - you're punched in the face, and knocked on the floor. 

A sucker punch comes from nowhere. 

It's completely unexpected, there's no warning, no chance to avoid it, no chance for defense, and no chance to escape.

 

Now you know what a sucker punch is.

HOW ABOUT IT? 

Would you like to see what one looks like?

CLICK

The man being punched in the video is at least twice my size.  He was punched in his jaw, not his eye.  But I'm sure you'll get the idea.

 

Then Richard was repentant.  "I'm very sorry, I'm so sorry ...." 

Richard was apologizing non-stop while the police were there to hear it.  He was very convincing.   

He turned on the tears and performed a miraculous crying act.

 

It really was a miracle. 

Less than an hour earlier, Richard was trying to convince a whole roomful of people that sucker punching me was the right thing to do! 

 

Everyone was talking at once, it was pure chaos. 

Blood was running down my face and neck, dripping all over me, the chair, and carpeting. 

 

An icepack, more towels, and a doctor appeared from somewhere. 

I think the hotel had a resident doctor, or one on call. 

The doctor wanted me to go to the hospital, but I was petrified of hospitals, and I refused. 

He said I should get the cut sutured, and offered to do it, there in the hotel room. 

Novocain injections around my eye?  More pain?  I was entirely too freaked out for that. 

I don't think I was very calm and logical at the time. 

I was probably in shock and an inch away from being unconscious. 

 

The police wanted to arrest Richard. 

BY LAW, they required me to sign a complaint, and agree to testify in court. 

Like a stupid fool, I listened to people in the band, and said I didn't want to file criminal charges. 

The band wanted to play the show and get the money. 

If Richard went to jail, we couldn't play the show and get the money.

{{  momentary interruption:  Laws have changed considerably since 1968.  Today, the police would have automatically arrested Richard, with or without my agreement.  My attorney explained they had two required elements:  an obvious crime scene, and a voluntary verbal confession, made in front of at least a dozen witnesses and the police officers.  Even a Miranda warning would be unnecessary under those circumstances.  Nothing else would be required.  Go Directly To Jail - Do Not Pass Go.  }}  

I'd never seen that much blood before - and it was my blood. 

 

I had to get changed again for the stage, so I got blood all over those clothes. 

Sunglasses and my Navy pea coat were used to get me to the stage without anyone in the audience seeing my face. 

I was "escorted" to the stage by some band members and the roadies. 

I wouldn't let Richard anywhere near me.

Predictably, we made it onstage about two or three hours late.

 

I played with my right hand, an icepack and a bloody towel in my left hand. 

I think it was the longest 60 minute show of my life. 

I've always wondered what the audience thought of that.  Maybe they were all too drunk to notice.

 

As soon as the show was over, I escaped as quickly as I could.  I actually ran out of that hotel. 

I took a train out of Philadelphia with the bloody towel. 

I was afraid to stay overnight in the hotel with the rest of the band.

I positively would not ride back to New York the following morning in the same van with Richard. 

I was afraid to go back to my hotel room and get my suitcase. 

 

I remember the train ride. 

It was after midnight when I left Philadelphia, and after 3:00 am when I arrived in Rahway, New Jersey. 

That damn train stopped everywhere along the way. 

I called Lynne, my girlfriend, and she came to pick me up at the train station. 

She took one look at me, and almost fainted.  I was a real mess.

Lynne wanted to take me to a hospital, but my fear prevented that. 

We went to her apartment, she stayed up with me all night with icepacks on my eye, and washed dried blood off me. 

We ruined a lot of her towels, too.

{{  momentary interruption: in 1968, there were no cell phones, pagers, computers, or Caller ID.  Phones still had rotary dials.  Communication was a lot different then.  I'm pretty sure disposable plastic syringes hadn't been invented yet - they were still made of glass, sterilized, and used multiple times.  }} 

Dr. Abramson, my own doctor, did his hospital rounds in the morning, so we couldn't reach him until slightly after noon. 

As soon as we contacted him, he told Lynne to bring me in immediately.  She brought me to his office as fast as possible, breaking all speed limits. 

I was still wearing the same bloody clothes I left Philadelphia with. 

From the amount of blood on my clothes, Dr. Abramson estimated I lost about a quart of blood. 

 

He gave me an injection to make me unconscious, then put twelve sutures in the cut over my eye. 

I'm not sure what he did to the cut on my eye. 

When I woke up, he was taking x-rays of my head. 

He said I might have a concussion, and wanted to put me in the hospital for a day.  That was too frightening. 

Because he was my doctor for many, many years, he understood my fear, and understood the reason for it. 

Throughout my whole life, hospitals have always terrified me, and Dr. Abramson knew exactly why I had such a fear of hospitals. 

 

Lynne volunteered as a "nurse", and he gave her prescriptions and instructions. 

He told me to stay in bed as much as possible, and instructed her to bring me to his office almost every day.

He gave me injections and checkups, even on Saturdays and Sundays. 

The doctor decided to leave the sutures in for several extra days. 

 

He also told me the hotel doctor was completely wrong. 

Putting sutures in my eyelid required general anesthesia to make me unconscious. 

Novocain wouldn't do a thing, considering where the sutures had to go. 

 

He later explained exactly what he'd done, and it scared the daylights out of me.  Thank God I was unconscious.      

 

Lynne had to go to my apartment to get clothes for me.  We threw the bloody clothes away. 

It took several days to get all the caked blood out of my hair, because I couldn't take a real shower or get the bandages wet.

 

Since that day, I've had vision problems with my left eye. 

Every time I look in the mirror, the scar reminds me of Richard Ingui and his Goddamn ring with the Goddamn diamond. 

These are not very fond memories. 

I don't know if he ever found his diamond in the carpeting in that hotel room .... I don't give a shit.

 

For about 3 weeks, nobody knew where I was.  I disappeared completely. 

 

I didn't answer Lynne's phone.  If anyone called there asking about me, she told them they had the wrong number. 

For about 2 weeks, I couldn't open my left eye at all. 

Half of my face was blue, black, green, and purple during those weeks, and I didn't want to be seen like that by anyone. 

 

Lynne took me to the doctor, helped me with putting medicine in my eye, icepacks, pain prescriptions, and she changed my bandages constantly. 

I wouldn't let anyone near me except her and my doctor.  She was really kind and caring to me. 

The only times I went out were to go to the doctor's, and once we went to the bank. 

I stayed at Lynne's apartment in Westfield, New Jersey after the sutures were removed and the swelling went down.

 

By then, I knew the Soul Survivors wasn't for me. 

I phoned the band I used to play with, and wanted to rejoin them, but they had another Hammond player. 

 

To make things worse, all my Hammonds and Leslies were in the control of the Soul Survivors. 

I couldn't find anybody to go pick up my instruments for me. 

In the condition I was in, I wasn't going anywhere near them. 

Lynne offered, but I wouldn't let her rent a truck and try to load that much equipment by herself. 

More important, I didn't know what kind of confrontations she might face. 

Lynne had already been subjected to so many abusive, degrading remarks from Richard that she wouldn't even come to our shows anymore.     

I'd saved enough money to buy a new Hammond B3 and two Leslies.  If I could have found a different band quickly, I would have joined them.

After about 3 weeks, I called John and told him I was finished with the band. 

 

That started a major war. 

John argued, screamed, and accused. 

No matter how much he argued, I refused to tell him where I was or how to call me. 

He'd met Lynne, but had no idea where she lived.

He told me about an "official executive meeting" between management and the band, right after "the incident". 

I wasn't present at the meeting, of course.  I didn't know anything about it, and couldn't have gone anyway. 

He talked about how much money the Soul Survivors were losing while they tried to find a new Hammond organ player. 

He talked about how much more money they would lose, during rehearsals, if they could find one. 

He talked about the shows they cancelled, and the ones they would have to cancel.

He talked a lot.  And he screamed a lot more.  John's mouth was almost the same as Richard's.  It never shut up, it just kept spewing. 

John was very helpful.  He made everything perfectly clear to me:

He told me I was all wrong.

He told me everything was my fault.

He screamed and accused.

He blamed "the incident" on me.

He told me to call Richard and apologize to him.

I thought he was my friend.  Yeah, he sure was.  He never even asked about my eye. 

I told him to go fuck himself. 

If you hadn't considered it yet, John was another manipulating control freak.   

 

John guaranteed that Breakout Management would make absolutely sure that all the confrontations and conflict would stop.

I called management, and spoke with Phil and Audrey.  They assured me everything would be fine.

I should come back to work with the band.

They couldn't do shows without a Hammond player.

We had a lot of shows lined up, and we'd all get along just great.  They assured me they SOLVED the problems.

 

RIGHT.  And I'm 20 feet tall, too. 

 

Like a Goddamn fool, I believed, and went back to New York. 

Being a fool is easy when you're almost 19 years old. 

By this time, it was nearly the end of January, 1969.

 

For a month, maybe two, Richard pretty much just left me alone. 

I did everything possible to stay away from him, and tried to avoid talking at all - to anyone about anything. 

 

It didn't take very long for Richard to go back to his abusive, aggressive, confrontational habits. 

Naturally, nobody from Breakout Management was around to control him. 

Each week, the confrontations escalated. 

"Inevitable" was fast approaching.

 

Has this strange feeling ever happened to you?  Your world seems to be traveling at 200 mph - things seems to happen very fast. 

But, at the same time, everything feels like it's moving in slow motion, and you can see every detail? 

It's like watching a slow motion movie of a glass breaking - and you can see each piece shatter very clearly? 

I could feel it.

 

John and I used to drive to the rehearsal room together.

We almost always stopped for a hotdog and soda at the same curbside vendor, near the rehearsal room. 

 

One day, on the way to rehearsal - in the middle of a hotdog - I snapped.

For the first time in my life, I didn't go to rehearsal. 

My suitcase was in the back seat of John's car, and, instead of going to rehearsal, I took my suitcase. 

I didn't say a word. 

I walked out in the street, and got into a passing taxicab. 

John stood there with his hotdog - speechless. 

I'd reached my limit.  No more for me.  No more.

No more intimidation. 

No two week notice. 

No more worrying about what might happen to me next.

No more loud-mouth, abusive arguments. 

No more stupid, aggressive confrontations. 

No more being controlled like a puppet. 

No more jive, bullshit, hyper-frantic "soul" music. 

No more daily pot smoking. 

Most important - NO MORE RICHARD. 

I couldn't - no, that's wrong - I wouldn't - take any more. 

Not even one more minute.  NO MORE.

 

If this was soul music, I'd rather wash Goddamn cars. 

I didn't collect my last paycheck - I didn't care.

I had about $1,500.00 in my pocket. 

I didn't even slow down long enough to go to my bank and close my account that day. 

 

I ABANDONED ALL my Hammonds and Leslies, the covers and moving equipment, other suitcases and clothing bags. 

 

The taxi took me to the airport.  I got on the next flight to Memphis. 

"Inevitable" arrived late in May, 1969.

 

I survived the Soul Survivors

and went to STAX Records - Soulsville USA

The next day, I was inside STAX Records.

The following day, I played Hammond organ on my first STAX session. 

Within about 5 or 6 weeks, after my audition period, I was on salary as the staff keyboard player at STAX. 

 

I didn't run away from home - I ran away TO home

I played REAL soul music, with REAL soul players, and REAL soul singers

 

STAX Memories

Soul Survivors Secrets

One Hit .... That's It
 

Since I started to play, I've had photo albums, scrapbooks, and shoeboxes full of old photos, documents, etc. 

It's strange how you collect these things. 

Many years ago, I used to have a box full of old Soul Survivors photos, and plenty of admission tickets, which I kept for some unknown reason. 

Over time, through the years, things just seem to disappear.  

