Before Auto-Tune, musicians had to have raw talent. And Fats Domino was practically
brimming with it. Fats would go on to become one of the earliest and most beloved pioneers
of a new music genre called rock n' roll. Here's what you don't know about Fats Domino.
Sometimes, it's impossible for parents to tell what's going to create that spark in their child.
In the case of Antoine Domino Jr., it was a piano that his family inherited. He was 10 years old
when the instrument was moved into the family home in New Orleans' Lower Ninth Ward. Domino
was so captivated by the piano that his parents decided it needed to be moved to the garage.
According to The New York Times, Domino's first great musical influence
came in the form of his brother-in-law. Harrison Verrett was a jazz musician,
and he gave young Domino an understanding of musical basics like notes and chords.
From there onwards, it was all Domino. It turned out that he had an almost superhuman talent.
After listening to a record just a handful of times, he could flawlessly replicate it.
Domino dropped out of school in the fourth grade, and — like so
many of his generation did — went right to work. He got a job as an assistant iceman,
delivering ice to houses all across the Lower Ninth Ward. Domino later recalled in an interview:
"In the houses where people had a piano in their rooms, I'd stop and play. That's how I practiced."
There's a few different stories about how Fats Domino got his nickname,
and it ultimately led to his breakout hit. In 1949, he was signed to a record contract,
and that's when he and longtime songwriting partner David Bartholomew wrote "The Fat Man."
The record would go on to sell more than a million copies within just a few years.
But Domino was already "Fats," a nickname that The New Yorker says came from bassist and band
leader Billy Diamond. It wasn't a comment on the 19-year-old prodigy's size at all.
It was a nod to two jazz pianists Domino reminded him of, named Fats Waller and Fats Pichon. After
the release of "The Fat Man," however, the name absolutely became linked to his size, and Domino
easily embraced it. Standing just 5'5", he was fond of saying that he was as wide as he was tall.
While Fats Domino might not have the same sort of name recognition
today as someone like Elvis Presley, it's impossible to stress just how important
he was to shaping the genre as a whole. Even Presley said in a 1957 interview:
"A lot of people seem to think I started this business. But rock 'n roll was here a long
time before I came along. [...] Let's face it: I can't sing it like Fats Domino can. I know that."
Presley pointed Domino out as, quote, "the real king of rock 'n roll," and that's legit.
According to American Blues Scene, Fats Domino was the first rock musician who was
marketed as a pure musician. He broke out of the gimmicky novelty songs that had come before him,
and fans knew they were listening to something special right from the beginning.
With record sales of more than 65 million, Domino outsold everyone — aside from Elvis.
He's also credited for recording the very first rock album.
Questions about what defines the genre means that's always going to be up for debate,
but according to The Guardian, the genre’s origins belong to Domino.
When Fats Domino was in his heyday, the U.S. was still mostly segregated,
and Jim Crow laws were still a thing. Rick Coleman — who wrote
Fats Domino and the Lost Dawn of Rock 'n' Roll — says that Domino was one of the first and
most important artists who kicked down the physical barrier between Black and white.
Domino's concerts became notorious for integrating audiences. Take his May 4, 1956 show in Roanoke,
Virginia. Brian Ward, who's a professor or American studies at Northumbria University,
says the concert was originally segregated, with Black fans on the dance floor, and white
fans in the balcony, which was crammed to about double capacity. When white fans started heading
down to the floor, less accepting fans started hurling beer bottles at those dancing below.
Integration — a highly controversial concept at the time — became a common
sight at Domino's concerts as Black and white fans tore down ropes and barriers to dance together.
The subsequent fights that broke out were often deemed race riots.
PBS, however, says that wasn't the case at all. Problems only started when people
who didn't like the idea of fans breaking segregation laws called law enforcement,
who then used things like tear gas to try to break up the party. It didn't work. Domino
continued to play integrated concerts, and had major hits with Black and white listeners alike.
As the face of this new and controversial kind of music, Fats Domino answered some serious
questions. After a riot broke out at one of his concerts on a Rhode Island naval base,
he was asked if the music was to blame. Fats smiled, shrugged, and said this:
"Well, you know how it is when the Navy and the Marines get together."
"You don't think it was the music?" "No. Couldn't be."
He was perfectly aware of the racial tension that swarmed around his performances, and around this
new musical style. And there were no shortage of incidents like the one following a 1956 concert in
Virginia. After the show, a white mob congregated and chased Domino and his band to their hotel,
which was located in the Black section of Roanoke. It was the only place they could stay. In spite
of their chart-topping popularity, even the era's biggest stars still faced discrimination.
Rock has always had a bit of a reputation among those who just don't get it.
There's good reason for that, and in hindsight, a Fats Domino concert might seem like the most
inoffensive event in the world. However, the very first riot happened at his July
7, 1956 show at the Palomar Gardens Ballroom in San Jose.
