Shotgun the Making of a Legend The Life Story of Jr Walker and the All Stars

By Kenneth Dewalt

The life story of Jr Walker and the all stars from the beginning how this famous Saxophonist became known all over the world with Hit songs Shotgun-These Eyes-What Does it take to win your love A hidden door in to the extremely private life Of Autry Dewalt AKA Jr Walker His son Kenneth Dewalt unfolds the pages of the Dewalt family as told with his Mother Alberta Dewalt
Junior as everyone called him performed with such entertainment Stevie Wonder Diana Ross Michael Jackson and many more Motown stars This book goes deeper inside the entertainers life from his child hood to the man that had eleven children and Married to Alberta for over 35 years if you were a fan or have just become one this will open your eyes to the real World of entertainers

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kenneth Dewalt
• Release date: Oct 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005441463

Book preview

SHOTGUN

The Making of a Legend

The Life Story of Jr. Walker & The All Stars

SHOTGUN

The Making of a Legend

Copyright © 2020 by Kenneth DeWalt

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Table of Contents

introduction

Way Back Home

What Does It Take To Win Your Love?

How Sweet It Is To Be Loved By You

Tune Up

Cleo’s Mood

Cleo’s Back

Gotta Hold On To This Feeling

Hard Love

Motown’s Instrumental Star

Shoot ’Em Fore He Run Now

Party Time

Gallery

Introduction

Jr. Walker of Jr. Walker & The All Stars was a famous saxophone and vocalist signed with Motown Records, Whitfield Records, and Warner Brother Records.

Born June 14, 1931 in Blytheville, Arkansas.

Died November 23, 1995 in Battle Creek, Michigan.

Jr. Walker was born Autry DeWalt to Marie Walker. He was given up for adoption around 1936 to Mr. Skit and Mrs. Verna DeWalt.

Autry DeWalt married Alberta Lakes around 1948.

The DeWalts had 11 children before becoming famous by 1964-1995.

Autry DeWalt learned to play the saxophone and put together a band by the name The Jumping Jacks. Autry DeWalt later changed the name to Jr. Walker & the All Stars, becoming the main leader of the group around 1964.

From 1965 -1985, they recorded the following:

ALBUMS:

SHOTGUN - 1965

SOUL SESSION - 1966

ROAD RUNNER - 1966

HOME COOKIN’ - 1968

GOTTA HOLD ON TO THIS FEELING - 1969

WHAT DOES IT TAKE (TO WIN YOUR LOVE) - 1969

A GASSSSSSSSSS! - 1970

RAINBOW FUNK - 1971

MOODY JR - 1971

PEACE AND UNDERSTANDING IS HARD TO FIND - 1973

HOT SHOT - 1976

WHOPPER BOPPER SHOW STOPPER

SMOOTH - 1978

BACK STREET BOOGIE - 1979 (Whitfield Records)

BLOW THE HOUSE DOWN - 1983

MOVIES:

TAPEHEADS - 1988 (with Sam Moore of Sam & Dave)

SONGS

Bet your Bottom Dollar & Ordinary Man

TV SHOWS:

Saturday Night Live

David Letterman

Dick Clark Band Stand

Soul Train

Shindig

Merv Griffin

Mike Douglas

Della Reese

Johnny Carson (the Tonight Show)

Jerry Blabitt

Steve Allen

HIT SONGS:

Shot Gun (nominated for a Grammy)

Shoot Your Shot

Cleo’s Mood

Cleo’s Back

Road Runner

Shake and Finger Pop

Country Boy

Monkey Jump

Twist Lackawanna

Walk in the Night

Way Back Home

Take Me Girl, I’m Ready

Do You See My Love (For You Growing)

Pucker Up Buttercup

These Eyes

How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)

Dancin’ Like They Do on Soul Train

You Ain’t No Ordinary Woman

Hard Love

Back Street Boogie

Blow the House Down

Ball Baby

Gotta Hold on to This Feeling

Hip City 1 & 2

Peace and Understanding (Is Hard to find)

What Does It Take (To Win Your Love) (nominated for a Grammy)

Money

Wishing on a Star (nominated for a Grammy)

Urgent - 1981 (Sax solo with Rock group Foreigner)

Autry DeWalt, aka Jr. Walker, died of cancer in 1995.

Way Back Home

It was late November on Thanksgiving morning as we all sat around the kitchen table in my father’s house in Battle Creek, Michigan.

We were not thinking about the holiday. The tireless endless ringing of the phone had put us all in a mood of being on edge. As we were taking turns answering the phone, the rest of us continued talking and planning our dad’s funeral. In everyone’s eyes, there was an unspoken sadness that seems to make you just sit and stare and be in a trance of memories, memories that you thought you had long forgotten, but you couldn’t just sit and zone out too long because the phone would bring you back to reality.

We were planning a celebration for his funeral because of two reasons. One was that my dad didn’t want anyone to cry for him at his funeral; it was my brother Dennis who said that June said we should just throw him in a box and bury him. That’s what we called him, June, because he never wanted us to call him daddy, but, when I spoke of him to someone else, he was Dad. The other reason was that in the Bible, in the book of Ecclesiastes, it says that we should be sad when someone is born in this world because of all the trouble and problems that one may have, and we should rejoice in death because they are going home to rest, and they are free from all of life’s worries. The phone rang again, and my brother Tim stood up to answer it.

