The Bush Blues Inaugural, 1989

On this night, George H.W. Bush was "Soul Finger"

Among the many essential aspects of last week's Democratic National Convention was its strongest policy statement: A commitment to The Funk. To soul, rap, r&b, progressive country, and theme songs committed to "freedom." There were two: Beyoncé's "Freedom" ("Comma-La's" official theme song) and Jon Batiste's "Freedom." In fact, after the rollicking roll call (which featured a rapping Lil Jon leading the Georgia delegation), New Orleans' native and one-time Walker Percy protege Walter Isaacson was on "Morning Joe" wondering why Batiste's song was not the DJ Cassidy’s theme for the Louisiana delegation. From that moment, Baptiste's song was ubiquitous: Brother Isaacson certainly has influence.

But listen! The Democrats have not always had the monopoly over black music in the political theater. In 1988, Newsday sent me to Washington to cover one of the inaugural balls for incoming President George Herbert Walker Bush. It was a blues and r&b fest at the Washington Convention Center. Bush campaign adviser and the new GOP chair Lee Atwater loved this music. The political strategist credited with the ads for "fear of a paroled black killer" named Willie Horton that decapitated the campaign of Bush's opponent, Mass. Governor Michael Dukakis, had grown up in love with blues and soul. He played a little guitar himself. And given the opportunity and the budget, he put on the blackest show in the history of the modern GOP. I will never forget the late night entry of the President and First Lady, George and Barbara Bush, not to the sounds of "Hail to the Chief!" No, at Atwater's cue, the Memphis instrumental group horn section the Bar-Kays greeted the new president with their funky instrumental, "Soul Finger." This originally ran in Newsday January 23, 1989.

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“Hail to the Chief”? No, it’s “Soul Finger.”

Republicans and rhythm and blues: They go together like herring and ice cream, right?

But on the first full day of his presidency, the first day he woke up in the White House as the commander in chief, leader of the free world, and the man with the solemn obligation of calling the winning team after the Super Bowl, where was George?

George Herbert Walker Bush was at the Washington Convention Center to get down and "Wang Dang Doodle."

Actually, the president and first lady missed "Wang Dang Doodle," blues singer Koko Taylor's trademark tune, by a few minutes. But that gritty kicker was the spirit of Saturday night's "Celebration for Young Americans," a misleadingly Osmond-esque title for four hours of what was probably the funkiest inaugural event since, well, was Millard Fillmore's at the Fillmore East?

Percy Sledge was at the convention center, singing "When a Man Loves a Woman." Chuck Jackson, a singer of great emotional depth, sang his early 1960s hits, "Any Day Now" and "I Don't Want to Cry." Eddie Floyd, for the luck we might need, sang "Knock On Wood." Joe Cocker pleaded to "Unchain My Heart."

The great blues composer Willie Dixon, who wrote "Wang Dang Doodle," shared vocals with Koko Taylor, the guttural voiced singer who made the song a blues classic. Texas blues guitar player Albert Collins and Ron Wood of the Rolling Stones joined the Billy Preston-led house band, supporting Dixon on versions of more of his songs, "Hoochie Coochie Man" and "Spoonful."

Dr. John was there. Delbert McClinton was there. So were Stevie Ray Vaughan, Bo Diddley, and numerous other blues and r&b eminences. The well-heeled, formally attired crowd didn't always get it. Just like Billy Joel's first Moscow performance six months earlier, many of the attendees got their tickets through party connections: whether the Communist Party or Republican Party, it's the same old song. As one woman told me, "there are important people, and there are Important people. We know Rhonda Culpepper." Culpepper (was) the assistant  to new GOP chairman Lee Atwater.

Atwater, 37, was the galvanizing force behind this unlikely evening. The hardball political strategist who ran the Bush campaign told me: "This is a dream come true for me," when I found him in the lobby just before the show started. "I've loved this music all my life." (Atwater lived another three years; he died in 1991, age 40, of a brain tumor.)

