During the middle to late 1960s, politics were beginning to influence hairstyles, and the “natural” hairstyle started to take off. It went far beyond Dr. Martin Luther King telling people to be their authentic selves; the Black Is Beautiful and Black Power movements sprung to life. In Chicago, the African Commune of Bad Relevant Artists and the Black Power Arts Movement were empowering residents, creating a new visual aesthetic, and painting positive images of Black people on buildings. Local cultural icon Bill Walker brought South Side artists together to celebrate Black heroes on the “Wall of Respect” mural on 47th Street. People were singing along to the James Brown song, “Say It Loud — I’m Black and I’m Proud.” Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” was an anthem for women, but it clearly communicated Black people’s cry that American society treat us fairly and equitably.
Leaders like Angela Davis, Kathleen Cleaver, and Huey P. Newton were wearing Afros. So was the youth musical group the Jackson Five. Lots of women, Johnson Products Company’s (JPC) primary customers, grew large bushes, as they were often called. Many young people, in particular, spoke negatively about relaxers.
Financially, Ultra Sheen and Ultra Wave had been JPC’s heroes, but the writing was on the wall. We were going to lose some of our relaxer business.
“We need to develop a product to address this new need,” I told Dr. Doc Martini. He immediately went to work.
Doc started working on a chemical formula to create an aerosol product that made natural hair easier to comb or run a pick through. We also wanted it to create a nice sheen. Once he came up with the right formulations, we hired a private-label vendor. That way, we could launch more quickly than if we tried to manufacture the new product ourselves.
Our Black advertising agent Vince Cullers came up with the name Afro Sheen, which he trademarked and gave to JPC. He also lent his brilliant creative vision to our new brand. “I want to present Black people in a more positive light than the stereotypical images of us in subservient roles,” Cullers told me. “We’ve seen enough Aunt Jemima, the maid wearing a ’do rag, and Uncle Ben, the butler.”
I agreed. Times had changed.
Dr. King was dead. The Vietnam War was still going on. Far too many Black men were returning home missing their arms and legs, suffering from PTSD, addicted to drugs, and in caskets. Many young folks, in particular, had lost patience with the pace of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference Christian-based approach to racial justice that emphasized integration and nonviolence. The Black Panther Party for Self- Defense had become popular, particularly with young and lower-income Black folks. The Panthers were demanding freedom, full employment, decent housing, education, a stop to police brutality, and an immediate end to the Vietnam War.
In other words, nobody wanted to see images of subservient Black people from our past.
When he designed our packaging, Vince created groundbreaking black jars and containers. The type was both colorful and in a trendsetting lowercase font. A brown-skinned Black couple with big Afros gazed lovingly at each other from the carton. The man wore muttonchop sideburns that were stylish at that time.
In addition to the unprecedented packaging, Vince proposed print ads with images that conveyed Black pride. He showed me layouts depicting Black men and women interacting with each other, proudly wearing blowouts and dashikis, and living positive lives. One ad had a Black couple looking lovingly at each other. Another showcased a Black mother gazing adoringly at her child. Yet another told the world Black people were “watu wazuri,” beautiful people.
“These are powerful, Vince, I love them!”
We began running these pioneering ads in Ebony, Beauty Trade, Essence, and Black Enterprise magazines. Young people all over the country fell in love with the phrase “watu wazuri.” The ad went on to win mainstream advertising awards.
In addition to Afro Sheen Hair Spray, JPC extended the line by changing the packaging of Ultra Sheen Conditioner and Hair Dress and labeling it Afro Sheen Conditioner and Hair Dress. We also created the Afro Sheen Blowout Kit, a light relaxer that loosened some of the kink and left hair with texture, without straightening it. I read the signs of the times, as well. I cut off my process and started wearing my hair natural, shifting from using Ultra Wave Hair Culture over to Afro Sheen Hair Spray.
Unfortunately, Vince Cullers wasn’t always easy to deal with. In the early 1970s, Johnson Products transitioned to a new Black-owned advertising agency, Burrell McBain. Tom Burrell was the first African American to work for a Chicago ad agency. He started out in the mailroom, but even in that low-level job, he dressed like an executive. Over time, Burrell worked his way up the ladder.
