I finally read my copy of Chuck Berry: An American Life. I wasn’t in a rush. There were other books above it in the pile, and when you get down to it, I know as much as any outsider can know about this particular American life. (That’s autism for you.) What I appreciate about the book, I suppose, is that the author, RJ Smith, recognizes the greatness and the complexity of the man. What I appreciate less is having to follow the same old same old path, and then to learn one or two things too many about that life. The great lawyer Bryan Stevenson, who represents death row inmates, has said, “Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.” I believe that. And I know that Chuck Berry is a million times more than the tawdriest things he ever did. So why tell them, especially when they were private and consensual? On the other hand, this is the first book to reveal to me what a terrible driver he was, so there’s that. Who would have thought the man who wrote so eloquently about cars would be so incompetent at driving them. Even Blueberry Hill’s Joe Edwards tells a tale of going the wrong way on a Los Angeles freeway at 70 mph?
And the book makes an attempt to answer every alleged scandal and alleged tawdriness or nastiness with some sort of reminder that Chuck Berry faced a host of difficulties and injustices during his long life.
But what his long life and his incredible body of work actually deserve is a celebration, pure and simple.
Once I bought volume one of a gigantic biography of Elvis Presley. I couldn’t actually read it but I skipped through and read parts. And I was surprised to find a paragraph about young Elvis spying on young women changing into their bathing suits at one of his homes. There was a lens built into the room that Elvis evidently used.
This never became a part of Elvis’s legend—it was just a paragraph in a book the size of Game of Thrones or War and Peace.
But the tawdry crap has become the be all and end all of the Chuck Berry story. I wonder why? I wonder why the difference?
On a personal note it appears Mr. Smith stole something from this blog and never credited it among the copious footnotes. I will go out on a limb and say there’s no way Smith figured out that young Chuck was observing an eclipse of the Sun in 1938. He took that from this blog. Once upon a time Peter K. of Sweden sent me a wonderful photo of young Chuck using a telescope in broad daylight. I figured out he was observing the sun. Peter K. went farther and found two eclipses in St. Louis when Chuck was twelve. And the lovely Rebecca did some American history and practical math with Chuck and CBII to determine the year (more or less!) That merited a footnote. I mean, whole pages were wasted on whether the ding-a-ling belonged to Charles or Dave.
So if you’re looking for the best in Chuck Berry writing, look no further. It’s right here. Original. And free.
And if you're looking for Chuck himself, spin a record. It's right there, original, and free.
