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| Reunited?? |
Holiday recorded in diary format many impressions he had from his numerous meetings with those in attendance at the first (only?) Soft Rock summit, held in Baltimore, MD in the summer of 1994 at a place called Paul’s Bar. Many meetings were with those he considered to be among the genre’s finest. He was particular fond of Herb Feemster (Fame) of Peaches and Herb, and he spent several pages singing his praises (in what Holiday calls "crouch-wrung falsetto," no doubt). The feelings must have been mutual, as evidenced by the correspondence below. Following the Soft Rock summit, in the fall of the same year, Mr. Feemster contacted Holiday with a heartfelt request. Holiday, of course, first shared the epistle with his colleague Adolf, so below you have both Feemster’s letter and the electronic messages shared by Holiday and Dolf. We know from history that things ended somewhat tragically, that, after working until at least 1981 as a police officer, Herb, while performing live for many years with many Peaches, settled for a stacked Spaniard by the name of Meritxell Negre and finally allowed another woman to record with him. Herb now makes a living playing B-list gigs—retiring from the police force and rededicating himself to music in the process, however, which is surely a positive development for our hero(es)! You can read more in a 2009 story from The Washington Post. A quote from that story speaks volumes:
"My love of all, the woman that's never disappointed me, is music. It gets inside of me and turns me upside down. It relaxes me and does all the things you would do normally if you had a woman. That's my woman. Besides my wife." (Freedom du Lac, Washington Post, 5/29/09)
Besides my wife, he says, as if an afterthought. The letter below helps to further illuminate or, perhaps, obscure this last comment. Perhaps even then, Herb still longed for his Linda and his Francine? One thing I know for sure: he did find his one true love again. Enjoy! - ed.
11/5
Dolf, my friend:
I know this is not the format to which we've grown accustomed, but I had to get this urgent message from a dear friend to our brotherhood in the event that one of our esteemed colleagues could lend a hand in this most serious love crisis. Herb Fame [Feemster – ed.], as evidenced by the enclosed epistle, has surely lost his mojo, and his latest Peaches-of-the-month most certainly does not have it in her possession. No, baby, Herb needs our help in mining the past, in reaching back to fan a flame that obviously still burns bright in his gentle, albeit funky, heart. Perhaps there is something we can do?
Read on, man.
Dolf, my friend:
I know this is not the format to which we've grown accustomed, but I had to get this urgent message from a dear friend to our brotherhood in the event that one of our esteemed colleagues could lend a hand in this most serious love crisis. Herb Fame [Feemster – ed.], as evidenced by the enclosed epistle, has surely lost his mojo, and his latest Peaches-of-the-month most certainly does not have it in her possession. No, baby, Herb needs our help in mining the past, in reaching back to fan a flame that obviously still burns bright in his gentle, albeit funky, heart. Perhaps there is something we can do?
Read on, man.
And Herb’s letter follows:
Washington D.C.
4 November 1994
Linda [Green - ed.], my peach:
You'll never know how much you have touched by life with your silky voice. Pure sexuality. I love you, woman. That ain't no joke. I love you. Where you been, girl? There was a time when I had the blues something fierce: To be so high and then get so low. So low. Solo. You know what I’m saying? Now I'm getting that feeling again. Useless. Museless. Can you dig it?
When I was a young buck coming up in DC, I sang for the Lord, my Savior. Sang high and proud. There was nothing false in my falsetto, girl. But when that college boy Freddie [Perren - ed.] came poking his head around the store, I felt touched, like I had me another mission, dig? Love with an extra ooomph and an extra owwwh. I was too heavy to be some clerk in a record store. Baby, remember my name? Remember? Remember? Herb Fame, baby. Fame! I was gonna live forever, learn how to fly, all that shit.
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| Can you dig it? |
Anyway, I cut a couple records with his people, but not much happened, you dig. I still felt so low. Know what I'm saying, girl? Solo. Then this shorty named Francine [Hurd Barker - ed.] came around. Look out! I don't mean to get all Shakespearean on your ass, baby, but what's in a name? Well, I'll tell you. The Sweet Things was the name of her little group. The Sweet Things. Ain't that the truth, I said. Good God Almighty!! Anyways, that bitch Freddie had us sing a couple tracks together, and it was pure magic. We made some shit happen, you know what I'm saying? You've seen my gold records (you know, back when you used to actually speak to me). But (and now I'm gonna drop some more poetry on you, baby, so hold on)things fell apart, dig? The center could not hold. She left me, straight up. And this rough bitch Herb slouched back to Barry Farm to get his 9-to-5 on with the District of Columbia's finest, the boys in blue, girl. And blue was how I was feeling inside and out.
Some time later, though, my boy Van [McCoy - ed.] (He still gets the ladies to this day!) he introduced me to this fine piece (Hahaha, it was you, baby girl!). A model. Damn! Look out! I thought. I’m in some shit now. You became my new Peaches, my inspiration, my salvation. We dropped some disco on them, you and I, but then we really showed them. Platinum single, girl ["Reunited," #1 for four weeks in 1979 - ed.]!! Take your gold bling, bling up out of here, boys! My new Peaches and I scored platinum! And it felt so GODDAMN good! We made sweet love in the studio, on couches, tables, chairs, even Elton’s piano stool that one time. Platinum selling duo gets a do-over, dig? We did a lot of drugs, sure nuff, we loved a lot brothas and sistas, shook our groove things, so to speak. Talk about brothers uplifting sisters and sisters uplifting brothers, baby. But somewhere up in that fine body, I know you still feel those moments we had, I know you still remember those days, baby. I wish I could climb up through this page and give you all my love, but you gotta want me, girl. You gotta meet me half way. Duo not solo, dig. Let's do it! Let's duet! You gotta talk to me. Talk to your ever-devoted...
