KCRW’s acclaimed music documentary podcast, Lost Notes, returns for its fourth season. Co-hosts Novena Carmel (KCRW) and Michael Barnes (KCRW / KPFK / Artform Radio) guide you through eight wildly different and deeply human stories, each set against the kaleidoscopic backdrop of LA’s soul and R&B scene of the 1950s-1970s. Support KCRW’s original programming like Lost Notes by donating or becoming a member.
Lost Notes celebrates the life of Ruth Dolphin, who went from being a terrified widow with four young kids to the head of an LA-based musical empire encompassing four record labels, a publishing company, and a chain of independent record stores.
John and Ruth Dolphin at Dolphin’s of Hollywood. Photo courtesy Lucy Pollak PR.
SPECIAL NOTE: The Lost Notes team would like to send our condolences to the family of Erroll Dolphin, who passed away on April 25, 2024. Erroll and his twin brother Jerroll sat down with us in December 2023 to talk at length about their late mother, Ruth Dolphin. To honor their participation, we’re releasing the finished episode as intended prior to receiving the news. The text below reflects the original script. We’d like to dedicate it to Erroll, Ruth, and John, as well as the entire Dolphin family.
Novena Carmel
Ruth Stafford was only 21 when she and her sister Georgia showed up outside John Dolphin’s record shop at 4015 South Central Avenue in South LA. The year was 1948. Ruth had moved to LA from Gloster, Mississippi, two years before. And the ladies were waiting in line at the shop to respond to a newspaper ad looking for an office assistant. But, let me tell you … all John Dolphin had to do was lay eyes on Ruth before he started making other plans.
Michael Barnes
The story goes that John said, on the spot, that he intended to marry Ruth, who was 25 years younger than him. But Ruth took one look at him and said, “I’m not going to marry that old man.”
Novena Carmel
Do you think she said that to his face?
Michael Barnes
I doubt it. I’m thinking she said it to herself, maybe to one of her sisters. But, she did need the job, and John ended up hiring both Ruth and her sister to work in the record store. And, as it turns out, it wasn’t too much later that John’s prophecy actually ended up coming true.
Novena Carmel
Oh, dang. So John Dolphin had game, is what you’re saying, Michael Barnes?
Michael Barnes
Yeah, well, you know … he didn’t earn that nickname “Lovin’ John” for nothing.
Novena Carmel
Ooh, Lovin’ John, ok!
Michael Barnes
Within the year, John Jr. was born, followed by the twins, Erroll and Jerroll, in 1950. Finally, they had a daughter, Patricia, in 1956. John also had a son, Michael, from a previous relationship – who was not too much older than John Jr.
Novena Carmel
Fortunately, the record store was doing big business to keep this big family afloat. Dolphin’s of Hollywood quickly outgrew its original location, and in January 1951, they moved to their now-iconic store at 1065 East Vernon Avenue, right at the corner of Central and Vernon. From there, Dolphin’s of Hollywood became a name that people knew all over Los Angeles. At its peak, the store was open 24 hours a day, six days a week.
Dolphin’s of Hollywood storefront at Central and Vernon. Photo courtesy Dolphin’s of Hollywood.
Michael Barnes
Dolphin’s of Hollywood was so much more than just a record store: it was a hub of the neighborhood, located right in the heart of the Black business district on Central Avenue. The store’s name was a not-so-subtle reference to the fact that no Black business owner at that time could have opened a store in Hollywood proper. Even though technically “restrictive covenants” had been struck down by the Supreme Court in 1948, you didn’t get a true legal end to residential segregation until the Fair Housing Act twenty years later. So in the 1950s, LA was definitely not ready for Dolphin’s Of Hollywood to actually be located in Hollywood. But, as John himself said: “If I can’t go to Hollywood, then we will have to bring Hollywood to South Central.”
A typical crowd at Dolphin’s of Hollywood. Photo courtesy Dolphin’s of Hollywood.
