James Brown: Which Side Was He On?

Al Sharpton, who served as James Brown’s tour manager during the '70s, ran a quixotic campaign for President of the United States in 2004. His reputation as a political activist preceded him, causing him to gain little traction in the race for the Democratic Party nomination. But his old boss might have gone farther in a presidential campaign, particularly in '68 or '72. From the mid-'60s and going into the mid-’80s, politicians sought James Brown’s favor. He enjoyed the attention. They wanted to know what he thought. They needed his help. Powerful men depending on his advice could only make Brown more of a force. That power could be impactful far beyond the Billboard Hot 100.

In 1968, some considered the United States as close to civil war as it had been since Abraham Lincoln was elected president. Millions of Black Americans felt more free and were more free than they would’ve been in the 1860’s, but moving toward full equality with white people was an uphill struggle. Despite positive Supreme Court decisions, civil rights bills that become law, and presidents from Truman to Johnson initiating policies to improve the lives of Black people, it hardly felt like the good guys were controlling everything. The nature of empires got in the way and too often progress was measured by how many American soldiers could be placed on the front lines.

American involvement in the Vietnam War had been steadily escalating since '64. Fatal casualties increased from 216 in '64 to 1,928 the next year. By '68, when 16,899 Americans would die in the war, James Brown was granted his wish: He would get to visit and perform for the troops in Vietnam. Black soldiers had complained of the USO failing to send enough acts they could identify with. The USO needed to look no further; James Brown wasn’t only “Soul Brother Number One,” but one of the most influential Blacks in America. And he was concerned about what was happening to Black Americans in every corner of the country.

After participating in a government-sponsored stay-in-school campaign and advocating peace in Boston and the nation’s capitol following the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Brown proved himself the patriotic American. Yet for a time, he thought the USO and the military were convinced he was anything but. However, there he was, on the good foot for the troops, with the great entertainer Bob Hope supporting him along the way. Bob Hope. Talk about patriotism. James Brown may have worked the chitlin’ circuit, but he came off as American as apple pie.

During the Vietnam years, millions of Americans would define patriotism as being willing to die in the jungles of Southeast Asia with no regard as to whether the war was just or winnable. Those out of uniform, safely ensconced in the states, free of danger, and perhaps attending an elite college, had their patriotism questioned for simply decrying the war as wrong, never mind preferring to live as opposed to being shot down in the province of Quảng Trị. There were far better ways to prove love for your country.

Now James Brown, despite the racism he witnessed and was victim of while coming of age in the Deep South, still loved America. He saw it as the land of opportunity for even the poorest of his fellow Black Americans. He made that clear enough in one of his most topical recordings, “America Is My Home,” as he related to his own life experiences:

But name me any other country
You can start out as a shoeshine boy
And shake hands with the president

Written* and recorded in early '67, “America Is My Home,” is a breezy number with familiar horn riffs in which Brown spoke instead of sung. Years later, he wrote that “all anybody says about it is that it was the first rap record.” Brown knew better than that; a lot of people praised it while others lambasted it for Brown’s sentiments, which came off as trite and simplistic. It was Anita Bryant patriotism, not the observations of one whose hardscrabble life journeyed from prison to headliner status at Madison Square Garden.

The recording took place within weeks of an address given by Dr. King which sharply criticized American involvement in Vietnam. In The One, his fine biography of Brown, RJ Smith recalls the unhappiness in the Black community over the war:

… just as King’s critique was being widely reported, other Black voices were being raised. Stokely Carmichael and Cleveland Sellers of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee announced they would ignore their army induction orders. After the rejection of his request for conscientious objector status, boxer Muhammad Ali announced he would go to jail rather than join the army. Suddenly, African American criticism of the war was going pop.

Smith goes on to report that “Brown suggested to the press that antiwar sentiment might be simple cowardice.” I heard a variation of that a lot in my teens, when more and more local guys were being shipped to Vietnam. The Atlanta Army Depot, located in the south side suburb of Forest Park, served as a training center for thousands of soldiers who would serve in most of America’s 20th century wars. A neighbor whose husband was a sergeant at the depot, was driving a few of us kids to the depot’s swimming pool when we saw a group of soldiers stepping into a big army helicopter, with more in line, likely waiting for the next copter. My neighbor said, “Boys, some of those soldiers won’t come back.” Though a war supporter, my neighbor revealed a painful truth that explained why so many young men dreaded a letter from the Selective Service Bureau. When such truth is heard, one becomes scared, not wanting to die before his 21st birthday. That’s a basic emotion, although Brown may have thought of it as cowardice. Edwin Starr, a soul singer whose vocal power often rivaled that of James Brown’s, conveyed the fear of needless death clearly enough in his 1970 hit, “War,” when he exhorted:

War has caused unrest
Within the younger generation
Induction then destruction
Who wants to die?