This was the last show I played with the Soul Survivors.  About 48 hours later, I was home - at STAX Records.
 

The middle of 1968, several months after I joined the Soul Survivors. 

This was the Hammond B3 I tried to keep "private" - the one for me to practice on. 

I didn't want to take this one out to travel or get damaged.  It ended up on the road anyway.

A berserk "soul" show in Philadelphia, March 8, 1969.  This Hammond was badly damaged within about one week. 

The "roadies" damaged either five or six of my Hammonds.  Nine or ten Leslies didn't live very long, either. 

I had to buy Hammonds and Leslies frequently.  Sometimes, I was able to buy a used Hammond or Leslie, but not very often. 

 

 

Playing Hammond with the Soul Survivors was - for me - miserable. 

The only material we did were the songs on the Atco album and one or two other songs, including "Expressway". 

 

Every time we played "Expressway" it sounded more and more like Jimi Hendrix on a double dose of LSD. 

They destroyed Rufus Thomas' "Funky Way".

The best song they ever did was Etta James' "Tell Mama", ("Tell Daddy"), and even that got too psychedelic to believe. 

Try and imagine a year of this?

 

Previously, Ronnie and John used to be pretty good players - before joining this band. 

In this environment, they both went absolutely crazy.  I feel pretty sure that constantly smoking pot had something to do with it.   

Everything musical just turned hyper-frantic, frenzied. 

Can you say "musically berserk"?

 

"Oooooh Beato!  Ah dig de way ya MOVE!"  Soul music?  

Richard showed these guys that smoking more dope equals "better music"? 

 

The only member of the group with any common sense was Kenny, and he was out-talked and out-controlled in every situation.  

It was all a waste of time and effort in my mind. 

 

I feel certain that I lost more money in wrecked instruments than I earned. 

To this day, I have no idea who "inherited" all my Hammonds and Leslies, my covers, moving equipment, or my other belongings. 

Somebody, somewhere, owes me a LOT of money. 

 

I'm glad I walked out when I did.  I'm sorry I didn't have Richard arrested when I had the chance. 

I'm even more sorry that I wasted a whole year of my musical life in this way.

 

All I ever wanted to do was play good soul music

It's brutal.  And it's honest.

I've received many messages about Richard Ingui and his "star-for-a-day" attitude.  This one is pretty good.

From: HMARKTITUS@aol.com
Date: Thu, 30 May 2002 11:41:27 EDT
Subject: Soul Survivors
To: prokeys at sl-prokeys dot com

Enjoyed your article on the Soul Survivors.  I played keyboards for them for about 6 months in 1991.  I had the same kind of trouble with Ritchie -- a really miserable human being and a total control freak.  

My last gig with them was when we were playing in a very hot club in early summer at the Jersey shore. It was so hot I couldn't get their Ensoniq sampler to make the honking horn sounds at the beginning of Expressway.  Ritchie came up to me after the set and told me not to worry about it.  It was the only time he was ever nice to me.  Little did I realize that he had already decided to fire me.  

It was the best thing that ever could've happened.

Keep the faith.

Mark Titus
 
October, 2002: Steve Cropper made this remark in front of a large group of people at a live STAX show we played in Memphis. 

"Sandy, if you didn't play your ****** ass off the first time we heard you, you never would have been allowed back inside STAX the second time." 

Words like that, coming from someone like Steve Cropper, are the kind you remember for awhile.
 

Richard (and his brother Charlie) knew about this webpage in December, 2002. 

Richard claims they "just read" it in 2003, 2004, and 2005.  (located further down the page) 

Both of them may have "forgotten" they had a Soul Survivors website with a guestbook. 

Below is my BLUE response to Richard's email referring to that guestbook.

 

BURY THE HATCHET
Date: Thu, 26 Dec 2002 08:29:06 -0500
To: philysoul@aol.com
From: Steve Leigh <steve at sl-prokeys dot com>
Subject: The Hatchet

 Comments: Some people like myself cannot ever bury a hatchet............I guess I Survived the Survivors and just never grew up.


 I didn't write the above, but maybe it's a good idea.

Richard, why don't we meet someplace.
Let me sucker punch you - once - in your eye - just exactly like you did me - wearing a ring with a stone in it.  Knocking the stone out of the ring isn't necessary - I'm not that strong, anyway.  You wait a full 24 hours before you get sutures put in it, just like me.  And we'll consider the hatchet buried properly and fairly.  I'll even buy you a drink, and we can sit around and talk about soul music.  I've done some interesting things over the years - I bet you have too.   

You probably won't have the scar and problems with your eye that I've had for over 30 years, but I probably can't punch nearly as hard as you could.  I'm still just a 120 lb. weakling. 

As long as you're editing on my behalf, go ahead and put the right address in there. too.

http://sl-prokeys.com/prokeys/survivor.htm 

Sandy   

Steve Leigh
steve at sl-prokeys dot com
www.sl-prokeys.com
 

ADDENDUM

added December 1, 2003

Amazing as it may be, on November 28, 2003, Richard Ingui sent me an email. 

It was our first contact since late May, 1969. 

Two emails were exchanged, and phone calls began immediately, on November 28, 2003. 

 

He acknowledged his past actions and apologized. 

The impact on me was powerful. 

After all these years, I never would have expected to hear from Richard.

In 1968, we lived in a different world.  Logically, we've both changed through the years.

When Richard read of the death of Rebecca, my wife, he's shown kindness.

It's possible that a friendship could develop between us.  We've even discussed playing some music jobs. 

I wish that Rebecca could have read the letters, spoken with him, and known this, too.
 

ADDENDUM

added March 18, 2008
Now it's March, 2008.

Many conversations with Richard have occurred since November 28, 2003.

I've had plenty of time to re-consider the sincerity of his words.

I've come to the conclusion that Richard has no sincerity.

 

Manipulation is synonymous with control, as most dictionaries will show. 

As I've written, Richard constantly tried to control me. 

Another person, Mark Titus, wrote exactly the same thing, above.

Is it more than a coincidence that 2 musicians - complete strangers - would refer to Richard as a control freak, referring to 1968 and 1991?

I guess things haven't changed much in Richard's world.

 

Since contacting me, Richard has repeatedly tried to control and manipulate me to remove this webpage.   

I saved many of his emails, several of which have something to do with this page. 

Richard initially claimed to understand that this page represented an honest description of an important part of my life in music. 

He claimed that he understood why it should remain online.

 

But his own words (below) contradict this.

 

Two (2) phone conversations with Richard immediately resulted in December 1, 2003 changes being made. 

That's TWO DAYS after first hearing from him.  I feel "immediately" is accurate. 

 

At the same time, I also made many changes (above) to "sanitize" most of the original page. 

 

I erased about half of it.

 

I feel I made a sincere effort on Richard's behalf. 

Apparently, my efforts were inadequate. 

  

The December 1, 2003 changes indicate no hate. 

If I hated Richard, I wouldn't have made any effort. 

I would have left the page just as it was.  It was ROUGH - a lot rougher than it is now. 

The wording would be considered filthy by anyone's definition. 

 

I removed the unbelievably foul, disgusting quotes - language which Richard subjected my girlfriends to. 

My Pastor actually thanked me for erasing them. 

I had several girlfriends.  Richard's degrading, unprovoked insults permanently destroyed some of those friendships.

In an effort to compromise, I suggested several times that Richard rewrite this page in a way that he felt was acceptable. 

I only requested that he maintain truth and honesty.  Richard ignored those suggestions.

The March 18, 2008 additions also clearly indicate no hate.

I think they illustrate my response to a few years of continuous manipulation.

 

If you continue reading, you will see that Richard constantly tries to use GUILT to control me.

Read his words carefully.  I think you'll agree.

I'm very tired of it.

I'm tired of his FAIRYTALES, which is a polite word for BULLSHIT.

 

Over time, I've come to realize that Richard's "friendship" isn't friendship at all.

From November 28, 2003 until late April, 2005, Richard's emails, and plenty of phone calls, illustrated his version of "friendship".

I'm just too tired.  I want no part of it.

 

Friends don't manipulate, control, and endlessly try to cause guilt

 

It's March 18, 2008, and I'm tired.

I'm beyond caring what Richard thinks. 

I'm not going to compromise any longer. 

I'm not going to be manipulated and controlled by Richard.

I'm not accepting any guilt.

 

My comments, rebuttal, and corrections of facts are in BLUE text.

Richard's text is BLACK, with plenty of highlights and bold highlights.

If you question my honesty I will forward any or all original messages.  My email link is visible.  I saved a whole collection.  In some places, I used the "Enter" key to make smaller paragraphs from a very large one.  I did not change any of Richard's words.  Dates are bold.

{{  momentary interruption: for some unknown reason, Richard frequently refers to this webpage as a "letter".  I don't know why.  }}

ADDENDUM

RICHARD'S MANIPULATION and FAIRYTALES BEGIN

November 28, 2003

added March 18, 2008
From: GOGOOTS@aol.com
Date: Fri, 28 Nov 2003 13:20:09 EST
Subject: To Sandy
To: prokeys at sl-prokeys dot com
X-Mailer: Thunderbird - Mac OS X sub 207

 
To Sandy
Someone told me about your site about a year or so ago, I never did see it until about two weeks ago when I came upon it while doing a search for something else.

 

This is not the truth.  Richard illustrates it (above) with his own "Hatchet" message from December, 2002.

 

Now the GUILT begins.

It was very difficult and painful to read through it. First, I would like to ask you to please accept this letter as an attempt to speak from one man's heart to another.

OK.

I ask you not to make this a public letter. I would like it to be between you and I.

I would like my eye to function normally, then I'll consider your request.

It takes many years and many hard lessons to become a human being, one who is sensitive to other people's lives and situations. I made a choice many years ago to turn my life around and work towards that goal. I have realized and tried in many ways to make penance for people in my past who I have hurt and offended. Reading your letter was a stone cold reminder of the "person" I was, and the direction I was headed for as a man. It was and is ugly and very humiliating.

That FAIRYTALE (above) is priceless.

I'm not trying to make any excuses by this statement but the truth is at the time you and I met I was barely eighteen or nineteen years old 

NO.  This is not the truth.  I was 18 about one month before meeting Richard - that was the same day I joined the Soul Survivors. 

Richard is at least 4 years older than me, possibly more. 

Now Richard can explain - without trying to make any excuses - what he did to me.

and knew nothing else except my upbringing on the streets of New York. I went for weeks on end fighting everyday. We had many gang fights and personal fist fights, everything was settled by fighting. No one from my neighborhood settled anything without force.

I guess that explains it - or does it? 

I'll never understand what needed to be "settled".

My reaction to you in that hotel room was like auto response, my twisted interpretation of you getting changed in front of a girl I was with was taken as if it were an insult and that was my stupid reaction.

"Auto response", "twisted interpretation", "an insult", "my stupid reaction" ....

These evasive, minimizing words are worthless Goddamn FAIRYTALES. 

 

I AM NOT MENTALLY RETARDED

 

Can you EVER be completely truthful?

You sucker punched me, when I didn't even know you were in my room.

How many decades can you remain in denial?

 

The girl you were with in my hotel room was named Cheryl.  I'm sure of that.  She'd been to plenty of our shows. 

You stated (during one (or more) phone conversations) you married the same girl, Cheryl. 

Is your wife's name Cheryl?  Have you been married to Cheryl for (approximately) 30 (or more) years?  

I called your house a few times, and spoke very briefly with your wife.  I left messages asking that you return my phone calls. 

She said she was your wife.  She said her name was Cheryl.   

 

In plain, straight English, that means:

Cheryl, your wife, was an EYEWITNESS when you sucker punched me, and to everything else that followed.

 

NO, Richard - "your reaction to me in that hotel room" was a CRIME, a FELONY. 