Novena Carmel
John and Ruth wanted to make Dolphin’s of Hollywood a one-stop shop for both music lovers and musicians. So they worked out a brilliant system that kept the talent and the money in-house. In 1950, John put a recording studio in the back of the shop. That same year, he also started Recorded in Hollywood, which was a boutique record label for releasing some of the recordings they made there. And then he came up with his master stroke: he leased time on a local radio station, KRKD, where his DJs played their records live on the air from a booth inside the shop. It was so good!
Michael Barnes
Yeah, it was a frankly brilliant and unprecedented idea at that time: a circular industry of recording, releasing, and promoting that never had to leave the family. A song could go from the back of the shop to the front within a single day. John’s motto was: “We’ll record you today and have you a hit by tonight.” And the label recorded an amazing array of jazz and blues musicians, including Errol Garner, Illinois Jacquet, and also a young Charles Mingus.
Novena Carmel
The jazz, blues, and R&B that Dolphin’s was releasing and playing on their radio show captivated KRKD’s primarily white audience – and, in turn, made them into loyal patrons of the store. But Ruth felt that Dolphin’s was leaving money on the table by not partnering with a bigger station with an even wider reach. So, with her encouragement, the “Dolphin’s of Hollywood” show moved to KGFJ the next year.
Michael Barnes
KGFJ had a much stronger signal than KRKD. On a good night, Dolphin’s broadcasts could be heard as far as Arizona, New Mexico, and even Texas. They broadcast six nights a week from midnight until 4 AM – and the store did some of its best business while they were on the air. The Dolphin’s radio show made legends of Hunter Hancock and Huggy Boy: two white DJs whose intimacy, enthusiasm, and good taste continued the work of breaking down the barriers between Black artists and their fans of all colors.
Huggy Boy (center) with John Dolphin (right). Courtesy Lucy Pollak PR.
Michael Barnes
By now, John had moved the DJs from the back of the store into a large picture window overlooking the street. And young folks of every creed would flood the streets outside to party when they were on the air.
Novena Carmel
And it’s important to remember that this was still the early 1950s. The police presence along Central Avenue had been a longstanding issue for local Black residents. In 1950, there were nearly twenty times as many police officers per square mile in the neighborhood than elsewhere in LA. And the LAPD was especially opposed to this Black-owned business drawing so many white and Latino kids from all over town.
Michael Barnes
Yeah, the LAPD tried to solve what clearly they thought was a problem by physically blockading Dolphin’s and turning away white customers, telling them that it was “too dangerous” to be in the area. These tactics got more and more extreme until 1954, when John Dolphin organized a march with 150 other local businesses, calling the LAPD’s efforts a “campaign of intimidation and terror.”
Novena Carmel
But the fact is, you had white folks coming to Central Avenue to spend their money in greater and greater numbers, whether the police liked it or not. And Dolphin’s was outselling every other record store in the city. So the LAPD was basically acting as the henchmen of white business interests who felt threatened by John and Ruth’s success. In fact, the Dolphin’s radio broadcasts were proving to have a real commercial impact across the country.
Michael Barnes
In October of 1954, a local doo-wop group called The Penguins had just recorded their first single, “Hey Señorita.” The Penguins’ label owner, Dootsie Williams, was so excited by the record that he personally rushed a copy over to Dolphin’s of Hollywood. John handed the record off to Huggy Boy for that evening’s show, but encouraged him to play both sides on the air - especially the B-side, a ballad by the name of “Earth Angel.”
Novena Carmel
And all they had to do was play “Earth Angel” once for it to fly to the top. It went to #2 on the local R&B charts the following week, and was soon topping similar markets all over the country. It hit the #1 spot on every national Billboard R&B chart: sales, jukebox plays, and DJ spins. By February of 1955, “Earth Angel” had become the first-ever independent single on the Billboard pop charts, peaking at #8. It even went gold by May.