Herb
Adolf replies:
11/6
Kevin:
EGADS! Dear friend, the story of poor, wretched Herb wracks my inner being with sorrow. Ghastly dame! Peaches, I (We!) [Me too! – ed.] implore you to right the wrongs you have so unfairly laid upon fair Herb. Is there not a man or woman in this world that would not give his or her very fortunes to once again see Herb reunited with his fair Peaches? Fondly, I remember the days of wine and roses (or better yet, silk robes [Herb - ed.] and beaded head dresses [Peaches - ed.]). A big strong man, afro picked and poised smartly upon his dome, gazing longingly into the doe-like eyes of his ripest fruit.
Some time later, though, my boy Van [McCoy - ed.] (He still gets the ladies to this day!) he introduced me to this fine piece (Hahaha, it was you, baby girl!). A model. Damn! Look out! I thought. I’m in some shit now. You became my new Peaches, my inspiration, my salvation. We dropped some disco on them, you and I, but then we really showed them. Platinum single, girl ["Reunited," #1 for four weeks in 1979 - ed.]!! Take your gold bling, bling up out of here, boys! My new Peaches and I scored platinum! And it felt so GODDAMN good! We made sweet love in the studio, on couches, tables, chairs, even Elton’s piano stool that one time. Platinum selling duo gets a do-over, dig? We did a lot of drugs, sure nuff, we loved a lot brothas and sistas, shook our groove things, so to speak. Talk about brothers uplifting sisters and sisters uplifting brothers, baby. But somewhere up in that fine body, I know you still feel those moments we had, I know you still remember those days, baby. I wish I could climb up through this page and give you all my love, but you gotta want me, girl. You gotta meet me half way. Duo not solo, dig. Let's do it! Let's duet! You gotta talk to me. Talk to your ever-devoted...
Herb
Adolf replies:
11/6
Kevin:
EGADS! Dear friend, the story of poor, wretched Herb wracks my inner being with sorrow. Ghastly dame! Peaches, I (We!) [Me too! – ed.] implore you to right the wrongs you have so unfairly laid upon fair Herb. Is there not a man or woman in this world that would not give his or her very fortunes to once again see Herb reunited with his fair Peaches? Fondly, I remember the days of wine and roses (or better yet, silk robes [Herb - ed.] and beaded head dresses [Peaches - ed.]). A big strong man, afro picked and poised smartly upon his dome, gazing longingly into the doe-like eyes of his ripest fruit.
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| "That's my woman. Besides my wife" |
Oh, Herb, I do remember such happy times! Francine, the original...the forbidden fruit that poor Herb was to taste once and then forever be denied. Do you need to break his heart again, Linda? Surely you must not have forgotten about the good times? 1970 – Cashbox Magazines R&B group of the year, the string of hits in the mid 70's culminating with the ballad to which Herb referred - "Reunited". Please, find it in your heart, dear woman, to see your future for what it is. Accept this destiny and find the strength and courage to find the magic once again. For our dear Herb wasn't meant to enforce the laws of justice; he merely wants to enforce the laws of love...and it'll feel so good for all of us.
Holiday also entreats:
11/7
I can only hope that this missive might fall under the gaze of la belle dame sans merci. Peaches, we need you as much as Herb! Hear our call, Linda! Are we to survive on Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston? Talk about black on black crime! Britney Spears and Justin(e) Timberlake? The horror! Love should exist above the street, beyond the flesh. Love should grow upon the fruited plain that is your beaded crown, not just any beaded crown. If the chemistry you and Herb had was all in a headdress, in a vast quantity of hair relaxer, then you would have been replaced years ago, and Herb would still be on the charts. I cry when I now see him in photos with his latest Peaches of the month. Can an imported white peach taste as sweet? What you had was real. Come back, Peaches. Reunite the forces of adult contemporary love, the yin and yang of funk! Give us one small victory in this otherwise futile fight!
Holiday also entreats:
11/7
I can only hope that this missive might fall under the gaze of la belle dame sans merci. Peaches, we need you as much as Herb! Hear our call, Linda! Are we to survive on Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston? Talk about black on black crime! Britney Spears and Justin(e) Timberlake? The horror! Love should exist above the street, beyond the flesh. Love should grow upon the fruited plain that is your beaded crown, not just any beaded crown. If the chemistry you and Herb had was all in a headdress, in a vast quantity of hair relaxer, then you would have been replaced years ago, and Herb would still be on the charts. I cry when I now see him in photos with his latest Peaches of the month. Can an imported white peach taste as sweet? What you had was real. Come back, Peaches. Reunite the forces of adult contemporary love, the yin and yang of funk! Give us one small victory in this otherwise futile fight!
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