Fresh Air - Remembering Gospel Singer Cissy Houston / MLB Legend Pete Rose

Episode Date: October 11, 2024

We remember singer Cissy Houston, who died Oct. 7 at the age of 91. She got her start in gospel and sang backup vocals for Elvis, Dusty Springfield, Wilson Pickett, Van Morrison and Aretha Franklin, most notably on "A Natural Woman." She was also the mother of Whitney Houston. Houston spoke with Terry Gross in 1998. Also, we remember Major League Baseball's Pete Rose, a legend on the field who was banned from baseball because he bet on the game. He died Sept. 30 at the age of 83. Rose spoke with Dave Davies in 2004. TV critic David Bianculli reviews the new film Saturday Night, a dramatization of the first episode of SNL. Learn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

Support for this podcast and the following message come from the NPR Wine Club, which has generated over $1.75 million to support NPR programming. Whether buying a few bottles or joining the club, you can learn more at nprwineclub.org slash podcast. Must be 21 or older to purchase. This is Fresh Air. I'm Dave Davies. Sissy Houston, the gospel singer and backup vocalist who guided her daughter Whitney Houston to stardom, died Monday at the age of 91. Sissy Houston began singing on the gospel circuit as a child. She also sang secular music. She performed with the Sweet Inspirations, the group that backed Aretha Franklin, and she sang backup vocals for Elvis Presley, Solomon Burke, Dusty Springfield, Wilson Pickett, Van Morrison, The Drifters, and Dionne Warwick, who was her

niece. In a New York Times obituary, Robert Darden, who wrote several books on gospel music, said of Houston, she was a significant figure not because she sold a lot of records, but because of the people she influenced who did sell a lot, and because of her work as a sustainer and nurturer of the gospel music tradition. For more than 50 years, Sissy Houston was the choir director for the New Hope Baptist Church in Newark, where she got her start as a singer. She endured the double tragedy of the death of her daughter Whitney, who drowned in a hotel bathtub in 2012, and three years later, the loss of her granddaughter and Whitney's daughter,

Bobbi Christina Brown, who was found unresponsive in her home bathtub and died shortly after. Cherry spoke with Sissy Houston in 1998. At the time, Houston had written her autobiography, How Sweet the Sound, My Life with God and Gospel. They began with music from Sissy Houston's Grammy Award-winning gospel album, Face to Face. This is God Don't in heaven. God way down in hell. He's God. He's God. God don't ever change.

He's God. He's God, my God. Always will be God. You see, he's spoken to the mountains. He said, how great I am. I want you to get up in the morning, children, shift around like lambs. He's God.

God don't ever change. He's God. He's God, my God. Always will be God. He's God in the time of sickness. God is a doctor too. In the time of trouble, He's truly a God to you. Sissy Houston, welcome to Fresh Air. Thank you so very much for having me. So how old were you when you started singing in the family group?

Five years old. I was five years old, and they had to put me on a stool in order to see me. And, of course, at five years old, I wanted to be out playing with everyone else. And it was kind of difficult for me. But there was no question. I didn't have a choice. You must develop a great ear for harmony when you start singing close harmony at the age of five. For sure, I really did. And I prefer it. I like, a lot of times, a cappella. That is first and foremost in teaching, as far as I'm concerned, that the

harmonies be right. So how did you first start hearing secular music, and who were some of the performers that you first heard? Well, Donna Washington was one of my favorite people, and I love her. Today, I love her. Sarah Vaughan went to school with my sister, so she lived in the neighborhood also. I listened to her, Jimmy Witherspoon. I loved him. B.B. King. You know, people like that. The blues. I love the blues. Things like that. I'd love to hear the story of how you became a backup singer, I think that Dionne Warwick relates to this story. Dionne Warwick and her sister, Didi, were backup singers.

And had you known them from church choir? No, they're my nieces. They're your nieces? Yes, they are. Oh, wow, small world. Both of them are. So how does Dionne Warwick's having been a backup singer relate to you having become one? Well, actually, Dionne had something else to do that night with the Shirelles.

And my husband was managing them at the time. Managing the Shirelles or Dionne Warwick? No, no, no. Dionne and her group and background singers. Dee Dee, Dionne, and another kid, Sylvia. And he was managing them, and he had a session to do, and of course he couldn't stop her from going with the Shirelles. That was a great opportunity for her. So he asked me, would I do it?

I said, yeah, I'll do it. I didn't? I said, yeah, I'll do it. I didn't really want it because I had just had a baby like a month before that. But anyhow, I did. We wrapped up and went into New York. And at first, the guy didn't want it. He wanted to cancel the session. So my husband said, well, just listen, you know, and whatnot. And they did.