Lucky, Money, and Cash Records logos
Michael Barnes
In the meantime, John had started another handful of record labels: Lucky in 1953, Money in 1954, and Cash in 1955. These labels operated under a more traditional model, using outside producers, arrangers, and studios … but they still got plenty of airtime on the Dolphins’ radio show. And both the store and the labels were now attracting talent not just from Los Angeles, but from all over the country.
Novena Carmel
And there was one artist in particular who would become an integral part of the Dolphin’s operation for years to come.
Novena Carmel
A singer and entertainer named Rudy Ray Moore had come down to LA from Seattle, where he recorded a handful of singles. Moore had recently cut his own version of a Faye Adams hit, “Hurts Me To My Heart.” And he brought the single to John Dolphin in the hopes that he’d play it on the radio. But John went a step further and bought the master from Rudy, releasing it on the Cash label in 1958. And several other singles followed.
Michael Barnes
The twins say that John and Rudy had actually met years earlier, when Dolphin’s of Hollywood was still at its original Central Avenue location. Jerroll Dolphin says that John met Rudy before he’d even met their mother. And both Jerroll and Erroll say their middle names were given after Rudy: Jerroll Rudolph and Erroll Rudine, respectively. So once Rudy landed in LA in early 1958, he became a regular fixture at Dolphin’s of Hollywood.
Novena Carmel
So, by 1958, the whole Dolphin’s empire was cookin’ with fish grease. The record labels were cranking out classic sides by local legends like Jesse Belvin, Don Julian, and Chuck Higgins. The store was raking in the sales every night, thanks to the radio show. And John had recently branched out into music publishing, opening a separate office just off West Pico in the heart of LA’s Record Row. It was ALL happening!
Michael Barnes
The morning of February 2 started off like many others, with John Dolphin working at his publishing office. A regular routine Saturday morning, until someone called the LAPD. Upon arriving, the cops found that John had been shot five or six times at close range behind his desk. The assailant was a 26-year-old aspiring singer and songwriter by the name of Percy Ivy, who falsely claimed that John owed him money for some demo recordings that he had made.
The Sentinel headline on February 6, 1958. Courtesy Lucy Pollak PR.
Novena Carmel
A few young folks had come to meet with John at the office that day about a record deal. One of John’s regular session guys, Arthur Wright, was there too. But even with all the eyewitness accounts, the facts of that day still aren’t entirely clear. What do we know, Michael?
Michael Barnes
Here’s what we know: Percy Ivy’s wife was an employee of Dolphin’s of Hollywood. And, according to Ruth, Percy would often show up causing trouble. He would boast about his singing to anyone who would listen, or accuse the artists playing over the loudspeaker of stealing his songs. Eventually, Ruth grew tired of Percy’s behavior and asked John to come up with a solution. So John offered to put the guy into a studio to cut a few demos. John figured he would pretend to shop them around and then return the recordings to Percy … perhaps hoping that getting his songs on tape would give Percy’s ego a boost and then give them all a rest from his antics.
Novena Carmel
But John had no intention of actually pursuing a deal. He thought the songs were terrible. Percy still came around, insisting that John owed him $250 per song … even though John had invested his own money in the project already. The harassment went on for so long that John just had to eventually ban Percy from setting foot in the record store.
Michael Barnes
…which led to the morning of February 2, when Percy showed up at the Cash Song Publishing Co. with a loaded .32 caliber gun. When questioned, Percy told the cops that John had threatened him and lunged at him with a switchblade. But when the police arrived, Ivy had both the gun and the knife.
Novena Carmel
(Sighs) Weird and sad stuff right there. Percy Ivy’s statement to the police contradicted all the facts of his relationship to the Dolphins up to that point. He fabricated stories about their family’s friendship, and claimed that John had sent a private gang to follow him home and tamper with his car. Ruth sent her own letter to the judge setting the record straight on Percy’s history and his disposition. She wrote: “I believe that this act was premeditated and planned, and this fact is borne out by Mr. Ivy’s own testimony."
