The year was 1965, and I was a kid whose dad had just retired from the U.S. Army. So we returned home to New Orleans, only the people renting our home hadn't vacated yet, so we had to stay in a motel.
That was the first time I saw (or heard of) James Brown, because he and his entourage had come to town and stayed at the same hotel.
So I was up on that balcony (not right with them, but close enough) looking down on that crowd of people and kids on the Washington Ave. "neutral ground" (that's median for the rest of the world) who were screaming and frantically waving up to Mr. Brown and the others.
Only I was too dumb then to be as excited about being there as I should have been. That's because I was (up until about a week before) this army brat who hung with mostly white kids - and all we knew were Beatles and Beach Boys (well, practically), so my knowledge of black ("soul") music at that time was pretty much limited to what came out of Motown: Supremes and the like.
Anyway, later that same week we went to a little theater on Orleans Street near my grandmother's house (she lived in the projects there) to see one of those Avalon/Funicello beach movies (called "Ski Party" which, incidentally, was not on a beach at all). We didn't go to see the movie though. We went because word was that James Brown was going to be in the movie.
Well, to shorten a longer story, I sure found out who James Brown was then. Yeah boy!