After four minutes of opening the song, he sings; "It was the third of September." And after four minutes, you can bloody well believe when he tells you it was the day his daddy died.
VIETNAM was on the horizon . . . I remember basic training at Fort Jackson, SC. Our guys standing in front of sinks about 10 or 12 across, all with towels wrapped around our waists... shave creme on our faces . . . razors in hand . . . . . All of us "brothers" . . . Black, White, Brown, Yellow.....listening to this and dancing...side step right....side step left . . . dip . . . spin . . . Would have made a helluva scene in a war movie . . .
I'm 64 years old. Man I grew up in Alabama in the 50s and 60s. Listening to music by folks different colored than yourself wasn't looked upon with favor. I didn't give a "Cool Jerk" what they thought, I loved the music. Still do. God bless Motown! It was uplifting music fringed with bright lasting hope. I went to Boutwell Auditorium in Birmingham, Alabama back in the late 60s to see The Temps. There lots of other white kids there as well. It was terrific, and I'll never forget it.