I first met Terry Dickerson some years ago through my mom, The Arizona Babe, when she had him as a student in her tutoring days here between 1994 and 1995, long before she and Rex Pater Homo moved to The Valley Of Golden Happiness in 2001. Terry was a well-loved man, very jovial in nature, yet at that point in his life, held onto a very tightly-held secret inside, to which this point only The Arizona Babe was privy to and was able to let go with her.When Terry made his way through the Alabama educational school system back in the 1950s, he received a poor education, meaning his teachers failed miserably when it came to teaching him how to read, write and understand what he was doing. Sure he got by on what he did know, but that was never enough.
The Arizona Babe saw fit to change all of that and took Terry under her wing and taught him properly. In between those sessions, she and Terry spoke of many things, among them she mentioned to Terry she had four sons, two in particular though that perhaps he could relate to; a musician (Benjy) and a poet (me), but onto Benjy first.
When Terry & Benjy actually met, it was Terry who encouraged Benjy to begin playing the stand-up bass for the jazz band that Terry was newly forming. Terry was a seasoned jazz drummer who had gigged with the likes of Howling Wolf, Muddy Waters, Bo Diddley, Dave Brubeck, Fred Anderson, Billy Brimfield & others. Terry was even offered a spot to play in the world famous Sun Ra Arkestra, but had to turn it down as he was starting to build a family with his wife Yvonne.
And that’s what Benjy did for the longest time, play stand-up bass and learn the tricks of the trade for jazz that is. And Benjy learned them well, I might add as I saw the band perform a number of times locally. But I do have to agree with my brother Benjy when he often said Terry was a little too critical of him and his bass playing, especially when he so unprofessionally criticized him in front of an audience while onstage.
While Terry played well most of the time, it was his lack of management skills that impeded him most of all. Yet for Benjy, being nurtured by Terry was indeed a blessing in disguise.
Perhaps it was those dogged management skills that Terry lacked that caused my brother Benjy and the rest of his band mates to quietly abandon Terry and form their own jazz group, that has led them to places far greater than Terry could ever imagine.
Terry always asked Benjy, “How’s Charlie?” referring to me. This particular phrase has found its way into our staple of memorable phrases between us, which leads me to my personal relationship with Terry, was that of writing and sharing poetry, which we didn’t get to do all that much.
Early on, The Arizona Babe had given Terry a collection of my poems, which from all accounts, he enjoyed very much. Terry’s writing style was along the lines of the June-moon-spoon genre, not my favorite kind of writing style, but when you’re a musician writing lyrics, it seems to be an easier way to write. I only know of two poems that Terry wrote, one to my mom, The Arizona Babe, which she displays proudly in a blue frame in her home and “Bebop Valentine,” which was published in the Evanston Roundtable newspaper, nearly 15 months ago…
Be Bop Valentine
Be Bop, Be Bop, Be Bop
Wake up, wake up, friends.
Faithful friends
Good friends
Best of friends...
Make new friends and keep the old.
Be Bop, Be Bop
In praise of friends
Right here
Over there
And everywhere...
Friendship is love without wings.
Be Bop, Be Bop
Friend, won't you be my Valentine?
Terry once gave me the opportunity to perform one of my poems at a gig, but I wisely declined, for I primarily didn’t feel it would be fair to the other members of the band, but you see; Terry was always like that, giving friends and strangers good solid opportunities when the situation presented itself.
Over the years, I heard a lot of stories about Terry, mostly funny stuff that his band mates repeated, including my brother Benjy and also The Arizona Babe, who said that Terry was heavily involved with youth within the city of Evanston and elsewhere.
Terry was always helping children out, giving them the opportunity to be someone special, perhaps something far greater than they could ever know.
The last time I had spoken with Terry was not more than six months ago. It was a brief conversation and he seemed distant and tired; that’s what kidney dialysis and diabetes was doing to him, destroying him slowly. At least our conversation was pleasant and he seemed happy to have heard from me.
It was late last week when I received the phone call from my brother Benjy, who informed me that Terry had suffered a massive stroke and had gone into a coma since Easter. He seemed remorseful as we spoke, but then he quipped, “How’s Charlie?” lightening the pensive mood up considerably.
After I hung up with him, I phoned Terry’s wife, who filled me in on the details regarding Terry’s condition. I knew it was fatal when she said “We have to tell Terry that we’ll be fine…”
After giving her my condolences, I hung up with her and sat in deep thought, mostly in a daze. I was asked by an acquaintance shortly thereafter if everything was alright, since I seemed more quiet than usual.
That’s when I broke down crying and spoke of Terry. It was understood right away. These past five days have been sad and difficult for me. Other than stepping out briefly on Sunday, I spent my entire Saturday indoors, sleeping, crying, thinking and praying for Terry and his family.
Earlier today, Terry began his final journey on Earth as he passed over the universe one final time and peacefully settled into the next. Perhaps he’ll catch up with Sun Ra and jam with him and everyone else for that matter.
My heart and prayers go out to Terry’s family and all of his friends.
Terry had so much going for him, it’s just a shame that he left us so early.
I’m gonna miss you, man…
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