Isaac Hayes' History With Scientology

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,401321,00.html

Isaac Hayes' History With Scientology
Monday , August 11, 2008
By Roger Friedman

My friend, Isaac Hayes, died on Sunday, and his passing leaves many unanswered questions.

The great R&B star, actor, DJ, performer and family man, the composer of “Soul Man,” “Hold On I’m Coming” and other hits by Sam Moore and Dave Prater like “When Something Is Wrong with My Baby,” also was a member of the Church of Scientology.

Isaac was found dead by his treadmill, but conveniently missing from the wire stories was a significant fact: in January 2006, Isaac had a significant stroke. At the time, the word went out only that he had been hospitalized for exhaustion.

But the truth was, Isaac, whom I’d seen just a couple of months earlier when he headlined the Blues Ball in Memphis, was in trouble. Having lost the rights to his songs two decades earlier, he was finally making some money voicing the character of Chef on “South Park.” But “South Park” lampooned Scientology, so the leaders wanted Isaac out.

Push came to shove on Nov. 16, 2005, when “South Park” aired its hilarious “Trapped in the Closet” episode spoofing Tom Cruise and John Travolta. “South Park” creator Matt Stone told me later that Isaac had come to him in tears.

“He said he was under great pressure from Scientology, and if we didn’t stop poking at them, he’d have to leave," Stone said.

The conversation ended there. Isaac performed Chef’s signature song at the Blues Ball a week later with great delight. Although he was devoted to Scientology, he also loved being part of “South Park.” He was proud of it. And, importantly, it gave him income he badly needed.

But then came the stroke, which was severe. His staff — consisting of Scientology monitors who rarely left him alone — tried to portray it as a minor health issue. It wasn’t. Sources in Memphis told me at the time that Isaac had significant motor control and speech issues. His talking was impaired.

In March 2006, news came that Hayes was resigning from “South Park." On March 20, 2006, I wrote a column called “Chef’s Quitting Controversy,” explaining that Hayes was in no position to have quit anything due to his stroke. But Scientology issued the statement to the press saying Hayes had resigned, and the press just ate it up. No one spoke to Isaac directly, because he couldn’t literally speak. "Chef” was written out of the show.

Isaac’s income stream was severely impaired as a result. Suddenly there were announcements of his touring, and performing. It didn’t seem possible, but word went out that he’d be at BB King’s in New York in January 2007. I went to see him and reported on it here.

The show was abomination. Isaac was plunked down at a keyboard, where he pretended to front his band. He spoke-sang, and his words were halting. He was not the Isaac Hayes of the past.

What was worse was that he barely knew me. He had appeared in my documentary, "Only the Strong Survive," released in 2003. We knew each other very well. I was actually surprised that his Scientology minder, Christina Kumi Kimball, with whom I had difficult encounters in the past, let me see him backstage at BB King’s. Our meeting was brief, and Isaac said quietly that he did know me. But the light was out in his eyes, and the situation was worrisome.

But the general consensus was that he needed the money. Without “Chef,” Isaac’s finances were severely curtailed. He had mouths to feed to home. Plus, Scientology requires huge amounts of money, as former member, actor Jason Beghe, has explained in this space. For Isaac to continue in the sect, he had to come up with funds. Performing was the only way.

In recent months, I’ve had conflicting reports. One mutual friend says that Isaac had looked and sounded much better lately at business meetings. But actor Samuel L. Jackson, who recently filmed scenes with Isaac and the late Bernie Mac for a new movie called “Soul Men,” told me on Saturday that Isaac really wasn’t up to the physical demands of shooting the movie. (Neither, it seems, was Bernie Mac.)

Sam Moore, who recorded those Isaac Hayes songs in the '60s and loved the writer-performer like a brother, told me Sunday when he heard about the death: “I’m happy.” Happy, I asked? “Yes, happy he’s out of pain.” It was one of the most beautiful ideas I’d ever heard expressed on the subject of death.

But there are a lot of questions still to be raised about Isaac Hayes’ death. Why, for example, was a stroke survivor on a treadmill by himself? What was his condition? What kind of treatment had he had since the stroke? Members of Scientology are required to sign a form promising they will never seek psychiatric or mental assistance. But stroke rehabilitation involves the help of neurologists and often psychiatrists, not to mention psychotropic drugs — exactly the kind Scientology proselytizes against.