And after that, they wanted me. I finished the whole week with them. They wanted me. They didn't want, you know, they wanted to go back. They liked the sound and all of that. And that's how I got started in it. After singing backup for a while, you ended up singing with Aretha Franklin as one of her backup singers. I worked with Aretha when she was on Columbia also.

The earlier days before she got to Atlantic, which she did some marvelous music, just wasn't appreciated, I guess, like it should have been. Then she came to Atlantic and and yeah, and it looked like our paths met again and wound up singing background for her, yeah, a lot. In your memoir, you say that one of your favorites of the Aretha tracks is Natural Woman, and you worked out the background parts on this. Can you tell us a little bit about how you did that, what you were looking for? Well, I don't know. You always, when you work out background, I worked out background parts on most of the things that I did.

But a natural woman was like, you try to enhance what she's done, you know. And that's the point. That's the gist of doing backgrounds, to make it better. And a lot of times, backgrounds make songs and really sell them. And I don't know how I worked it out right now. It was just repeating and thinking about doing something. You try one thing and that works or doesn't work. You try something else.

Now, had you come up with the ah-oos, or was that a producer who suggested that? No, that was me. That was you? Mm-hmm. I always wonder, like, how do you know what syllable to use? Like, why ah-oo instead of ooh-ah, or wah-oo? Neither do I.

I don't know why you try the one that works, I guess. Well, why don't we hear Natural Woman. Aretha Franklin, Sissy Houston is one of the backup singers on this, and she did the vocal arrangements, the harmonies. You came along to claim it I didn't know just what was wrong with me Till your kiss helped me name it Now I'm no longer doubtful Of what I'm living for

And if I make you happy, I don't need to do more Cause you make me feel, you make me feel You make me feel like a natural woman Woman I feel like a natural woman. Woman. Oh, baby, what you've done to me. What you've done to me. You make me feel so good inside.

Good inside. And I just want to be. Want to be close to you You make me feel so alive You make me feel You make me feel You make me feel like a natural woman That's Aretha Franklin with Sissy Houston, my guest, as one of the backup singers,

and she did the vocal harmonies for that track. Sissy Houston, did you feel a connection to Aretha Franklin through gospel music? Somewhat, because we both were in gospel music, did the same kind of you know things stirring kind of gospel and um yes i felt like a camaraderie with her and when you were doing backup vocals for aretha franklin did you find that everything you needed to know you knew from gospel music that the harmonies you were using came out of gospel music? Oh, sure. Oh, sure.

One thing about us, we pushed one another. We would just, you know, we'd feed off one another, which made it a terrific sound and such a great, you know, audience participation. They just loved it. Now, how would you record in the studio? Did you all sing at the same time, or was everything overdubbed? No. Well, sometimes we sang at the same time with Aretha. At that point, yeah, everything was overdubbed. On Columbia now, we sang at the same time. She sang in a booth and we

were in either maybe a booth or outside with something else. What was your preference? Well, Booth is good, and Overdubbin' is greater because you can really get a down sound, you know, good sound, balance and all that kind of business. And things that you think of, you know, that might work better on something, you don't have to stick with it, you know. What did you enjoy and what didn't you like about singing back up? I didn't like anything, you know.

I loved singing back around. I just loved singing it and creating something and realizing the outcome and making it. It was sounding great and good. We sounded good and great, and most of all, it sold records. Now, you had an album of your own in the mid-'70s that has since been reissued, and on this you were the lead singer,

all secular songs, all cover recordings. And in fact, why don't we pause here and listen to a cover you did of one of your niece's hits. And this is I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself, one of the Burt Bacharach songs. Do you want to say anything

about recording this and doing it your way? Well, I always, I just like the song, always did. And there was no kind of reason to cover, but I just accepted I just liked the song and tried another way. did and there was no kind of reason to cover except that I just liked the song and tried another way.

Why don't we hear it? This is from the mid-70s Sissy Houston. Right. Cause I don't know what to do with myself Just don't know what to do with myself I'm so used to doing everything with you Learning everything but two But now that we're through I don't know what to do So don't, so don't know what to do

I don't know what to do So lonesome for you I don't know what to do I don't know what to do with myself I'm so lonesome for you I could cry Go into a movie Oh, it makes me feel bad Parties make me feel so sad Cause I'm not with you I don't know what to do So lonesome for you That's Sissy Houston from a secular album that she made in the mid-70s.

Where were you in your career when your daughter Whitney Houston was born? I was pretty much doing a great deal of backgrounds. In fact, I was in the studio the night before I went to the hospital. What were you recording? I don't know what we were recording. We were recording, I was putting on something, I imagine it was for Aretha or somebody like that. And Tom Dowd, who was the engineer at that point, said,

says, yeah, are you all right? Are you all right? I said, fine, come on, roll the tape. And they were nervous. They were nervous, Rick. Well, it must have been hard to take those big deep breaths you need to sing when you're ready to give birth. Not really. You don't even think about it, you know. I was singing like a market bird when I was pregnant. So when you became a mother

and you were on the road a lot, you know, in recording studios and I guess doing some performing as well, when did you decide to come off the road? Well, it just, I really got tired. I got tired of hearing my children cry, Mommy, why do you have to go? And I decided that I would do something else by myself.

