Has Florida got soul? Hell yes, according to author John Capouya.
“It was complete news to me,” says the native New Yorker and longtime music obsessive. “Like everybody else I thought about Memphis, Detroit, New Orleans, Macon… I had a very clear idea about their relationship to R&B and soul music.
“When you’re listening to WNJR in Newark, they don’t say ‘That was Betty Wright — and she’s from Miami.’ They just say that was ‘Clean Up Woman’ by Betty Wright.”
Capouya, a longtime journalist (at the New York Times and Newsweek, among others), moved to the Bay Area eight years ago. He teaches journalism and creative writing at the University of Tampa.
Upon his arrival, he began hearing what he describes as an “urban legend” about “The Twist,” one of the biggest hit records of the early 1960s. Although Chubby Checker took the song to No. 1 (on two separate occasions), “The Twist” was written by Midwestern rhythm and blues star Hank Ballard — and, according to numerous eye (and ear) witnesses, he wrote it in Tampa, after watching the kids swiveling their bodies to his music.
The story of “The Twist” takes up one of the 20 chapters in Capouya’s book Florida Soul, published by University Press of Florida. Whether it’s true or not isn’t really the point — it’s a great story.
As it turns out, there are great stories about soul music, hiding in plain sight, in almost every corner of Florida.
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Hank Ballard wasn’t a Floridian — but Ray Charles was. In Florida Soul, Capouya details the blind-but-determined piano player’s young adult years, playing with one combo after another on the chitlin’ circuit from Tampa to Jacksonville. Learning his craft. Paying his dues.
He talks with Miami native Sam Moore, of the great Sam & Dave (“Soul Man,” “Hold On I’m Coming”) and James Purify (“I’m Your Puppet”) from Pensacola. Ben Moore (who was known as “Bobby Purify”) is now a member of the Blind Boys of Alabama.
“One of the things that turned out to be most satisfying was getting to sit down with the people who survive, and having them tell me about their careers, but also about their craft, how they did what they did,” Capouya says.
In a chapter devoted to South Florida’s Timmy Thomas, Capouya takes notes as the singer sits at his living room piano and charts, chord-for-chord, how he composed his legendary “Why Can’t We Live Together.” Among other honors, Thomas performed the song at South African president Nelson Mandela’s inauguration.
Wayne Cochran, the white-maned Caucasian belter who came across onstage as a sort of hybrid of James Brown, Elvis Presley and the flamboyant Florida wrestler Ric “Nature Boy” Flair, tells the author how he carefully constructed his brutally high-energy shows.
Capouya was able to delve into the complex mind of Miami entrepreneur Henry Stone, whose TK Productions gave the world George and Gwen McRae, Lattimore, Betty Wright and, most impressive of all, KC and the Sunshine Band. “Florida had many, many record labels,” Capouya notes. “Henry Stone himself probably had 10.”
As a producer, businessman and colorful character, Stone — who died not long after his lengthy interview sessions with Capouya — crafted a “Miami sound,” incorporating Latin and Caribbean influences long before Gloria and Emilio Estefan ever got near the record charts.
“He had his hand in so many artists that I knew,” Capouya explains, “but I never heard of the guy. But it turns out, he’s like the Berry Gordy of Florida.”
The reason for the book, Capouya says, was simple: to add these important stories to the public record, to ensure these particular artists’ contributions are understood, respected and remembered.
No matter how small.
So here are the stories of St. Petersburg’s Frankie Gearing, who was part of a singing group, Quiet Elegance, which landed a couple of hits on the Memphis Hi Records label. Or Linda Lyndell, one of the few white soul performers to make a splash — the Gainesville-area native cut the original “What a Man” for Stax Records, out of Memphis, and was the star of Florida’s rhythm and blues club circuit for well over a decade.
All of Capouya’s stories have a similar theme: The struggle to “make it” in a tough business, where sharks swam incessantly, picking off the weak. Some made it, some didn’t. Others made it, and lost it, and are grateful to have survived.
One thing Florida-based soul music doesn’t have, Capouya points out, is a single, signature sound.
“There is no one Florida sound in the way that the Motown sound is identifiable, with that group the Funk Brothers playing on almost every act’s singles. Or Stax Records with the Memphis Horns, and Booker T. and the MG’s. You can recognize that," he says. “We have more soul sounds, and more diversity in the soul music of Florida than these other capitals have. But I think it’s also kept people from understanding that Florida has a really rich soul heritage.”
Call your local book or record store to see if it is carrying the book. Grab it online if you're allergic to people. Look below and listen to Capouya talk even more about these stories in a podcast episode recorded with our friends at Cigar City Radio. Get more information on the book release show via local.cltampa.com.
