A Soulman's Suburban Twilight

[MountainLaurel]

A sweet story about Wilson Pickett's last years living in the DC suburbs in Northern Virginia.

After the drugs and the diamonds, the rabble-rousing and the 1960s hit song "Mustang Sally," Wilson Pickett simply wanted what many people want: a quiet slice of suburbia, soaring ceilings and a nearby airport.

So, from 1999 until his death last week, the legendary singer lived in a tranquil subdivision of stately homes in Ashburn. There, the hotblooded soul icon, who once was accused of shouting death threats while driving his car across a neighbor's lawn in New Jersey, became known as a smiling, private man who enjoyed fishing and was always the first to wave.

Sure, he was a little different -- nearly everyone on Hyde Park Drive has small children, and Pickett lived alone. Then there were the limousines and taxis that often pulled up to his house in Loudoun County. But to most, Pickett was just another neighbor.

"He took walks like everyone else," said Melinda DiPrinzio, who lives down the street from the two-story, brick-facade home where Pickett lived until his death Jan. 19, by heart attack, at age 64. Funeral services are to be held today in Louisville.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/01/27/AR2006012701715.html

[dbt]

1. Damn, I LOVED Wilson Pickett!

He was the Baddest ****** In Show Business. Otis Redding couldn't carry Pickett's jockstrap when it came time to party. Marvin Gaye don't even need to talk about how many times he got laid, 'cause Pickett was always two notches up on him.

Aerosmith just thinks that "Cock Rock" was coined for them. The term was invented to describe Wilson Pickett onstage. Look it up. If Smokey Robinson was a snifter of Curvoisier, Pickett was a fruit jar full of Moonshine. Ike Turner had to steal "nice and rough" off of Pickett, 'cause he couldn't get to it on his own.

Dirty, Filthy Broadway, Pickett, God DAMN!!! You was so bad, water moccasins would back up when they saw you coming! I flew to California to see my Son on Christmas Day and I was thinking about you the whole way. Now I know why.

Rest In Glory Forever, You Magnificent Bastard!

Love from a white boy in Arkansas,
dbt
:cry: