Marley And Me: The Real Bob Marley Story

184 Pages·1995·4.27 MB·English

by  Don Taylor

MARLEY
AND ME

The Real Bob Mariey Story
Told by his manager DON TAYLOR
with MIKE HENRY

BARRICADE BOOKS Fort
Lee, N.J.
Published by Barricade Books Inc.
185 Bridge Plaza North
Suite 309
Fort Lee, NJ 07024
www.barricadebooks.com
by arrangement with Kingston Publishers Ltd.
Copyright © 1995 by Don Taylor and Mike Henry
Back cover photograph © Don Taylor
All photographs used in the picture section (except where marked) are © London
Features, 3 Boscobel Street, London, England NW 8 8PS
Song lyrics: Babylon System, Confrontation. Johnny Was, Rasta Man Chant,
Redemption Song, Ride Natty Ride, Smile Jamaica, Sun is Shining, Survival,
Talking Blues, We and Them, Want More, Zimbabwe © Bob Marley Music
Ltd./Island/Polygram. No Woman No Cry, War © Tuff Gong
Music/Island/Polygram.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of
the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quite brief passages in
connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or
broadcast.
Printed in the United States of America.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Taylor, Don.
Marley and me: by Don Taylor as told to Mike Henry, p. cm.
ISBN 1-56980-044-8 (pbk.): $15.95
1 .Marley, Bob. 2. Singers—Jamaica—Biography. 3. Reggae musicians—
Jamaica—Biography. I. Henry, Mike (L. Michael) II. Title.
ML420.M3313T39 1994
782.42164—dc20
782.42164—dc20
94-45789
[B]CIP
MN
Eighth Printing
In memory of Kyle Donald Taylor
1988-1993

and the birth of Miles Joseph Taylor
August 1994.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I
could never have achieved the successes I have had were it not for the
following people, beginning with my early years as a promoter and on through
the present.
To the following I acknowledge my sincere appreciation: Stephen Hill, Sr.;
the R & B family of 1958 to 1968; Ben E. King; Jerry Butler; Chuck Jackson;,
the late Jackie Wilson; the Shirelles—especially Shirley Owens; Walter
Godfrey; the Drifters; the late Tammi Montgomery Terrell; Betty Everett; Little
Anthony and the Imperials—especially Anthony Gourdine; that great contributor
Henry Wynn, who was the guiding light at “sweet” Auburn Avenue; Bobby
Schiffman, owner of the Apollo; and Murray the K, “fifth Beatle,” who was
responsible for so many shows at the Brooklyn Fox; to Patti La Belle and the
Blue Belles; Dick Griffey; Kendal Minter; Vivian Scott; Danny Sims; Janet
Davidson and Jackie Davidson; and in later years, the Top Line crew of Marcia
Davis, Bagga Davis, and my close confidante, Danny Marks. Thanks to all the
“Wise Guys” that I have met and worked with in the world, for being “standup”
people. I would also say thanks to Mrs. Irwin Marsh, Nari and Hotu Chatani,
Nicky Nicholas, Tom Tavares-Finson, and my other mother, Aunt Daisy
Belizario.
In the life of my association with Bob, special thanks to all those who played
a part in his success and indeed, by extension, my own success. In this category I
place Chris Blackwell, Rita Marley, Cedella Booker, Judy Mowatt, Marcia
Griffiths, the Wailers band, “Family Man” Barrett, Carlton Barrett, Tyrone
Downie, Alvin “Seco” Patterson, AJ Anderson, Junior Marvin, Alex Sadkin
(deceased), King Sporty, Captain Curry, and of course, Bob’s children. I will be
forever grateful to Bunny Livingston and Peter Tosh who together with Bob
formed the original Wailers; without them I would have no story to tell today.
Thanks also to Frankie Crocker of WBLS, New York, and all DJs and program
directors, and all the Island Record licensees around the world, who played their
part in building Bob’s career. I am also immensely grateful to April Taylor, my
former wife, who did so much for Bob while he stayed with us in Miami.
With respect to the book itself, I must pay special thanks to coauthor Mike
Henry and to Camille Hines-Henry for bringing Mike and me together to make
this book a reality. Many thanks also to Dawn Chambers who transcribed the
tapes as I recorded them, spending endless hours typing and retyping. To Abe
Dabdoub for his legal advice and Dwight and Christine Simons of WRR. Special
thanks to Kim Robinson-Walcott for her incisive editorial advice, editor Annie
Paul who helped to bring coherence to the manuscript, and to Susan Anderson
for her work on the book, as well.
I wish to acknowledge the role played in my research by such publications as
Catch a Fire by Timothy White, Boh Marley: Reggae King of the World by
Malika Whitney (a former secretary of mine) and Dermot Hussey, Reggae
International’by Stephen Davis and Peter Simons, In His Own Words (Omnibus
Publishers), Reggae Report magazine (owned by Peggy Quattro, also a former
secretary of mine), and the Daily Gleaner.
My eternal thanks to the medical fraternity who saved my life. I refer
specifically to Dr. William Bacon of Miami, Florida, and Dr. Phillip Thompson
of Nassau, Bahamas. And finally, I must thank my wife Sonia, who has shared
the birth of this book.
Don Taylor
PRELUDE: MIAMI 1980
B
ob Marley was seething with rage, his eyes simmering like a wild mountain
cat’s. Never before had I ever seen him in such a fury.
Slowly he cocked the trigger of the huge, black, automatic 9mm pistol and
leveled the muzzle inches from my right eye. Behind him, armed with an
identical gun, loomed his road manager, Allan Cole.
“Sign the paper Don Taylor or I am going to blow you away,” Bob
whispered. “Just do it man.”
I read the document he waved in my face: it dissolved every verbal and
written agreement made between the two of us over the years.
I had dedicated years of my life to Bob’s career, helping him, in a small way,
to grow from a ghetto “Tuff Gong” to a poised, respected, multi-millionaire
global superstar. Now he was trying to undo everything between us—everything
I had worked for—in an act of betrayal.
The afternoon had started routinely enough with a call from Bob, who was
staying at his mother’s mansion in Miami between concert tours of Europe and
the Far East. He had asked me to come over to chat about something that was
worrying him. We began our talk by his huge, shimmering swimming pool. As
the conversation grew more and more heated, he commanded Allan and me to
move to his room.
Within minutes the three of us were scuffling, and Allan had drawn two evil-
looking pistols out of a wooden bedroom wardrobe.
Even with the guns pointed at me, I tried to stay cool. Not that I wasn’t
frightened—it occurred to me that Bob just might shoot. But I also understood
the old Jamaican technique of intimidation. Like Bob I’d grown up battering
about on the streets of Jamaica and understood how Jamaicans used intimidation
to get their way. I also knew that the bluster and threats rarely led to bloodshed.
Bob continued screaming and waving the gun at me, “You’re going to sign
—what you trying to do to me?”
I met his threatening stare defiantly and told him, “I’m not going to sign.”
At that moment one of the small children, I think it was Ziggy, appeared in
the doorway.
“Don and Daddy fighting!” he shouted to his grandmother.
Bob suddenly calmed down. He respected his mother and would do nothing
to upset her.
When I finally parted with Bob on that decisive day, I noticed that his moods
seemed to be growing more and more unpredictable. I also left knowing that my
relationship with him was over.
We had both ascended so far from our humble beginnings that for either of
us there was simply no going back. He had risen from the slums of Trench Town
in Jamaica to become a worldwide superstar, a global icon of liberation
movements.
I, too, had undertaken my own odyssey that began with my thirteen-year-old
mother going into labor in Jamaica’s Victoria Jubilee Hospital . . .