“I still have my black-and-white shoes,” says Mildred “Millie” Russell as we gaze at a pair of those iconic 1950s ladies’ lace-ups in a clear plastic display case at Creative Suitland Arts Center.
“That’s Don Covay,” Russell says, pointing at a framed photo of a group called the Rainbows. “He was my boyfriend for two weeks.”
That was at Randall Junior High in Southwest D.C., long before Covay wrote “Mercy, Mercy” and partied with the Rolling Stones.
“This is Donald Watts,” she says, pointing at the Rainbow who played the piano intro on their 1954 hit, “Mary Lee.”
We move along, stopping at a photo labeled “The New Moonglows/The Marquees.” Russell points to a tall guy in the middle. “I went to school with him,” she says.
It’s Marvin Gaye — or Marvin Gay as he was known back at Randall Junior High, before he added the “e.”
“Randall produced all the best singers,” Russell says. Not just Marvin Gaye and Don Covay, but Billy Stewart, too.
“Every day he had me in the principal’s office,” Russell says of the scat-singing Stewart.
The principal’s office? Why?
“He was funny,” Russell says. Stewart would say something to crack her up and both of them would be marched out of the classroom.
We get to a photo of the Orioles, one of the bird-name groups out of Baltimore.
“Look at that smile,” she says, pointing at a member named Diz Russell. “Women loved him. I called him the Devil himself.”
She also called him husband. Millie met Albert “Diz” Russell when she was 13, backstage at the Howard Theater when the Orioles shared the bill with an up-and-coming singer named Jackie Wilson.
“He had just put out ‘Reet Petite,’ ” she says of Wilson, the entertainer they called Mr. Excitement.
After the death of Orioles founder Sonny Til, the Russells held the group together, bringing in fresh singers as old ones retired, as is the way in doo-wop groups. Diz Russell died in 2016. His widow is still active in what she calls the “oldies but goodies” music scene.
The Suitland exhibit is the work of Beverly Lindsay-Johnson, a Fort Washington documentary filmmaker who diligently chronicles the District’s contributions to the musical genre. She had support from the African American Music Association, the Atlanta Doo-Wop Association and Creative Suitland.
Lindsay-Johnson told me that besides the 60 or so photographs and accompanying mini-bios, she wanted the exhibit to include some stage-worn clothes. There’s a fetching yellow, shawl-collar tuxedo jacket that was worn by Herb Cox of the Cleftones and a white fringed pantsuit loaned by Sandra Bears of Washington’s own Jewels.
Back at the exhibit, Russell is pointing to a photo of the Clovers.
“The Clovers put D.C. on the map,” she says. “They were the first. ‘One Mint Julep.’ ‘Devil or Angel.’ ”
Clover Steve Charles was another of Russell’s Randall Junior High classmates. He was in a later generation of the Clovers, joining in 1978. He’d sung at Dunbar High School in a group called the Fairlanes, around when Van McCoy was singing with the Starlighters. (McCoy would go on to win a Grammy in 1976 for “The Hustle.”)
In a phone call with Charles, I asked how he became a singer.
“It's almost accidental,” he said. “You stand at the corner with three or four of your buddies. Somebody starts to sing a song. You start chiming in.”
That’s when, he said, “you discover within yourself” whether you have what it takes.
“I have coached a few people over the years,” Charles said. “I would always start out telling them, ‘I can’t teach you to sing. You’ve got to already be able to do it. I can teach you voice control, breathing control, maybe to be a better singer. But you better be able to sing from scratch. Either you can or you can’t.’ ”
Lindsay-Johnson said it’s mainly older folks who have come to see the exhibit, people who remember the music first- or secondhand. She hopes younger people will come, too.
“They need to know the history of the music that they enjoy, because there’s a thread and the thread is gospel harmony,” she said. “Out of Black gospel came doo-wop and rhythm-and-blues. That morphs into soul music, then into contemporary R&B, where they’re taking samples from these old songs.”
Looking at these photos with Millie Russell, something stands out: Nearly everyone is smiling. This is before musical artists had to scowl in their pictures, or gaze into the distance. These were young people eager for success. It wasn’t going to be easy, but there was no reason it shouldn’t be fun — like singing on the corner with your buddies.
“Doo-Wop Under the Street Lamp” is up through Sept. 15 at Creative Suitland, 4719 Silver Hill Rd. (creativesuitland.org); open 11 a.m. to 6 p.m., Monday to Thursday, 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturdays and 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sundays. It’s closed this Friday through Monday for Labor Day.