What? Well, I was becoming an artist in my own right, and I had an opportunity to do so. And that's when I left Sweet Inspirations and became a single artist because I was the oldest one of the group, and they wanted to do other things. They wanted to wear things that I didn't feel like I could afford to do that with my three kids and representing my, you know. You want to give us an example of what you mean?

No. No, okay. No, not really. It just closed. It, you know, didn't become me. Right. That's all. When did you realize that Whitney could really sing?

Ah, I guess she must have been around 11 when she really sang her first solo, and it was great. Before that, she always liked to practice in the basement of some kind. She loved to dance and things like that, and I used to take her with me all the time, so she was exposed to that kind of, you know, things. And she was good at what she did, you know. But then at 11, I think that's when I really realized

that she really could sing. And I never did think about having a future until she decided that that's what she wanted to do. I thought she was going to be a veterinarian. And when you realized that she wanted to sing professionally, did you try to encourage or discourage her? Well, I tried to tell her of all the negatives, you know. And there were so many positives also.

But it's your choices that you make. If you don't mind my asking, your speaking voice today sounds a little raspy. Your singing voice sounds really full and clear. Does your voice kind of change during the day, or is your singing voice and your speaking voice different? It's different. It's different? Yes. Everybody's always so surprised when I sing so high, right? Oh, yeah. And my voice is so really low. Like you said, it's raspy. But I am tired. I have a cold. So that's probably why. I'm usually not this raspy. Right. Okay. Okay. And what's it like for you to sing in a range that's

different from your speaking range? Has it always been that way? Yeah, it's always been that way. Even when you were a girl, you were singing higher than you were speaking? I was a contralto when I was a kid. Very low voice. Very low, very deep. Pronounced, you know, it was wonderful, like an organ. And I always wanted to sing high. So to develop my range, that's what I did.

I did scales and kept going up and up. You know what I'm saying? All right. I think a lot of listeners, when they hear, say, an Aretha Franklin record, act as if they are one of the backup singers singing along. It's actually, I think, a lifelong fantasy of a lot of people to have been, I guess to have been you in a way, to have been the backup singer on Aretha's records. And I'm wondering, like, do you sing backups

when you hear one of those records played back, say, in a restaurant or something? All the time. In fact, rather than learn the lead parts, I'm usually doing the background, you know, in my house or whatever, you know. I think that's the most, they made a lot of the lead parts. I'm usually doing the background, you know, in my house or whatever, you know. I think that's the most, they made a lot of the records now.

You know, the background was most important. It sure was. Do you have a favorite of all the records you've sung backups on? I guess I like that one, Natural Woman. I like Preacher Man by Dusty Springfield. And I did a couple of Whitney's. I loved all of those.

Oh, I guess I should have realized that. You're doing the backups on Whitney's records. Some of them, yeah. I want to dance with somebody and how will I know? And one, I forget the name of the other one.

It was a slow one about my man, whatever. Yeah. That must have felt good. It felt very, very good. It felt odd. I'm doing the backup on my baby, my kid's record. And it was great. It was great.

Well, I want to thank you very much for talking with us. It's my pleasure. And thank you for having me. How will I know if he really loves me? I say a prayer with every heartbeat. I fall in love whenever we meet. I'm asking you, don't you know about these things? Sissy Houston spoke with Terry Gross in 1998. She died Monday at the age of 91. After a break, we'll hear an excerpt of my 2004 interview with baseball's Pete Rose, who died last week.

And David Bianculli reviews a new film about the first episode of Saturday Night Live. I'm Dave Davies, and this is Fresh Air. I am a singer. I'm but one voice. I sing to free myself. To let my soul rejoice. He is my passion. My soul rejoiced. He is my passion.

He is my light. He keeps all hope alive and us through the night We are his children We're truly blessed We shout to all who'll hear We'll equality test Hi, this is Molly C.V. Nusberg, digital producer at Fresh Air. And this is Terry Gross, host of the show.

One of the things I do is write the weekly newsletter. And I'm a newsletter fan. I read it every Saturday after breakfast. The newsletter includes all the week's shows, staff recommendations, and Molly picks timely highlights from the archive. It's a fun read. It's also the only place where we tell you what's coming up next week, an exclusive. So subscribe at whyy.org slash fresh air and look for an email from Molly every Saturday morning. This message comes from Wise, the app for doing things in other currencies. Send, spend or receive money internationally and always get the real time mid-market exchange rate with no hidden fees. Download the Wise app today or visit wise.com. T's and C's apply.