Michael Barnes
John died en route to the hospital. He was 55 years old. Percy Ivy received only a seven-year sentence for his murder, which just seems insane … and speaking of insane, years later, Erroll was competing in a cross-country track meet for Dorsey High. With the cheering of his classmates still ringing in his ears, a strange man walked up to Erroll and said: “Hello. I am Ivy. I’m the man who shot your father, and I’m sorry.”
Novena Carmel
That’s so creepy.
Michael Barnes
Yeah. And with that, Percy Ivy walked off into the afternoon and that was the last time anyone in the Dolphin family ever heard from him again.
Novena Carmel
John’s funeral took place the following Saturday at St. Paul Baptist Church. And it seemed like the whole neighborhood came out to see him. Folks lined the streets to watch the funeral procession, which reportedly ran for ten blocks and included hundreds of cars. The church itself was packed to the rafters. Ruth could barely stand up to view the body before she broke down in cries of anguish. She had to be carried past John’s body by the ushers. And she was only 30 years old. John, Jr., was nine; Erroll and Jerroll were seven. And Patricia, the baby, was barely a year old.
Michael Barnes
In the week between his murder and the funeral, Dolphin’s of Hollywood only closed its doors for a single day. And as news of John’s death spread outside of Central Avenue, customers flocked to the store to pay tribute in the only way they knew how. The store sold thousands of dollars’ worth of records every night during this period.
Novena Carmel
In addition to mourning her husband, Ruth had to suddenly pick up running the store - which meant that she was no longer just the office assistant. Now she was running the whole business. Thankfully, her two sisters, Georgia and Christine, had already been working at Dolphin’s. And even though Rudy Ray Moore had only been at the store a short time, he’d absorbed a huge amount of knowledge from shadowing John.
Michael Barnes
From then on, Rudy Ray Moore would take over as the store’s record buyer, personally making the runs up and down Record Row to restock the shelves. He’d also work the late-night shifts to supervise the radio broadcasts. In short order, he became one of the cornerstones of Dolphin’s of Hollywood going forward.
Novena Carmel
Almost immediately, Ruth was shocked to discover the state of affairs behind the scenes. It turned out that, despite its seeming success, Dolphin’s of Hollywood owed more than $120,000 in back taxes, which was like a cool million by today’s calculations. And she had officials from both the IRS and the State of California literally knocking on the door.
Michael Barnes
It’s even said that the IRS stationed someone at the Dolphin’s register to garnish the store’s income until the debt was fully paid off. But the probate commissioner overseeing John’s estate granted Ruth $500 a month to raise her family – a little over $5,000 in today’s dollars – and also an additional $300 a month in salary as the manager of the store.
Novena Carmel
John had always taken a famously laissez-faire attitude towards the store’s finances. And the fact that his record labels were named Cash and Money was no coincidence. I guess it was something like wishful thinking. The Dolphins were not living large, but both the store and the labels were still being run like a cottage business, vastly out of scale to the amount of money involved.
Michael Barnes
Ruth was in such a state of shock after learning all of this that she seriously contemplated selling off the business and raising her family off the proceeds. But instead, she decided to rebuild Dolphin’s from the ground up. She put the record labels on hold and hired a team of bookkeepers and accountants to keep things on the up-and-up.
Novena Carmel
Ruth’s decision to keep things going was a real watershed moment for her, the family, and the business. An article in the Los Angeles Sentinel from September 1959 says that Dolphin’s of Hollywood grossed $130,000 in the year after John’s death. And Dolphin’s turned into even more of a family affair than it was before. Ruth now had four sisters helping her out at the store: she had Georgia, Teresa, Christine, and Yvonne. And she had her brother, Newton. And another sister, Isola, arrived in the early 1960s.
Ruth’s sisters, Yvonne and Georgia Stafford, at Dolphin’s. Courtesy California Eagle archives.
Michael Barnes
Also in the early 1960s – 1963 in fact – Ruth was introduced to Berry Gordy, most likely while he was in LA to open Motown’s first West Coast office. According to Erroll & Jerroll Dolphin, Gordy became a regular guest at the Dolphin family home in the View Park neighborhood. At different times, he’d bring Marvin Gaye or Diana Ross or Martha Reeves around, and the twins would harmonize with them as they played on the family piano.