 

Richard chooses his words very well.  He carefully avoids mentioning he hit me so hard that he knocked the diamond out of his ring. 

If you think that's easy, just try it yourself sometime.  Don't try it on a person - find something else to punch, like a chair.    

 

I'm inquisitive, and I'd like some straight answers. 

I'm already tired of Richard's FAIRYTALES. 

 

I'm curious about these questions:

What was I supposed to be doing in my hotel room about an hour before I had to go onstage and play? 

Wasn't I supposed to be getting showered, dressed, and presentable - ready to play a show? 

Wasn't I doing my job, fulfilling my responsibilities to the Soul Survivors?

Wasn't I hired as a Hammond organ player, not a street gang fighter?

How would Richard feel today if "the incident" in that hotel room was different? 

What if "the incident" wasn't completely one-sided?

What if I wasn't a 103 pound weakling, and I could and did kick the shit out of Richard for sucker punching me?

What if I weighed about 90 pounds more than Richard, and I was physically able to slam his face through a wall after he punched me?

What if Richard lost about a quart of blood and was permanently damaged if I attacked him with no warning or provocation?  

Would Richard have gotten on the stage - bleeding - and done the show?

How would Richard feel now about the permanent damage? 

Why didn't Richard sucker punch anyone else in the group? 

Is the reason because they were strong enough to kick his ass?

Sandy I am truly, truly sorry for having affected your life this way.

I believe that. 

Maybe Richard should have thought about it in 1968.

I'm aware that it took from December, 1968 until November, 2003 - almost 35 years - for Richard to acknowledge it. 

I believe that if this webpage did not exist, Richard would have never apologized. 

I could be wrong - but 35 years convinced me.

I don't know how it is possible to go back and change that moment and replace my ignorance with maturity and common sense.

If Richard figures that one out, he'll revolutionize the whole world.

That person you met over thirty years ago no longer exists. By the grace of god that part of me is gone forever.

That's just a FAIRYTALE. 

Some of it may be gone forever. 

The manipulating and controlling behaviors have grown stronger. 

I'll clearly illustrate that as we continue.

Haven't you ever done things in the past that you are ashamed of?

Yes.

I did, and I have made every effort humanly possible to right those wrongs by my everyday actions.

Another FAIRYTALE.

I don't want to bore you with all my personal hardships (I know we all have them)but I would like to relate one story to you if I can. " The sins of the father are visited upon the son". I have been blessed to have children in my life. Three years ago when my son was just eighteen years old, he was assaulted, and beaten almost to death.

Almost to death? 

After he had regained consciousness and made it to his feet,

That's quite an unusual recovery, regarding someone who is almost dead. 

I mean no disrespect - none at all - but you're the one who just claimed he was "beaten almost to death".

he was again beaten down and lost consciousness again. He suffered many bruises, a severely broken jaw and a concussion.  I don't understand why things happen,

I'm very sorry about Richard's son, and I mean that, with all sincerity. 

perhaps the curse you had on me

WHAT?? 

or maybe gods way of putting me in another man's shoes in order to learn a lesson had something to do with it. All I know is my son suffers constantly with back and neck pain and migraine headaches.  I can do nothing about it, nothing to help him, I wish it would have happened to me instead, it would have been easier to accept. I know from your letter how much hate you feel for me and what happened back then,

I do not feel hate for Richard or what happened back then. 

If I had any idea what I was getting myself into, I never would have joined the Soul Survivors. 

Stupidity is very easy for an 18 year old.  

but I certainly hope you do not rejoice in this story. 

I definitely do not rejoice in it.  I find nothing to be happy about, regarding your son being beaten up.  It makes me feel very sad for him. 

In my world, there are other ways to solve problems - without violence. 

I want you to understand that I have learned many things through life lessons. Sometimes they have been very hard and painful.

I am deeply troubled by the effect of my actions on you. I have not spent one day since I read your letter without thinking about it. I have been praying sincerely that somehow, someway, something I say can reach your heart and you can begin to accept my honest apology.

 

If Richard is specifically apologizing for sucker punching me, I accept his apology.

Please believe me that person no longer lives. It is very sad that I must live with the ignorant and unconscious actions of the past.

 

Another FAIRYTALE.

Ignorant?  Yes.  Unconscious?  ABSOLUTELY NOT. 

Richard's words and behaviors were deliberate and intentional - make no mistake about that fact.

Approximately 14 months of endless verbal and mental abuse, conflicts, intimidation, and confrontations was no accident.

It wasn't "unconscious" at all. 

Richard knew exactly what he was doing, he knew why he was doing it, and he enjoyed it. 

That's why he continued it. 

I'm not buying this "unconscious actions" FAIRYTALE for one second. 

I AM NOT MENTALLY RETARDED

The one thing I remember about you is your ability beyond your years to play a great organ.

 

FACTS: 4+ years (before I ever met you) is well over 35,000 hours. 

I probably spent about one half of those hours practicing alone, practicing with records, and constantly playing live shows with the bands. 

 

If I "played great", as you've told me on the phone more times than I can even remember, there was a reason.

It was the result of dedication and devotion to the music I loved.

That's the exact same music which you endlessly abused, belittled, and ridiculed me for loving. 

I regret I wasn't cool enough to receive that in my life and make the best of it, when it was in front of me. I'm sorry.

 

Do you "regret" making me feel like a piece of garbage when I did nothing but my BEST for the Soul Survivors?  You're "sorry"? 

 

I AM NOT MENTALLY RETARDED

Are you "sorry" about the degrading, abusive FILTH you subjected my girlfriends to - for absolutely no reason?

 

Both Laurie and Lynne refused to come anywhere near the Soul Survivors several months before I was sucker punched. 

 

WHY WOULD YOU EVER TALK TO MY GIRLFRIENDS LIKE THAT?

 

They never did anything to you.

THEY NEVER EVEN SAID A WORD TO YOU - except "Hello". 

But you used every degrading, disgusting word imaginable to them ....

 

RIGHT TO THEIR FACES - NOT JUST ONCE - MANY TIMES

 

You didn't even have the decency to make your filthy, derogatory comments privately - out of their hearing. 

Do you have any idea how often you made them cry - because of your disgusting mouth?

I bet you felt like a REAL MAN, Richard.

 

I NEVER called your girlfriend "a cheap slut", "a sloppy Goddamn pig", "a fucking whore", or "a filthy bitch".

But you sure did call my girlfriends those names - and far, FAR worse - in public - DIRECTLY to their faces.

 

The quotes (above) are mild ....

Your profanity didn't bother me.  Profanity never bothered me.  There's a time and place for it.

 

Your OTHER words and descriptions were not mild.

Those words were licentious 40 years ago - they're still licentious.  (look it up in a dictionary) 

 

References to specific, sexual parts of a person's body, and what YOU said my girlfriends did with them DID bother me, and still do.

In my belief, NO man should ever talk about any woman in that way.  I find that totally inexcusable. 

Once those words go out, there's no way to ever take the words back. 

 

I had more morals, ethics, dignity, and decency than you did in 1968 - and still do. 

 

I erased your sickening quotes and comments from the original (1996) webpage, and refuse to include them now.

I will not compromise my moral principles for the purpose of quoting you. 

I NEVER use those words regarding ANY woman, under ANY circumstances. 

 

But I remember your words .... as clearly as if they were just spoken.

 

Why do you think my girlfriends COMPLETELY stopped coming to our shows?

The ONLY reason is YOUR DISGUSTING, FILTHY, ABUSIVE MOUTH

 

You think I forgot those confrontations? 

You think Laurie and Lynne forgot? 

I can assure you they never forgot. 

 

We stayed in touch for YEARS after I walked out of the Soul Survivors and moved to Memphis.

They visited me in Memphis about a dozen times, and they were both friends with my future wife, Rebecca. 

They had some real-life TRUE horror stories to tell her - about Richard from the Soul Survivors.

No - they never forgot.

This email isn't an "apology" .... it's a Goddamn FAIRYTALE. 

I AM NOT MENTALLY RETARDED

Richard ingui
 

ADDENDUM

November 30, 2003

added March 18, 2008
From: GOGOOTS@aol.com
Date: Sun, 30 Nov 2003 11:33:42 EST
Subject: Dear Sandy
To: steve at sl-prokeys dot com
X-Mailer: 7.0 for Windows sub 10709
 
I just wanted to take a minute and send you this email. Talking with you the other night meant a real lot to me, much more than you can know.

 

I remember the call. 

I explained to you how to solve your "major crisis" with the musician we discussed. 

I remember his name, and what he played. 

You completely agreed with me - then you ignored every word I said. 

I am so very saddened by your loss. I thought about you and your situation so much, I could not get it out of my mind. My conclusion is the only thing I can possibly do is send my love and prayers out to you. I know you don't believe in that stuff but I tell you it works, some how it does make some difference.

OK.

I loved your stories about your life on the road and in the studios. You probably don't believe this, especially if I go by your letter about me, but the stax stuff has come to be my all time favorite music.

I think that's a clear indication that it WASN'T your "all time favorite music" when I was playing in the Soul Survivors. 

Would you care to contradict that, Richard?

I am in awe of all the sessions and material and super grooves and vocal talent. It is simply the best.

I knew that before 1964 - years before I ever heard of you.

Thank you for reminding me how precious my life with my wife is. You are a good man and still serve a great purpose, you do not deserve to be in so much pain. I pray time and grace will bring you back around.
I tried to download the videos I am very anxious to see them, but they could not be opened by my computer. I am trying to get to a friends house who has a better knowledge and better programs. I will call you when I get to view them. I think they are gonna knock me out.
all the best
richard
 

ADDENDUM

MANIPULATION

December 6, 2003

added March 18, 2008
From: GOGOOTS@aol.com
Date: Sat, 6 Dec 2003 22:05:53 EST
Subject: Re: Dear Sandy
To: steve at sl-prokeys dot com
X-Mailer: 7.0 for Windows sub 10709

 
Well, Sandy I finally downloaded and viewed some of the pictures and videos. I just can't believe it, they are fantastic!! Seeing you and hearing you playing with all my favorites. You sound unbelievable.

 

They may have sounded "fantastic" and "unbelievable" to you. 

To me, I sounded like Sandy.

I played my best.  I don't know any other way to play.  

I took my responsibilities seriously.  The same as always.

 

I told my brother all about you and your playing, he was really into it.

Maybe someday we will have a chance to play together.

 

Read your next message, from February 7, 2004.

I also saw the earn you have been working on, it looks cool, what a beautiful piece of wood. It's gonna be something else when your done with it.

It's known as an URN.  After 100+ hours, it came out accurate to .0001" - one ten thousandth of an inch.  I did my best.

Yeah it was great talking and having you play some stuff over the phone, I can't believe how beautiful you made Mama Soul sound, God you made me proud.

Is that a fact?  We both know playing keyboards is (was) my whole life.   

I remember thousands of songs. 

I don't know why you'd be proud that I remember that song, (Eb), and I played it while you sang it. 

I remember almost everything, and I forget almost nothing.      

We have a load of snow hear and it looks like I'll be digging out for a couple days, sheeze what a drag. My wife and I will probably wind up in Florida someday, the hell with this shit. Hope you are doing well. I will speak to you soon.
Rich

 

Here is what Richard wrote to me on February 7, 2004.   I am running out of tolerance for Richard Ingui's FAIRYTALES.

 

ADDENDUM

MORE MANIPULATION

February 7, 2004

added March 18, 2008
From: GOGOOTS@aol.com
Date: Sat, 7 Feb 2004 13:11:10 EST
Subject: dear sandy
To: steve at sl-prokeys dot com
X-Mailer: Thunderbird - Mac OS X sub 207
 

How are you doing my friend?

I have finally finished my long haul on the connecticut job. It was hell being away from home painting.

