Rockin' Robin Roberts with The Wailers, "Louie Louie" c/w "Maryann," Etiquette ET-1 (rel. 3/1961)

Today’s record is a keystone in the Pacific Northwest history of rock ‘n’ roll: the first release on Etiquette Records, a label owned by teenaged vocalist Robin Roberts, who delivers a version of a song that became indelibly linked with the region. Roberts was, by all accounts, an energetic, charismatic and passionate soul. A vocalist for The Wailers, Roberts created a powerful outlet for other regional bands with Etiquette—one of the most legendary independent labels of rock ‘n’ roll.

Born Lawrence Fewell Roberts in 1940, he and his family moved from New York to Tacoma, Washington by 1950. At that time, Tacoma was a larger city than nearby Seattle, with a big core of manufacture and industry. Roberts was an honor student, crossing guard, and a bit of a nerd—until he discovered Black music. His passion sent him to the “bad side of town” to visit a Black record store. He hung around the Broadway Record Shop so much he was offered an after-school job there.  This gave him access to r&b records galore, and his collection formed the core of the Pac NW songbook. While in the 11^th grade of high school, Roberts attended the Puyallup Fair—a delightful annual event with livestock, fair food and a kooky Hobby Hall among other down-home charmers. As the legend goes, Roberts stood on a bench and drew a crowd via a spontaneous burst of solo singing. Wailers bassist John “Buck” Ormsby and William “Little Bill” Englehart, who fronted the first white rock ‘n’ roll group from Tacoma, Little Bill and The Bluenotes, passed by, stopped to listen, and asked them to join up with them.

When The Wailers formed thereafter, Roberts was their vocalist, to augment the band’s powerful rockin’ instrumentals. His decision to start a record label so that area bands could get wider exposure was a risk that over time paid off. It made sense that Roberts should inaugurate the label. It would be his only single until 1967, when two of his sides ended the original run of Etiquette Records.

The topside of ET-1 was a rendition of “Louie Louie,” first written and sung by LA r&b legend Richard Berry in 1956. This Jamaican-flavored song, with patois aplenty, appealed to Tacoma bands. As another legend goes, one night in 1957 or ’58, local police tried to shut down a Little Bill show, with Roberts as lead singer. The band pleaded for “one more song;” the cops agreed. A marathon-length “Louie Louie” resulted. The po-po couldn’t stop them, as they’d not specified how long that last tune could go. Final verdict: teens delighted, cops miffed. Tacoma soon passed an ordinance that forbade rock ‘n’ roll performance within the city limits.

Fine, the youths said. They opened a nightspot just outside the boundaries, The Little Gem, and continued rockin’ unabated.

Little Bill’s group got into a Seattle recording studio; Roberts wasn’t able to record any of his numbers, but the resultant single, the kinda-blah “I Love an Angel,” got on the national pop charts via its release on Dolton, a Seattle label distributed by Liberty Records out of LA.

Disgusted, Roberts left Little Bill for The Wailers. They were eager to record, and soon had a national hit with their indelible instrumental “Tall Cool One,” issued on the Northeastern label Golden Crest. That company had their styrene singles manufactured by the infamous Shelley company—famous for their poorly-adhered labels, which fall off the records nine times out of 10.

Roberts argued that the band deserved to get the lion’s share of revenue from their recordings. Thus, Etiquette was started. It was also distributed by Liberty, which suggests that Roberts conferred with Dolton’s owners and decided to follow in their footsteps.

Now, to today’s record. It was recorded in the basement studio of West Seattle resident Joe Boles. His Custom Recorders, at 3550 Admiral Way, was home to many classic NW sides of the day. “Louie Louie” begins with Neil Rush’s saxophone. He’s joined by guitarist John Hanford, as Roberts delivers a powerful vocal endowed with bouncy reverb. The rest of the band comes in; the other Wailers give eerie background vocals until Hanford is commanded to make with a guitar solo. He does as asked, and a manic, energetic burst of notes and phrases is heard. Then Roberts returns and the song fades out.

All the elements of a hit here; the record was a monster in the Northwest and got some national attention, but it was perhaps too Black-sounding to be acceptable to a mass audience. In late 1963, another local band, The Kingsmen, did a sloppy, chaotic version of the song—complete with a mistake where the vocalist comes in too early after a break—and watched that record reach the top of the pops in the weeks before the arrival of The Beatles and the game-change that ensued. Their version had novelty value; I recall a kid’s comment, a few years after the record was released: “They don’t sound like a real band.” That, perhaps, was the appeal.

The single got a review in Billboard as well: they liked it and gave it three stars.

For the flip, a Ray Charles song from 1956, “Mary Ann,” begins with the tough jazzy sound of The Wailers. Roberts again digs deep into his blue-eyed soul bag, assisted by a super studio vibe. The rough-hewn feeling is just right, and a fascinating tinkly sound takes the instrumental break—I can’t place the instrument; it’s not a vibraphone nor a piano. Could it be a celeste? It’s poorly miked, whatever it is. The energy and excitement of this record suggests what a great live band The Wailers must have been in their prime. 

The full account of Roberts’ life can be found here, and it worth the read:

https://www.historylink.org/File/9217

Short version: Roberts soon went to college. He studied at three universities and emerged from the U of Oregon with a degree in biochemistry. He also served in the Marines Reserves. Rock ‘n’ roll never died for him; though he earned plaudits for his scientific work, he couldn’t resist an opportunity to get on-stage and wail.

Roberts reunited with The Wailers for the final release on Etiquette in 1967. By this time, Roberts lived and worked in San Francisco. There, on an August night, he died in a car accident. He was laid to rest in Tacoma with a simple headstone.

In 1998, a crowd-sourced funding campaign raised enough money to provide Roberts with a larger headstone that depicts a copy of “Louie Louie” and the subtitle “Singer, Entertainer and Friend.”

Tomorrow: The Pips, without Gladys Knight, deliver two delirious, eccentric vocal group charmers, via a 1962 Fury Records 45. Don’t miss this exquisite display of harmonic dexterity! Rescued from a totally trashed-looking record.