Ruth with Motown’s Berry Gordy, circa 1963. Courtesy Lucy Pollak PR.
Novena Carmel
Ruth took quite a shine to Berry … even though he was then married to his second wife, “Miss Ray” Singleton. Ruth even agreed to sell Gordy the publishing rights on a handful of tunes – which was one thing John was adamant that they should never do. But Berry had recently had a child with another woman out of wedlock, so perhaps it became apparent to Ruth that her romantic feelings were – shall we say – misplaced.
Michael Barnes
I think we can say that. But Berry Gordy most definitely made an impact on Ruth’s life. When John was murdered in 1958, Motown wasn’t even around. But by 1963, the label was already putting Detroit soul into the national pop charts on a regular basis. And so it’s highly possible that crossing paths with Gordy inspired Ruth to restart Money Records as her own imprint the following year, in June of 1964.
Novena Carmel
Ruth didn’t stop at relaunching Money Records, though. She really had developed a business acumen and was constantly thinking of new ways to keep the brand relevant. She opened a second Dolphin’s location at Manchester and Broadway in 1962. Every Saturday, Dolphin’s would compile its Top 100 list based on the tally of records sold that week. That list was handed over to the DJs for Saturday night’s broadcast, where many of those same records would be played for throngs of partying teenagers outside. Those charts added to Dolphin’s reputation as a tastemaker for their audience – who always wanted to be hip to the next big thing.
Michael Barnes
And it turns out Ruth had tastemakers right there in her own home: namely, her 14-year-old twin boys, Erroll and Jerroll. In the fall of 1964, songwriter Don Julian came into Dolphin’s on Manchester with a test pressing of his latest record, which he called “The Jerk.” Don and his group the Meadowlarks already had a long career recording for Dootsie Williams, who had put out “Earth Angel,” as we told you before. And they were regular visitors to the store when John was still around. So Don was a known face around the shop.
Novena Carmel
Erroll Dolphin remembers that when Ruth put this new record on, he jumped up and started dancing around the house. And as soon as it was over, Erroll told her that they had to put it out. Later that night, Ruth made sure it got airtime on the Dolphin’s radio show. And just like “Earth Angel” before it, “The Jerk” went stratospheric.
Michael Barnes
“The Jerk” was released on the revived Money Records in October of 1964. Within a few weeks, Don Julian and the Larks performed it on American Bandstand, and the song kicked off a massive dance craze – followed, as usual, by a wave of copycat songs. Smokey Robinson and the Miracles released “Come On Do the Jerk” a month later, and then another Motown act, the Contours, following up with “Can You Jerk Like Me.” The Larks themselves even got into the copycat act with a full album of songs that blatantly called back to “The Jerk.”
Novena Carmel
That’s a lot of jerks! (Laughs)
Michael Barnes
…yes.
Novena Carmel
“The Jerk” broke into the national pop charts in November, and made it all the way to #7 in the Hot 100 by January of 1965. It stayed in the Top 40 for eleven weeks. And the song’s massive success was music to Ruth’s ears. With the money coming in from “The Jerk,” Ruth was able to settle Dolphin’s tax debts once and for all. The twins report that Ruth also took this as a rare moment to enjoy her success: she went on the first vacation she’d ever taken, spending a month traveling solo, living her best life on an Eat Pray Love vibe, all around Europe. Yes, Ruth, we love this for you!
Michael Barnes
I so love that for her! “The Jerk” put Ruth and Money Records officially back on the map. And while the radio show had always been a means to find and promote local talent, Ruth now had the capital to sign and champion even more artists on her own, just as John had done with his first label, Recorded In Hollywood. And one of Dolphin’s DJs in particular would become a crucial set of eyes and ears for Ruth in this new phase.
