Soul Train

AT OUR HOUSE, "Soul Train" was must-see TV because it was one of the only TV shows where you could count on seeing brown faces. Negroes, as we were called back then, would be dressed to the nines, wearing the hottest street fashions, huge afros, hot pants, wide-brimmed hats, platform shoes and maxi coats. Good thing fire never broke out in the "Soul Train" studio, because there would have been a polyester meltdown. For me, a black girl with practically no rhythm, "Soul Train" was my classroom, helping me navigate the social minefield of high school dances.

The Grammys and American Music Awards already have been given out, but there is another important award show that many R&B and hip-hop artists will be anxiously awaiting. The Soul Train Music Awards were created as a way to honor R&B, hip-hop, gospel and jazz artists often ignored by the other awards shows. Don Cornelius is the creator of "Soul Train," the longest-running show in syndication. This year's show, the 11th annual, will be hosted by Brandy, L.L. Cool J and Gladys Knight.

Nobody did it better. In the days when you wanted to know the hippest and latest dance - when you had to get it down exactly right for the party, your cousin's wedding, the playground at recess, the family reunion - you tuned in to Channel 48 on Saturday afternoon. At exactly 1 p.m., the TSOP theme kicked in, that funky cartoon train chugged across the screen, and then the room was filled with those booty- shakin', pop-lockin', applejack hat-wearing, afro pick-usin', platform shoe kickin' Soul Train dancers.

At 4 p.m. Monday, hundreds of Philadelphians, including Mayor Nutter, are expected to gather on the Art Museum steps to try to form the world's longest Soul Train line. The dance line - an effort to commemorate the life of Soul Train creator Don Cornelius - could break the Guinness record, now held by a Berkeley, Calif., high school, if more than 211 dancers come together. "We can beat that record," said organizer Mannwell Glenn, 50, of West Philadelphia. Glenn, a radio host and political consultant, said he expected at least 500 dancers.

When we were growing up as teens in the 1970's, Saturday mornings filled my sister and me with funky anticipation. We'd race downstairs, flip on the Magnavox, and settle in to experience "the hippest trip in America" - Soul Train . See, Soul Train wasn't just any television dance show. Soul Train belonged to us. Soul Train showcased our R&B music, our artists, our dances, heck, even our black hair-care products. It was our cultural touchstone at a time when we were learning that, yes, black was beautiful - even if we weren't quite sure if we believed it yet. But Don Cornelius, Soul Train's pinstripe-suited, haystack-afro'ed, deep silken-voiced creator and host, affirmed it for us. That's why it's so ironically sad that news yesterday of Cornelius' death at 75, from an apparently self-inflicted gunshot wound at his home outside of Los Angeles, came on the first day of Black History Month.

For about as long as there's been rock and roll, wallflower couch potatoes have watched kids dancing on television. In the beginning, there was Dick Clark and American Bandstand. The show was a Philadelphia hit and jumped to a late-afternoon weekday slot on ABC in August 1957. Bandstand was such a smash that two months later it was given a second, evening shot. That prime-time show folded before the new year, but the granddaddy of dance shows, not to mention Clark himself, found eternal youth on afternoon television.

What does it say that three generations of Jewish men in my family are "Soul Train" fans? The remarkable revelation emerged during a family gathering at which TV was being discussed (after we finished with world peace and whether the calories in dessert actually count when you are dieting). I acknowledged I was a long-time fan of the show, and had been watching since the "kids" were wearing wild bells and 'fros out to here. "I watch it, too," piped up my (then) 30-year-old son, Shaw.

Can it be 20 years since the inaugural run of Soul Train and its ice-cool engineer, Don Cornelius? Can you believe some of the original Soul Train dancers have children dancing on air or that some of the girls and guys we ogled are wearing support stockings and hairpieces? Believe it. Since Soul Train pulled out of the station, Michael and Janet Jackson have grown from little stars to the brightest lights in the Soul Music firmament. Even ageless Dick Clark has grown a wrinkle or two. But big Don rolls on, calling out the stops in a voice that sounds like it's coming from a tunnel.

COMCAST'S TAKEOVER of pre-"Smash" NBC/Universal came with a price steeper than owning some of network television's crappiest shows. As part of its agreement with the FCC and the Department of Justice, the media giant will launch four minority-owned networks on its cable-TV systems in the next two years. The networks announced yesterday include: * Revolt, a channel conceived by "P. Diddy" Combs and MTV veteran Andy Schuon , and surprisingly, not about an uprising of people who get their Comcast bill.

JOEY VENTO is gone but a new movie helps make sure he is not forgotten. The late Geno's Steaks owner appears in "Swooped," a comedy that screens at the Trocadero (1003 Arch) on March 18. Vento, who died in August, plays himself, selling a cheesesteak to one of the main characters. A few scenes take place at Geno's. Directors Joe Gariffo and ShaunPaul Costello say proceeds from the screening will go to fund their next film, "The Independents," which is a hockey comedy to shoot in town this Spring.