I wouldn't mind so much if I was away playing music.

You must be dreaming.  It's not 1967 anymore.

But all alone in a hotel room at night with nobody around but the tv is kind of depressing.

I am used to being around family and friends.

I am home now, it is saturday afternoon and I am sitting at my computer listening and watching your tremendous performance with eddie floyd and steve cropper. Your organ playing is just unf--kin real. I 'm not shittin you, you are the perfect hammond guy, every lick is to kill for.

You'd NEVER BELIEVE what you DON'T KNOW about my life in music, Richard.  I could "drop names" all day long.

FACTS: Richard refers (above) to several videos and mp3s from a live Steve Cropper/STAX show in Memphis on October 14, 2002. 

I'd never played a live show with anyone at that show before that night

No rehearsal - sound check only

I had no idea who was going to sing what, or in what key

I'd never met (or even heard of) some of the singers before that show

The last time I saw most of the people I did know was in 1972, when I worked at STAX

I remembered almost every song we played from having heard them - most of them were songs I'd never played before

One of my new life goals is to get your ass out there playing with us again. 

Really?  That's a great idea.  My manager is drinking champagne. 

This is my chance of a lifetime.  It's a golden opportunity. 

Even my ASS thanks you. 

 

Now you better sit down and take ALL your medications.

 

If you can afford us, (see terms, below), we'll seriously consider trying ONE concert. 

 

I will not play in a bar or nightclub. 

I'll only play a large, (capacity 15,000 or more) outdoor blues festival concert.

 

The concert must be located within approximately 1,500 miles (preferably less) of Tampa, Florida, or we're not available.

Our terms are simple.  They are also non-negotiable.

(1)  I'll be accompanied by four (4) armed security guards, 24 hours per day, as well as my personal manager - a total of six (6) people.

 

(2)  $25,000.00 per hour, payable 90 days in advance of the concert. 

Our terms reflect 24 hours daily, from the time I leave my home until I return to my home.

This basic itinerary should clarify: 

Day 1 - fly to applicable city with security guards and my manager

Day 2 - play concert (20-30 minute sound check, 90 minute (maximum) concert, no rehearsal)

Day 3 - fly home from applicable city with security guards and my manager

(3)  For live shows, I require a vintage (1967-1973) Hammond B3 organ, three (3) vintage model 122 Leslie speakers, and an onstage keyboard tech.

When we receive payment, we'll forward all additional details - ie; stage plot, setup, Leslie microphones, etc.

If the Hammond/Leslies don't sound or operate to professional standards, all funds are forfeited. 

I'll leave within a few minutes, escorted by my security guards and manager.

 

(4)  Communication takes place through my manager.  This means you do not speak to me, you speak to my manager.

I'm willing to consider playing music.  I'm not willing to converse with you, your brother, or anyone else, except the keyboard tech. 

My manager will take care of all communications - that's part of his job. 

I'll do my job (play Hammond organ).  You do your job (try to be a soul singer).

If you fail to abide by these terms, all funds are forfeited.  I'll leave immediately, escorted by my security guards and manager.

 

I suggest you put $1,800,000.00 cash in a suitcase, and Overnight FedEx it to my manager.

No checks, money orders, or certified checks will be accepted.  Cash only. 

Include all the details - the name, address, date and time of the concert, phone numbers, etc. 

I'm experienced.  I know what to do from there. 

My manager will arrange all details, and supply you with all invoices. 

 

(5)  $1,800,000.00 pays for exactly 72 hours of our time.   

NO "overtime".  I'll walk out, escorted by my security guards and manager. 

 

Ready to do business, Richard?

 

●  2012 NEWS UPDATE:  Watch this spectacular LIVE Soul Survivor video  ●

Did you know that sam moore was out there promoting a new cd?

Did you know that I don't care?

I saw him on the oprah show this week. He has all new younger musicians, they are ok but no hammond and the keyboard player didn't really have the shit down. Why the hell didn't he call you? Your the real deal.

 

You just realized that?  It took quite awhile.

I always was the "real deal".

Except for about 1 year. 

That would be early 1968 until May, 1969, when I had to play frantic, berserk, psychedelic music with the Soul Survivors. 

Remember that, Richard?  I do.

 

Fortunately, in late May, 1969, I went to work at STAX Record Company in Memphis.

The real musicians and real singers at STAX rescued me.  They all helped me recover.

It happened so fast, it was magic.  It didn't even take a week, and I was playing real music again. 

Anyway I'll give you a call probably sunday, I want to get your mailing address cause this cd of ours is gonna be finished next week and I want to send you a copy.

Right.  Then I can pimp your CD to internet DJs - and be abused for it, with your FAIRYTALE guilt. 

That's illustrated clearly in your next message - just below.

I know it's not gonna be all the shit you love, but there a couple of songs I think you might dig. We have a load of stuff for another cd. If we can possibly get some interest from this new release we may be able to get some backing to go into the studio and record some of this other material that has alot more of that stax soul vibe to it. You will be on those dates when they happen.

I will?  Maybe I will record.  The same price basis and terms apply, with some minor modifications.

As previously explained, our terms reflect 24 hours daily, from the time I leave my home until I return to my home.

Due to scheduling limitations, I can only record on 3 (three) consecutive days.

This basic itinerary should clarify: 

Day 1 - fly to applicable city with security guards and my manager

Day 2 - recording (maximum 8 hours with 2 one hour breaks)

Day 3 - recording (maximum 8 hours with 2 one hour breaks)

Day 4 - recording (maximum 8 hours with 2 one hour breaks)

Day 5 - fly home from applicable city with security guards and my manager

(1)  I record on a vintage grand piano (example: Baldwin or Steinway) and a vintage Hammond B3 organ. 

Any synthesizer parts must be agreed on by prior approval only, and a keyboard tech will be required anytime a synthesizer is used.   

 

(2)  You (and/or your brother, family members, friends, or relatives) cannot be present in the recording studio while I work. 

I can certainly do keyboard parts without you.  I've been doing them most of my life. 

I don't need or want you nearby while I work.

Take a trip to Wyoming or someplace. 

My security guards and manager stay with me. 

You have permission to call my manager any time you feel it's necessary.  Keep in mind, he'll be very busy, so don't abuse the privilege.  

You can listen to my keyboard tracks - on the phone.

 

(3)  The price for recording will - naturally - be higher. 

Recording takes longer than playing a live concert, and requires considerably more recording skill.

I require a rough mix CD of all songs which you want me to record 90 days prior to recording, so I can study them.

Since you'll be distributing and selling these recordings, you'll be collecting enormous amounts of money for record (CD) sales and airplay, from all around the world - probably for many, many years.  However, I won't be collecting these enormous amounts of money.

Because I'm just a keyboard player for hire, working on a one-time recording basis, we'll require my payment in advance. 

My rate is $7,500.00 per keyboard part.

A piano part and Hammond part on one song equals two keyboard parts, or $15,000.00.  I hope you can grasp the concept.

Advise my manager exactly how many songs you want me to record, and which instruments you want me to play on each song.

My manager will have the contract, waiver, and invoices prepared.

He will collect the entire recording amount, in cash, when he arrives on Day 1.

I will begin recording on Day 2.

By using this sensible, intelligent, waiver approach, you won't EVER have to pay me any percentage from any sales or airplay.

(I'd like to thank my manager for his brilliant thinking.  He came up with the waiver idea.)

(4)  Regarding label credits, you can list yourself, or anyone else, as the keyboard player. 

I do not want my name in print on the same album (CD) with your name. 

People might get the wrong idea.

 

I suggest you put $3,000,000.00 cash in a large suitcase, and Overnight FedEx it to my manager, 90 days in advance of the recording date.

No checks, money orders, or certified checks will be accepted.  Cash only. 

Include all the details - the name and address of the studio, date of the recording session, phone numbers, etc. 

I'm experienced.  I know what to do from there. 

My manager will arrange all details, and supply you with all invoices.

$3,000,000.00 pays for exactly 120 hours of our time, but does not pay for my recording.   

NO "overtime".  I'll walk out, escorted by my security guards and manager. 

 

Ready to do business, Richard?

IMPORTANT FINANCIAL NOTES

If you believe our financial requirements are costly or unreasonable, you should consider our expenses. 

As stated above, our terms consist of my manager and four (4) armed security guards, 24 hours per day. 

 

My manager must pay for:

 

A very small, chartered Lear jet, security guards, limousines, adjoining hotel suites, room service, and all other expenses for six (6) people. 

He provides all management services, and is responsible for setting up everything:

Complex reservations, hotel, food, transportation, itinerary, scheduling, paperwork, and any unexpected issues.

He's also responsible for all associated banking functions, for either (and/or both) of the above business situations.

 

After my manager pays all the expenses, I'll be lucky if I earn $1,000.00. 

FACT: Each security guard will earn almost five times as much as me. 

 

I suggest you accept our terms quickly, before my manager reconsiders the tremendous amount of detailed work and increases our price.

Remember - we're here to make YOU sound better.

We'll HELP YOU sell out a concert, or sell millions of CDs.

 

I got a call from some guy who sings with the Crests (real old doowop group) they made sixteen candles and some other classics with johnny maestro.

Anyway he books tours out of Tampa fla. so far they are strickly doowop stuff but he now wants to start moving into some sixties acts. He said he books 60 dates a year, and may be interested in getting my brother and me on some of these shows.

 

You're making me laugh, Richard.

Who knows, ya got to be open to everything cause you never know what one little door might open up  and start a whole bunch of new shit. I'll talk to you later. All my best
rich

Richard sent the following email, containing the red quote shown below.  The quote is from an internet DJ.  I spoke with the DJ regularly, and made sure she had Richard's new CD, "Released".  I promoted Richard's CD to her, and suggested songs which she played frequently on her radio show. 

I tried to HELP Richard get airplay, popularity, exposure, and CD sales. 

Is that an indication of hate?

 

ADDENDUM

MUCH MORE GUILT and MANIPULATION

March 7, 2004

added March 18, 2008
From: GOGOOTS@aol.com
Date: Sun, 7 Mar 2004 13:24:31 EST
Subject: (no subject)
To: steve at sl-prokeys dot com
X-Mailer: 7.0 for Windows sub 10709
 
"I red on prokeys site that you don't care much for Black folks...I hope that has mellowed some because they are the main buyers right now and I have some Black networks I'd like to get you on to help sell your music. So hit me back on that."

Sandy
This is the stuff I'm gonna be subject to. It really blows. It is untrue and it is not right that someone who I consider a friend and who considers me a friend would keep this out there for people to read and get a horrible impression of me.

 

More guilt.

This CLEARLY illustrates the internet DJ cannot understand the English language. 

It also illustrates Richard trying to dump HER Goddamn stupidity on me.

 

More guilt.

I have NEVER written ANYTHING which even remotely implies that Richard ever disliked black people. 

I even hate to defend this. I have worked with black folks forever and have shared so much love for there music and culture. I have had so many great times with black musicians and freinds. I beg you to take that stuff out of there, no matter what you believe I said or did back then, I don't really remember.

 

More guilt.

And I DO really remember. 

Until November 28, 2003, I used the words "nigger music" in four (4) locations on this webpage.  (Yes, I counted them.) 

The words were clearly used in context as a small illustration of Richard's verbal abuse directed at me.

 

The words had NOTHING to do with black people - AND NEVER DID

 

Following Richard's first call to me, November 28, 2003, I made my own decision to compromise. 

I cleaned up and "sanitized" this page.

I worked all night doing it. 

 

Those words were deleted within TWO DAYS, and the "cleaned" page was online by December 1, 2003.

At the same time, I also removed unimaginable other descriptions of verbal abuse and battering from Richard.

But this is killing me today and it's just not right.

 

More guilt. 

