I was supposed to write about something else today.
Last week, I promised readers I would deliver Part 2 of a story that I learned about from members of my potluck group Pie in a Cup regarding a new project Pulitzer Prize-winning author Doug Blackmon is working on.
But instead, I’m doing something I push reporters on my team to do all the time: Put down the story you’re working on and cover the news of the day. As Deputy Managing Editor over the arts, culture and lifestyle team, it seemed odd not to take the opportunity to talk about the biggest story of the week, the death of pop legend Prince.
When the initial news of Prince’s death first popped up on the website TMZ.com, many of us in the newsroom were skeptical. Despite the fact that the celebrity news site has broken news on celebrity deaths (including Michael Jackson), maybe we just didn’t want to believe that one of the best musicians ever was gone.
Plus, we’ve learned to exercise extreme caution when reporting about reports of someone’s death. Even still, as journalists, we immediately recognize its impact if it indeed turns out to be true.
I had just seen Prince exactly one week earlier at a sold-out show at the Fox Theatre. He seemed perfectly fine after canceling a week prior because he was recovering from the flu. That night his voice was strong and perfect as he belted out hits while seated at a piano. Sure we were disappointed that the show (at least the 7 p.m. set) was bitterly short, but awesomely sweet.
By early afternoon last Thursday, more news outlets would confirm that Prince Rogers Nelson was dead at the age of 57, and that those two shows on April 14 at Atlanta’s Fox Theatre were indeed his last concerts.
By then, the newsroom was in full hustle mode, sending out alerts to readers, posting quick news stories about his death, calling people for reaction, scouring the wires for news developments, gathering photos for galleries, compiling lists on songs and past shows, and just brainstorming coverage for online and print.
In a few short hours, our Newsroom and Audience teams had dozens of pieces of content. Even our senior Managing Editor and Editorial Director Bert Roughton (aka Mr. Hard News Man) was lobbying for Prince to not just have a place on the front page, but that his new obit be front and center.
In addition, reporter Melissa Ruggieri, who covers music for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, was being asked to give her expert perspective as having written the last official concert review for Prince a week prior.
Melissa had this to say about that experience the day after Prince’s death:
“I’m a fan of so many ‘veteran’ artists like Billy Joel and Paul McCartney and Elton John that I always try to see them live as much as possible, even if means traveling out of state a couple of times a year. I’ve always been cognizant of an artist’s mortality, but with the deaths this year of Bowie, Glenn Frey, Maurice White and Merle Haggard, it’s made me even more acutely aware of the limited time we have with so many of these classic acts because, well, you can’t stop time.
“I never, ever would have thought last week was the last time I would see Prince alive,” Melissa said, “but before the show started, I did turn to my cousin who bought a ticket to attend with me and said, ‘I’m glad you did this, because you just never know…’”
Unlike many of the people sharing Prince stories, I had never seen Prince before his “Piano & a Microphone” tour came to Atlanta — despite being a fan for three decades. It’s not that I didn’t want to, but seeing him perform live just seemed to elude me.
In fact, in June 2004, I was living in Dallas, Texas, and flew to Chicago to see Prince at the Allstate Arena with a longtime friend, who is arguably the biggest Prince fan ever. We had made our way into the arena and were literally standing in line ready to hand over money for a couple of T-shirts before the show when the vendor abruptly ended the sale as ushers yelled out that the show had been canceled and “to shut it down.”
For several moments, I stood in a daze, trying to comprehend what was happening. “You mean, there’s not going to be a show and I can’t even buy a T-shirt?… But I came all the way from Texas just for the show,” I pleaded. The vendor explained that once a show is canceled, they’re not allowed to sell anything. Period.
About an hour later, my friend Sabrina Miller and I were back at her condo, no concert, no T-shirt, no Prince. We were even too depressed to do anything else. We found out later that the show had been canceled because of the drowning of a band member’s young daughter.
Then, just last year, I was in Minneapolis for the annual National Association of Black Journalists convention. Midway into the conference, the journalism group got an invite to come to Paisley Park. The invite never promised a concert, though we all fully expected to get one — particularly when we were told that, for four hours, we would not be allowed to have our phones or cameras inside of Prince’s estate. After an hourslong dance party, Prince finally came on stage, only to welcome us and tell us that he didn’t have enough time to get his band together. Within five minutes, he was gone and I’m standing again in a stunned stupor.
When promoters announced a few weeks ago that Prince would do a pop-up show at the Fox Theatre, it didn’t surprise me when I learned it would be the next week, when I would be out of town. Just not meant to be. But then that show got canceled because of reports that the singer had the flu. But I missed the opportunity to buy tickets to the rescheduled show. As luck would have it, the day before the show, reporter Ernie Suggs sent me an urgent text that he had a friend who was trying to sell a ticket. Not until I was in my seat and and the Purple Highness was sitting at his piano did I believe it was finally happening.
So a week later, to find myself in another “this-isn’t-happening-Prince-moment” just seems surreal. There’s something about knowing that that first show was also my last — and tragically THE last. At least this time, I got the concert AND the T-shirt.
