Still So Excited!: My Life as a Pointer Sister - Hardcover

Pointer, Ruth ; Terrill, Marshall

9781629371450: Still So Excited!: My Life as a Pointer Sister

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 1629371459 ISBN 13: 9781629371450

Verlag: TRIUMPH BOOKS, 2016

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Still So Excited!: My Life as a Pointer Sister is an engaging, funny, heartbreaking, and poignant look at Ruth Pointer's roller-coaster life in and out of the Pointer Sisters. When overnight success came to the Pointer Sisters in 1973, they all thought it was the answer to their long-held prayers. While it may have served as an introduction to the good life, it also was an introduction to the high life of limos, champagne, white glove treatment, and mountains of cocaine that were the norm in the high-flying '70s and '80s. Pointer's devastating addictions took her to the brink of death in 1984. Pointer has bounced back to live a drug- and alcohol-free life for the past 30 years and she shares how in her first autobiography, detailing the Pointer Sisters' humble beginning, musical apprenticeship, stratospheric success, miraculous comeback, and the melodic sound that captured the hearts of millions of music fans.

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�ber die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Ruth Pointer began her formal vocal training as director of the junior choir in her father's church, then pursued a singing career with her sisters, Bonnie, June, and Anita. She occasionally stepped out as a solo artist, contributing to movie soundtracks and lending background vocals. She lives in Boston, Massachusetts. Marshall Terrill is a veteran music, film, and sports writer and the author of 20 books, including bestselling biographies of Elvis Presley and Steve McQueen. Three of his books are in development to be made into movies. He lives in Tempe, Arizona.

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Still So Excited!

My Life as a Pointer Sister

By Ruth Pointer, Marshall Terrill

Triumph Books LLC

Introduction, 
1. The Devil You Say!, 
2. A Man Took My Heart and Robbed Me Blind, 
3. Welfare Queen, 
4. Yes We Can Can (And Did Did), 
5. Fairy Tales and Financial Nightmares, 
6. Lead Us Not into Temptation, 
7. Rumble in the Jungle, 
8. Things Go Better with Coke, 
9. Having a Party ... and Breaking Up, 
10. Pointer Sisters 2.0, 
11. Gangbusters, 
12. So Excited ... and Disappointed ..., 
13. Breaking Out and Breaking Down, 
14. We Are the World, 
15. 12-Steppin', 
16. Hot Together, 
17. Man with the Right Rhythm, 
18. Going to the Chapel, 
19. Only Sisters Can Do That, 
20. Ain't Misbehavin', 
21. Where Did the Time Go?, 
22. Millennial Pointers, 
23. Baby Sister, 
24. Still So Excited!, 
Epilogue: Preachers, Players, Pointers: Who Knew We Had So Much in Common?, 
Appendix: Discography, 
Photo Gallery,

CHAPTER 1

The Devil You Say!

You always look back wondering how life could have played out differently. Growing up, our household was totally straight-laced and strictly run according to religious values that allowed for little freedom or individuality. Maybe if my parents had embraced the notion that the quest for unattainable perfection was impossible and that my childhood didn't have to be so rigid, I would have coped better. Maybe I would not have ended up pregnant, drunk, high, and alone back in the day. But those are big, hypothetical maybes. Today's version of me gets that kids need rules. They need structure and support, but they also need freedom to define themselves by cause and effect. Sometimes that means falling short of expectations, making mistakes. Getting broken.

I wish someone had told me that being flawed was more than a rite of passage. It was okay. It was part of growing up and into yourself. It was part of learning. It wasn't an entirely unhappy upbringing, but it sure was filled with pressure, disappointments, and unrealistic expectations handed down to me from my mother and father — both of whom were ministers of fear and flawlessness. I'm not knocking the ministry. All I'm saying is that it's hard to feel like a normal kid when the word "no" is the most constant word in your household.

No lipstick. No fingernail polish. No makeup. No skirts above the knees. No jewelry. No records. No movies. No dancing. No dating. No impure thoughts. No alcohol. And definitely no sex until marriage!