This election season, you can expect to hear a lot of news, some of it meaningful, much of it not. Give the Up First podcast 15 minutes, sometimes a little less, and we'll help you sort it out, what's going on around the world and at home. Three stories, 15 minutes, Up First every day. Listen every morning, wherever you get your podcasts. When voters talk during an election season, we listen, we ask questions, we follow up, and we bring you along to hear what we learned. Get closer to the issues, the people, and your vote at the NPR Elections Hub. Visit npr.org slash elections. It's a high-stakes election year, so it's not enough to just follow along you need to understand

what's happening so you are fully informed come november every weekday on the npr politics podcast our political reporters break down important stories and backstories from the campaign trail so you understand why it matters to you listen to the NPR Politics Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. This is Fresh Air. I'm Dave Davies. Pete Rose, one of the most accomplished players ever to compete in Major League Baseball and one of the most controversial, died last week at the age of 83. Rose reached extraordinary heights in the game, a 17-time All-Star, winner of three World Series titles, and the all-time Major League hits leader, before it all came crashing down with an investigation into his gambling habit. In 1989, baseball commissioner Bart Giamatti banned him

for life from the game after concluding Rose had bet on baseball. He also served five months in prison for evading taxes on his gambling earnings and baseball memorabilia sales. That was 35 years ago, and Rose spent the rest of his life campaigning for readmission to the game, which could get him into baseball's Hall of Fame. It never happened, but in 2004, he wrote a book called My Prison Without Bars, a memoir in which he finally admitted he'd bet on baseball games and pleaded for an end to his exile. That's when I spoke to Pete Rose about his baseball career and his gambling problem. Pete Rose, welcome to Fresh Air. Thank you, Dave. Good to have you. You know, I'm going to share with you my favorite Pete Rose

memory as a player. Okay. It was an at-bat late in an inning. You were playing for the Phillies, and I don't remember the exact team you were playing against, but the situation was it was late innings. The Phillies were down several runs, and what you needed to do in that situation was get on base, not get a double, not get a triple, just find a way to get to first base, a walk, a hit batsman, anything. The pitcher makes a mistake. You're batting left-handed, I believe, throws it at your right calf.

And knowing the game situation, in the split second it takes you to react, your leg doesn't move because you know that if you're hit, you're on first base. The ball whacks your leg hard, flies 30 feet away. You glare back at the pitcher, fling the bat to the side, sprint to first. That's a kind of focus that's really unique in the game. And I wanted to ask you, what do you think gives you that kind of single-minded focus on baseball when you were a player? Well, I think the fact that my top priority playing the game of baseball

was always, one, to be involved in the game, know the situation of the game of baseball was always, one, to be involved in the game, know the situation of the game, and two, and probably most importantly, always wanting to win the game. I think that's why you play the game of sports, especially professionally, is someone's got to win, someone's got to lose, and I always recommended winning a lot more than I did losing. And you worked at it. I mean, you studied every pitcher.

You charted every pitch. Well, yeah, you have to. Yeah, it's your occupation. I mean, there's only 10 pitchers in your league, and there's 15 teams. So there's only 150 pitchers that you have to have written down in the back of your head. And the guys I had trouble with were rookie pitchers until I saw them once. And once I saw them, because for Dave Davies to tell me this guy's got a fastball breaking ball and a changeup doesn't mean anything until I see, is this fastball a sinker?

Is it a straight fastball? Is it a sailing fastball? You know, is it a riser? Or is this curveball a downer? Is it a sidewinder? And so you have to see and get firsthand experience what the guy's ball does. You write that when there was a rain delay, other guys would be playing cards in the clubhouse. You'd find a way to get to the cage and take batting practice.

You just never say. Well, sometimes. Not all the time. Now, what I said, you probably read what I said, is a lot of times during rain delays nowadays because of the indoor batting cages they have underneath the stadiums. I mean, I know several times during rain delays, I was in the batting cage throwing Joe Morgan extra batting practice because he might have been in a little bit of a slump at the time,

not a lot of times with Joe Morgan, but more than twice, and then he would do the same for me. So the best time to work on your swing, Dave, is during the game if you can, and the only time you can is a rain delay, or right after the game. You know, I used to take my extra batting practice right after the game because it's fresh on my mind what I'm doing wrong, and you're still all leathered up from the game. And if you go take your shower and go home and come to the ballpark the next day, well, one, you're going to do it so much you're going to be tired for the game, and two, you might have forgot what you were doing wrong from the time you left the ballpark

the night before. So I always thought that the best time to take extra batting practice to work on a slump if you were in one was right after the game. You know, I mentioned the focus because you write in the book that you now suspect you had attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. I mean, do you think that you had a different kind of mental attitude and focus? I mean, did you acquire differently? Yeah, I think I had a different mental attitude based on my upbringings. I had a defiant mother and a super, super, super aggressive father that hated to lose. And that was instilled in me and my brother and my two sisters all while we were growing up.