This isn't "killing" anybody. 

Please rethink this post and try to realize how hurtful it is to me. That story doesn't do any good for anyone.

 

More guilt.

Richard really means he doesn't want me to write a truthful page about a period of my life in music. 

It reminds him of things he doesn't want to remember.  He'd rather pretend they just never happened. 

That's known as "avoidance".

 

In 1968, Richard justified everything he said and did. 

In November, 2003 he "suddenly" didn't feel justified anymore. 

Does that change any facts?  Does it cancel out the truth? 

I can't even read it. My brother came across it a few nights ago and said "why doesn't he take it off, it's horrible".

 

More guilt.  

Sometimes the truth is nice and pleasant.  Sometimes it isn't. 

I know you will do whatever you will do, but think about it, what's the worst possible thing you can say about a guy who supposedly sings soul music? He hates Black People.

 

More guilt.

NO, Richard.  That Goddamn FAIRYTALE is absolutely ridiculous. 

 

I AM NOT MENTALLY RETARDED

 

I never even suggested anything like that.  Richard's conflicts with me had nothing to do with HATE or BLACK PEOPLE. 

If that isn't perfectly clear, then Richard, and some other readers of this page, desperately need language tutors.

I do not appreciate anyone trying to put words in my mouth, as highlighted just above. 

 

If I intended or wanted to say "Richard (or anyone else) hates black people" that is EXACTLY what I would have written. 

Obviously, I did not write that.

To the best of my knowledge, Richard DOES NOT hate black people.

 

I'm intelligent, articulate, and my words should be crystal clear to anyone who can actually read and understand English. 

If someone chooses to misinterpret perfectly clear English, it illustrates their inability to read or comprehend the English language. 

Some people might read this page and think it's about space aliens or ink jet printers.

 

I cannot control other people's stupidity 

 

If there's anything here that's confusing, ask somebody that understands English for help.

 

I CHALLENGE ANYBODY to find anything I've written which indicates anyone hating anyone or any race.
 

ADDENDUM

FINALLY, RICHARD COMPLETELY BURNS OUT MY PATIENCE

April 22, 2005

added March 18, 2008
From: soulsurvivors@comcast.net
To: steve at sl-prokeys dot com
Date: Fri, 22 Apr 2005 15:41:02 +0000
 
Dear Sandy
I need to write to you at this time, there is a good possibility you may go into a fit of rage and call me a lot of names.  

 

No fit.  No rage.  No names.

 

In 1969, I walked out of the Soul Survivors because of Richard's behaviors. 

In 1996, I wrote that Richard was a control freak. 

Nothing has changed.  1968 to 2005.  THIRTY SEVEN YEARS.  Richard is still trying to control me.     

 

I truly hope it doesn't make you never want to hear from me again.

 

Richard has PERMANENTLY worn out his welcome in my life.  It didn't take him very long. 

I must get this out.

Richard "must get this out"?  ME, TOO. 

I'm out of patience with his continual attempts to control and manipulate me for his own purposes - with guilt and FAIRYTALES.

I have experienced a very distressing night. I was at a local restaurant where some friends and family went to eat and gather for a small reunion. Charlie and I and Kenny Jerimiah were there and we were asked to sing some doo wop songs. Every thing was a nice time, the food was great the songs and old friends felt good.

Toward the end of the evening a group of friends of mine sat me down and started to tell me about the "page on the internet" about me. I knew immediately what they were talking about. I told them you and I were in touch and that we have come to a new relationship. I defended your right to put it there, saying that this is your recollection of what happened and you feel strongly about telling that story.  

More guilt.

If Richard "defended my right", why has he constantly tried to manipulate and control me to remove this page?

I mentioned the addendum at the end and they said they read that too, and they really don't understand why anyone would write the first page especially after reading the addendum.

More guilt.

"They" must be the most IGNORANT "friends" on the planet. 

I can't believe this Goddamn stupidity.

If there was no "first page", what the hell would an ADDENDUM refer to? 

How does someone write an "addendum" to "nothing"? 

 

THE ADDENDUM

specifically for Richard's illiterate "friends"
 

They told me it was slanderous and I should do something about it.

More guilt.

NO, Richard.  "They" told you wrong. 

This webpage isn't slander.  It's the truth.

There is no reason, nothing to gain, and no benefit by slandering you. 

 

I KNOW, YOU KNOW, AND EVERYONE WHO WAS IN THAT HOTEL ROOM KNOW IT'S THE TRUTH

 

The people from Breakout Management - who were not in that hotel room - know this page is the truth.

Total strangers - a whole crowd of guests from other rooms in that hotel - came to see what all the noise, commotion, and excitement was about. 

They know the truth. 

 

You ADMITTED the truth in front of about thirty (30) people - including four (4) policemen. 

Many other music people know the truth.  Plenty of non-music people know the truth.  The list is endless.

 

Research the definition of slander, and you'll discover you're wrong.

This page contains truth and facts. 

 

I BELIEVE:

Part of what's bothering you is that you realize how close you came to being locked up, prosecuted, and convicted of a felony.

You realize the only thing that kept you out of jail was the difference between me saying "YES" or "NO" to the police officers.

You thought about details: arrest, bail, attorney, trials, sentencing, parole/probation, fines, restitution, and all the costs involved.

You thought carefully about what kind of impact that could have had on your future if I had said "YES".

If this page isn't truthful, WHY WERE YOU CRYING, APOLOGIZING, AND BEGGING ME NOT TO SIGN THE POLICE COMPLAINT?

One friend looked in my eyes and said "they were sick to there stomach as they read it".  

More guilt.

Richard's "friend" was "sick" about a webpage? 

Nobody forced anyone to read this webpage. 

Richard's "friend" CHOSE to get "sick to there stomach".

 

How "sick" was Richard's "friend" about my trauma? 

 

OR DOESN'T THAT MEAN SHIT?

I lost about a quart of my blood.

I required 12 sutures to close the wound over my eye. 

I was so intimidated, I had to wait - and bleed - for almost 24 hours - to get to my own doctor. 

I was afraid of the hotel doctor - a total stranger - or any other doctor, except my own doctor.  I was terrified of hospitals. 

For about 2 weeks, I couldn't even open my left eye. 

I was cut over my eye, and my cornea, or whatever it's called, was cut, too. 

Blood was coming out of my eye for days.

Since 1968, my left eye has permanent damage.

I did NOTHING to deserve getting sucker punched in my face. 

Was Richard's "friend" "sick to there stomach" about that?

I suggest Richard's "friend" live through the same thing, and THEN tell me all about it.

 

I AM NOT MENTALLY RETARDED

 

Sorry if I'm repeating some things.  I think these facts are important.

 

FACTS: Richard and his girlfriend invited themselves into my hotel room.  They walked into my room without knocking, without invitation, without permission.  They invaded my privacy.  They trespassed - not me.

 

I didn't even know they were THERE until AFTER I was sucker punched and knocked on the floor  

 

Without a word spoken, in less than 5 seconds, my blood was all over that room.  The only one that was injured was me. 

If I had known that Richard's GIRLFRIEND was there, I would have been too EMBARRASSED to be seen in my socks and underwear.

Does it take a GENIUS to comprehend that most people would be too SELF-CONSCIOUS to allow anyone to see them in socks and underwear?

 

HOW ABOUT YOU?

 

Do you change your clothes in front of people you work with?

Do you change your clothes in front of their boy or girlfriends?

When was the last time you allowed someone's boy or girlfriend to see you in your socks and underwear?

 

I played in bands almost daily for the preceding FOUR YEARS.  In all that time, months after months after months on the road, hotel and motel rooms by the hundreds - ALL OF US - that means 8 to 11 band members - showed enough common courtesy and respect to knock on a door before walking into someone's room.  We even knocked when two of us were sharing a room. 

Changing clothes and getting dressed is not a public event - it's personal and private.  Most rational people should understand that.

Last summer, in about May our friend who manages Felix Cavaliere, was in contact with an agent who he does alot of  bookings with. We did two dates through this guy and they went very well. He seemed to be interested in using us. One day while I was at work Bob (the manager) called me on the cell and started to tell me that this agent had googled my name and your story came up. He brought this up to Bob and Bob could not explain anything about it. Bob told me the agent seemed bothered by the article and he asked for some explanation of it. So far-we have never heard from the agent about any work since then.  

More guilt. 

Now it's a "booking agent".

This page is responsible for a booking agent's actions, too? 

 

NO - I'M NOT GOING FOR THAT 

 

I'm not accepting any Goddamn guilt if an agent DOES or DOES NOT choose to book Richard.

AND - I'm not accepting any guilt if an agent DOES book Richard - and only pays 10% of what Richard THINKS he should be paid.  

I'll never believe that a webpage controls a booking agent's business decisions. 

 

I AM NOT MENTALLY RETARDED

About a year ago you asked me to ask Charlie to call you. Well I have not told you this before,

I didn't need to be told.  I'm very perceptive.

I have gained much respect for you over so many conversations - and I respect what you feel and believe is right, therefore I am not comfortable trying to influence you, or trying to tell you things that atempt to influence your actions.

More guilt.

Richard denies the obvious, which is absurd. 

This is nothing but another attempt to influence, control, and manipulate me. 

As anyone can see, guilt is being applied with THIS FAIRYTALE.

I refuse to accept the guilt.

Any way at this point you should know that someone at that time forwarded the page to my brother to read. He was really pissed, all he ever says when I bring you up is "did he take that fuckin thing off the web?"

 

More guilt.

Now we use Charlie to manipulate and apply guilt. 

NOTE: Richard indicates they first saw this page in 2002, 2003, 2004, and 2005.  In my opinion, that's amazing.  It's impossible, too.

One more thing I need to express, and I want you to know I have been up all night very unrest and upset. I have managed to keep my wife from finding that page, my son and daughter have not come upon it either.

 

More guilt. 

The manipulation never ends.  Now it's Richard's family.

 

Richard doesn't want his family to read this? 

Instead of facing it honestly, like most REAL adults would, Richard prefers to try and hide. 

Deception and secrecy are preferable to truth and openness? 

Maybe in Richard's life - not in my life, thank you anyway.

It is just a matter of time, my son's name is richard ingui. He will hear about it or find it someday. I have tried very consciously to be a righteous man to my friends and family and even strangers.

 

Another FAIRYTALE.

I discussed this with him several times, and made it clear that I forgave him years ago. 

Many times, I offered to get on the phone with his family and make my thoughts clear. 

My offers to help Richard discuss this honestly and openly with his family were - as expected - ignored.

 

That doesn't mean I forgot - it means I forgave.  There's a difference. 

If you don't understand the difference, use a dictionary. 

Now who knows I may die tomorrow, and this is the story I leave behind.

 

More guilt. 

Now it's the "story Richard leaves behind".

This page factually represents my experiences with the Soul Survivors during about one year of Richard's entire lifetime.

I haven't written anything about the other 62 or 63 years of Richard's lifetime, because I don't know anything about those years.

It hurts to read it, and I have read it many times - it hurts any reputation of integrity that I try to build in my life

 

More guilt. 

NOW it's "integrity".

That's ridiculous. 

and it hurts my reputation as a singer.

 

More guilt. 

NOW it's "reputation".

That's ridiculous, too. 

I just have one more thought and request and that is that you read the article through and replace my name with your name and see what it feels like after you're done reading.

 

More guilt.

I didn't even have to "feel".  I'm nothing like Richard, and I never want to be. 

Get a java-enabled browser.

Get a java-enabled browser.

 

The guilt and manipulation are as blatant as flashing neon signs.

 

Is there ANYTHING that Richard WON'T use to try to make me feel guilt?

 

Richard doesn't know when to STOP. 

This is exactly like a Goddamn replay of 1968.

