The stage was tiny. The curtain was closed, the band assembled around me. We all took a deep breath. We prayed. Then the curtain opened, and there they were: an audience in my face, only inches away. I could see right into their eyes. The immediacy of it all kicked in, and I responded like a wild man. We turned it out.
The crowd reaction was crazy, but I couldn’t really calculate my impact until the following morning, when my manager, Steve, brought me the local paper. There was a picture of me on the front page. The review was glowing, better than anything I could have imagined. Within hours, word came back from Virgin: this was the breakthrough they’d been hoping for. The European tour was extended. In quick succession came three other breakthrough concerts: Paris, Amsterdam, and Hamburg.
In one year, I’d gone from playing the Borderline, a tiny club in London, to selling out the Hammersmith Odeon arena. It was surreal.
Lisa came to join me. Later, I brought over my mom, Aunt Joy, and Grandpa Albert. I wanted my loved ones close to me during this time. I loved being grounded in family.
For my mother, the experience was emotional. When my music was evolving, I hadn’t allowed her to hear it. For years up on Cloverdale, I had always locked myself in my room, not letting anybody hear what I was doing. Then, after I moved out, I never invited her to hear me working in the studios. So, when Let Love Rule was released, she was completely shocked.
She could hear how everything that I had experienced on my journey came alive in that album: Tchaikovsky; the Jackson 5; James Brown; the Harlem School of the Arts; Stevie Wonder; Gladys Knight and the Pips; Earth, Wind & Fire; Miles Davis; Jimi Hendrix; Led Zeppelin; KISS; the California Boys’ Choir; Prince; David Bowie; Miss Beasley’s orchestra; the Beverly Hills High jazz band; the magical spark between me and Lisa; the spirit of our daughter.
More than anyone, Mom knew that I had poured every aspect of my life into this effort. That was enough to make her proud. But what blindsided her—and me as well—was the sight of thousands of fans singing lyrics that I had written—and most of those fans didn’t even speak English.
Grandpa had never been to Europe before. Energetic as ever, he sat up all night eating pizza with the bus driver. He was too excited to sleep. He took in the landscape while the band and I slept in the back. With his deep knowledge of history, philosophy, and politics, he got to see things he had been reading about his entire life. Driving into Berlin, Grandpa made us stop the bus. It was 1989, and the Berlin Wall was coming down. Wielding sledgehammers, people, young and old, were tearing it down. The driver pulled over, and Grandpa got out of the bus to be part of the experience. He wanted a bit of history, so he took a chunk of the wall and put it in his pocket.
At my gig in London when I invited him onstage, he turned out to be a ham. He loved the limelight. He put on some wardrobe and came out dancing and playing the tambourine during “Let Love Rule.” The crowd loved him. When we walked out the stage door and headed to the tour bus, young girls were screaming, “Grandpa! Grandpa!”
* * *
Let Love Rule sold over two million copies in Europe, which led to a U.S. tour. Interestingly, it took another five years for the record to go gold (representing a half million copies) in America. But that was fine with me. I’d established the very thing I had long dreamed of: I’d grown into an artist with something to say and I’d said it in a voice I finally recognized as my own.
I had lived a quarter century. I had a wife and child I adored. I had a mother and grandfather who, despite my rebellious nature, had raised me right. The conflict with my father was a vital part of my journey. Just as Mom was the mother I had needed, Dad was the father I had needed as well. Standing up to him as I had done the night of the Buddy Rich concert was essential to my coming-of-age. In his own way, Dad had fueled my determination and drive.
Mostly, though, I was grateful to God, that mighty force of love that had led me to Lisa and informed the music that, after years of toil, had finally reached the people.
* * *
I fell into a role that became as confusing as it was exciting. I was prepared musically, but not emotionally. I didn’t know then that the life of a rock star is in equal measure a beautiful blessing and a perilous burden. That life would prove to be more strenuous and challenging than anything I’d ever faced. Sure, there were triumphs and thrills. But my difficulties—my foolishness, heartaches, and mistakes—were not behind me. They were all in my future.
The new chapter was yet to be written.
To be continued …
My parents’ wedding day with Grandma Bessie and Grandpa Albert.
Baby photo taken of me in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn.
My first portrait.
With Grandpa Albert at Lincoln Center after church service. My mom is seated on the fountain behind us.
In the front yard of Grandma and Grandpa Roker’s house on the first day of preschool at Junior Academy in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn.
Singing into Grandpa Joe’s tape recorder in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn.
In Nassau, Bahamas, with cousin Esau Roker.
At my birthday party at 5 East Eighty-Second Street with Grandpa Joe and Grandma Jean.
At 5 East Eighty-Second Street with my mom, Grandma Bessie, and Grandpa Albert.
On the stoop with my friends at 368 Throop Avenue in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn.
In my bedroom at 5 East Eighty-Second Street.
Backstage with my mother at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre on Broadway before a performance of The River Niger.
My fourth-grade class photo from Mrs. Goldberg’s class at P.S. 6 in Manhattan.
My father took this photo when we went to see the Jackson 5 at Madison Square Garden.
Performing at Lincoln Farm summer camp in Roscoe, New York.
On the flight to Los Angeles with my mom for the taping of the first season of The Jeffersons.
Playing guitar for my parents at our apartment at 2901 Fourth Street in Santa Monica, California.
Skating down the hill on Ashland Avenue in Santa Monica.
Rehearsing for Mahler’s Third Symphony with the California Boys’ Choir and the Los Angeles Philharmonic. To my right is Noah Cotsen, to the left is Phineas Newborn, and two rows behind him is Joey Collins.
Junior high school graduation at John Adams Junior High School with my mom and Shannon Brock.
My first commercial headshot.
Graduating high school from Newbridge in L.A. with Dad.
The poster for the show my band Wave played at Beverly Hills High. With Kevin Conner (left) and Tracy Oberstone.
My twenty-first birthday party at 4061 Cloverdale with Aunt Joan and Mom.