"An advertisement for the dark": how has Soul Train helped America to party | The music

IIt was Aretha Franklin who made Don Cornelius understand that he had hit hard. Just two years earlier, the train of the impresario train, Soul Train, had been held in Chicago and was broadcasting local talent to viewers. Now it was a national sensation and even the most demanding stars wanted to participate. Franklin told him, "My kids love the show and I want to be part of it." Stevie Wonder improvised an ode to Soul Train. James Brown, convinced that someone, probably a white man, was to be behind such a delicate operation, looked around him in his studio in Los Angeles and asked Cornelius incessantly: "My brother, who is supporting you?" Each time, Cornelius replied, "Well, James, it's just me."

He did not boast. As an entertainer (or "conductor") of Soul Train from 1970 to 1993, Cornelius was a cool avatar, with his glorious afro and wide-spelled costumes and his avuncular baritone, signing every episode of a great blessing: Don Cornelius, and as always in parting, we wish you love, peace … and soul!Regarded as "America's hippest trip," Soul Train does not broadcast the latest sounds of black America into millions of homes, but – with amateur dancers becoming as essential to the show as the performers – fashion, hairstyles and dance moves too.

"Most American music shows have been conservative in terms of running and performing," says one university Jack Hamilton. "Train of souls was revolutionary in having so many black people on the screen. "

The genesis of Soul Train comes alive in the new US television drama American Soul. "What I learned was that there was Don Cornelius, the host, and DC, the man," says Sinqua Walls, who plays Cornelius. "The only image we got from Don was the cool guy from Soul Train. On American Soul, we will unpack the man who created all this. "

Cornelius was born in 1936 in Bronzeville, Chicago. He practiced many professional activities (navy, police officer, car salesman, DJ, news presenter) before becoming a reporter for the local WCIU channel in 1967, covering human rights. When Martin Luther King or Jesse Jackson came to town, Cornelius was there. He began thinking of making his own contribution to the movement: a musical show that would showcase the best of African-Americans. At the time, black actors were largely confined to stereotypical supporting roles, while black musicians were underrepresented at Dick Clark's American bandstand. Thus, young blacks saw each other most often in the evening news and rarely in a flattering light.

"In the first episode of the American Soul, Cornelius said," I want blacks to see how blacks should be seen: strong, powerful, and beautiful, "Walls said. "Don had to face everyone: buyers, advertisers, people who wanted to invest in the show for reasons unacknowledged. His challenges were daily. "

Taking the name of the concerts he promoted in Chicago, Cornelius introduced Soul Train as "the American colored kiosk." Making his WCIU debut on August 17, 1970 with performances by Jerry Butler, Chi-Lites, and Emotions, the film began as a low-budget, black-and-white film. It was an instant hit with black viewers, said Cornelius, "not because it was a wonderful show, but because it was theirs".

To realize his potential, Soul Train needed national syndication, which required sponsorship. Renowned by most brands, Cornelius has gained vital support from Johnson Products, manufacturer of Afro Sheen's black hair care line. Cornelius also needed a name for the first Los Angeles concert on October 2, 1971 and implored the Motown star Gladys Knight (played by Kelly Rowland in American Soul) to intensify. Subsequently, Cornelius said, "If it was not for Gladys Knight, none of that would be there."

Critic Greg Tate, then a high school student in Washington DC, was one of the wonders of this crucial episode. "The fact that an entirely black audience can dance in front of black musicians every Saturday," he said, "testifies to a serious paradigm shift in American mbad entertainment."

Forerunner of a new era of black culture, Soul Train marked "a post-revolutionary moment when everything blacks did on a certain scale felt political," says Tate. "Black is beautiful" and the Black Power movement came true. Black culture communicated blackness to black people and everyone was just there to look over our shoulders while we had this festival of love between us. "

As a host, Cornelius emanated a distinctly cool Chicago brand: sweet, spiritual, a bit narrow, despite his flashy sons. Even his hair had gravitas. "Don had one of the best apostles of his generation," Tate marveled. "It was like having a Black Power hi out of your head!"

