MARVIN GAYE AND HARRY (MY BROTHER)

One - world famous. The other - famous in his own world.

Not much in common except their birthdays. Separated by nearly ten years, Marvin Gaye - unabashed stubborn kind of fella, and Harry Singletary, perhaps equally unabashed and almost certainly as stubborn.

April 2. That's the day each was born. Each talented, bold Black men in a world and time when that could be fraught with troubles. (Cue up "Trouble Man" on your devices).  Each had successes in life beyond their demographic expectations, although Harry's were in a much more simpler way.

But as the wise Einstein said: "Every thing is relative..."

If I were writing a dictionary it would read: Marvin Gaye: gifted, amazingly talented, complex soul (read David Ritz's "Divided Soul" for the sordid details).  Maybe even add: "way ahead of his time." Although another great, Miles Davis, taught us this in a Playboy interview decades ago when the interviewer said: "Miles you are so ahead of your time..." Miles responded: "You can never be ahead of your time. The best you can be is on time. Everyone else is just behind the times..."

Or words to that affect.  

When Marvin died - was murdered - got his dad to help him commit suicide -- however you interpret it. After the initial shock the next day (this was pre-internet!) I needed to see how the almighty New York Times (and it still was then) would characterize Marvin Gaye in 1984 America. On the page one reference to his obit inside, in the midst of the accolades about his singing they said it - they used the word: "smart"

Yessss!!

Not that he needed validation from the Grey Lady - but for it to characterize him as he was and not cloud it as merely "talented," "great performer," etc. was important. It was important in the same way that few in the media ever say that highly talented Black quarterbacks are "smart." They are "athletic."  Some even have a "good work ethic." But as team leaders and commanders on the field -- that doesn't seem to be enough to make them "smart."

But Marvin was  -- and nobody can deny. We first knew it with the landmark, ground-shaking "What's Going On" album in 1971. Before anybody talked about the environment ("Mercy, Mercy Me") and few Black "soul" singers talked too loud about the war in Vietnam. But Marvin looked into his brother Frankie's eyes when he came home from there and then looked perhaps differently at the guys in the neighborhood hooked on smack and penned the haunting "What's Happenin' Brother."

That to some was Marvin's real beginning - coming out of or even outgrowing the Motown mold. He had to almost hold Motown czar Berry Gordy hostage to get the album done Marvin's way. And he was the first Motown artist to insist that Funk Brothers (call the the "house band" if you will but they were the soul of nearly every Motown song!) be credited on his album cover. 

The years passed and Marvin - as we all know by now -- reached some of his highest heights, with tunes like "Let's Get it On,' Sexual Healing" and lots of other music that you knew might make your woman hot - but understood that if Marvin was in the area you would go home alone that night. He also had many of his and lowest lows. We know the sad ending. The crazed father and the son who could no longer reconcile his own existence.

Then there's Harry, my brother. Anything but in conflict with dad - the man he always admired most. He said once in a revealing moment - and he didn't have many - that he "could never be the man daddy was." Strange in a way, for dad was a North Carolina bred, Sanitation worker who came to New York after he and mom married along with legions of Blacks in his generation in the great migration north to big cities looking for a better life. Dad certainly provided one for us when housing projects (though not without some serious dangers) provided a means for working class people who had to rely on public housing, public health and public education, to make a decent life and a better one for their kids.

Harry and I born and raised in the big city had bigger aspirations.

Growing up I was the quiet one with the stutter. Harry more outgoing and boisterous.  He could do things - he liked to draw and he was good at it. An avid reader books were always around him - he devoured magazines and newspapers as well.  As an overweight child he developed some hip problems and needed surgery. Nowadays you get a replacement and you could be up and around in no time. A dear friend of mine had hers on her 80th birthday!! But back then Harry was banished to crutches and basic inactivity for six months. the school recommended a home tutor, a nice German lady,  but warned that he would probably be "left back." 