THERE IS NOTHING wrong with Ilya Bryzgalov that a slick interpreter can't cure. Never mind the goalie's early-season lament that he was lost in the woods. What he is, is lost in translation. Too often, the quirky statements he makes are misinterpreted. Take the latest cry for help, that he hopes to "find peace in his soul to play in this city. " That is the way it was reported and it sounded gloomier than a Stalingrad winter. Listen closely and the anguished moaning can be explained in other ways.

COMCAST'S TAKEOVER of pre-"Smash" NBC/Universal came with a price steeper than owning some of network television's crappiest shows. As part of its agreement with the FCC and the Department of Justice, the media giant will launch four minority-owned networks on its cable-TV systems in the next two years. The networks announced yesterday include: * Revolt, a channel conceived by "P. Diddy" Combs and MTV veteran Andy Schuon , and surprisingly, not about an uprising of people who get their Comcast bill.

JOEY VENTO is gone but a new movie helps make sure he is not forgotten. The late Geno's Steaks owner appears in "Swooped," a comedy that screens at the Trocadero (1003 Arch) on March 18. Vento, who died in August, plays himself, selling a cheesesteak to one of the main characters. A few scenes take place at Geno's. Directors Joe Gariffo and ShaunPaul Costello say proceeds from the screening will go to fund their next film, "The Independents," which is a hockey comedy to shoot in town this Spring.

At 4 p.m. Monday, hundreds of Philadelphians, including Mayor Nutter, are expected to gather on the Art Museum steps to try to form the world's longest Soul Train line. The dance line - an effort to commemorate the life of Soul Train creator Don Cornelius - could break the Guinness record, now held by a Berkeley, Calif., high school, if more than 211 dancers come together. "We can beat that record," said organizer Mannwell Glenn, 50, of West Philadelphia. Glenn, a radio host and political consultant, said he expected at least 500 dancers.

When we were growing up as teens in the 1970's, Saturday mornings filled my sister and me with funky anticipation. We'd race downstairs, flip on the Magnavox, and settle in to experience "the hippest trip in America" - Soul Train . See, Soul Train wasn't just any television dance show. Soul Train belonged to us. Soul Train showcased our R&B music, our artists, our dances, heck, even our black hair-care products. It was our cultural touchstone at a time when we were learning that, yes, black was beautiful - even if we weren't quite sure if we believed it yet. But Don Cornelius, Soul Train's pinstripe-suited, haystack-afro'ed, deep silken-voiced creator and host, affirmed it for us. That's why it's so ironically sad that news yesterday of Cornelius' death at 75, from an apparently self-inflicted gunshot wound at his home outside of Los Angeles, came on the first day of Black History Month.

AT OUR HOUSE, "Soul Train" was must-see TV because it was one of the only TV shows where you could count on seeing brown faces. Negroes, as we were called back then, would be dressed to the nines, wearing the hottest street fashions, huge afros, hot pants, wide-brimmed hats, platform shoes and maxi coats. Good thing fire never broke out in the "Soul Train" studio, because there would have been a polyester meltdown. For me, a black girl with practically no rhythm, "Soul Train" was my classroom, helping me navigate the social minefield of high school dances.

Never mind the NFL labor acrimony, there will be football at the NovaCare Complex. Arena football, that is. The Soul will prepare for its return to the indoor game by conducting training camp at the Eagles' practice bubble beginning this weekend. The 2-year hiatus that followed the Soul's 2008 championship has resulted in a total makeover of the roster and coaching staff. Mike Hohensee, who coached Chicago to the 2006 AFL title, will lead the Soul. The only familiar face will be Phil Bogle, an all-Arena lineman for Philadelphia's title team, who has been brought on as an assistant coach.

The year was 1970, I think. My best friends, Sherry and Denise, and I excitedly flipped through Soul, the monthly newsletter put out by the R&B station in the San Francisco Bay area. In our young, impressionable eyes, Soul was the equivalent of People magazine. Under the headline "Groups To Watch," there was a picture of five good-looking boys, the youngest doe-eyed and caramel-colored with cutest pug nose you'd ever want to see. The one named Michael, who stole the show every time.

Whew, Damon Williams must be talented, or bold, to perform a tribute to Teddy Pendergrass tonight during "Soul Train Nights" at Hibachi. We will reason that he can blow, as this is the highly regarded First Friday event thrown by Chaka Payne and Tony Beaty. "We had about 600 people out," Payne said, referring to February's edition, which paid homage to the late Luther Vandross. Payne said this month's party "should be nice," too. An evening of performances, "Soul Train Nights" is just one of Payne's endeavors.

Spoken-word artist Natalie Stewart claims her vocals weren't mixed right, and singer Marsha Ambrosius sometimes cringes at some of the arrangements. Yet Floetic, the 2002 debut release by the Floacist and the Songstress (known collectively as Floetry), garnered six Grammy nominations and six Soul Train awards. Newfound fans affirmed the duo's rightful place on slow-jam mix tapes everywhere with the between-the-sheets classic "Say Yes. " "It wasn't even intended to be an album," Ambrosius says.