HOMER BURKS “SOUL CLASSIC’S REVIEW”
, Written by Homer Burks & Ben Pasley
This book is based on the true story of a kid, whom because of his love for singing and music, saw stardom as a member of an all male singing group that originally owned, performed and released recordings under the name "The Supremes". His subsequent path on the edge of stardom, fueled by his desire to be an entertainer, leads him on a curious journey to becoming a premiere “oldies but goodies” urban disc jockey. This is a journey that finds him sitting among millionaires, crooked cops, good cops and politicians of all denominations; all with the same interest in mind, Homer Burks’ Soul Classic Review.
The story is true. Names have been changed or left without surnames to protect the privacy of some individuals, while others are public figures.
"A hard hitting, fast paced, intriguing novel. Keeps you reading because it's hard to put down. It's like a box of expensive chocolates that you just want to keep eating. It should be a movie or a television series."
Jimmy Fox
Inspired by Al Bundy, Written by Homer Burks & Ben Pasley
Story Developed by Ben Pasley
Copyright 2004 By Homer Burks & Ben Pasley
Published by Garden Park Productions at Smashwords
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
The Club was located on the corner of Avon Avenue and South 19th Street in the city of Newark, New Jersey. It was a residential area, with a mom and pop store, and a closed social club on opposite corners of the intersection. The Club was packed with singles and couples. It had been a fun night, no problems and the crowd had enjoyed doing the “jerk”, “ bus stop” and ‘bumping’ and ‘grinding’ to the sounds of the oldies but goodies that had kept them in motion all night.
However, the silky smooth voice of Jessies Belvin’s singing his original 1956 version of his mega-hit “Good Night My Love”, signaled to the crowd that the night had come to an end. This was confirmed by the D.J. who announced, “Well ladies and gentlemen, gentlemen and ladies. I do hope that you’ve enjoyed yourselves and you come back again. Now we’re not telling you that you’ve got to go home, you can go the hotel ,you can to the motel, you don’t and we won’t tell. We’re not telling you that you’ve got to go home, but you’ve got to get the hell up out of here.”
This statement brought laughs from some of the crowd whom had just had their intentions unknowingly exposed. As Jessie Belvin continued to sing, the dance floor became full as couples shared their last dance and singles made their final advances. As the last notes and chords of the song faded through the air the crowd had already begun to leave. The club door had been fastened open and those patrons that wanted to avoid the aggravation of being stuck in exiting traffic, waved their good-byes and left.
The club manager surveyed his surroundings and shook his head. The night had been good, the money had been flowing but it was a huge mess. Bottles and glasses, overfilled ashtrays, napkins and tissues were littered throughout the place. The only redemption was the fact that the registers had also overflowed. This knowledge put a smile on the managers’ face as he figured that it was time to give himself the raise that the club owner had been promising forever. "Yup! git my raise and my bonus too", he said to himself as he began pulling a garbage can around the room collecting bottles.
The three barmaids had each began doing her own particular job of closing. Two begin cashing out their respective registers while the third begin collecting glasses and cleaning tables. The D.J had already started sorting out and packing up the various records and cd’s that he didn’t get a chance to put back during the night. Since He always made it a rule to announce people of interest, those and other club patrons began to flow towards him to express their gratitude for the evening; because Homer just didn’t play music, Homer put on a show with audience participation that went over very well with the mature crowd and that, added to the fact that his demeanor was basically cordial, made him very popular.
Homer enjoyed the attention that he got from club patrons because it showed the club managers and owners that he was the one. Homer had a price and the owners and managers didn’t like it. They didn’t like paying double and triple the going rate that they could force other D.J’s to accept; but they had all heard about the successes that other owners had had with a mature crowd and they all wanted a piece of the action. Homer had a price, so whatever Homer wanted within reason, the club managers and owners paid.
Homer enjoyed the attention as only someone who had performed before thousands could enjoy. It fed him, not just literally, but psychologically. He had been performing since he couldn’t remember and had and still rubbed shoulders with some of the elite in the entertainment business. Homer enjoyed the attention of all the hello's and good-byes, but this night it just made him feel distracted.
As Homer finished sorting out his records, he accepted a friendly kiss on the cheek from one of the last group of club patrons. “Oh Homer, we just wanted to thank you for the show this evening and this is my cousin Nancy. She’s from North Carolina and we told her about you and the music you play and she just had to come.” This all came gushing out in a steady stream of words from the speaker, who was a slightly attractive woman, well-built and well dressed; with a streak of white in her black hair.
Homer stepped forward and clasped the out stretched hand of Cousin Nancy from North Carolina. “So you’re from North Carolina” Homer smiled and said, “I do hope that you’ve enjoyed yourselves and that Darline didn’t build me up too much”. “Oh no. no, no,” Cousin Nancy responded,” she didn’t bill up you enough, and let me tell you.” “When I go home this Sunday, I’m going to tell everybody about you and the music you play.” “But now if we can get home and get some rest today, you just might see us tonight.” The whole group of women echoed her sentiments as she pulled Homers’ arm so she could plant her own good-bye kiss on Homers’ cheek. Homer then accepted personal good-byes from each and every member of the group of women who were standing there. Homer was no fool when it came to his fan base. These women and hundreds like them across the tri-state area kept him working when there was no work to be found; and where the women went, the men followed.
Homer finished packing his hand truck with his D.J gear and proceeded to walk out the back door into the clubs’ patio. He walked through the patio with its’ cemented floor and walls into the side alley-like driveway where he had parked his van. As Homer proceeded to open the side passenger door to his van, he was met on both sides by two armed gunmen.
One was short and dark on the thin side with a 357 magnum in his hand and the other one was taller, with finer features but also armed with a 357 magnum pointed in Homers’ direction. “You know what this is!. "give it up motherfucker!” The tall thug was shouting, “Give us all your money.” “Where’s your wallet”. Homer froze. Tiny beads of sweat came from nowhere and peppered themselves on his face. For Homer, time stopped. It seemed as though he was observing what was happening apart from the fact that it was happening; to him!. “Empty your pockets’!", the tallest thug continued. Homer did as he was told, and slowly began to empty out his pockets and turn them inside out.