Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin) by Sly Stone

Author:Sly Stone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux

I asked Steve to be my best man. I knew he would make the event easier, and figured he’d make it easiest if he was in it. Later I found out that Freddie wasn’t sure why I didn’t pick him. If Freddie had talked to me about it, I would have switched over. It was not a slight, just a sense of how Steve could help.

People held meetings. Meetings were held by people. I was unable to attend due to concert commitments (all of which I kept). Much of those meetings, I was told, involved ironing out details for the reception. What kind of food would be served? What kind of champagne would be poured? What kind of cake would be cut? Japanese and soul food, to pay off the Hawaiian bride and black groom. New York champagne, to pay off the city. A round cake with a gold record on top, to pay off the business I was in.

People made calls. Calls were made by people. I was not on the phone. Money was an issue—the boat needed to keep floating in the lead-up to the wedding—so Ken Roberts called in the rest of the advance for the new album, Small Talk, which was coming out in the summer. Or maybe Ken called Steve and Steve called the Record Plant and the tapes were released to Epic in exchange for a big check. The boat floated.

People hired designers. Designers were hired by people. I did not participate in the hiring. Steve took care of it, along with a guy named Joe Eula. Joe worked with Halston, the celebrity fashion designer, who had agreed to make clothes for everyone: me, Kathy, my parents, the entire wedding party. Steve and Joe started thinking of ideas to make everything bigger. Some of them were communicated to me: something about doves released to fly around the stage, something else about the wedding party marching down the Garden’s main aisle.

Steve and Joe and the others made decisions. In some cases, decisions were made for them. The ASPCA wouldn’t allow the doves. The wedding party couldn’t march down the aisle without extra security, and extra security carried an extra cost. Improvisations followed. Steve found an artist to make projections that would take the place of the doves. The march down the aisle got scrapped.

When I got back from touring, I was told that I would be expected the following morning at Halston’s studio for a fitting. Kathy and the bridesmaids had been already, more than once. Steve and my friend Buddha, who worked as a kind of assistant, came up to escort me down. There was an article written about the wedding back then in The New Yorker, and even though I don’t remember the reporter coming upstairs, he must have, because he got a good look at my apartment. He noticed the colors of the place (red, white, and black, like my redesigned American flag), the big stereo Epic had given me. He even

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