He just keeps grinding on and grinding on, trying to wear me down - until I DO WHAT HE WANTS.

 

IT WON'T WORK ON ME ANYMORE, RICHARD

How would you feel if someone wrote that about some unfortunet situation that happened to you fourty years ago, and by the technology of 2005 it was in your face, now.

Richard, how would you feel if I had a video of the "unfortunet situation", and it was right here, on this webpage?    

What Richard refers to as "some unfortunet situation" was not "unfortunet". 

It was a TRAUMA - a physical and mental TRAUMA

The PROCESS of manipulation, control, and creating guilt usually includes "minimizing" and "transference". 

Richard is doing these things. 

Minimizing my "unfortunet situation" is similar to minimizing the violent attack Richard claims his son suffered. 

Will Richard's son ever forget his injuries?  I'd like to know if Richard's son will ever forgive.  Will he talk to his attacker on the phone?  Will he make any attempt to befriend the person who attacked him?  Will Richard's son call him, promote his CD, discuss and even consider playing shows with him?  To what extent will Richard's son go to compromise with his attacker?  I'd like to know.  But I think I already know.

Richard has written and spoken to me about lawsuits, arbitrators, and settlements, regarding his son's injuries.  Richard's son will receive some kind of financial and medical compensation, according to Richard.

I had nobody to defend me.  I had no lawyer.  No lawsuits, no arbitrators, no financial or medical assistance. 

I received no compensation for my "unfortunet situation".  I paid Dr. Abramson. 

 

Nobody paid a penny for MY injuries

FACTS: I had the chance to have Richard arrested in December, 1968 - and I SHOULD have.

I was too Goddamn stupid to follow through at that moment, because everything was ABSOLUTE CHAOS - I had no time to THINK about it.

 

There were approximately 30 people wandering in and out of my hotel room - all talking, yelling, and arguing at once. 

A doctor, hotel manager, assistant manager, police officers, the other band members, roadies, several girlfriends, a few hotel employees, several other hotel guests, a crowd of strangers - it was total insanity. 

 

Everyone seemed to be talking to me at once.  In that situation, it was impossible for me to THINK CLEARLY. 

I just wanted to stop the bleeding.  THAT'S what I was thinking about.  I needed another icepack.  I needed more towels.  I needed another wet washcloth. 

 

If I could have had 20 CALM, QUIET minutes to really consider what I should do, Richard would have definitely been arrested. 

I would have signed the Goddamn police forms with my own blood.

 

If you re-read Richard's email (above), his son's injuries were probably more extensive than mine. 

If I was hospitalized, as two doctors suggested, maybe Richard couldn't minimize my "unfortunet situation". 

Maybe Richard doesn't minimize his son's "unfortunet situation" because he's Richard's son?

I know you have a strong will, and believe me I have a lot of respect for you, your playing and the many things you have advised me on since we have been speaking. But I don't think you realize the depth of the hurt that this story brings.

 

More guilt.

More manipulation, too.

Richard, you don't know what HURT is.  I do.  Forty fucking years of it, every day, every night.

I know you have received many thousands of hits and that is something to encourage keeping it on there,

More guilt. 

Now it's "hits".

That's absurd.  This entire website has been viewed over 13 million times since April, 2003. 

The STAX pages have been viewed over a million times.  The Hammond organ pages have been viewed over a million times. 

This page has been viewed about 100,000 times. 

 

An important chapter of my life in the world of music is why this webpage is here. 

Richard has clearly known that since our first phone conversation - November 28, 2003. 

however it is a negative thing and people love to read bad shit about other people. Bad news sells - but my question is, is it worth holding on to this in spite of it's harmful and hurtfull effects? 

More guilt. 

This webpage isn't harming or hurting anyone.  More manipulation. 

 

Richard is very good at manipulating, but I'm not going to be manipulated. 

So far, he's used every guilt card in the whole deck, and I see right through all of them. 

I will not allow Richard to transfer his guilt onto me.

You told me one time from what I believe was the deepest part of you, that you truly forgave me for what I did.

If I said it, I meant it.  I forgive Richard for what he did in 1968. 

It meant so much to me, you really won't know.

 

Sometimes, the truth is just what a person wants to hear or read.  Sometimes it's not.  I made my choice: TRUTH.

Richard, when you read this, as I'm sure you will, you'll probably ignore the advice I'm offering.

Go see a psychiatrist and a counselor. 

Talk openly, honestly, and educate yourself. 

Read one or two psychology books, use the internet, find an online DSM. 

You undeniably have some problems. 

Learn the definitions of these behaviors:

avoidance

escape

denial / minimizing

transference

manipulation

guilt / blame

control / dominance

Every one of them applies to you, Richard.   

I'm pretty sure you don't commit Aggravated Assault on people half your size, weight, and strength anymore.

In these days, that might get you shot and killed, or maybe much worse.

So now for a friend, please revisit the reason you put that story up and see if it still needs to be there.

 

More guilt.

If you haven't figured it out yet, I'll break the news. 

My definition of the word "friend" is different than yours. 

We are NOT friends. 

As far as I'm concerned, we're not enemies, either. 

The word "friend" does not apply.

 

I've stated repeatedly - on this page, in emails, and on the phone - you are forgiven for injuring me. 

That's all.  My injury is permanent - I can't forget.

I'm reminded of it every day.  EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE.

I'm sorry Sandy - I probably would never have brought it up again, but it is haunting me in so many places.

 

More guilt. 

Now it's "haunting me".

NO, RICHARD

 

What you ARE doing is exactly the same thing as you did to me in 1968-1969.

You're trying to wear me down to YOUR way of thinking.

You're trying to force me to agree with you.

You're trying to control me.

 

You're trying every way you can think of to make me change my mind, and DO WHAT YOU WANT.

Your manipulating words prove it - over and over again. 

 

I AM NOT MENTALLY RETARDED

 

Your attempts to make me feel GUILT are absolutely unbelievable

 

I will not ALLOW it.  Those days are over.

Mostly I can't stand the thought of my children reading that stuff about there father after I'm outta here.

More guilt and more manipulation.

love rich
 

THE LAST ADDENDUM

added March 18, 2008

Richard does not want me to tell the truth about 1968-1969. 

To attain that objective, Richard has tried endlessly to place guilt on me.

Richard's messages are overflowing with his attempts to force me to feel guilt.

 

I'm too clear in my mind to allow this. 

I refuse to accept any guilt, and I refuse to be controlled and manipulated.

 

I've told the absolute truth.   

I made an intentional effort to diminish many original descriptions of the miserable year of abuse, conflicts, insults, confrontations, and intimidation that I was put through. 

 

I did that because I believed Richard's apology was sincere, and he didn't have any ulterior motive.

I believe that Richard was sincere in his apology for permanently injuring me.

 

Removing this page was the real motive.

You might notice Richard never contradicted a single word on this page.

He never said I was a liar.

He never said this page didn't represent the complete truth. 

He never even said I was exaggerating.

I believe I've shown phenomenal restraint and self-control in my comments and rebuttal to Richard's BULLSHIT.

If anybody knew what was really going through my mind while writing the ADDENDUMS, I think they'd faint.
 

The following two (2) POSTSCRIPTS refer to Richard's BULLSHIT.

They are not replies, comments, or rebuttal.
 

POSTSCRIPT

FACTS and PROBABILITIES

TIME TO STOP THE GODDAMN WORD GAMES

added March 18, 2008

All of "the incident" and "some unfortunet situation" references are just word games.  I'm tired of word games. 

I'm finished with Richard's BULLSHIT.

 

Richard tries to minimize the fact that he intentionally, willfully committed Aggravated Assault on me, which is a FELONY.

He caused me lifetime damage.  None of his BULLSHIT will ever change those facts. 

 

In December, 1968, I was a young, stupid fool.  I made a very serious mistake.  I refused to sign the police complaint against Richard. 

 

In Pennsylvania, Aggravated Assault may (but not necessarily) be prosecuted as a FIRST DEGREE FELONY. 

Depending on various facts, Aggravated Assault may be prosecuted as a SECOND DEGREE FELONY. 

Aggravated Assault may (but not necessarily) be punishable by a maximum of 20 years in state prison.

 

The Pennsylvania State Attorney would decide how Richard would be prosecuted. 

 

If Richard's attack happened now, in March, 2008, felony criminal charges would be filed. 

Other criminal charges, in addition to Aggravated Assault, could also be filed, as determined by detectives and the State Attorney. 

 

Photographs, video evidence, physical evidence, and preliminary statements would be taken at the crime scene.

Everyone would be transported to the police station, where they would be individually questioned and recorded, in separate interviews. 

 

"Everyone" includes the hotel manager, assistant manager, doctor, members of the group, roadies, and girlfriends. 

It also includes anyone who heard Richard's admissions, apologies, and begging me not to sign the police complaint.

(research "eyewitness", "material witness", and "witness after the fact")

 

Signed statements would be taken.  A lot of people would be inconvenienced.  Philadelphia police would have a hell of a night. 

 

Richard would be arrested, handcuffed, and confined in a jail cell. 

He would be arraigned as soon as a Judge was available - probably the following morning or afternoon. 

Bail would likely be $10,000.00 - possibly more.

 

THERE WOULD BE NO CONCERT THAT NIGHT.

Criminal and civil trials would DEFINITELY follow. 

 

{{  repeat of earlier momentary interruption:  Laws have changed considerably since 1968.  Today, the police would have automatically arrested Richard, with or without my agreement.  My attorney explained they had two required elements:  an obvious crime scene, and a voluntary verbal confession, made in front of at least a dozen witnesses and the police officers.  Even a Miranda warning would be unnecessary under those circumstances.  Nothing else would be required.  Go Directly To Jail - Do Not Pass Go.  }}  

 

VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: Some of the following text must be considered PROBABLE, but not absolute.

My attorney (who was both a State Attorney and a Public Defender for 28 years, before retirement) made this point perfectly clear: 

It is impossible to state positively or exactly what the Judge and State Attorney would decide until the actual hearings (and/or trials) took place.

 

Simple example: the State Attorney requests $10,000.00 bail.  Richard's attorney argues for $1,000.00 bail. 

They both present their reasons, opinions, and arguments.

 

THE JUDGE DECIDES

 

My attorney did considerable research.  He gave me his best PROBABLE information, based on prior experiences with the same (and similar) criminal charges, as well as similar civil lawsuits.

 

He explained these issues which would very likely happen at Richard's arraignment, months before actual criminal and civil jury trials.

 

(1)  At Richard's arraignment, the Judge could order Richard not to leave the state of Pennsylvania.

The Judge would have the legal power to transfer temporary jurisdiction to Richard's city of residence, (New York City). 

The Judge could place Richard on house arrest, pending his trial date, which would typically be several months later.   

 

NOTE: My attorney mentioned five (5) words to me: "interstate traveling musician" and "flight risk".  That's something to think about, although it might not mean anything.  The Judge and State Attorney would control issues of this type.

 

A normal condition of most bail bond companies demands that the defendant must remain in the same state where the arrest took place.  

Failure to obey this condition could result in immediate arrest for bail jumping and forfeiture of bail funds. 

Richard could be back in a jail cell until his trial.

 

(2)  The defendant (Richard) would be legally prohibited from any form of contact with the victim (me). 

This is a "no-contact" order.  It's a standard, automatic condition in a crime of violence.

 

Consider what this would mean to the Soul Survivors if Richard was released on bail:

 

(a)  they instantly would have no Hammond organ player, via the Judge's "no-contact" order. 

Stated another way, Richard could no longer sing in any band that I played in, until the Judge vacated the order. 

The Judge's order could remain in effect for years - long after both trials.

 

Richard couldn't even enter the same building as me if I was playing with a different band.  That, too, would violate the Judge's order. 