Sensing a civic responsibility to emphasize the positive, Cornelius ran a tight ship. The dancers were told, "Be punctual, tactful, creative, funky, be yourself". Cursed, chewing gum and negativity were verboten. Unpaid and overburdened (several months of episodes were filmed over a single weekend), the dancers were still queuing in the thousands to audition, hoping to become mini-celebrities who taught at the same time. nation to make the robot, the Hustle and the Bus Stop. While inviting artists and activists to discuss political issues as part of the series, Cornelius put into practice what he preached by employing as many black directors and crew as possible. He was like an adman whose product was darkness.

The 1970s were the Midas years of Cornelius. Soul Train's new soul melody, composed by soul maestros of Philadelphia, Gamble and Huff, dominated the Billboard Hot 100 under the title TSOP (The Sound of Philadelphia). In 1977, Soul Train launched its own hit band, Shalamar, featuring two of the show's stars. dancers Jody Watley and Jeffrey Daniel. Cornelius himself has become a household name. "He was the type everyone knew in the community," recalls son Tony. "It bothered me that people call my father Don as they knew him."

Spike Lee has already described Soul Train as "a time capsule of urban music". As the 1970s progressed, he witnessed the extraordinary fecundity of black music: giants such as Marvin Gaye, Tina Turner, and Al Green; Labelle's breathtaking Afrofuturism and undisputed truth; the soul of luxury Barry White, whose 40-member orchestra has wreaked havoc on the balance sheet of the series; the glam of the disco.

White artists were also welcome, provided they were deemed to have a soul. In 1975, Elton John, who personally requested to appear, was followed by David Bowie, a sketchy skeleton, who was reproached by Cornelius for not filming the camera for his lack of lip synchronization. Cornelius had good relations with most artists. In a memorable episode of 1977, he played basketball with Marvin Gaye, refereed by Smokey Robinson, but liked to keep a professional distance. "He always talked about being very careful not to know the artists too much," says Tony, "because they need something and you can not give it to them, you've lost a friend."

Cornelius kept the importance of Soul Train even when the last sounds were not to his liking. In 1983, after a break to recover from a brain operation, he brilliantly redefined the show for the era of MTV, expanding his field of action to virtually any event. what: Whitney Houston and Janet Jackson, of course, but also a-ha and Pet Shop Boys. The restart has reached a new peak of clbadification.

Hip-hop, however, was Cornelius' wide dead angle. In interviews with artists like Kurtis Blow ("That makes no sense to old people like me") and Public Enemy ("That was scary!He could not even claim to have anything to do with the new sound of black America. "Don was part of his generation of ambitious, integration-oriented black executives," says Tate. "They were middle-aged and middle-clbad and hip-hop was everything they thought was going away. They had the impression that these people were trying to bring them down.

As rap continued to grow, Cornelius knew his numbering days of Black America's masters of ceremonies. On May 10, 1993, he wished for one last time the love, peace and soul of his viewers before giving way to younger guests, even though he continued to direct Soul Train as that producer. "Just like an athlete, he knew when it was time to go," says Tony. "He told me that the era of a man who was holding a microphone with a suit and tie was over." At the end of Soul Train in 2006, after 35 seasons and more than 1,100 episodes, it was the longest broadcast nationwide. in the history of American television.

Cornelius' last years were plagued by chronic health problems, bitter divorce and allegations of domestic violence. On February 1, 2012, he died as a result of a self-inflicted bullet wound. Jesse Jackson, Smokey Robinson and Stevie Wonder all spoke at his funeral, but a friend told Cornelius that it was difficult to meet Cornelius: "You can install all of Don's friends in one telephone booth while having room. Tony now heads the Don Cornelius Foundation, a non-profit organization dedicated to mental health and suicide prevention.

One of the tasks of the American Soul is to illuminate the personality of a private and intense man who fights for himself behind his sweet character. Tate calls Cornelius "the Berry Gordy of television": a businessman whose fame was a means to achieve his ends. "He was not interested in being the brand; he was interested in own the brand."

I ask Tony if his father would have liked to see DC, as well as Don Cornelius, shown on the screen. "Probably not!" He said laughing. "But it's like a medicine. You may not like it, but it's good for you.