Autry, my oldest brother, began to tell one of his silly jokes. He said, You see, there was this turtle, and he had no shell, one eye, a crooked leg, and a little tail that pointed straight up to the sky. I looked at that turtle and said, ‘You are one messed up little turtle.’ That little turtle looked up at me and said, ‘Sit on my tail and rotate, you big, ugly nigga.’

We all laughed, even though it wasn’t that funny because we needed something to break the tension.

My mom walked in the kitchen with a big box. She sat down and started pulling out old pictures of my dad and herself. She raised her head with a slight smile, holding one of the pictures and said, You know, I remember when we had this picture taken. It was in London. I was so young and dumb, I didn’t know much then, like I do now.

She continued talking about the picture, and Beverly said, Momma, tell us about June.

Momma said, You know, I’m sure a lot of you know some things about your father, but, I’m not sure if you want to know everything.

Before she could finish, Pam said, Momma, I can’t speak for everyone, but I would like to know. Everyone seemed to nod their heads in agreement.

Momma looked around the room at all ten of us. She looked back at the picture and began to tell the story about a man that we thought we knew. A lot of what she said that day came as a shock to a lot of us, but it would also bring clarity in regards to the lifestyle of a very complicated man. As she began to speak, both of her hands gripped the picture, and you could tell in her mind that she was in another place and another time, reliving it all over again right from the beginning.

You know, your little grandmother used to be an incredibly good dancer. I remember she would all ways have on a sharp outfit. She had some big hips, and a little waist, and she would get a lot of attention from all the men. That is what she was like when I first met her, as the story was told to me, back in the late thirties in Blytheville, Arkansas.

She was dating a man. His last name was Mixon. She got pregnant and had your father. She was only fifteen, and she didn’t know much about raising a kid, but she tried for about three years. In those times, it was tough, not like today; they didn’t have assistance to help out young girls who had gotten themselves in trouble.

She moved to South Bend, Indiana for work. She didn’t have much money to hire a sitter, so on the days she had to work, Junior would play outside and fend for himself.

Junior was around three or four when he started hanging around a pool hall, and if he was hungry, he would eat crumbs out of the corners of the pool table. His Mother wasn’t around, but if she wanted him, she knew you could always find Junior at the pool hall.

One day, a tall thin lanky man by the name of Mr. Skit asked, "Who’s little boy is that?

The bar tender Mike said, "Oh, that’s Marie’s boy, he’s always here.

What’s his name?

Well, that you can ask yourself, Mike replied.

Mr. Skit took a long look at Junior. He reached down in his pocket and pulled out a coin that flashed when the lights hit it. He put it in the palm of his big, thin hand, held it out, and pointed the other finger towards Junior, who was already mesmerized with both eyes locked onto the coin. He then motioned for Junior to come over to him. Junior held out his hand and started walking over to him, and when he had gotten just inches away from touching the coin, Mr. Skit closed his fist and then opened it again, and the coin was gone. Junior’s eyes were as big as sliver dollars.

Mr. Skit asked, What’s your name, son?

Junior said, Well, my name is Autry, but everyone calls me Junior.

Mr. Skit laughed at his answer. Then, he said, Well, my name is Plez DeWalt, but everyone calls me Mr. Skit. Mr. Skit reached out and touched Junior’s ear, and the coin seemed to have come out of his ear.

Junior said, Wow! Can you do that again?

Mr. Skit laughed and said, I’ve got a better trick. You take this coin, go get yourself some food, and let me see you make that food disappear.

That night, when Mr. Skit arrived home, he yelled, "Hey, Verna, I’m home!

Verna, his wife, yelled back, I’m here in the kitchen! Dinner’s almost ready!

Okay, honey. I’ll just wash up really fast, I have something really important to talk to you about.

Over dinner, Mr. Skit hardly touched his food. He did more talking about Junior than he did eating. Verna listened and waited until he said, Well, what do you think?

She took a deep breath and said, Now, Plez, you come in here with some half-cooked idea about a woman named Marie who has a little boy who’s frail and hungry, and you think that she doesn’t want her little boy and that she’ll give him to you, a total stranger, to take home and raise as your own? She paused for a while waiting for his answer, thinking that what she said would make him snap out of it.

Mr. Skit was looking at her while he was still chewing his last bite. He swallowed the lump of food, picked up his glass of iced tea, took a long drink, set the glass down, took his napkin, wiped his mouth, and said, Yes.

Verna screamed, Are you crazy, you big, dumb bastard?! You go around this house throwing your stanky socks all over the place, and now what? You don’t think I have enough to do? Cleaning up after one idiot is enough, and now I should have two! Get your lazy ass up and take out the trash before I knock some sense into you! Mr. Skit stood up and started to walk away, but Verna stood in his way and screamed in his face, And stay out of that gang-infested pool hall!

Mr. Skit said, "Who was it that cried when they found out they couldn’t have any kids and begged me to adopt? Who was it that wanted to kill themself ‘cause they thought they were a failure at life? Woman, I’m getting tired of your mouth and all these moods. This is my house, and I’ll do as I please. Now, get the hell out