I mean, you know, religiously, my dad was a basketball player. I was the ball boy. I was a water boy on the football team. I was a bat boy on the baseball team. And I can remember his attitude when they would lose a game on the way home. He wasn't the same person. He wasn't nasty, but he just wasn't in as good a mood when he lost the game as opposed to when he won the game. And if he's in a bad mood, then that would

put my mom in a bad mood because she wanted to be around a positive situation. So winning was a prerequisite to comfort and happiness. How would you react after you, if you ever made a mental error or just blew it? Well, it bothered me. It bothered me because, one, physical errors are part of the game. And I always thought if you made mental errors that you were letting down the pitcher. And if I made a mental error, it would bother me more if I struck out four times, especially if we lost a game because of a mental error. Because if you understand the game and you practice the game the right way and you study the game, you should know what base to throw to,

when not to get thrown at a second or get thrown at a third, different things that are mental errors. And there's a lot of mental errors made every day, and it's okay to make a mental error. But once you make that mental error, you've got to write that down in the back of your head and don't do it again. I think you write in the book you'd be hell at home. You'd stomp head and don't do it again. I think you're right in the book. You'd be hell at home.

You'd stomp around and finally have to let out a big scream sometimes. Yeah, because my wife could actually tell, not if I struck out four times or if I got four hits, but she could tell if I made a blunder, it costs us a game. Because I would take that away from the ballpark. I wouldn't take striking out four times away from the ballpark, or I wouldn't take going four for four away from the ballpark. I wouldn't take striking out four times away from the ballpark, or I wouldn't take going four for four away from the ballpark. That was part of the game.

Because I just felt like when you made mental errors, you're letting people down who have families too, and those people you let down because of a mental error are usually the pitchers. Right. I wanted to ask about your relationship with Mike Schmidt. He was, of course, one of the greats of the game, a Hall of Fame third baseman. He has been one of your staunchest defenders and advocates in all the controversies you've faced. I mean, really advocated for you to get back into the game.

You write that when you joined the Phillies in 79, Schmidt was already an all-star and a big player. You describe him as a guy who was the greatest player on the field three days a week, but when you got there, you made him a great player every day. How? Well, I think I helped him. See, what happened, Dave, is, you know, Mike Schmidt, when I got there, was a great player. As a matter of fact, he's the greatest player I ever played with,

and he's the greatest third baseman ever to play the game of baseball. But Mike had to understand that regardless of how good he played, he was only going to hit from 40 to 50 home runs, and you play 162 games. But what I made Mike understand is you can win games with your leadership. You can win games with your glove. You can win games with your speed. You can win games hitting home runs. Pete Rose recorded in 2004.

We'll hear more of our conversation after this break. This is Fresh Air. This message comes from the podcast Strict Scrutiny. Join law experts Melissa Murray, Leah Littman, and Kate Shaw as they break down the biggest legal headlines and SCOTUS decisions. New episodes drop every Monday. Subscribe to Strict Scrutiny wherever you get your podcasts and on YouTube. This message comes from critics at large. Join the New Yorker's writers as they dissect the latest in pop culture, television, film, and more. From the romanticization of Las Vegas to the obsession of tarot cards, tune in every Thursday to deepen your knowledge. This message comes from Pushkin. In Revenge of the Tipping Point, best-selling author Malcolm Gladwell returns to the subject of social epidemics and tipping points and the dark side of contagious phenomena. Available wherever books are sold and wherever you get your audiobooks. This is Fresh Air, and we're listening to the interview I recorded with baseball legend Pete Rose in 2004.

He'd published a book titled My Prison Without Bars, in which he admitted having bet on baseball and advocated for the removal of his banishment from the game. Rose died last week at the age of 83. Now, Pete, you say you were around gambling a lot as a kid. Tell me... Well, let me rephrase that. Okay. I was around going to the races. Okay.

You know, when I was a kid, I didn't know anything about, or my dad didn't know anything about bookmakers or casinos weren't a big thing or anything like that. But most of the guys in our neighborhood would patronize the races periodically. Not on a daily basis because my dad was a banker and he went to the bank Monday through Friday. But every once in a while on a Saturday or Sunday with Don Zimmer's dad, Dud, they would go over to, at that time, it was called Latonia. Right.

And he would take me with him. Okay. So not immersed in gambling, but it was sort of a part of the culture there in your neighborhood in Cincinnati. Absolutely. Absolutely. Absolutely. Now, when you, you write about coming up as a minor leaguer and you moved up very quickly to the majors, I mean, because, you know, the hustle and talent you showed. Were you betting then? Were you gambling then at all?

