
What if Knives Out was a “Boston Blackie” mystery?

The late, great George Carlin had some things to say about camping, too.

After a stint in the United States Marine Corps, Don Cornelius tried his hand at a number of different jobs. He sold tires, then cars and finally insurance. He even joined the Chicago Police. But, the thirty-year old husband and father of two took a chance on a three-month broadcasting course. Upon completion, he landed a position at a Chicago radio station where he served as a disc jockey, as well as a news reporter.
After a year, he switched to local television, where he hosted a show called A Black’s View of the News. The program, which focused on issues affecting African-Americans, was very popular. Don was able to launch a daily music show, specifically to appeal to the sorely- overlooked African-American teen demographic. The show, dubbed Soul Train, entered national syndication in 1971, featuring former Temptation Eddie Kendricks, Gladys Knight & the Pips, and Honey Cone on its debut broadcast. Don was instrumental in introducing African-American musical acts to a wider audience. Sure, they were appearing on The Ed Sullivan Show and Hollywood Palace, but Soul Train had a different feel and the artists felt a more welcoming and comforting atmosphere. In addition, the program showcased African-American culture and gave a stage to lesser-known performers that were only played on so-called “black” radio stations. Soul Train also featured a regular group of young and energetic dancers who were influential among the home audience.
As host of Soul Train, Don was “your television friend.” His deep voice, iconic afro and timely fashions made him a reason to tune in to Soul Train. His daily sign-off — “and you can bet your last money, it’s all gonna be a stone gas, honey! I’m Don Cornelius, and as always in parting, we wish you love, peace and soul!” — became his trademark.
But Don Cornelius’s life was not without its troubles. In 1982, he underwent a lengthy brain operation to correct a congenital deformity. He admitted that he never felt the same post-surgery. He began to consider retirement from Soul Train and eventually did in 1996. In 2008, he was arrested and charged with spousal abuse. After many denials and two restraining orders obtained by his estranged wife, Don relented with a plea of “no contest.” He was sentenced to 36 months of probation.
After his retirement from Soul Train, Don essentially retired from public life, as well. In February 2012, police were summoned to his Los Angeles home, where they discovered 75 year-old Don Cornelius dead from a self-inflicted gunshot. His son later said that Don had been diagnosed with early signs of Alzheimer’s Disease and was in constant extreme physical pain. He explained that, prior to his death, Don often expressed “I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

Over the 1921 Memorial Day weekend in Tulsa, Oklahoma, a 19 year-old African-American shoeshiner named Dick Rowland was accused of assaulting a 17 year-old white woman named Sarah Page. Rowland was taken into police custody. A group of angry white members of the community stormed the courthouse. Rumor spread among the black community that Rowland had been lynched. A mob scene swelled. Shots were fired. Violence heightened as white mobs looted and ravaged the black neighborhoods of Tulsa. The National Guard managed to get things under control on June 1. The riots left an estimated 10,000 blacks homeless, with property damage amounting to more than one-and-a-half million dollars. The death toll was an unconfirmed 200. Seven-year-old Olivia Hooker survived.
Olivia and her family moved from Tulsa to Columbus, Ohio. She attended and received a bachelors degree from Ohio State University, eventually becoming a third grade teacher. She applied to join the WAVES, but was rejected due to her ethnicity. She argued the decision and was subsequently accepted, however, she decided to join the Coast Guard instead, becoming the first African-American woman to join that branch of the service. She served until her unit was disbanded. She went on to work with the mentally disabled at a facility in New York.
In 2003, Olivia was part of a lawsuit filed against the city of Tulsa seeking compensation due to the local governments’ involvement in the massacre of 1921. The US Supreme Court dismissed the case without comment in 2005.
Olivia retired at the age of 87. She joined the Coast Guard Auxiliary at age 95. She passed away in 2018 at the age of 103.

What if Doris Day and James Cagney didn’t make a musical?

The girl with the dragonfly tattoo.