Brown was hot and bothered over criticism of the war so he jumped in with explanations as to why he would go to Vietnam and entertain the troops. He felt it was his duty to support his countrymen in uniform. From RJ Smith’s book:

Our Black entertainers have been attacked in the white press, giving everybody the impression that they didn’t want to go to Vietnam because they were either afraid or didn’t like our country being at war in that country,” he told Jet in June 1968. “Well, I don’t like the war, either, but we have soul brothers over there. . . .”

“I’m as much opposed to the war in Vietnam as anyone who loves peace. But I can’t turn my back on my own Black brothers when they call upon me to entertain them. We’re going to Vietnam despite the criticisms and despite the risks. We are not afraid of right. We’re afraid of wrong.”

The empathy Brown felt toward the Black soldiers was laudable. Smith reasoned that Brown “wanted to go to Vietnam because he knew that just by being a famous Black man in a war zone, he would be shining a light on brothers who were risking their lives.” Still, there was a strong argument that Brown should’ve realized that entertaining the troops might be construed as supporting the policies that brought them to battle in the first place.

Brown’s “America Is My Home” was thought by some as a repudiation of the speech Dr. King gave against the war at New York’s Riverside Church on April 4, 1967, exactly one year prior to his death. Brown decided to hold it from release until he considered the timing right. King was a friend and Brown knew the civil rights leader was threatened at every turn. Brown thought if the record was released so soon after King’s and other Black activists’ criticism of the war, then the record would be interpreted as a denunciation of Black leadership. As it was, King was already facing heavy criticism from friends and foes alike over his Riverside speech. Even some who had marched with King were disappointed and even angry. The New York Times, usually supportive of King, inveighed against the speech in an editorial titled “Dr. King’s Error.” But a true leader must offer strong opinions on what he has intently observed. In fact, it’s a patriotic duty. Mixing history with his own vision, King’s words hit hard; they reflected reality, and the truth really did hurt.

King observed the war “was doing far more than devastating the hopes of the poor at home. It was sending their sons and their brothers and their husbands to fight and to die in extraordinarily high proportions relative to the rest of the population.” He was pained over young Black men who had been “crippled by our society and sending them eight thousand miles away to guarantee liberties in Southeast Asia which they had not found in southwest Georgia and East Harlem.” For those who were watching a real war being fought on the network news each night, he noted “the cruel irony of watching Negro and white boys on TV screens as they kill and die together for a nation that has been unable to seat them together in the same schools.” Worse, there was the irony in watching the Black and white soldiers “burning the huts of a poor village, but we realize that they would never live on the same block in Detroit. Despondent over such a large proportion of poor young men serving as front-line soldiers, King called it “cruel manipulation.”

“America Is My Home” was finally released in summer '68, which despite Brown’s spoken intentions, was dreadful timing, coming after the assassinations of King and Senator Robert F. Kennedy, who may have been on his way to that year’s Democratic presidential nomination. He was also to be the recipient of Brown’s endorsement. Kennedy, along with Minnesota Senator Eugene McCarthy was drawing heavy support from those who painfully witnessed the Vietnam War become America’s war. Or America’s unwelcome guest. In his 1988 memoir, The Godfather of Soul, Brown revealed that his impending endorsement was made known to Kennedy. They could discuss it when Brown returned from his goodwill trip in Vietnam. Perhaps Brown and Kennedy could have discussed supporting the troops while hating the war. It’s a topic that comes up every time a commander-in-chief commits to another dubious battle.

What was happening in America in 1968 could’ve hardly made one believe it was “the best country,” as Brown said at least a couple of times in the song. Still, even with the bad timing, the nationalism and ordinary production, “America Is My Home” made it to #13 on the R&B charts and #52 on the pop charts.

James Brown always felt a strong affection for his country. He wished to give back to America, even nearly to the point of a my-country-right-or-wrong perspective, which was frequently directed at those critical of US involvement in Vietnam. So Brown visited the troops in the summer of '68, soon after the Tet Offensive. It was a brutal period for the American forces. The same went for the American psyche. Debates over the war, what it meant to be an American and just how much power the government should have in sending young men off to battle were held daily in bars, barbershops, diners, and over the kitchen table that year, all to no agreement. The war had come home and James Brown, patriot, and friend of H. Rap Brown, would embody the battles.

Not surprisingly, patriotism exacted a heavy cost, especially when the powers-that-be decided you should put your life on the line due to their political failures. Brown, who followed the news closely, realized Black draftees in Vietnam constituted a larger share of troop representation on the front lines than they did of Black population in the U.S. at the time. All the while, a federal fair housing law had just been enacted — only one week after King’s death. It’s easier to get in front in some lines than others.

Brown wanted to get along and be friends with everyone in what Dr. King called “the beloved community,” but he surely realized the uphill struggle would last for decades more. His observations and his own experiences would make that clear enough.

*Co-written by Brown and Haywood E.Moore.