Candi Staton: ‘I was a pistol-packing mama’ | Candi Staton

I was born in Alabama. My mother was displeased with my father’s behaviour. We called him “the weekend alcoholic”. He’d work all week, but on the weekend he’d take all his money, get drunk and gamble it away.

When I was 10, my mother took my younger brother, my older sister and me on the bus to Cleveland, where we met Bishop Mattie Lou Jewell, a very rich, very tall Black woman who oversaw 30 churches and ran a school. To entertain ourselves, my sister and I would harmonise little songs. Bishop Jewell overheard us and said: “My church has a contest every Tuesday night.” We tore the place up.

Bishop Jewell invited us to attend her school for free, so long as we’d sing with her granddaughter, Naomi. My daddy came to visit, but got drunk, so my mother said: “Bishop Jewell can do more for you girls than I can, I’m going to let you go.” When we got to Nashville, the grounds were so beautiful. We didn’t stay in the dormitory, but in the big house. We taught Naomi how to harmonise and became the Jewel Gospel Trio.

The Chitlin’ Circuit is where I learned to get tough. Sometimes the promoters would run away with the money. [Singers] Johnnie Taylor and Tyrone Davis sat me down and said, “Girl, you need a gun.” When promoters tried to get smart with me, I’d take out my little 32, lay it on the desk, and say: “Don’t mess with me or I’ll shoot you.” They’d pay me, I’d go home and put my little gun back in my purse sleeve. I was a pistol-packing mama.

I’ve been married five times. My third husband I was never married to. He was a gangster and a conman. He hired somebody to pretend to be a judge and falsified the paperwork. I didn’t have to divorce him as we were never married.

I never met Elvis, but he wrote me a letter after I sang In the Ghetto, saying I did a great job. I was in the process of divorcing [singer-songwriter] Clarence Carter at the time. I don’t know what happened to the letter. I didn’t have a clue how important it could have been.

When you get to 82, it’s time to call it in. I’m not saying these are my final shows, because I don’t know what God has in store for me, but that’s what we’re preparing for. I’m writing books, I’m writing songs. I won’t be idle, I just won’t be on stage.

In America they put me in the category of gospel singer. I don’t mind, because that’s what I am, but we have an old-fashioned religious mindset here. When I come to the UK, you all know my songs! I bring back stuff – clothes and shoes. People say, “Where in the world did you get that?” and I say, “Oh, I got it from London.”

Candi Staton performs at the Love Supreme Jazz Festival, East Sussex, 30 June to 2 July (lovesupremefestival.com)

I was born in Alabama. My mother was displeased with my father’s behaviour. We called him “the weekend alcoholic”. He’d work all week, but on the weekend he’d take all his money, get drunk and gamble it away.

When I was 10, my mother took my younger brother, my older sister and me on the bus to Cleveland, where we met Bishop Mattie Lou Jewell, a very rich, very tall Black woman who oversaw 30 churches and ran a school. To entertain ourselves, my sister and I would harmonise little songs. Bishop Jewell overheard us and said: “My church has a contest every Tuesday night.” We tore the place up.

Bishop Jewell invited us to attend her school for free, so long as we’d sing with her granddaughter, Naomi. My daddy came to visit, but got drunk, so my mother said: “Bishop Jewell can do more for you girls than I can, I’m going to let you go.” When we got to Nashville, the grounds were so beautiful. We didn’t stay in the dormitory, but in the big house. We taught Naomi how to harmonise and became the Jewel Gospel Trio.

The Chitlin’ Circuit is where I learned to get tough. Sometimes the promoters would run away with the money. [Singers] Johnnie Taylor and Tyrone Davis sat me down and said, “Girl, you need a gun.” When promoters tried to get smart with me, I’d take out my little 32, lay it on the desk, and say: “Don’t mess with me or I’ll shoot you.” They’d pay me, I’d go home and put my little gun back in my purse sleeve. I was a pistol-packing mama.

I’ve been married five times. My third husband I was never married to. He was a gangster and a conman. He hired somebody to pretend to be a judge and falsified the paperwork. I didn’t have to divorce him as we were never married.

I never met Elvis, but he wrote me a letter after I sang In the Ghetto, saying I did a great job. I was in the process of divorcing [singer-songwriter] Clarence Carter at the time. I don’t know what happened to the letter. I didn’t have a clue how important it could have been.

When you get to 82, it’s time to call it in. I’m not saying these are my final shows, because I don’t know what God has in store for me, but that’s what we’re preparing for. I’m writing books, I’m writing songs. I won’t be idle, I just won’t be on stage.

In America they put me in the category of gospel singer. I don’t mind, because that’s what I am, but we have an old-fashioned religious mindset here. When I come to the UK, you all know my songs! I bring back stuff – clothes and shoes. People say, “Where in the world did you get that?” and I say, “Oh, I got it from London.”

Candi Staton performs at the Love Supreme Jazz Festival, East Sussex, 30 June to 2 July (lovesupremefestival.com)