Harry wasn't having it. He would not be one of the "left back kids" and worked diligently  with the tutor. There he sat, legs on a chair, crutches up against the wall, books spread across the kitchen table.  He resumed his education at the appropriate grade.

Always a creative spirit, Harry wrote a play in his early teens about our neighborhood, the Lower East Side of Manhattan. He wrote about the gangs, the dances, the Doo Wop music - in the era of wavy hair and stingy brim hats. He loved acting and enthusiastically performed in school and church plays.  And he designed his Lionel train sets around a town backdrop which included paper-mache houses and other buildings he made from scratch. So realistic and creative were they that his designs drew people from around the projects to come by the apartment to see them on Christmas Day.  

The time came when Harry got tired of being picked on as the "fat kid" so he went to the library (this is pre-Internet, workout videos, etc.) and got what few books they had on nutrition. He began making his own meals (to our mother's chagrin!) and bought a set of weights which he used diligently to workout. In no time he lost nearly 25 pounds! That reinvented him and jump started his confidence. He utilized his 6-foot 6 frame on the court and became a neighborhood basketball hero. Harry was also a snappy dresser and had the cool countenance to go with it. He was dubbed "Big Harry" by folks. Harry even had the exact outfit on that Marvin wore on the back cover of the "Whats' Going On" album.  When I showed him the cover, he said of his birthday mate; "Yeah, that's my man, Aries - I got that same outfit!" 

To befit his image and his love for cars - he worked two jobs - including a grueling cleaning job  sweeping and mopping the floors in the then newly built Lincoln Center, to purchase the car he had his eye on - a silver grey, mint-condition 1961 Cadillac. The four-year- old car looked as if had just rolled off the assembly line at Detroit!

Harry went on to some early successes -- like Marvin but on a "regular people" level. He got a job at Bankers' Trust - at the time one of America's top ten banks -- as a loan officer. Very few Blacks then held such positions in major banks. And Harry did so without a college degree - only a diploma from Commerce High School. He not only did personal loans, but mortgage loans and handled corporate accounts for The Everything Card. That was a precursor to MasterCard and the like.

After a brief marriage to a nurse followed by an amicable divorce. Harry took a few other jobs, but some of the stream seemed to leave him. Harry in someways -- like Marvin -- was plagued by what many Black men who are talented, perceptive, energetic and yes - smart experience. It is as if their insights are almost too clear and their inner searches too searing to not leave painful residues of what is discovered. Like the time Harry told me that in a room at the bank there was a six-foot map of Manhattan against a wall. On it was a "red line" circling the Harlem area. Yes "red-lining" was alive and well then. That meant these were areas where loans or development was not likely - or impossible to occur because of race.

Coming of age back then, even as a successful Black man as Harry was, sometimes one had the experience of a child who has peeked into the closet on Christmas Eve to see the toys "that Santa is bringing..."

There was in that period of the 60s and 70s some much promise. Much of it realized much of it snatched away. Like Diana Ross put it in her tribute song about Marvin:

            "There was so much hope for a brighter day

              Why were you my flower snuffed away..."

My brother did not die at the hands of a psychotic father. He loved our dad and admired him. And although Harry had no drug addition as Marvin had -he was not totally devoid of the issues that our generation got involved in for comfort or recreation or to escape the awful realization that life may have been better had you not seen things so clearly. 

So his cause of death was a non-headline grabbing heart attack, with diabetes, alcohol, and tobacco as side issues.  

Marvin and Harry. Both made their mark, both impacted people. Marvin's legacy lives on in his music and videos. Each day a young person somewhere around the world will hear about him or come across his music online and Marvin will be back to life.

Harry will live on in the hearts and minds of many - through photos, remembrances or quiet thoughts. We had a great chat the day before he passed in 2008 - 100 days after daddy. I'm certain that he found some of that peace which had eluded him for some of much of his later years.

And I'm certain he's getting a big fat kick out of all this attention his little brother is giving him...