What will come next, I’m afraid, is a wild dogfight among family members for Isaac’s estate. His song catalog (with David Porter) is one of the greatest in music history. Isaac lost the rights to his big hit songs in 1977. But thanks to something called the Songwriters Act, his heirs — whoever they are determined to be — automatically get the rights back as the songs come up for copyright renewal. I guarantee this will not be pretty. Isaac Lee Hayes has over 300 original compositions listed with BMI, from the Sam & Dave songbook to Carla Thomas’ “BABY (Baby)” to his monumental instrumental “Theme from SHAFT.”

None of this should ever take away from who Isaac Hayes really was: a great friend, a warm congenial man with a big heart and a big laugh. He had married again right before his stroke, and was very happy. If he hadn’t had the stroke, I am certain he would have recorded a new album. There was talk of it after the stroke, but nothing materialized. When we made and promoted “Only the Strong Survive,” he was a masterful musician with a great mind and a wicked sense of humor. His loss at 65 is simply way too early and very tragic.

The best of Isaac Hayes

http://leisureblogs.chicagotribune.com/turn_it_up/2008/08/the-best-of-isa.html

Originally posted: August 11, 2008
The best of Isaac Hayes
Greg Kot

“The Best of Sam and Dave” (1969): Hayes and David Porter wrote most of the vocal duo’s greatest hits, which defined Memphis soul.

“Hot Buttered Soul” (1969): Hayes’ second solo disc contains only four tracks, and the singer measures each word and note for maximum impact.

“Black Moses” (1971): Double-album builds on the innovations established on its classic predecessor.

“Shaft” (1971): With Curtis Mayfield’s “Superfly,” the best of the blaxploitation-era movie soundtracks.

“Branded” (1995): A return to Memphis and a reunion with David Porter updates the singer’s sumptuous sound.

greg@gregkot.com

An intimidating man with an empathetic heart

http://leisureblogs.chicagotribune.com/turn_it_up/2008/08/isaac-hayes-an.html

August 11, 2008
Isaac Hayes: An intimidating man with an empathetic heart
Greg Kot

Draped in gold chains, shaven-headed, barrel-chested, Isaac Hayes was an intimidating presence. He could bench-press 350 pounds and his voice was as bottomless as the Grand Canyon.

They called him “Black Moses.” It was a persona he reluctantly adopted. One of his bodyguards referred to him that way after a particularly galvanizing performance. Hayes was nonplussed: "No, no, no, don't lay that religious stuff on me." But a magazine writer overheard, spread the word, “and the next thing I know I'm being introduced that way at the Spectrum in Philly,” Hayes said in a 1995 interview with the Tribune.

Hayes, who died Sunday at age 65, was a superstar in the early ‘70s. With his “Theme from Shaft,” he was the toast of both the music industry and Hollywood, the first black composer to win an Oscar. Yet the music always aimed deeper. “Shaft,” his ode to an undercover detective who travels to his own law-breaking beat, is a warts-and-all portrait of the movie’s hero. The music was equally volatile, a mix of slamming strings, hissing hi-hats, funky wah-wah guitars and dramatic monologue. Hayes was as much a thespian as a songwriter, with an unrivaled ability to go inside the stories he was telling. The key to his art was his ability to listen; his songs didn’t just aim to sell, they empathized. He took listeners inside the heads of the characters he portrayed.

It all started with him getting a job as a pianist at Stax Records in Memphis in the early ‘60s, when he was still in his early twenties. Hayes was self-taught on saxophone and piano, learning on the job with various bands on the Memphis bar circuit. He started writing songs with lyricist David Porter, and together they found a muse in the vocal combo of Sam Moore and Dave Prater: Sam & Dave.

“We hung out and listened to their stories,” Hayes said in the 1995 interview. “We’d get together the night before a session to write, and we liked to have the artists present --- especially Sam and Dave --- because we fed off them, we tailored songs to them.”

The next day, Hayes would sit at the piano calling out chord changes to the rest of the Stax house band while Sam and Dave sang. Out of this casual atmosphere, the hits started to come. Hayes and Porter co-authored more than 200 songs, including numerous hits for Sam and Dave (“Soul Man,” “Hold on! I’m Comin’,” “You Don’t Know Like I Know,” “When Something is Wrong with My Baby”), as well as Carla Thomas (“B-A-B-Y”), Mable John (“Your Good Thing”) and Johnny Taylor (“I Had a Dream”).