Our account exec Tom Kuehn at the advertising agency Allen, Anderson, Niefeld & Paley, the firm that worked on & Beautiful, called me.
“There’s this TV show I think you should know about,” Tom announced. “My friend Don Cornelius is a disc jockey at WVON radio station. He’s created a Black dance show that copies Dick Clark’s American Bandstand. It airs after school five days a week. I think it could be a great vehicle for you to advertise Ultra Sheen.”
“Sounds interesting,” I told him. “What is a DJ from a radio station that Black entrepreneurs advertise on doing on television?”
“I think Don is onto something. I want you to come with me to the studios and watch it live.”
Tom explained that Cornelius filmed once a week on Channel 26 WCIU, which was airing locally, in black and white, on the old UHF frequency. But the signal was weak and didn’t cover the entire market. By 1966, almost three-quarters of network TV was broadcast in color, but only about one-third of American households owned a color TV.
Tom and I went to WCIU’s studio in the Financial Exchange Building one Thursday to watch the taping of the show. I will never forget the first time I met Don Cornelius. I arrived wearing a suit and tie. He showed up wearing an enormous Afro, a long bright- red coat with a huge collar, and thigh-high brown leather boots.
“Tom, what in the world?” I whispered under my breath, barely able to hold back my amusement.
“I know, George, but I need you to trust me,” he answered. “I think it’s exactly what you need.”
And, boy, was Tom right!
Photo: Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images
From its now- famous opening “Soooooouuuul Train” to all of Don’s wonderful DJing sayings — like “You can bet your last money, it’s gonna be a stone gas, honey!” — Soul Train was a really wonderful show.
I saw young people doing the latest dances, dressed in bright dashikis, elephant bell- bottoms, miniskirts, crop tops, platform shoes, and other fashionable and colorful clothing. Though many of the young women wore relaxed hair, lots of these boys and girls wore naturals. A few had blowouts.
In person, the show was interesting and visually exciting. Don’s appearance and attitude were pitch perfect. The way he ended the show — “Love, peace, and sooooul” — captured the spirit of the times.
But after witnessing the show live, the black-and-white video didn’t pop. Without color, the images failed to capture the excitement of the live show. It didn’t sizzle. It didn’t knock me off my feet. & Beautiful and & Beautiful II sizzled. I wanted Soul Train to have that type of pizzazz.
The Spirit hit me. I decided JPC would sponsor the show. Don Cornelius and I agreed to go into business together. Don didn’t have any money, but the show was his idea, he wrote the script, and he hosted it. To me, it was fair to give him 50 percent ownership in our venture. From a traditional business standpoint, it was a generous arrangement. Living by the Golden Rule, I saw Don’s creative genius, and I wanted to support him. We also agreed that JPC would run three minutes of advertising during each show. Don could sell the other three minutes for his income.
Tom, Don, and I flew out to Los Angeles and met with my friends at Metromedia Studio. We negotiated a deal that Metromedia would tape four shows once a month on a Saturday when the studio wasn’t normally operating. The union employees were all White and earned overtime to produce the show. Each taping cost more than $100,000. It was a lot of money, but I was excited about the opportunity to make TV work for JPC.
I also tried to strike a deal with ABC, CBS, or NBC. All three major networks turned us down. I didn’t let that stop us. Johnson Products purchased airtime on independent stations in nine markets with large Black populations. There was Detroit, Cleveland, St. Louis, Philadelphia, Atlanta, Houston, Oakland, and Los Angeles — in addition to Channel 26 in Chicago. Buying time in these markets was expensive, and it set the stage for Soul Train to become the first Black nationally syndicated television show. In addition to all these activities, I set up a meeting with Berry Gordy, owner of Motown Records. Motown was really hot at that time. Diana Ross’s “Reach Out I’ll Be There,” Marvin Gaye’s “Mercy, Mercy Me,” and the Temptations’ “Just My Imagination” were heating up the radio airwaves and playing in every beauty parlor and barbershop.
We were scheduled to meet with Berry Gordy, but when we arrived in Motown’s reception room, I was surprised that a White man greeted us and invited us into his own office. We told him what Soul Train was all about.
“I’m not sure Berry would be interested in this,” he told us.
