She wasn’t merely a star — she was a global superstar. You kidding me? The Supremes were the most successful group in American music history. Over 100 million records sold, a dozen #1 hits, and arguably the most instantly recognizable sound in all of Motown.
This was another era, a different time; back then, musicians were larger-than-life deities, and our culture revolved around music. Today, teenagers daydream about being tech billionaires (a la Elon Musk, Sam Altman, or Mark Zuckerberg), but the 1960s were an age when everyone dreamed of making it big in a rock band — to tour the world, be mobbed by fans, and live life on their own terms. Music was the straw that stirred society’s drink, and nobody was bigger than The Supremes.
At their peak, they were neck-and-neck with the Beatles as the world’s most popular band.
But Mary Wilson wasn’t all that excited about being a Rock Goddess. Instead, she wanted to make greeting cards.
Seriously.
Comedians are usually smarter and more fun to hang out with than musicians, at least in my experience. I think it’s because comedians have to write their own material, whereas (some) musicians are strictly performers. It takes a different degree of creativity and intellect to write as well as perform. (I don’t want to be unkind, but many musicians are empty vessels away from the microphone.)
Not so with Mary Wilson.
She told me that when she was growing up, she never could find greeting cards with black families on them. It infuriated her — but it also kindled her entrepreneurial spirit. She wanted to design a series of greeting cards for black people.
As a white guy, it never really occurred to me that most of the faces on greeting cards were also white. It wasn’t something I ever really considered. (I just looked for the cards with Snoopy or Charlie Brown on ‘em, because that’s what my mom likes.) But Mary thought it was insulting.
She said that when she was growing up, she’d search for the perfect card for a relative or a friend, and it was always jarring when none of the faces on the cards ever looked like her recipients. I guess it was one of those weird, demeaning childhood memories that never truly leaves you — even after a legendary career, a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award, and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
No matter how big and famous you are, you never totally outrun the scars of youth.
Sadly, I don’t think she ever got around to making those greeting cards. Mary Wilson passed away four years ago this February, at the age of 76.
But she was fun. And not even slightly germ-phobic — she’d drink out of her cup, my cup, her cup — no matter. She liked it when people made a fuss over her. Well, maybe not too much of a fuss, but Mary Wilson enjoyed being Mary Wilson.
As well she should.
I only worked with her towards the tail end of her career, so to me, she wasn’t this young, sexy goddess, but more like a glamorous grandmother. She wasn’t the kind of person to hide her age; this wasn’t a “celeb-in-denial” (cough, Madonna, cough) who refuses to acknowledge the footsteps of Father Time and ends up looking ridiculous. Mary was self-aware.
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But she was still a diva. And I mean that in a good way.
Bad divas throw temper tantrums and force everyone to placate their ego. (Y’all know the stories.) Mary wasn’t that kind of diva. Instead, it was more like she was so charming, fun, and extravagant, that it was awesome to dote over her.
I’m glad I got to spend a little time with her.
(By the way, she could still sing her heart out, too.)