Hayes released an album of his own in 1967 to little notice, but his live performances magnified his storytelling skills. Frequently he would be confronted by audiences that were barely paying attention, more intent on partying, drinking and picking up members of the opposite sex. To get their attention, Hayes would improvise spoken introductions to many songs. His tastes were omnivorous. He did not distinguish between soul, gospel, country and blues. He saw them all of a piece: “You’re dealing with raw truth, and believe it or not, country and western and soul music are first cousins, because it’s the voice of the common folk.”

He heard that truth in some of the pop hits of the day. He loved Dionne Warwick’s version of Burt Bacharach and Hal David’s “Walk on By,” and Glen Campbell’s rendition of Jimmy Webb’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix.” Neither song would’ve been particularly well-received on a raucous Saturday night in the South during the ‘60s, but Hayes was determined to perform them both. He began improvising introductions, as if creating a prologue to the story told in the songs of splintered relationships.

“When I first performed ‘Phoenix’ I was at a predominantly black club and I knew they didn’t want to hear any Glen Campbell,” Hayes recalled. “I had to bring it to a level they could understand. The club was packed and everybody was talking, no one was listening. So I tell the band, the Mar-Keys, to hang on to this chord and I started doing this rap over it, about what happened to the couple in the song that led to their breakup. Pretty soon, the club is silent and people are listening to every word. By the end of the song, some of them are crying.”

Hayes included an 18-minute version of “Phoenix” and a 12-minute version of “Walk on By” on his 1969 album, “Hot Buttered Soul.” With its iconic cover image of Hayes’ shaven head, it established the singer as a solo star in his own right. He had graduated from a behind-the-scenes songwriter during Stax’s formidable run of ‘60s hits to a master arranger, producer and performer in his own right.

Two years later, Hayes was a superstar, thanks to “Shaft.” He never again reached those heights, even declaring bankruptcy in the ‘70s after Stax went belly up. But the music he made continued to embrace all styles, and cut across lines of generation and race.

“Every human being on this planet responds on an aesthetic level,” Hayes said in 1995. “Music hovers in that band. It doesn’t matter if it’s Glen Campbell or ‘Shaft,’ if it touches me, I find a way to do it.”

greg@gregkot.com

Isaac Hayes, R&B Legend, Dies at Age 65

http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,20218136,00.html?iid=top25-20080810-Isaac+Hayes+dies+at+age+65

Legacy
Isaac Hayes, R&B Legend, Dies at Age 65
Oscar-winner and Rock and Roll Hall of Famer found unconscious at home and pronounced dead on Sunday afternoon

ISAAC HAYES Oscar winner and soul music icon died on Aug. 10 in Memphis at age 65

Oscar winner and Rock and Roll Hall of Famer Isaac Hayes has died at the age of 65, according to CNN.

Hayes, best known for his pop/R&B classic ''Theme From Shaft'' and more recently as the voice of Chef on South Park, was found next to an active treadmill by relatives, according to reports from the Shelby County Sheriff's Department in Memphis, Tennessee. Attempts to revive the singer were unsuccessful and he was pronounced dead in Memphis shortly after 2 p.m. on Sunday afternoon.

Hayes' career began as a songwriter and producer for Stax Records in Memphis — a pioneering R&B label of the 1960s that was widely considered the southern counterpart to Motown in Detroit. His best known compositions from this period include ''Soul Man,'' originally recorded by Sam & Dave, and later a big hit a second time when it was covered by the Blues Brothers in 1978, ''Hold On! I'm Comin','' and Carla Thomas' ''B-A-B-Y.'' (See Rachel Sweet performing the song, a U.K. hit for her in 1978.)

Hayes' breakout as a performer came in 1969 with his Hot Buttered Soul album. In 1971, his ''Theme from 'Shaft,''' won an Oscar and his performance at the Academy Awards catapulted him into the national consciousness. His increased profile led to a career in movies, starting with Tough Guys and Truck Turner in 1974. Other notable roles included John Carpenter's Escape from New York (1981), I'm Gonna Git You Sucka (1988), and Hustle and Flow (2005). On television, he was the voice of South Park's randy, but good-hearted Chef until 2006. Hayes had just finished work on a movie called Soul Men, which also stars Bernie Mac, who passed away on Saturday.