“We’d like to speak with Berry, if we can.” In doing business, it’s important to have direct access to your peers. It’s part of how power is built.
Turns out Berry was in a game room, playing pool.
“We will be filming a new show, and we need some acts,” I told the music- business mogul. “This could be an opportunity for some of your artists to get more national exposure.”
“Have you done this before, Johnson?” Berry asked.
“Yes and no,” I told him. “We haven’t aired Soul Train nationally, but JPC produced & Beautiful and & Beautiful II and our audience really responded.”
“I don’t know, it seems like a big risk,” he said. “You haven’t proven this concept yet. If it doesn’t work out, it would be bad for my acts.”
The fact that Soul Train didn’t have a track record made it risky for Motown’s prized talent to appear on our show. I was disappointed but I understood.
Photo: Soul Train/Soul Train via Getty Images
I hired my own entertainment for the first episode. Wilson Pickett had one of the hottest orchestras and a long list of hits. There was “It’s Too Late” and “Hey Jude” and “Sugar, Sugar” and “Call My Name, I’ll Be There.” That’s not to mention “In the Midnight Hour.” I flew the group from New York to Los Angeles, put them up in a hotel, and paid them to perform. Don was helpful, too. As a DJ, he was in contact with entertainers and knew a lot of people who made records.
In addition to securing the artists, we hired a producer. Pam Brown became our director of personnel. She located and selected a group of high school students who were good dancers to appear on the first four shows. Pam was nononsense, compassionate, and fair. She organized the young people and instilled discipline, insisting on both good manners and appropriate attire.
I will always remember October 2, 1971, the first time the Soul Train cartoon chugged across the tracks.
“Hi there and welcome aboard,” Don opened, wearing a white three- piece suit with wide lapels and a light- blue tie. “You’re right on time for a beautiful trip on the Soul Train. If the sight and sound of soul is your pleasure, then what’s your treasure? You can bet your bottom dollar we’ve got ’em, baby. And after a message from the Johnson Products Company, three of the most beautiful and talented sisters you’ve ever seen in your life are going to look you dead in the eyes, where your beauty lies.”
Our first commercial aired at the top of the hour.
Then Don returned with the Honey Cones.
“Wanted: Young man single and free!” they sang. Then the kids danced to a James Brown recording, with many of the young women wearing vests, miniskirts, and hot pants and the young men wearing wide- collar shirts with highwaisted, flared plaid pants.
Shortly afterward, the Temptations’ Eddie Kendricks performed “I Did It All for You” as a solo act, singing in his trademark falsetto.
Later, Gladys Knight and the Pips performed “Friendship Train.”
From Don’s opening to the singing to the dancing to our ads, Soul Train overflowed with affirming images and messages in a unique way that had never been seen on color television before. The music, hairstyles, clothing, dance, and musical performances were not curated to suit mainstream audiences. Our musical guests didn’t need to wear their best suit and tie. There was no pressure to straighten their hair or wear a pompadour. Soul Train conveyed contemporary Black youth hair, music, clothing, and culture. It was rising up from our community and organically conveying positive imagery and messages.
After we finished recording, we held a party for the dancers. Their performances thrilled me. The taping was terrific!
In the weeks before the show ran on television, many retailers ignored our advice to increase their inventory of Afro Sheen and Ultra Sheen. After the show aired, our ads put pressure on the retailers who refused our advice. There was such a huge demand from shoppers that retailers not only had to order more products but also had to increase their inventory and give us more shelf space. After seeing the initial impact of Soul Train on our viewers and our business, I never doubted the show would succeed.
The first few times we taped, I flew to Los Angeles on a Friday, watched the taping on Saturday, and flew back on Sunday.
Episode by episode, Soul Train showcased more and more popular acts. On the second show, Charlie Wright & the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band sang the popular hit “Express Yourself.” During episode three, the Chairmen of the Board sang “Give Me Just a Little More Time.” By the end of October, the Staple Singers were performing “Respect Yourself,” later followed by Bill Withers performing “Ain’t No Sunshine” and “Grandma’s Hands” and Al Green singing “Let’s Stay Together.”
Soul Train took off from there.
