LOS ANGELES, June 18
The only thing bad about the funeral for Ray Charles was that he died.
The ceremony here Friday morning at the First African Methodist Episcopal Church was beautiful, the sweetest balance of joy and sorrow. B.B. King sat on a stool by the coffin and begged the congregation's indulgence as he pulled out a big white handkerchief and wiped away his tears, saying "forgive me a little bit," and some of the 1,500 mourners shouted out, "that's all right, baby, that's all right," like a mother soothing a child. And then the big man began to sing "Please Accept My Love," his fingers on the strings of his electric guitar, in a rasp and a lullaby: "I don't even know your name, but I love you just the same. If I could hold your hand, I'd make you understand . . ."
Wynton Marsalis plays during funeral services for Ray Charles at First African Methodist Episcopal Church in Los Angeles.
(Pool Photo Reed Saxon Via AP)
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The two-hour memorial service was about the restorative and transforming power of music to help and to heal, said the Rev. Cecil L. "Chip" Murray, the church's pastor and a friend of Charles. "Eyesight sees what is on the outside," Murray said of the blind singer, pianist and composer. "Insight sees what is on the inside."
And the mourners called back in response, "Praise Jesus!" Murray worked himself up and let it go: "Ray Charles saw the dream, he didn't see the nightmare. 'I don't know about you,' says Ray. 'But I saw the light. I saw the light.' " And the church rose to its feet.
Among the performers for Ray Charles Robinson, who died last week at 73 of liver disease, were Stevie Wonder, Wynton Marsalis, Willie Nelson, Glen Campbell and saxman David "Fathead" Newman. An amazing rendition of the Lord's Prayer was sung by Susaye Greene, a former member of Charles's backup singers, the Raelettes.
From the pulpit, Clint Eastwood said kind words and so did Cicely Tyson and the Rev. Jesse Jackson, and condolences from former president Bill Clinton and producer Quincy Jones were read. The flowers in the church came from around the world, from the Rolling Stones, Ice Cube, Van Morrison, and the Oak Ridge Boys -- for such was the eclectic sweep of Charles's music across genres and generations, in soul, R&B, blues, gospel, country, jazz and funk.
The service was at the place known as FAME Church, in central L.A., a tough neighborhood far away from Beverly Hills, where Charles lived. FAME's is one of the oldest African American congregations in the city. It is a crossroads of religion, politics, entertainment and social action, where the stained-glass windows showcase the biblical saints along with the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and John F. Kennedy. Its Sunday services have hosted a long line of aspirants for higher office. In attendance Friday were the city's mayor, James Hahn, its chief of police, the county sheriff and half the city council, plus Little Richard and Johnny Mathis. Clinton himself has been in the church a dozen times over his career.
It is a church built to play music in, with a piano and drum set as bookends to the altar, the place wired with speakers, and excellent acoustics. The Crenshaw High School Elite Choir, in blue-and-gold robes, rocked the house, while matronly ushers in white gloves and sashes helped the mourners to their seats.
One of Charles's 12 children, Robert Robinson, now a minister at Great Faith Ministries, told the audience, "If you want to do something for my family today, get up and shout hallelujah!" They did.
Jackson read from Psalm 23 about fearing no evil in the valley of the shadow of death, but he said that "death and the grave is not the end -- it is a pause of rest before we cross the river." Jackson paused and then added: "Heaven wanted some music, and sent for Ray Charles. Now Heaven has a maestro."
Cicely Tyson, a lifelong friend of "Brother Ray," as many referred to him, read from a poem by Roscoe Lee Browne, "I will sing to you if the birds do not come," and the actress, trembling, almost whispered, "If the birds do not come, Ray, will you sing to me?"
The saxophone was played by Newman, whose reedwork was breathy, like an old man weeping on a bar stool, as he played off the melody of "Georgia on My Mind," one of Charles's biggest hits.
The singer's manager, Joe Adams, said Billy Preston's doctors at Cedars-Sinai Hospital would not permit the singer to attend. "He cried like a baby this morning," Adams said. Neither could Quincy Jones attend; he was in Russia. But he asked that the Charles version of "My Buddy" be played: "Nights are long since you went away, I think about you all through the day, my buddy."