1963 KGFJ ad featuring Alton “A.C.” Scott.
Novena Carmel
Alton Scott - also known as Al, or “A.C.” - started out as a DJ on the Dolphin’s radio show in 1960. Al became the regular voice of Dolphin’s on KGFJ after Huggy Boy and DJ Charles Tremmell moved on. Eventually, Scott also became a store manager - first at the flagship location, and later at the Broadway and Manchester store, which is where Don Julian brought his record of “The Jerk.” Al was always getting demo tapes and acetates from new artists hoping for a big break. And an endorsement from Dolphin’s still had the power to push a record into the national charts. But Alton had his own ambitions to become a manager and a record man.
Michael Barnes
Just as “The Jerk” was setting off on its voyage to the Top 10, Al Scott was introduced to a 19-year-old singer named Bettye Swann, who had landed in LA from Shreveport, Louisiana. Swann was the real deal: in addition to her fantastic singing voice, she also wrote most of her own material. Ruth was easily John’s match when it came to recognizing talent, so she wasted no time in signing Bettye to Money Records on the singer’s 20th birthday.
Novena Carmel
Within days, Bettye was in the studio working on her first single, a cut called “Don’t Wait Too Long.” True to the song’s name, it only took about a week between writing and recording it. And Ruth had the single out in stores a month later – making it Money’s first release after “The Jerk.” The song made a decent showing in the charts, peaking at #27 in R&B.
Michael Barnes
“Don’t Wait Too Long” was also important for introducing the work of arranger Arthur Wright. Wright had been an in-demand session guitarist in the LA R&B scene for years, and had even played on a number of sessions for John Dolphin. But he also developed an extraordinary talent for bringing out the color and texture in other people’s songs. John actually gave Wright his first arranging gig on the final single he released during his lifetime. And you may remember that Wright was one of the witnesses at John’s office when he was murdered. Now he was back in the fold, working on Bettye Swann’s debut single.
Novena Carmel
So now it’s 1965. Money is entering its second year back in business. And they’re flying high on this golden combo of Ruth’s business acumen; Al Scott’s ear for talent; and Arthur’s brilliant arranging and bandleading. Ruth was feeling so confident in the possibilities that she launched two new labels: Ten Star and Utopia – the latter of which was named by the young Erroll Dolphin.
Ten Star and Utopia Records Logos
Michael Barnes
And Dolphin’s of Hollywood was thriving under Ruth. In 1965 alone, they welcomed James Brown, Marvin Gaye, Aretha Franklin, Ike and Tina Turner, Little Richard, and countless others to the flagship location. But none of those legendary artists were expected on the night of March 18th … when a seemingly routine in-store appearance turned into a scene that attracted thousands of teens and invited a significant response from the LAPD.
Novena Carmel
On that Friday night, a Chicago soul artist named Major Lance was making a pit stop at Dolphin’s as part of a promotional tour. Lance had recently enjoyed a run of hits written by, or in collaboration with, Curtis Mayfield – most famously “The Monkey Time.”
Michael Barnes
Major Lance’s promoter also invited three local acts to the event, two of which we mentioned in our last episode about the Slauson Shuffle. One was Round Robin, whose song “Do the Slauson” had put the dance on the map outside of LA. Also on the bill was Don Julian’s legendary vocal group, The Larks, who put out the very first Slauson song in 1963, the year before “The Jerk” was released. And finally, another one of Ruth’s artists, a trio called M&M and the Peanuts … which sounds made-up, but that was actually a group!
Novena Carmel
Yeah. And it sounds delicious!
Michael Barnes
Probably.
Novena Carmel
We’ve talked about how Dolphin’s served as the social and musical hub of its neighborhood. And we’ve also talked about the youth culture that developed around the store. Well, it’s worth noting, Dolphin’s was within walking distance of four high schools: Fremont, Jefferson, Manual Arts, and Washington. And when Ruth began advertising autographs and free promo records at the event, word got around to those schools fast. Also, both Round Robin and Don Julian were Fremont High boys, and their appearance churned up a ton of school spirit. On a normal night, the streets around Dolphin’s were flooded with kids dancing and cruising the drag … but this event took things to a whole other level.