According to the Los Angeles Times, the concert got off to a rocky start
when the band was around two hours late. By the time they finally went on stage,
most of the 3,500 people there had already been drinking for a while,
but everything was fine when Domino and his band took the stage. However, when they broke
for an intermission, it just took one person to throw one beer bottle to kick things off.
Overhead lights were broken and fights broke out. The riot even escalated to the point where
hundreds broke windows and fled that way, while others made for the emergency exit. Matters only
got worse when someone threw firecrackers into the mix. By the end of it, 11 people were arrested.
The media ran stories of the "rock 'n roll riot," and while the city briefly considered
banning rock music, they rethought that idea and got rid of bottles instead.
"Well, as far as I know, music makes people happy. I know it makes me happy."
The Belleville News-Democrat says Pat Boone was one of the biggest stars who built his career
covering songs from Black artists — including Fats Domino's "Ain't That a Shame." Both versions were
out by 1955, and the story goes that when legendary DJ Alan Freed polled listeners,
they said they preferred Boone's version. It gave Boone a leg to stand on, so to speak,
and he went on to make comments like this:
"They were thrilled because they wrote the songs. They made more money from
my records than they did from their own and it introduced them to a far
larger audience that they didn't have any access to at that point."
Boone's comments, however, don't tell the full story. Brian Ward, professor in American
studies at Northumbria University, says that Domino — along with artists like Bo Diddley
and Chuck Berry — had, quote, "major hits on both sides of the racial divide." Meanwhile,
record companies continued the trend of offering Black artists a flat fee for the rights to a song,
and then raked in the big bucks by having someone else sing it.
So here's a question: Why don't we remember Fats Domino like we remember Elvis?
Filmmaker Joe Lauro was invited to make a film about Domino, and had this to say:
"[H]e was just being forgotten because of his shyness and the fact that he lived a very private,
un-crazy life. The man was on the road for 40 years, but he's not [...] lighting the
piano on fire. [...] Of course, his extreme shyness is the reason why he was forgotten."
With Domino, there was none of the jail time,
none of the controversy. When he wasn't playing music, Lauro says,
he was cooking. Domino's longtime collaborator told NPR that he'd always been "extremely shy."
"Because you're kind of a shy guy, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I guess so. I don't know."
NOLA says that it was much more than shyness. In 2007, Domino was scheduled to play at
Tipitina's — but no one knew if he was going to be able to get on stage. The then-79-year-old had
been away from performing for a while, and they say it amplified the stage fright and anxiety that
had been his longtime and constant companion. However, he did get on stage that night,
pushed partially by the fact that it was a benefit concert for his beloved New Orleans' Ninth Ward.
Fats Domino had an insanely long career, and in 1986, he was one of the first musicians to
be inaugurated into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Domino was still touring off and on at
the time. His last official tour happened in 1995, when the performer was in his late 60’s.
That tour, says NOLA, was a pretty bad one. Domino was suffering from a bout of chronic illness and
exhaustion as he and his band made their way across Europe. He was in the U.K. for a set
of performances when he started to feel very, very sick. In the hospital he was warned that
performing live could severely damage his health. Afterwards, Domino stayed mainly in New Orleans,
even declining a trip to Washington, D.C. to receive the National Medal of Arts in person.
From there on out, live performances were few and far between for Fats Domino.
In 2005, Hurricane Katrina swept across the Gulf Coast,
devastating everything it touched and resulting in a final death toll of 1,833.
For a short time, Fats Domino's name was whispered as being among the casualties.
Even after the warnings to evacuate were given, Domino refused to leave his home in
the Lower Ninth — partially, says the Independent, because his wife Rosemary was ill, and partially,
quote, "out of stubbornness." Domino was ultimately evacuated on September 1st,
after the water had risen to 15 feet. After being plucked from his home,
he was taken to the Superdome with other refugees.
In the end, Domino lost everything in the hurricane floodwaters.
From his gold records and his memorabilia to his home,
it was all washed away. Just a year later, he released his first new album in about 10 years.
It was called Alive and Kickin', a reference to the resilience of the city and his own
continuing existence. Part of the proceeds from that album went to help other musicians.
Fats Domino left his home on Caffin Avenue in the Lower Ninth Ward during Katrina, but he
would ultimately return to live in Louisiana — just not to New Orleans. In 2006, he still
hadn't gone home, and was asked if he was hoping to rebuild his Caffin Avenue house. Domino said,
"I would like to keep the house."
Sadly, that day would never come. When Fats Domino died on October 24, 2017,
he passed away in his home in Harvey, Louisiana — a stone's throw and a river away from his beloved
New Orleans. He was 89 years old, and it was reported that he had died of natural causes.
Through it all, Domino considered himself lucky. In 1985, he told the Los Angeles Times:
"I was lucky enough to write songs that carry a good beat and tell a real story that people
could feel was their story, too — something that old people or the kids could both enjoy."
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