Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, April 3, 1995 TAG: 9504030004
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: STACY JONES STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
satisfaction. I live and breathe it."
When asked to explain his former $400-a-day drug habit, the 39-year-old Brown squirms, breathes deeply and struggles for a reply.
"Curiosity, I guess," he said diffidently. "It went hand-in-hand with the music business. Everyone said, 'Just do it.' ''
Nearly three years after his last speedball, the cherubic looking vocalist still seems slightly bewildered as to how he got into that predicament.
"Everything went up my nose - my life and my career," he said.
Looking back at the year 1980, one would find Brown doing better than most. Although he still lived in his hometown of Bridgeport, Conn., he was slowly making a name for himself on both coasts as a recording artist. Miller High Life, Greyhound Bus Lines, British Knights and Kentucky Fried Chicken all used his voice to sell their products. In addition, CBS Records had signed him to a contract.
"It was exciting, a new dimension," Brown recalled. "I was hoping for fame and fortune."
Instead, he got hooked.
What began as recreation became a dependence, a chemical reliance deepened by the deaths, in 1982 and 1987 of his sister and mother, respectively.
"I needed to find something to escape the pain," Brown said. "I wasn't analyzing the situation. I just wanted to feel better for the moment."
"It wasn't about responsibility," he explained. "It was about being comfortable and being out of the situation psychologically."
Brown laughed easily and often while telling his story, though he clearly was uncomfortable discussing certain aspects of his past. Dressed in beige linen and carrying a brown leather organizer, he looked content, successful. As if he had always been that way. As if life had always been fair. Always manageable.
Throughout a decade of drug addiction, Brown had the same mien.
"No, I never had to rob stores or steal from my family to get drugs," he said. "I was in control. I camouflaged it well."
After a lifetime of running "a number of good kitchens," Michael's 66-year-old father, William Brown, lives in West Haven, Conn. Retired as a chef, he still does a few catering jobs when time permits, which isn't often since he became guardian of his two grandchildren. The teen-agers are the children of Michael's two sisters, Debra, who has multiple sclerosis, and Gail, who died in 1982 from the same disease.
Like his son, Willaim Brown is glad the bad times are gone.
"I didn't know, no, not right away, not right off the bat," William Brown said about his son's addiction. "But," he continued. "He came to see me once. He said he had a job in New York and needed money to get there. He was in a hurry, like he just wanted the money. I suspected then."
Michael was raised in a religious, two-parent family. His musical gifts were obvious early on. At age 4, with no prior training, he sat down at the family piano, started playing and sang "At the Cross."
"I thought it was natural, just like eating," Brown said. "I didn't think I was doing anything profound." But he was, and those inside and outside the church took notice.
By age 33 he had appeared on "American Bandstand" and had worked with singers Billy Preston and Al Green. It's anybody's guess why, with so many positives in his life, he decided to choose a negative.
William Brown thinks his son was simply "hanging around with the wrong crowd.''
According to Michael Brown, the "turning point" in his life came in August, 1989. He had spent the entire afternoon trying desperately to get high, and failing, despite partaking of his usual diet of dope.
"It must have been a sign from God," he said, shaking his head.
That evening, he decided to go to church and ask for help. One of the pastors suggested a long-term treatment program in Virginia. He knew the director of the center and said he would try to get Michael admitted.
A few days later, sitting in his father's living room, Michael Brown had two things to share with his dad: that he was a drug addict and that he was leaving to get treatment in Virginia.
"I had to do something," Michael Brown said. "I was afraid I was going to die in the streets."
The Youth Challenge Treatment Center in Newport News took some getting used to, Michael Brown said. Located in a depressed, prostitute-ridden area, it didn't seem to be the type of environment conducive to rehabilitation.
"When I found out I was going to Virginia, I thought I was going to a nice farm to dry out with pigs and cows," he remembered. "I was astounded when we stopped in Newport News."
But he got with the program and dealt with his problems.
"It was a spiritual boot camp," said Brown. "I believe the Lord gave me the change of heart."
A year later, Michael Brown was clean. Forgoing a return to Connecticut, he stayed on at Youth Challenge and served two years as one of the center's program directors.
"Mike was top man down there," said his father. "That was really beautiful. After he got help, he helped the other guys."
During this healing period, Michael Brown met Roanoke pastor R. Quigg Lawrence Jr. on a retreat in North Carolina. "He was so alive," said Brown. "I never met anyone like that before." And Lawrence had never met anyone who sang like Michael Brown.
"Our meeting was kind of unusual," said Lawrence. "I was with a pretty white group, sitting in a hot tub with this great mountain view, and here's this big black guy next to me, so, I say, 'What's up?' ''
Impressed by Brown's talent, the pastor often invited him to sing for his congregation at the Church of the Holy Spirit, Episcopal, which meets at the auditorium at North Cross School. When the church's musical director left, Lawrence offered the position to Brown, who accepted.
"I was shocked," Lawrence conceded. We're "a little, insignificant church with no money. Michael could have his pick of places to go." And if the pastor had any compunctions about his offer because of Brown's past, he refused to share them.
"I didn't grow up at the foot of the cross," said Lawrence, 35, whose father ran a recording studio in Richmond. "I stopped going to church when I was 18 and did a lot of drinking and drugs, like many in my age group. I wasn't in any position to throw stones."
With the protection of Youth Challenge soon to vanish, Brown felt a little uneasy about his move to Roanoke.
"I was starting over again, and now I would have to handle a little more responsibility," he said. "It was like walking again."
A resident of Roanoke since 1993, Brown has reclaimed his life - and his career. Currently working with New York-based Aquila Records, Brown will celebrate the release of his new album, "Hymns for Him," on Saturday at 7 p.m. in the North Cross School auditorium. Although his star has risen - again - Brown still strives to share his talents by devoting much of his time to community service.
"He would understate it, but practically his whole week is devoted to volunteer work," Lawrence said.
There's the gathering for chemotherapy patients at Lewis-Gale Hospital, performances for terminally ill patients at Good Samaritan Hospice, his speeches to youth groups on the dangers of drugs ... well, you get the idea.
Joann Tinkerton, a member of Church of the Holy Spirit and one of Brown's best friends, has witnessed him in action. She doesn't underestimate the power of his presence.
"His gift uplifts and blesses," she said. "I've seen his music touch people's lives in a way that they feel the touch of the Lord."
There's no way to calculate what Brown's life would be like today if he had never succumbed to curiosity. As it stands, it's not so bad. Compared to most, in fact, it's pretty good.
"This is going to be a fabulous year," he said.
Keywords:
PROFILE
by CNB