Detail from LA Sentinel coverage of the March 1965 Dolphin’s incident. LA Sentinel Archives.
Michael Barnes
An article in the Sentinel estimated that more than 3,000 “screaming teenagers” pressed in on Dolphin’s that day. And, in fact, the paper’s coverage of the day’s events is kinda absurd. The headline read: “R’n’B Stars Incite Teenage Riot.” And their report goes on to say that Round Robin lost “one $1,200 ring, one top coat, and half a tie.” It also describes a member of the Larks being carried off into an alley by hysterical fans. But when we talked to Round Robin, he says that being in the middle of all those teens – without adequate security or planning – wasn’t actually fun at all. He says that day at Dolphin’s was legitimately scary … and it played a major part in his decision to turn away from pursuing a career as a solo artist.
Novena Carmel
Even before this, the record store already had a contentious relationship with law enforcement going back to John’s time. You’ll remember the LAPD’s tactics when trying to dissuade white kids from coming into the shop. But this night was something else entirely: According to the Sentinel, sixty police officers were sent to manage the crowd. And it reportedly took four hours to clear the streets. Dolphin’s relationship with the police was already strained … and it wasn’t helped by the scene that unfolded that day.
Michael Barnes
History repeated itself later in 1965, when another in-store appearance caused a similar response. This one took place in August, only about a week after the end of the Watts uprising. Notice how different the media coverage was of this second event: The Herald-Examiner described the crowd as “2,500 ‘irate’ Negro teenagers.” And they gave special credit to the LAPD for breaking up the crowd “without a single act of violence.”
Novena Carmel
You may remember us talking about Northern Soul back in the Gloria Jones episode: those kids in Northern England throwing all-nighters to the sounds of vintage American soul. Well, this period of 1966 and ‘67 is when all of Ruth’s labels started cranking out songs that would become those floor-fillers on the Northern Soul scene.
Michael Barnes
Yeah, and it’s quite a list: Toni and the Showmen, Hank Jacobs, Sonny Herman, the TKO’s, and Bobby Angelle all went on to enjoy a second life at those all-nighters in the North of England. But one of Ruth’s Northern Soul classics also managed to find an audience in its own time.
Novena Carmel
After flying under the radar for a few years, Bettye Swann finally struck gold with her fifth single. “Make Me Yours” was released in April of 1967, and catapulted to the top of the R&B charts the following month. It also spent a number of weeks in the Hot 100 – and only narrowly missed the Top 20.
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Michael Barnes
Musically, Ruth and her partners were on a serious roll. And business was booming at their stores. In 1968, Ruth opened two more: one at 4108 Crenshaw Blvd, and another at Vermont and Vernon. But after a decade of managing the Dolphin’s empire full-time, she was looking for ways to pass the torch. Her twin boys were now out of college, so she put Erroll in charge of the Crenshaw store, handed him the keys, and wished him good luck.
Michael Barnes
As the ‘60s came to a close, Ruth found herself without some of her closest partners and collaborators. Al Scott left in 1968, in part because his romantic and professional relationship with Bettye Swann had gone sour. Rudy Ray Moore followed in 1970 ... but not before adding his own little piece of legend to the Dolphin’s story.
Novena Carmel
Well, let me tell you about this story. The story goes that a guy who went by the name Rico used to come into Dolphin’s while Rudy Ray was working. And he and Rudy Ray worked up something of a rapport. Rico had a character he’d invented by the name of Dolemite … and Rudy Ray would give Rico money to buy himself some food in exchange for performing this Dolemite act. Rico and Dolemite became such a hit at the store that Rudy Ray decided to work up his own version of the character. And flash forward to this day: anyone who knows Rudy Ray Moore most likely identifies him with Dolemite.
Michael Barnes
On the musical side, Moore did manage one more single for Money: a heavyweight jam called “Put Your Weight On It,” Parts 1 and 2, released under the name Fillmore Street Soul Rebellion.