I mean, as a young player. I don't think, you're talking about the minor leagues? Well, the minor leagues in your early years in the majors, in the 70s, yeah. Well, I think my early years in the majors, when we went to spring training, most all the players were at the dog track every night, St. Pete. One, because they had the best prime rib you could ever taste. And two, it was just where everybody went to do things at night. I mean, just, you know, Joe Torre was there and Zimmer was there and a lot of my teammates were there.

I mean, you know, you wouldn't go by yourself. And you didn't go every night, mostly weekends. Right. Gambling, of course, was a legal activity in all these places and a lot of people did it. But clearly at some point it became a different part of your life. And that's kind of what I wanted to get to. I mean, you described yourself as a recreational gambler a lot of those years. When did it get different? When did it become a problem? Well, I think in the latter part of the 80s, I just got a little bit out of control and

got associated with the wrong people and just started wagering a little bit too much. Do you have an insight into sort of how that happened? Was there something in your life that drove you to do that? The only thing I can think of is that I was through as a player. Up until, you know, 87, I was a player. And once I stopped playing, stopped taking batting practice, stopped taking fielding practice, things like that, I had a void there. And I just had more time to think. The back picture of your book is you standing on first base after you finally broke Ty Cobb's record, the all-time hit record.

And your hand is over your face because the tears are coming. You're thinking of your dad. But you write in the book that when you finally broke that record, you felt a letdown. I don't mean that moment, but in the days and weeks that followed, there was a letdown you felt. Describe that. Why was that? Well, because there was such a buildup to the record. I mean, I had hundreds of riders following every move that I made. And, you know, that's one of the most coveted records there ever was in baseball.

You know, the reason I survived as a baseball player is I always needed challenges. You understand what I'm saying? Right. I wanted to be the first singles hitter to hit 100,000. I wanted to be the all-time hit leader. I wanted to be the all-time this guy. I wanted to play five different positions. And, you know, not right when I did it,

but after I did it, all that was left is, what is the final number going to be? You know, I run out of challenges, individual challenges. I guess what I'm curious about, I mean, for a guy who at his baseball career was so focused, so committed to doing everything he needed to do to win, and so careful and conscientious to have gotten as careless as you ultimately did to bet on baseball and to bet as frequently as you did on a lot of things,

suggests that you did have a gambling problem. I mean, that there must have been some compulsion that made you make a lot of bets and a lot of fairly big bets. And I'm wondering how you tamed that demon. I mean, do you no longer feel like you need to get in the action every day? Well, first of all, you have to understand that if you're inside my head and you lose what I lose, and as you sit here and talk to me today, I'm 62 years old now. I'm a little different than I was when I was 42 or when I was 32 or when I was 50.

And you see things from a different perspective. And I don't want to go through what I went through the last 14 years. And if you start gambling again, that's what's going to happen. And I'm smart enough to understand that. I mean, that's the way I look at it. I don't have no desires to bet on a Super Bowl or bet on a basketball game or bet on a... I have no desires to do that. It's no fun for me anymore. I don't get the kick out of it. You know, people write books for a lot of reasons. I mean, this is your second.

One of the reasons, of course, is to sell copies. But this book of yours is different, I think. I mean, there was a mission here. You wanted to tell the truth, apologize, and strengthen your case to return to baseball. And there are a lot of ways to apologize, of course, a lot of ways to tell a story. And I'm wondering if you thought much and talked to your collaborator much about how best to, you know, well, pardon the expression, but to package this apology so that, you know, it would help you get where you want to be, which is back in baseball.

Before the people were misled here, there's only three chapters about gambling. So you've got to remember the book is about 62 years of my life. It's just not about the gambling allegations. Right, although, I mean, a lot of it does involve some of the controversies that came from it. I mean, you wrote an earlier book about baseball. I mean, it's a very different experience to have to go to prison, and I think those are told well. Probably the most quoted part of the new book in the immediate aftermath of its release was where you say that maybe you ought to bear your feelings a lot more,

but that you're just not built that way, and now let's move on. And that provoked something of a reaction. What do you make of the reaction to that, Pete? Well, here's the way I look at it. That some guys that read the book think I'm remorseful enough. Other guys don't think I'm remorseful enough. Now, I could have took and said I'm sorry in a different way in 10 or 12 more pages. Then I could just hear him saying how phony I am. I'm not a real remorseful type guy.

The picture on the back page, it took an eight and a half, eight and a half minutes of a nine-minute stand ovation to make me cry. I don't go to movies and cry. I'm not a crier. I'm not a hugger. You know, my dad never hugged me and kissed me and told me he loved me. I knew he did. But I do it to my sons. I mean, I tell them I love them.

I hug them. I kiss them. But I'm just not a real delicate type guy. And if I was, I wouldn't have got 4,200 hits. I mean, I'm a baseball player. You know, I'm not an author. I'm not a politician. You know, I'm a baseball player. You know, I'm not an author. I'm not a politician. You know, I'm a baseball player. And it takes a lot for me to say I'm sorry.