I could still play with the Soul Survivors, but Richard would be legally prohibited from singing with them at any time I was present.

(I find that kind of amusing.)

 

(b)  It's probable that Richard could only sing in the state of Pennsylvania.

 

With these facts in mind, the Soul Survivors would very likely cease to exist. 

"Evaporate" would be a descriptive word.   

 

According to my attorney, both Judges and both juries would determine the exact amount, but there is no question that Richard would pay. 

ONE SUCKER PUNCH would probably cost Richard more money than he could earn in ten years. 

 

My attorney also explained numerous grounds for my civil lawsuit.  And .... 

The hotel could sue Richard for property damages.

Vassar College could sue for breach of contract.

My attorney researched this carefully.  These aren't word games - they are facts of law.   

 

POSTSCRIPT

ONE SUCKER PUNCH: A LIFE OF PERMANENT DAMAGE

added March 18, 2008

Since December, 1968, my left eye has problems, beginning the day Richard sucker punched me. 

I don't think medical technology (optical microsurgery, laser technology, etc.) existed in 1968 to repair the damage to my eye. 

The problems are increasing. 

 

For about 40 years, my vision is blurred and my eye leaks tears for 1 or 2 hours after I wake up.  It feels like my eye is burning. 

It's usually "back to normal" by about noon.  This occurs several times weekly, it's not (yet) an every-day symptom. 

I also have pain in, behind, and above my eye, but my body has adjusted to it through the years, and I can mostly just ignore it and take aspirin. 

I take quantities of aspirin, often 8-12 each day. 

 

The burning feeling has been increasing also.  Sometimes the burning lasts all day.  Sometimes it lasts for several days. 

Doctors have prescribed medications to put in my eye.  None have had any effect.

 

It's 2008.

It's a fact of my life that my eye is progressively deteriorating. 

I'm not 18 anymore - I'm 58, and I've been living with this since 1968. 

 

Several doctors have stated that within 3-10 years, I will probably no longer have a functional left eye. 

That's what I have to look forward to.

Forgetting is impossible
 

The above (endless) text concerns my experiences with the Soul Survivors. 

 

The following was written almost THREE YEARS before Richard contacted me on November 28, 2003. 

That means it refers to the original page - not the "sanitized" page, which was put online on December 1, 2003.

 

What follows (below) could be considered a completely separate webpage.

Maybe I should have separated them, and made individual pages, but they are directly connected, and I made the choice to combine them. 

 

In this format, readers could have the opportunity to make comparisons, and subsequently draw their own conclusions about FACTS.

Using your PAGE UP and PAGE DOWN keys is basically what I'm referring to.
 

Along Comes Kevin the Groupie

The two emails (below), were written to me by someone named Kevin, who claims "YOUR SOUL SURVIVORS TALE" isn't accurate.  Without literally calling me a liar, he's trying to call me a liar.

 

Kevin's text is RED.

I highlighted some of Kevin's "discrepancies" and contradictions.

My comments, rebuttal, and facts are in BLUE text.
 

AM I HONEST?

added March 18, 2008
Date: Fri, 15 Dec 2000 19:10:15 +0000
From: Kevin <kkiley@home.com>
Organization: @Home Network
To: prokeys@tampabay.rr.com
Subject: YOUR SOUL SURVIVORS TALE
 
Hi
My name is Kevin Kiley. I am a 47 year old living in NJ. I sell antiques for a living, but sing part-time in an R&B/soul band. i have ever since I saw the soul survivors for the first time when I was about 15.

Oh.  That's very nice.

 
My older sister used to date charlie, and her girlfriend dated Kenny.

Oh.  That's very nice, too.

They would get me into the clubs to see the shows even though I was underage. I saw them many times before and after expressway.

Excuse me?  You claim you saw them "many times BEFORE and after Expressway". 

Your claims are hard to believe.  Actually, they're impossible. 

You wrote this on December 15, 2000. 

2000 minus 47 years old indicates you were born in 1953. 

 

If you were about 15 the first time you saw them, that would be 1968.

"Expressway" was released in early 1967.

 

It doesn't add up, so how did you accomplish this contradiction/miracle?  You just claimed you saw them MANY times before and after "Expressway". 

 

Maybe I should call this "KEVIN'S SOUL SURVIVORS TALE" - or - "KEVIN'S IMAGINARY SOUL SURVIVORS TALE".

NOTE: For clarity, I must interrupt your December 15, 2000 message for just a moment.

You wrote this publicly to the Yahoo southernsoul message group on December 31, 2000.  Download the screen capture.  Or read it online. 

I'll quote that message in red text:

For anyone that goes to that link, let me say this. I saw the Soul
 Survivors MANY times BEFORE he was in the band. The original group(minus
 horns)was fucking KILLER!
 
 I saw them once after the initial break-up(probably with this guy)and
 they weren't as good. I saw them about 10 years ago and they STILL
 kicked ass,
 playing that "nigger music".
 
 KK

NOTE: Now I'll return to your December 15, 2000 message.

They were the greatest group that I ever saw.

They were the greatest group that you ever saw!  It should be no surprise I think you're a groupie.  You must have led a very sheltered life.  You really didn't see very much back in those days, did you?  You claim you were underage - 15 years old - your older sister had to sneak you into clubs. 

Did you ever sneak into the Apollo, the RKO, the Royal, the Mosque, the Howard, or the Paramount - or was that just a little too much for a 15 year old groupie?

 

By the time I was 15 years old, I had already seen the James Brown Revue about a dozen times, and auditioned for him as a Hammond player. 

(Didn't pass the audition, but that's not the point.) 

Do you even DREAM the Soul Survivors could POSSIBLY compare to James Brown's show in the late 1960s? 

 
My sister used to say that Richie was a prick,

Is that right!  I wonder why?

but I find it hard to believe that he gave you shit about listening to nigger music, because that is what they covered. If it weren't for them, I would never have heard the original Knight brothers temptation's Bout to get me. Except for the rascals, all they DID was black music.

Is that a fact?  Obviously, you were somewhere else when I played with them.  Your logic is defective.  I find no correlation between a band playing certain songs, and the abuse and violence which was directed at me.

 
I probably caught you on the last gig that I saw them do.

 

The LAST gig you saw them do?

I walked out of the Soul Survivors in late May, 1969.  I've never seen OR played with them since.

 

You're CONTRADICTING YOURSELF AGAIN, Kevin.

 

Above, on December 31, 2000, you publicly wrote, "I saw them about 10 years ago" to the southernsoul group. 

 

It's questionable if you even KNOW when you last saw them.

You're really making a fool of yourself.

It had horns,Paulie, Joey, and Eddie were no longer there, and Kenny didn't sing ANY lead. It was somewhere in Jersey, not long after the Atco Lp came out.

We had horns for a few shows.  They walked out.  They were smart.  I wasn't.  

Are you sure that your anger at his prickness in every other part of his life didn't cause you to exagerate the bit about nigger music? I can believe evrything else in your story, but I can't believe that part. And I won't.

What anger?  There is no anger on this webpage.  Except for your contradictions and Richard's FAIRYTALES - there are facts.

 

You clearly acknowledge Richard's personality, although I've described it in a more reasonable way. 

I haven't exaggerated "my story" at all - but since you weren't actually there yourself, how would you really know?

 
Thanx for your time,
KK
 

YES, I'M HONEST

added March 18, 2008
Date: Sat, 16 Dec 2000 11:21:15 +0000
From: Kevin <kkiley@home.com>
Organization: @Home Network
To: ProKeys <prokeys@tampabay.rr.com>, sleigh@tampabay.rr.com
Subject: Re: YOUR SOUL SURVIVORS TALE
 
I'm telling you, before Expressway, they had an exciting show.

 

Thank you for telling me. 

Obviously, you hadn't ever seen an exciting show in those days. 

How many times did you see Otis Redding?  Sam and Dave?  The Motor City Revue?  Aretha?  Joe Tex?  James Brown?  Wilson Pickett?   

I BET YOU NEVER SAW THEM BACK IN THE "OLD DAYS". 

I have seen almost every exciting band that you can name from the Who to Sly(pre-coke), and their show back then was unbeatable.

The Who?  THAT'S what you refer to as "exciting"?   

Sly (pre-coke)?  What the hell are YOU talking about?  1964?  How would YOU know when Sly started with coke?  DID HE TELL YOU?   

You're a fool - AND a groupie.

Maybe in your "excited" 15 year old mind, the Soul Survivors were unbeatable.  You have some really strange ideas of "unbeatable".  Most groupies do.

They used to do Knock, Midnight Hour, Tighten Up, Temptation Bout to Get me, Please Please, Change Gonna Come, When Something Is Wrong, Hold On Im Comin, You Don't Know, etc. They used to do 4 sets a night, rarely doing repeats. They did mostly Rascals, Righteous Bros.,and STAX stuff!

It's transparently clear that you don't even have a clue what transpired in 1968. 

We never, ever played 4 sets - we only did ONE 60 minute show. 

We never played ANY of the songs you listed. 

What they played before I joined them has no bearing on this webpage.

That is why it strikes me as really weird, cause they played that stuff for years. That is what they cut their teeth on. Hell, even the covers from the Atco LP were black tunes(Tell Daddy, Funky Way To Treat Somebody).

Do you actually believe that Kenny, Richard, and Charlie chose to record those two songs?  I don't think so.  I don't think they had any control whatsoever regarding that album.  I'll illustrate that as I continue.

So I KNOW they DID like black music.

Allow me to educate you.  You obviously need education - desperately.

 

The terms "R&B", "soul", and "black music" are - as far as I'm concerned - essentially interchangeable in the context of this webpage. 

If you think you have a better definition, illustrate your amazing musical brilliance, and enlighten me. 

This is NOT about "black music", although you seem fixated on that.

 

The Atco album (11 songs) you refer to was mainly cut at Fame in Muscle Shoals, AL, produced by Rick Hall. 

Rick Hall and Fame are world known for R&B. 

That doesn't mean the Soul Survivors categorized as soul or R&B artists - it only means that Fame could do magic with R&B artists and material.

 

Some other artists who recorded at Fame include the Osmonds, Paul Anka, Wayne Newton, and Liza Minelli. 

Would you call that "R&B", "soul", or "black music"?  I sure wouldn't. 

 

I'm certain Rick Hall did what he wanted.  I'm sure Kenny, Richard, and Charlie just followed directions. 

The singers, only doing 8 songs, were most likely in the Fame studio for one or two days, maximum.  In and out. 

You might not know I also played for Fame.  We could knock out 8 songs in a day, and did it regularly. 

I'm intimately acquainted with the recording procedures for "outside" acts. 

I'm also intimately acquainted with writers and artists signed to Fame, and the differences between them. 

Take note of who published "Tell Mama".  Calvin Arnold wrote/cut "Funky Way" - that's Detroit and Motown. 

Take note that the Soul Survivors were not signed to Fame - either as Fame artists or Fame writers. 

Three songs were produced by Gamble and Huff.  Rick Hall very likely did the mixes on those songs, too.

Consider this: Of the eleven songs, Richard and Charlie claim writer's credit on six songs.  They didn't play instruments.  How could they have "written" the songs?  Lyrics?  Yes, of course.  Music?  HOW?  Clearly, somebody had to co-write with them, somebody had to come up with chord changes - but nobody else was given writer's credit?  Even their own partner, Kenny, was excluded as a writer?  THAT'S BEYOND cold-blooded. 

 

If anyone - anywhere - anytime - can show me how a non-musician can write the chords to a song, it's time to put up or shut up. 

Just put your money where your mouth is, and let's see it.

Being new to Atco, with no prior "track record" on that label, I'm certain that decisions were not made by the Soul Survivors, but by label management.  The single release (Mama Soul) did nothing.  Both the single and the album were - to be polite - losers.

