Chadley Pride is at the heart of one of my most formative memories.

When I was a tiny girl growing up in the South Bronx back in the 70s when "The Bronx was burning," we listened exclusively to WBLS.

They played soul and R&B, the black top 40, basically. In the afternoons the DJ was Frankie Crocker. He was the best to my young eats and probably the most popular.

One day Frankie Crocker starts playing a set that's all Charley Pride. What the hell?! This wasn't the usual! Country music in New York City?!

I didnt get it. My mother had to tell me the songs were by Charley Pride, and I knew he was black because the 70's TV producers loved them a variety show, so I had definitely seen him perform.

Aftrr the set Frankie Crocker let loose on the air, "people, you can stop all the calls! We at WBLS are the Whole Black Life/Love Sound (I can't remember!)and when Charley Pride passes, you all are gonna be talking 'bout how great he was! But he's alive now and we gonna see ...

"...that the brother gets paid!" My mother laughed and laughed. I didnt understand royalties and airplay yet, but that was the beginning of my understanding of the need to give artists their roses while they are alive, and also making sure they are paid AND appreciated.

I am sure Charley Pride put up with more BS making sure the white folks in the room were comfortable in his looooooooong career than most of us ever have to do, and I am both sorry and grateful to him for it.

May he rest well. I hope an Angel kissed him good-bye.