David, it's hard to put down remorse on a piece of paper. You know, it's easy for you to see me being remorseful if I'm on Charles Gibson or Bill O'Reilly or this show or that show because you're looking at my face, you're listening to my voice or on the radio, they're hearing my voice. It's all interpretation. It's how you want to read it. I mean, you know what I'm talking about? Yeah. It's all how you want to read it. Well, another issue.

How did you read it? How did you read it? Let me ask you. You don't know me, but how did you read it? Well, at times I thought you were really trying to get at what made you tick. And I thought that was really interesting. Okay. That's good. And I'm not sure how you apologize deeply enough to make everybody happy. Well, see, that's the point. You're absolutely right there, Dave. That's the point. How can you do it? What's the fine line to make everybody happy?

What's the fine line where I don't overdo it? Then the guys in the media say, what a phony-ass book that is. That's not Pete Rose getting down on his hands and knees and begging. That's not him. You understand what I'm saying? That was tough about writing this book because my personality is who I am, and my personality is how I act. Maybe the mistake was the three words, let's move on.

Well, I'm trying to move on. I'm trying to move on, but I'm sitting here talking to you. All you're doing is relishing in the past. I want to move on. I've got a clean slate. I'm trying to move on. Why won't anybody let me move on. I've got a clean slate. I'm trying to move on. Why won't anybody let me move on? All I've been hearing, all I've been hearing, Dave, for the last 14 years, and George Bush even said it on Bob Costas,

if Pete comes clean, give him a second chance and let him go on with his life. Well, I've come clean. Now what's the problem now? Pete Rose, thanks much for joining us. Dave, thank you for being fair, and it was a pleasure talking to you. Pete Rose, recorded in 2004. Here's a postscript to that conversation 20 years ago. It was one of the first interviews I did when I began filling in for Fresh Air host Terry Gross.

Rose and I were in different cities connected by fiber optic cable. While we were waiting to get started and he didn't realize his mic was open, I heard him say to his publicist, do you think it's bad that I have this guy instead of the girl? That was Pete, always focused on optimizing results. He died September 30th. He was 83. Coming up, David Bianculli reviews Saturday Night, the new film about the making of the first episode of NBC's Saturday Night Live. This is Fresh Air. This message comes from the Pop Culture Moms podcast. Best friends and pop culture enthusiasts Andy and Sabrina seek advice from the moms we love most on TV and movies, exploring the highs and lows of parenting.

Find Pop Culture Moms wherever you get podcasts. If you love our Fresh Air podcast, you should definitely try NPR+. With an upgrade to the NPR Plus bundle, you get access and perks from over 20 of NPR's most popular podcasts and more. And with Fresh Air Plus, you get sponsor-free listening and exclusive bonus episodes every week. So basically, give a little and get a lot in return. Visit plus.npr.org. This message comes from the Open Book with Jenna podcast. Join the Today Show's Jenna Bush Hager for inspiring conversations with celebrities, experts, and authors. Hear from guests like Stephen Colbert, Nicholas Sparks, and more. Search

Open Book with Jenna to follow now. This is Fresh Air. Today, a new film called Saturday Night, already available in a few cities, is released nationwide. It's the story of the very first episode of NBC's Saturday Night Live, and we turned to our TV critic, David Bianculli, for a review of this new movie about an old television show. It's perfectly deliciously appropriate that the release date for the new movie Saturday Night was selected as October 11th, because that was the exact date back in 1975 that the pioneering, still-running late-night variety series premiered on NBC. The idea of a 90-minute live variety show featuring a guest host, musical guests,

and a repertory cast of comics already had been done very successfully by NBC. But that was in prime time, at the start of the 1950s, when Sid Caesar headlined your show of shows. This was a generation later, aimed at and produced, written, and performed by a new generation. And it was scheduled for late night in a time slot formerly occupied by reruns of Johnny Carson's Tonight Show. Fifty years later, Jason Reitman, whose movies include Juno, Whiplash, and the recent Ghostbusters Frozen Empire, has directed and co-written the Saturday Night film. It takes us back to the storm before the storm, the frantic 90 minutes leading up to the moment when that first Saturday Night Live went live. To succeed, this new movie has to serve and please two audiences at once.