Now, being from New York, it is very/more than likely possible that he referred to blacks as niggers, even though he played their music. I know. I used to. It was how I was brought up.

It's "how you were brought up"? 

I wasn't brought up that way. 

I'm from the New York area, too. 

I was brought up NOT to refer to black people with that word.

Do you still do that today?

Your logic is defective, along with your memory.  Are you trying to claim that if a band plays some songs which were recorded by black artists, that means they like or respect black people? 

I have a theory.  My theory is that any band will play songs which will earn them money and popularity.

It was a different world then.

Thank you for repeating my words.  You have a profound grasp of the obvious.

 
Also, Kenny was a really nice guy and Richie and Charlie fucked him good. I understand that he is doing very well in Atlantic City Casinos with a band called Full House.

This webpage is not about Kenny, except in a peripheral way.  It relates my experiences with the Soul Survivors. 

 
I'm not doubting a word about Richie being a jerk-off. Even as a 15 year old meeting them, EVERYONE was nice and friendly to me EXCEPT Richie. He thought his fucking shit didn't stink.

Unlike you, I've described Richard in far more polite terms.

I just have a hard time accepting the fact that he gave you shit about listening to Stax stuff, cause they did it for years.

We'll get to that with your following paragraphs.

 
Again, I hope that you didn't take this letter as me calling you a liar.

You've certainly, undeniably inferred that I AM a liar, which means nothing.  I'm not a liar.  Why would I lie?  Where's the benefit in lying?

Factually, you were not there during the time period which this webpage describes. 

 

You were never at our rehearsals, never at our shows, never flying or traveling with us, and never in the hotels with the group.

Your actual knowledge does not exist. 

You can fantasize, assume, imagine, or dream whatever you want. 

Most groupies do.  If I'm in error, just go right ahead and correct me.

I just wondered if perhaps all of the bullshit that you went through with him, and the weed, etc, didn't alter a little of the perception and the memory. There was NO harm meant, believe me.

My perception and memory aren't "altered" - they're extraordinary.  My memory and ability to recall details has always been incredible.

 

If you ever doubt that, just contact Richard. 

Discuss the hours on the phone: me playing Hammond and him singing. 

Ask about the songs on the Atco album - I haven't even heard it since 1969, but I remember. 

Talk about dozens of old doo wop songs which I never played in my life. 

All he had to do was sing the first few words, I found his key, and played them - because I REMEMBERED HEARING them. 

 

Richard wrote an email (located above) on February 7, 2004.  Go back and read it carefully - especially the reference to the videos and mp3s.

Read the email just above that one, from December 6, 2003, too. 

 

THIRTY YEARS since I last saw or played (in the STAX studios) with most of these people .... and you question my memory?

 

I question your sanity, Kevin.

 

The only thing that I can think of to explain it, is that he was getting into Hendrix, Cream, etc,(I saw them do Purple Haze, Sunshine Of Your Love with the original band a few times) and thus wanted to seem "hip" by putting down the stuff that went before. Yeah, I COULD just hear him "Fuck that nigger music. Have you heard the new Mountain album?"

 

Kevin, are you even AWARE of what you write?  Are you CONSCIOUS?

Do you realize how often you CONTRADICT yourself? 

In your previous message, just above, time stamped only about 16 hours before this one, you made these two statements.  I'll quote them in red:

"I find it hard to believe that he gave you shit about listening to nigger music" 

"Are you sure that your anger at his prickness in every other part of his life didn't cause you to exagerate the bit about nigger music? I can believe evrything else in your story, but I can't believe that part. And I won't."

With your words (above), you are calling me a liar. 

In this message you made this statement, again quoted in red:

"Now, being from New York, it is very/more than likely possible that he referred to blacks as niggers, even though he played their music. I know. I used to. It was how I was brought up."

And now, quoted in red, you state:

"Yeah, I COULD just hear him "Fuck that nigger music. Have you heard the new Mountain album?"

 

Excuse me.  How often do you change what you "believe", Kevin?

 

You sure do change what you "believe" fast, don't you, Kevin? 

It didn't even take 24 hours. 

 

You sure do CONTRADICT yourself a lot, too, don't you, Kevin? 

Do you have any idea WHAT you believe?

 

These are YOUR words. 

Go back and look at what YOU wrote. 

 

Maybe someday in the next 47 years, you'll figure out what you "believe". 

I don't think anyone else ever will.

 

I think you write whatever comes into your head at any second, and completely ignore FACTS

I guess it probably did happen.

YOU can guess.  I lived it, day in and day out for just over a year.  There's no "guessing" or "probably" about facts. 

You seem completely, utterly fixated on two words: "nigger music". 

Although the words are offensive to many people, they were used in Richard's endless abuse, intimidation, and control of me. 

In other words - and maybe you can actually understand this distinction: 

THE WORDS WERE NOT EVER USED IN A RACIAL MANNER

They were only used to verbally abuse and batter me.  Richard couldn't exist without abusing me for reasons which he found compulsory and mandatory in his own mind.  Re-read this. 

Excuse the profanity, and, for just a minute, consider this EXAMPLE.  This did NOT happen, but the comparison should be clear enough for any 12 year old child to understand.

 

Imagine I was very dedicated to COUNTRY music. 

Imagine Richard telling me what he thought about that. 

Don't imagine a calm, sensible, controlled conversation.  That was not Richard's style.

 

Instead, imagine Richard screaming this directly in my face, and making me physically back away, until there was no place to back up TO. 

FREQUENTLY, my back was literally against a WALL, with Richard's FACE inches away from mine - SCREAMING.

"Sandy, you little fucking redneck asshole punk.  You just LOVE that useless fucking garbage.  Fucking trash country music - that stinking shit makes me sick.  Why don't you go play that shit with some fucking cowboy bands?  You don't need another fucking Hammond, go buy some fucking cowboy outfits and a fucking horse.  Get some fucking cowboy boots, you little asshole.  Those fucking redneck cowboys would love you.  That shit blows.  I ought to shove your fucking cowboy hat down your throat, you asshole fucking redneck.  I'll find a new organ player - I'm fucking sick of this shit, Sandy.  I'm sick of you, too, you little bastard.  I should have kicked the shit out of you the day I fucking met you.  It was the worst day of my fucking life, you fucking asshole."

THAT'S WHAT IT WAS LIKE, Kevin. 

And that's nothing - it's just a quick, one minute example. 

NOW consider the FACT that this went on regularly, about almost anything.

Clothes, beard, hair, food, restaurants, apartment, girlfriends, records, dope, stereo system, boots, old musician friends, jewelry, bands I played in previously, Hammond organs, Leslies - even my Goddamn bank account.  The list is endless. 

 

Richard couldn't STOP.  It was too much FUN for him.  He loved it.

 

Do you misunderstand or misinterpret anything racial in THAT? 

I don't.  I just see it as Richard "expressing his opinion". 

Typical, average 1968 Richard communication: abusive screaming, confrontational, aggressive, intimidating words - directed at me. 

 

And I see something MUCH more important and obvious - control. 

Richard's verbal abuse had one purpose: control Sandy. 

 

So TELL me, Kevin.  You've known all about the Soul Survivors since you were FIFTEEN. 

I got the hell out of there after slightly more than ONE YEAR.  You're the Soul Survivors expert - not me.

 

EDUCATE ME, KEVIN

But I can tell you this: he "DID" love "nigger" music. And they did it extremely well.

Due to your contradictions, it's difficult to believe anything you have to say.

Again, allow me to educate you.  Here's a little more truth.

Richard tasted success before I met him because of the hit record "Expressway". 

It went to #3 and #4 on Billboard charts. 

That is a hit record by anybody's definition. 

Any artist in the world wants only one thing - more hit records. 

At the time, other kinds of music were selling and were more valuable in terms of making money, doing concerts, and getting a record on the charts. 

You mentioned some of them, above.

 

YOUR OWN WORDS show that Richard had personal, social, and psychological problems

LONG BEFORE I EVER MET HIM
 

Those problems increased over time.  I believe a contributing factor was the frustration of NOT coming up with another hit record. 

It must have been discouraging that the Soul Survivors booking contracts were financially diminishing. 

I ought to know - this fact was reflected in the band's paychecks. 

It may have been like slowly watching the Soul Survivors dying - one month at a time.

 

But you've completely missed - or intentionally misunderstood - a vital point. 

I never stated Richard hated black music or black people. 

I never stated ANYTHING about ANY race, OR HATE, regarding Richard. 

I clearly explained that Richard resented ME. 

He resented my total commitment to the music I loved. 

I don't think it would have made any difference - black music, pink music, green music, classical music, gospel music, or Christmas music. 

I don't think Richard's confrontations, abuse, violence, and berserk screaming were really based on my record collection. 

Re-read the EXAMPLE, just above.  This time, pay attention to it. 

 

Richard couldn't dictate what I wanted to listen to. 

He couldn't stop me from going to the Apollo four days in a row to hear the music I wanted to hear. 

It should be obvious that Richard couldn't control me - the clothes I bought, the length of my hair, the food or restaurants I liked, the apartment I rented, my girlfriends, or the amount of dope I did NOT want to smoke with him. 

Richard couldn't convert me to a Richard Ingui clone. 

I actually had a mind of my own.  He couldn't run my LIFE.  It's very simple.

 

At no time did we have a problem with my playing in the Soul Survivors - I played my ass off. 

I fit in perfectly from day one - in the worst conditions imaginable. 

Since November, 2003, when our phone calls began, Richard has told me dozens and dozens of times: I'm the best he's ever heard.

 

ABSOLUTELY THE BEST

Just ASK him, Kevin

Some of your thoughts are probably correct: loud, rock, "psychedelic type" music was making more money than the Soul Survivors.  Maybe Richard hoped to "migrate" towards that kind of music, dreaming that might bring more popularity to the Soul Survivors. 

But there's a MAJOR PROBLEM with that:

From day one - we put together a band that played R&B, and played it very, very well for awhile. 

It isn't logical, realistic, or reasonable to try and turn a strong R&B band into a psychedelic band. 

It just doesn't work like that. 

We weren't Pink Floyd or the Grateful Dead - we were supposed to be a soul band, remember?  

Richard couldn't force me to love "psychedelic type" music - and that's exactly what the Soul Survivors eventually sounded like to me: we sounded like 2 bands playing 2 different songs at the same time.  As I've written, we began by playing busy - over time the music became berserk.

I think Helen Hersch's cover art (Atco, "Take Another Look") was an accurate reflection of Richard's state of mind. 

A person could get stoned just looking at the album cover. 

In my opinion, it's just as chaotic as the music we played. 

YOU - not me - referred to Richard with derogatory words.  I used polite, accurate, and honest words.   

YOU were just another groupie, going to their shows. 

YOU stated they were the greatest group you ever saw. 

I do not share your opinion.  I was a lot less impressed than you. 

We have vastly different ideas of an "exciting show".

     

YOU didn't have to put up with the daily insanity.  I did. 

YOU didn't have to have your eyelid sewn up, and lose about a quart of blood.  I did.

YOUR eye wasn't permanently damaged by Richard.  Mine is.

 

I think some of Richard's social and psychological problems were based on the prospect that the Soul Survivors might never have another hit record.  History has shown that to be a fact, hasn't it? 

A star today - and a nobody tomorrow. 

That's a very bitter pill for anyone who has ever experienced success.

 

The human ego can be a fucked up thing.

This page has almost nothing to do with ego.  It's about the 13-14 months of my life spent with the Soul Survivors.

 
Have a Merry Xmas,
KK

 

ALL original messages are available on request

 

THE SHOW NEVER ENDS

added April 14, 2008

APRIL 14, 2008: FRED WILHELMS and DROP WILHELMS .... good reading

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