We hired a TV syndicator to expand our reach into more television markets. We progressed one city at a time. Some stations called us, seeking to air Soul Train. As our viewership increased, Ultra Sheen and Afro Sheen became such big profit makers for retailers that we were able to obtain fourfoot-wide Afro Sheen displays in the haircare sections of a great number of retailers.
After advertising on Soul Train for just three months, JPC ended 1971 at $12 million in sales (about $94 million today), up 20 percent over the previous year. Between & Beautiful and Soul Train, I had to invest about three- quarters of a million dollars, and that was just the beginning.
As time passed, the young people on Soul Train danced in all sorts of creative ways and got their limbs to move into positions many of us had never imagined. The Breakdown. The Crackerjack. The Exercise. The Mechanical Man. The dance names and their moves seemed crazy, outlandish, and sometimes even weird. I witnessed the dancers get more innovative with each episode and had a lot of fun watching them compete to outdo each other. Within just a few episodes, these young people created the Soul Train line, which soon became central to American culture.
The fashions were also a reason to tune in. With each episode, their outfits became more and more stylish. To me, it seemed these young people wanted to be seen, act in the movies, and become stars. Their ingenuity challenged that of professionals. Soul Train made excellent television.
I appreciated and agreed with Tom Burrell’s philosophy, “Black people are not dark- skinned White people.”
Now that I had a more sizable advertising budget, I wanted to give him the chance I thought he deserved to portray Black people in an authentic way. Tom took the opportunity and ran with it, creating the uplifting and culturally conscious television and print media ads our community was starved for.
Our Afro Sheen commercials blew our viewers away. The trailblazing television ads he created showed Black women and men participating in careers in which we were rarely represented. One enacted a Black woman running for political office, in the vein of Shirley Chisholm. Another portrayed a Black female physician. In still another, a Black woman artist welded her sculpture with a torch. One featured an author; another, a flight attendant; yet another, a figure skater. The list went on.
One of my favorites featured a mahogany-skinned Queen of Sheba with a large blowout, wearing a bright orange gown and sitting on a throne.
“Now out of the mist of three thousand years emerges today’s beautiful Black queen,” a male voiceover actor narrated. “Naturally beautiful. Radiant. She is Black essence, and her beautiful natural hair is her crowning glory. Today’s beautiful woman uses Afro Sheen.”
The musical jingle at the end of the ad sang, “Beautiful people use Afro Sheen!”
Such positive media representations of Black people on television never existed until Tom Burrell created them.
JPC’s print ads were a far cry from the images of Black servants many of us had grown up with. They resonated with African Americans more than the “Black/White people” still being portrayed in the advertising of many mainstream products. They also stood out from the gangster Blaxploitation images also common during the era.
Soul Train broke ground in promoting Black culture and Black pride. Our positive imagery took the show to the next level. Add Don’s far- out outfits, poetic hosting, and the scramble board. The world had never seen anything like it! People were awestruck by the show. Turns out, large numbers of White young people tuned in, too. In many locations, Soul Train’s White audience was larger than the Black audience.
Eventually, Soul Train was airing in two hundred markets, making Johnson Products the first Black financial sponsor of a nationally syndicated television show. In 1973 Dick Clark created a knockoff called Soul Unlimited. It didn’t last long. Rumor has it that Black music’s “godfather,” Clarence Avant, along with Reverend Jackson and several other Black political leaders, threatened to boycott ABC because of Clark’s imitation. In 1974 the songwriters Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff wrote and produced Soul Train’s theme song “TSOP (The Sound of Philadelphia),” which topped the Billboard Hot 100 charts, sung by their house band, MFSB.
JPC’s sales soared. By the end of 1972, we employed almost 260 people and had sales of over $18 million. The company was growing quickly, and we built a hundred-thousand-square-foot warehouse, shipping facility, offices, and a research center. Johnson Products had reached a point where we didn’t have to borrow a penny.
What Soul Train had done for JPC made my generosity well worth it. By coming together, we had grown both our businesses.
This is adapted from George E. Johnsons’s book, Afro Sheen: How I Revolutionized an Industry with the Golden Rule from Soul Train to Wall Street, available from Little Brown and Company.
Pioneers of the Natural-Hair Movement
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