Novena Carmel
Things got quieter for Ruth in the ‘70s. She got remarried to a man named Clarence Wiggins in 1973. Erroll opened one final Dolphin’s location at La Brea and Rodeo Blvd. in 1974. Money Records, their last remaining label, flared up from time to time in the early part of the decade, but put out its last record in 1976.
Michael Barnes
And as the music industry shifted away from vinyl and into other formats in the late ‘70s, Ruth gave up her day-to-day investment in the stores. She opened a series of thrift stores in the 1980s and eventually retired altogether. She spent several years trying to find a steward for the back-catalog of music she’d produced since the early ‘60s. And eventually, her son Erroll struck a deal with Ace Records in the UK to take control of her masters.
Novena Carmel
Ruth died on December 30, 2005. And unlike her late husband, who was honored with a motorcade in streets flooded with people, Ruth Dolphin Wiggins didn’t want any limousines. Her son Erroll still remembers her instructions: “Just put me in the ground.” She was laid to rest at Inglewood Park Cemetery, in a family plot next to one of her sisters.
Dolphin’s of Hollywood Square historical marker at Central and Vernon Ave. Courtesy Dolphin’s of Hollywood.
Michael Barnes
In July of 2016, the City of Los Angeles designated the intersection of Central and Vernon as “Dolphin’s of Hollywood Square.” The placard there reads: In honor of John Dolphin’s groundbreaking contributions to the music industry and the City of Los Angeles. But we really want to add Ruth’s name to that sign – even if it’s only in spirit.
Novena Carmel
No, we want her name to be added in reality, Michael!
Michael Barnes
OK, yeah!
Novena Carmel
I mean, she clearly deserves it after this story we’ve told.
Michael Barnes
Absolutely.
Novena Carmel
She was a trailblazer and at least equally important to the Dolphin’s story. So her name should be equal on that sign. Today, her sons Erroll and Jerroll are 73 years old. And they want the world to remember Ruth Dolphin – who came to California as a farm girl with a third-grade education and ended up overseeing an entire thriving musical empire. From a dark period as a terrified widow with four kids, she went on to release some of the finest and most underrated soul music in LA’s history.
Michael Barnes
Amen to that. There is just so much more great music that we couldn’t even get into this episode. But it feels like the best way to honor Ruth is to go out with one more song.
Novena Carmel
Ooh, I like that idea. What do you have in mind?
Michael Barnes
I think I’m going to go with “I Will Not Cry” by the great Bettye Swann.
Novena Carmel
Ooh, excellent choice. This one’s for Ruth.
Lost Notes is a KCRW Original Production. It’s made by Michael Barnes, Ashlea Brown, Novena Carmel, Melissa Dueñas, and Myke Dodge Weiskopf. Special thanks to Gina Delvac, Jennifer Ferro, Katie Gilchrest, Ray Guarna, Nathalie Hill, Anne Litt, Phil Richards, Arnie Seipel, Desmond Taylor, and Anthony Valadez.
Extra special thanks this week to Erroll and Jerroll Dolphin for their generosity with their recollections, as well as Glory Dolphin Hammes and Michael Dolphin. Special thanks also to Ady Croasdell of Ace Records in the UK. This episode would not have been possible without the original scholarship of Jamelle Dolphin and Stephen Propes.
MORE:
Lost Notes S4 - Ep. 6: Go with the Flow: Community, Virality, and the Politics of Dancing
Lost Notes S4 - Ep. 5: Places & Spaces: The Mizell Brothers’ LA Alchemy
Lost Notes S4 - Ep. 4: Viva Tirado: The South/East LA Connection
Lost Notes S4 - Ep. 3: My Lady’s Frustration: How Fela Kuti Found Afrobeat in LA
Lost Notes S4 - Ep. 2: Mojo on Trial: The Seedy, Greedy World of Ruth Christie
Lost Notes S4 - Ep. 1: Tainted Love: Gloria Jones and the Half-Life of a Hit