Those who remember that first episode, and the original cast members of the not-ready-for-prime-time players, and the much larger, much younger audience, to whom such names as John Belushi, Gilda Radner, and Chevy Chase may be only distantly familiar, if not entirely unknown. But what this Saturday night film does superbly is feed on the energy and insanity. John Batiste plays one of the opening show's musical guests, Billy Preston, but off-screen he also provides the movie's percussive, energetic musical score,

which he composed and recorded nightly with his band after each day's filming. Reitman built a working set replicating the entirety of the show's Studio 8H so his cameras could swoop through hallways and control rooms in long, breathless takes, as in the movie Birdman or the TV series The West Wing. And from the moment the movie begins, there's a ticking clock, counting down nervously to the inevitable 11.30 p.m. live-to-air premiere. It's like an episode of 24, with similar intensity, except it's a comedy. And that 11.30 start was not as inevitable as you might think. A senior NBC executive, played by Willem Dafoe, ordered that a videotape of an old Tonight Show be queued up to play in

case he scrubbed the live show just before lunch. He grabs the show's producer, Lorne Michaels, played by Gabriel LaBelle, to express his support and his doubts. He asks about some problems which are punctuated by the briefest of flashbacks, but also are punctuated by Batiste's propulsive music. I can only imagine what must be running through your mind, the thought, no matter how improbable, that you might not make it to there. That didn't even occur to me. Really?

I heard that you were having some technical difficulties. Not that I know of. I just heard that your writers were stoned, your actors were physically assaulting each other. The sound system was down. What the hell is happening? And a fire broke out earlier. At one point, Lauren gets on the same elevator as another NBC executive, Dick Ebersole, played by Cooper Hoffman,

and one of the opening show's comedy acts, an unknown comic named Andy Kaufman. Kaufman, played by Nicholas Braun, already is in character, listening politely as Ebersole presses Lauren for details about the show. So, big night. That being said, I am getting calls from the staff about a final script. You know, they're wondering what the hell the show is, Lauren. It's fine. They'll know when they see it.

Do you know what the show is? Don't be ridiculous, Dick. Of course I do. Have you had dinner, Andy? Yes, I have ice cream. Terrific. And pancake. Terrific. One reason this new movie, Saturday Night, works so well

is because it's so wonderfully cast. Gabriel Lebel, who played another young showbiz talent as the lead in Steven Spielberg's The Fablemans, is a delightful stand-in for the baby-faced Lorne Michaels. The actors cast as Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, and the rest of the repertory company are all believable and entertaining. Lamorne Morris, who was a standout as the persistent deputy in the most recent installment of FX's Fargo, is a delight as original SNL cast member Garrett Morris. And oh my, the actors playing the opening night guests.

Nicholas Braun, who played the hapless Greg in Succession, not only plays Andy Kaufman perfectly, but does double duty by also nailing an impersonation of Muppet creator Jim Henson. Musician Naomi McPherson looks and sounds eerily like Janis Ian. And the crucial role of George Carlin, the guest host of that first show, is embodied flawlessly and hilariously by a virtually unrecognizable Matthew Rhys, once the star of FX's The Americans. We see all these characters in rehearsal and in chaos

as Lauren tries to nail down the contents and logistics of the opening show. It's a non-stop joy ride and thrill ride, and a testament to the showbiz adage that the show must go on. In the case of Saturday Night Live, it did, and it has. David Bianculli is a professor of television studies at Rowan University. He reviewed the new movie Saturday Night, which is about the first episode of Saturday Night Live. The show has entered its 50th season. On Monday's show, actress and producer Riley Keough joins us to talk about the memoir she co-authored with her mother, Lisa Marie Presley, who, before her unexpected death,

chronicled her childhood, her marriage to Michael Jackson, memories of her father, Elvis, and growing up in his shadow. I hope you can join us. To keep up with what's on the show and get highlights of our interviews, follow us on Instagram at NPR Fresh Air. Fresh Air's executive producer is Danny Miller. Our senior producer today is Roberta Shorrock. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham, with additional engineering support from Joyce Lieberman, Julian Hertzfeld, and Diana Martinez. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Phyllis Myers, Anne-Marie Baldonado, Sam Brigger, Lauren Krenzl, Teresa Madden, Monique Nazareth, Thea Chaloner, Susan. Nesbert and Sabrina Seward.

For Terry Gross and Tanya Mosley, I'm Dave Davies. Who's claiming power this election? What's happening in battleground states? And why do we still have the electoral college? All this month, the ThruLine podcast is asking big questions about our democracy and going back in time to answer them. Listen now to the ThruLine podcast from NPR. From poll numbers to talking points to all the drama, we get it. Election season can be a lot.

That's why here at NPR's Pop Culture Happy Hour podcast, we're in the business of providing a little release from the squeeze of the political season. Try out any of our shows on the latest in TV, movies, and music to keep you grounded and bring you back to Earth. New episodes every week on Pop Culture Happy Hour, only from NPR. Do you feel like there's more on your to-do list than you can accomplish? Or maybe the world's problems feel extra heavy these days. We can't eliminate stress, but we can manage it.

It's almost like I have a new operating system now. Like I tend to live more in this light. Stress Less, a quest to reclaim your calm. A new series from NPR's Life Kit podcast.