Alberta Hunter began her career singing in brothels. She struggled until she was able to find an audience in whites-only men’s clubs in Chicago. She worked alternately singing in dark, smoky cabaret rooms and peeling potatoes in the kitchen of the same establishments. Her persistence paid off and Alberta soon found herself headlining at the Dreamland Ballroom.
After a five-year engagement at The Dreamland, Albert toured Europe to much acclaim. Returning to New York in 1922, she wrote and recorded “Downhearted Blues,” receiving critical praise for her effort. She continued to record throughout the ensuing decades, simultaneously performing in nightclubs and taking roles in stage musicals. She recorded with greats like Louis Armstrong and Sidney Bechet. She entertained troops in 1944 and in 1950.
In 1957, Alberta’s beloved mother passed away and Alberta lost her desire to perform. Instead, she fabricated a high school diploma, shaved a few years off of her age and enrolled in nursing school. Upon completion, she worked at Goldwater Memorial Hospital. in New York City. She worked in the hospital for 20 years.
In 1971, Alberta was interviewed by Danish television about her former career. Sometime later, through mutual friends, she was introduced to a Greenwich Village club owner, who persuaded Alberta to agree to a short engagement at his club. The “short engagement” turned into six years. After reading about Alberta’s “two-part, interrupted” career, record producer John Hammond signed the singer to a recording contract. Her releases generated new interest in Alberta Hunter. Her incredible story led to an appearance on the popular game show To Tell the Truth (where panelist Kitty Carlisle had to disqualify herself, as she had known Alberta in her heyday). Director Robert Altman cast her in a small role in his 1978 film Remember My Name, providing she would contribute to the soundtrack.
Although briefly married to a soldier after World War I, Alberta had a long-term relationship with Lottie Tyler, the niece of well-known comedian Bert Williams. However, because of the times, Alberta felt it best to keep her sexuality private, fearing it would damage her career. Alberta passed away in 1984 at the age of 89.

What if Roscoe Arbuckle didn’t attend that party?

Gertrude Baniszewski was a monster in the truest sense of the word. Over a period of three months in 1965, Gertrude tortured, and eventually murdered Sylvia Likens, the 16-year-old daughter of two acquaintances she was charged with watching over while the couple traveled with a carnival. The details of what Gertrude did to young Sylvia — both physically and mentally — are horrendous. Descriptions of the heinous nature of the crime are readily available on various websites across the internet… so I will not elaborate.
Gertrude was eventually arrested. At her trial, she denied everything and put the blame on her children. The jury wasn’t convinced and Gertrude was sentenced to life in prison. Her conduct in prison was described as “exemplary” and she was referred to as a “model prisoner.” Gertrude was released on parole in 1985. She changed her name and lived as a recluse until her death from lung cancer in 1990.
Gertrude’s release from prison was the second crime of which Sylvia Likens was a victim.
Gertrude Baniszewski was a monster.

Sterling Magee was a session guitarist in the 1960s, playing on recordings by Ray Charles, James Brown, King Curtis and Marvin Gaye. He also released a few solo recordings on Ray Charles’ record label. But, Sterling walked away from it all, angered by the way black musicians were treated in the music industry.
Sterling landed in Harlem and began playing on the corner of 114th Street and Broadway, near the famed Apollo Theater. He played guitar and supplemented his sound with a high-hat drum, which he rigged to play with his foot. Sterling adopted a new name to go with his new musical direction. He called himself “Mr. Satan.”
In the late 80s, Adam Gussow, an English Masters student at Columbia, saw Sterling performing while on his way to the Apollo. He asked the musician if he could join him on harmonica. Sterling obliged and their collaboration became a regular occurrence. Soon, their street act caught the attention of a film crew, in New York to document U2’s performances. The thirty-nine seconds of Sterling’s tune “Freedom for My People” that was included in the U2 documentary Rattle and Hum led to Satan and Adam signing their own recording contract with Rhino Records. The unlikely pair released albums and toured the world, playing music festivals and spanning genres with their blend of blues, R&B, funk and gospel. They separated several times throughout the course of their partnership, but returned and regrouped to perform again.
In 1998, Sterling relocated to Virginia. He suffered a nervous breakdown and disappeared from public performances. Adam Gussow became a professor of English and Southern studies at the University of Mississippi. In 2000, Sterling surfaced at an adult care facility near St. Petersburg, Florida. His guitar skills, which had vanished after his breakdown, slowly returned. He joined up with Gussow and a Tampa drummer and the newly formed trio performed live once again. Gussow released a collection of early Satan and Adam recordings in celebration of their reemergence. Another new album followed, as well as an appearance at Jazzfest in New Orleans, a return engagement for the duo for the first time since 1991. Their history was chronicled in a 2019 Netfilx documentary.
On September 6, 2020, Sterling Magee — Mr. Satan — succumbed to complications related to COVID-19. He was 84 years old.