No, no, no!

Make that "hell no," though of course in our uptight house, the first word was implied.

When I was about 10 or so, my mother allowed me to pick out a pair of new shoes for Easter. I was constantly looking at clothes and activities to separate myself from my sisters. For some reason I just wanted to be different and stand out. I picked out the flashiest shoes I could find — black suede with five-inch heels. Mom was horrified. She scolded me and then marched me right back to the store to return the shoes. She was almost angrier at the sales clerk who sold them to me than she was at me.

"You can clearly see she's a child, why would you sell a pair of shoes like these to a child?" she demanded. In spite of her anger and my humiliation, they would not take the shoes back. So Mom took the shoes to a repair shop and had the heels cut down to where they were ugly little stubs. The shoes were permanently bent and looked like rocking chairs. My mother made me wear them to Easter Sunday and for several months afterward. My two brothers ragged on me mercilessly about those ugly shoes. It stung so bad that I didn't wear heels again for the longest time.

My parents were determined to protect us from what my dad called "the devil's work." I instinctually rebelled — a trait that had followed me for a good portion of my adult life. I had been force-fed so much fire and brimstone and fear of eternal damnation that I was afraid every time I left the church that I might go to hell before Sunday dinner.

Being forced to constantly strive for perfection through Christianity — that's just an unattainable goal. Only Jesus was perfect, and being held up to that standard meant automatic failure. The collateral damage to my youth was a negativity and insecurity that carried into my adulthood. Instead of learning righteousness and the beauty of God's mercy, love, and grace, I learned failure and inadequacy. I felt I could never measure up to my parents' expectations and that I was unworthy of God's unconditional love. I didn't realize that I didn't have to be a saint to merit that love. Lord knows, I was no saint; but neither were my folks — well, maybe my mother was.

They were both from the Deep South. They met in Arkansas. My father, Elton, was a sweet-natured man with an obscure criminal past he didn't talk much about to us. Daddy was charismatic and handsome, a snazzy dresser who easily caught the attention of his congregation — especially the women. He was very strong, yet like a teddy bear in some ways. He was passionate and sensitive. If he heard someone swearing it would bring him to tears, and he would say, "Why do people have to talk that way?" I kind of get it now.

When I was a kid we lived across the street from a community park in Oakland, California, so we heard a lot of harsh words. My dad kept a pair of binoculars near the window, and I remember from time to time seeing him use them to watch people at the park. If someone got into a fight, he'd grab his Bible and head out the door to smooth things out. My mother would say, "Elton, somebody's gonna hit you in the head if you don't stay out of people's business!" Well, that didn't happen. Somehow Dad always managed to successfully calm things down. Dad insisted that our number always be listed in the public phone book. "We're gonna keep an open line in case someone is in trouble and needs prayer," he said. It didn't matter who or when, my dad was always available to help people at all times of the day and night.

I often wondered what led my father to become a minister. Daddy was born in 1901 in Little Rock, Arkansas. He once mentioned to me that he had done some drinking and smoking in his youth, and he made it clear he wasn't proud of it. Years later, my brothers Aaron and Fritz talked about the strong possibility that Daddy got into bootlegging, gambling, numbers running, and possibly a few other criminal activities when he moved to Chicago in the 1930s. I recently discovered a census report on an ancestry website showing that he lived with an older woman called "Susie Pointer" whom he listed as his spouse. Whether Daddy was actually married before he met my mother or he was just trying to protect Susie's reputation, I can't say with any degree of certainty. If a marriage certificate exists, we haven't found it. Frankly, it tickles me pink to think that the upright, righteous dad I knew might have lived "in sin."

I do know the following story is true: Daddy once lent a trendy overcoat to his brother-in-law so he'd look sharp for a special occasion. When his brother-in-law went to my father's apartment later that night to return the coat, he was gunned down in cold blood. The hit man had clearly mistaken the man in the coat for my dad.

Daddy had an epiphany after that incident and got right with God. He hightailed it back...

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