Atwater's cousin Mike Page filled me in. "He [Atwater] had a beach music band in South Carolina," Page said as we watched the 8,500 Republican party animals slowly pass through the metal detectors. "Beach music" was a distinctive variation of soul and a gateway to the hard blues and r&b, popular among fraternity and sorority members at schools along the Atlantic Coast from, say, Jacksonville Beach, Fla., to the tip of South Jersey, in the 1960s and 1970s.

The reason for the security was evident about two hours into the show. Carla Thomas had had just finished purring her 1966 hit "B-A-B-Y" when camera crews led by jogging security guards (and no doubt, some Secret Service), to the front of the stage. Marvin Bush, one of the president's sons, introduced his father and mother, who were entering the hall, while the band played "Soul Finger."

Sam Moore, the surviving member of the Memphis duo Sam & Dave, launched into "Soul Man" while George Bush, in tuxedo and cowboy boots, and Barbara Bush, in a bright crimson gown, stood and boogied in front of the stage. Atwater went onstage, played some capable lead guitar, and performed a split before leading the band and singing a portion of "Everybody Needs Somebody to Love."

Atwater led the band into "Hi-Heel Sneakers," a soulful serenade to the First Lady: "Put on our red dress baby, because we're we're going out tonight." Joe Cocker, Percy Sledge, and Carla Thomas led the vocalists, and then it was the new president's turn.

"I taught Lee everything he knows about that kind of music," George Bush said, tongue embedded firmly in cheek. Sam Moore presented the president with a customized guitar emblazoned with "The Prez" on the body, and Atwater tried to teach his boss a few chords to "Susie-Q."

One watched eagerly. Would prep school Bush smash his guitar like Pete Townshend, or set it aflame like Jimi Hendrix? Perhaps the president took it back to the White House to practice. After the presentation he left the building to the strains of "Soul Finger."

WILLIE DIXON: ANSWERED PRAYERS

Bush's presence at such an event was only slightly less likely than the event itself. In fact, the propriety of black musicians playing at the inauguration of a president elected in part by exploiting white fears about blacks (orchestrated by Atwater) was on the minds of some of the participants.

"I wasn't expecting something like this," said the prolific (then 73 year old) blues composer and musician Willie Dixon. "Because the majority of the world knows that when you invite the blues, you invite the facts of life." (At rehearsal the night before, Dixon wore a "Jesse Jackson for President" button). The hard times and trouble at the core of the blues offer a sobering contrast to the peace and prosperity that many in the audience at the Convention Center feel is at hand.

Koko Taylor didn't think politics was an issue. "My career has been 26 years and I have never been invited to something this special," she said. "I felt nothing concerning that part one way or another. Any way the wind blues is cool with me."

It wasn't a matter of black or blues, but green. Taylor and the other musicians were paid handsomely for their presence. "Koko is making more to sing three songs than she would have made working two nights playing full evenings in Florida--significantly more, as well as all the amenities," said Bruce Iglauer, founder of the blues label Alligator Records, the Chicago-based record company for which Taylor and some of the other artists record.

Iglauer describes his politics as well to the left of center, and said he wrestled with the question of whether his artists like Taylor and Albert Collins were going to be exploited. "To imply a love for things of black America that hasn't been implied in the actions or legislation of the last administration [Bush was VP to President Ronald Reagan from 1980-1988], nor was it implied in the way this president campaigned. . . I didn't like the idea of George Bush standing around smiling amid well-paid black entertainers and appearing to be endorsed by them--that's the political part."

Iglauer and his artists decided participation would not be compromising. "That the office of the president of the United States was honoring the music we love was more important than the possible political considerations," he said.

Willie Dixon put it poignantly. "I always had hopes that the blues would be heard," he said. "When a prayer is answered, you don't ask how it was answered. You're just glad it was answered. This was a prayer being answered, that the world gets to know what the blues are."