GRANDMASTER FLASH

Some hotel parking lot

San Diego, CA

June 15, 2002

Photo credit: Grandmaster Flash

It was a sunny summer day in San Diego. A friend of mine was playing the role of concert promoter and had set up an event at the local county fair. Scheduled to sign autographs was Grandmaster Flash. In case you aren’t familiar, he is one of the founding fathers of hip-hop. In the 1970s, he was a popular DJ in the Bronx who manipulated music using two turntables and savvy technical skills. His creative mixing techniques helped pioneer an entirely new genre of music.

On this day, he and his friends needed a ride. That’s where I came in.

I’d been wrangled in as executive chauffeur, designated to pick up the talent. It sounded exciting but didn’t make any sense as I am not at all familiar with San Diego. My friend didn’t think that mattered. The night before, he drove me through the route I was expected to take but left me with a confusing map and no directions. “You’ll figure it out,” he said.

The next day, I waited in the hotel parking lot until their transport van arrived. I greeted Mr. Flash with a smile and introduced myself, then sat in the lobby as they unpacked the van.

One after another, metal crates full of records were stacked near me then taken up to the room. It was impressive. These weren’t just any records. These were Grandmaster Flash’s records. It was like I was looking at Picasso’s paintbrushes. Fifteen minutes later the guys were ready to go.

As we walked out to my modest economy rental, Flash was on the cell phone repeatedly insisting, “It’s not about me, it’s the music.” He crammed into the seat behind me with a friend sitting to his right. The Grandmaster seemed irritated about the day he was already having, and I was nervous about the drive we were about to take, but I cheerfully said to his other friend who was sitting shotgun, “Okay, you get to help read the map.” He wasn’t very receptive to my idea of teamwork and promptly got out his cell phone. I was on my own and they were in for an adventure.

We pulled out of the driveway and I turned right, just as I’d practiced the night before. But that’s all I could remember. Four blocks later, I was already confused. I saw a busy street next to me but didn’t dare make any turns and get more lost. They talked amongst themselves about a beverage they were sharing as I bravely drove us in the wrong direction. I was happy to hear that they were entertaining themselves though. I was starting to worry.

Behind me, wearing a black jacket in the summer, Mr. Flash insisted on air conditioning. So while his friend played with the knobs on the dashboard, I sealed my fate. “I’m lost,” I announced. I made a U-turn then pulled over and asked, “Do you guys know how to get to the 5?” “What is that, a club?” Flash asked. “No. It’s a freeway,” I said. “Honey, we’re from New York. I don’t know where anything is around here.” That’s funny, I thought, neither do I.

I headed back to the hotel parking lot hoping to start over with a fresh set of eyes.

It was about then, at the worst possible time, that my cell phone rang. Just like in the movies. “Hey! How is everything going?” the promoter chirped. “I’m lost,” I said. Flash wanted to know how many people were waiting to meet him and unfortunately, because this was a poorly advertised event, there weren’t many.

He looked dumbfounded. This had been a complete flop. I was embarrassed but tried to remain calm. Flash was cool, but his friends seemed annoyed and influential. They wanted to blow this off and go back to the hotel. Since we were almost there, Flash agreed.

I pulled up and the two friends jumped out of the car leaving me alone with the Grandmaster. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he would have followed them and left me standing alone, but he didn’t.

Maybe because we got out of the car on the same side, or perhaps I was just blessed with amazing luck, but once we were standing beside each other Flash started to chat. I apologized for taking them on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride and he invited me and my friend to his show later that night. “We’ll chew the fat,” he said. “I just don’t want to go to this thing if no one is there.” “I understand,” I said.

We talked about nothing important for a few minutes and then I took a chance. “Do you think you could do me a favor?” I asked. “Sure, where is it?” he quickly responded, expecting me to produce a record for him to autograph, I suppose. I said, “Oh, no... Well, this is my version of that.” I got my camera and said, “I have this celebrity photo album. It’s just a bunch of pictures of me taken by celebrities. Will you take my picture?” 

This immediately lightened the mood.

He smiled at my unexpected request and curiously clarified, “So you don’t want me in this picture, you just want me to operate the machinery?” What a humble guy. Operating the machinery is what he is famous for.

He put record scratching on the map. And he was the first DJ to record it onto vinyl which allowed hip hop's new sound to make its way over to my little town on the California coast. I didn’t tell him that, as a pre-teen, my friends and I used to emulate this scratching sound by sliding the zipper on our jackets up and down. Instead, I just said, “Yes, please. And you can be in it if you want to, but you still have to push the button.”

His annoyed friend came back to see what the delay was all about, but when he saw that Flash and I were having fun he stayed. “So I can take this picture of anything?” Flash asked. “Yep. I just have to have my clothes on,” I said. They laughed. He took a regular photo of me standing by the car, then his friend offered to take one of me and the Grandmaster together. He snapped a quick photo, I got my camera back, and we said goodbye.

Now that I think about it, I should have asked Grandmaster Flash for his autograph. That was the whole reason I went to pick him up in the first place. That's what he'd set aside this afternoon to do. But I’ll be forever grateful that he was willing to take my picture after I drove them aimlessly around a San Diego business park. This photo makes it look like we had a great time together and thanks to Mr. Flash, in the last two minutes, we did.

Photo credit: His friend