The Late, Great Johnny Ace

Cole Porter, Jackie Mason, S.N. Behrman, Bob Cummings, Michael J. Fox, Fred Waring, Skip James, Harry Gribbon, George Axelrod, John Howard Payne, and Leslie Banks were all born on June 9; so was a figure you might have deemed fictional or at least “legendary”, if you’ve heard of him at all, R & B singer Johnny Ace (John Alexander, 1929-1954).

Prior to 1983, Johnny Ace would mostly have been known to black Baby Boomers and those who love their music. His memory was amplified by Paul Simon, who whose song “The Late, Great Johnny Ace” was one of the more memorable tracks on the Hearts and Bones album. The song was actually written in response to John Lennon’s death and had debuted at the 1981 Central Park Concert. (This may just be a coincidence, but the Great Lawn, where the concert was performed, is just a half mile, if that, from the Dakota Building, where Lennon was shot). The song is a series of unfolding memories, from the death of Ace (the first violent death in Simon’s experience) to the JFK assassination to the killing of Lennon. All three were public men named John who died from a gunshot, that’s about all that connects them, but maybe that’s enough.

In his day, Johnny Ace had only made the R & B charts. Hailing from Memphis, the 25 year old was especially associated with romantic ballads. He has been compared to Johnny Mathis, but Mathis was more sophisticated and mainstream. He reminds me more of Sam Cooke (who, as it happens, died a decade after Ace, also from a gunshot). Ace’s best known song is “Pledging My Love”, produced by Johnny Otis. Elvis covered it, and it has been used in the movies Mean Streets (1973), Christine (1983), Back to the Future (1985), and Bad Lieutenant (1992). Ace was associated with a loose group of Memphis musicians known as the Beale Streeters who often played on each others records. The group included B.B. King, Bobby Bland, and Junior Parker. In addition to performing vocals, Ace was also a piano player. Ike Turner is said to have discovered him, but he later signed with Duke Records, with whom he had a long string of R & B hits over the next couple of years.

Ace was riding high in late 1954, with a bright future ahead of him. Christmas Day of that year found him at the City Auditorium in Houston. He was touring with Big Mama Thornton at the time. And that day, as he often did according to those who knew him, he chose to fool around with a handgun. He liked to shoot his pistol out of a car window when driving down the highway. When he wasn’t actually shooting, he liked to point at things and people and pretend to be shooting. He was doing that backstage at the City Auditorium, when someone told him he ought to be careful. “But this gun isn’t loaded”, Ace cheerfully asserted. To prove it, he put it to his head, pulled the trigger, and blew his own head off.

For years, the legend about Johnny Ace was that he died playing Russian Roulette. I suppose that seemed a more bearable tale. Russian Roulette is senseless, and terrible, and idiotic, but not nearly as much as what actually happened. We all get cocky and reckless when we’re feeling good, but this must be the summit of foolhardiness. When I first heard it, it even made me angry. But of course, it’s also foolhardy for a U.S. President to ride in a convertible through the streets of a hostile city. So is walking down the street unprotected if you’re a controversial idol often mentioned in the same breath as the martyred Jesus Christ. And it’s just as stupid to shoot and kill another human being. We’re always second guessing the judgment of others, as though we all can see the future, and as though we’re all paragons of sense and wisdom.

There was a lot of grief for Johnny Ace at the time of his death, and there were even several tribute records put out by fellow artists. Those who knew him must have regarded the death as tragic. His passing continued to inspire songwriters before and after Simon. To me it’s less sad than a wake-up call. We’re all going to wind up where Johnny Ace went on Christmas Day, 1954. And we don’t know where or when or how any more than he did.

For more on the history of show business,consult No Applause, Just Throw Money: The Book That Made Vaudeville Famous,and stay tuned for my upcomingElectric Vaudeville: A Century of Radio and TV Variety.