This was it: the day my husband Ike and I finally faced each other in a judge’s chambers. At 39, I was about to win my freedom. Not that there was much else to celebrate. I’d been left with two sons and two stepsons, nowhere to live, horrendous debts and a singing career – now that I was no longer part of the Ike and Tina Turner Revue – that was all but dead in the water.
‘Young lady, what do you want?’ the judge asked me, as Ike gave me threatening looks.
There was just one thing: my own name. I’d been born Anna Mae Bullock, but it was Ike who’d come up with ‘Tina Turner’ when we started performing – and he still owned the name as a trademark.
The trouble had started when Ike’s record company told him to make ‘that girl’ the star of his act.
Ike had a brainstorm: he turned the Kings of Rhythm into the Ike and Tina Turner Revue and announced we were going on tour. Why Tina? It rhymed with Sheena, a name he remembered from some TV series.
I dug in my high heels, telling him I didn’t want to change my name.
That was the first time he hit me. He picked up a wooden shoe stretcher and struck me on the head – always the head, I learned through experience – and it really hurt.
But now, 18 years later, the judge ruled in my favour. So I walked out of that courtroom with just my name. Oh, and two Jaguars – cars that had been given to me personally.
It seems so funny now: no money for food, rent or other necessities, no idea of how to pay the bills, but two Jags!
I knew what Ike was thinking. ‘That woman’s too old. Her career is over.’
And considering my age, my gender and my colour, there were certainly strong winds against me.
But I have a philosophy: when the odds are against you, keep going.
Life with Ike had been a long drawn-out horror of drugs, infidelity and domestic abuse.
So when I left in 1976, after 14 years of marriage, I felt liberated.
To start with, the kids – then all teenagers – remained with Ike while I worked out what I was going to do.
Having no home, I spent two months moving from one friend’s place to another.
While my hosts were out, I scrubbed their houses from top to bottom. It was my way of creating order out of chaos and earning my keep.
My biggest challenge, I realised, was convincing Ike that I was really and truly gone, and doing it in a way that wouldn’t get me killed.
In his narcissistic mind, he thought I’d be lost without him.
He locked himself in the studio, turned to his best friend – cocaine – for comfort and waited for me to come crawling back.
When I didn’t appear, he came to me.
Somehow, he figured out where I was staying and showed up one day with a bunch of stooges.
I called the police, who shooed them away.
Then he packed up our four boys and sent them to me, with money for a month’s rent on a house – nothing more.
It felt like a dare, as if he was saying: ‘I’ll see you soon enough, begging for your old life.’
Determined to prove him wrong, I called our road manager Rhonda Graam, knowing she could fix anything – a broken speaker, a car, a life. We’d met in 1964, when she was just a young fan, but she had soon become a vital part of the Ike and Tina Turner operation and a close friend.
Yet even Rhonda had ended up having an affair with Ike. He had seduced every woman in our circle. That’s what he did. In his mind, sex was power. When a woman became his conquest, he believed he owned her.
I forgave Rhonda because, in a funny way, we were in the same boat, dependent on Ike, constantly at his beck and call, ruled by him, abused by him.
We were like members of a cult. Sister wives who always came through for each other, despite Ike’s attempts to divide us.
Now I was on my own, she agreed to be my manager, even though the wolf was howling at the door.
After I’d left Ike, all our upcoming concert dates were cancelled. Since I was the one who’d dropped out, I was getting subpoenaed by all the scorched venues for lost revenue. So now I had to find a way not only to support my family, but also to pay the creditors.
Rhonda swung into action but found that nobody wanted to take a chance on Tina without Ike.
It felt like a dare, as if he was saying: ‘I’ll see you soon enough, begging for your old life.’
Determined to prove him wrong, I called our road manager Rhonda Graam, knowing she could fix anything – a broken speaker, a car, a life. We’d met in 1964, when she was just a young fan, but she had soon become a vital part of the Ike and Tina Turner operation and a close friend.
Yet even Rhonda had ended up having an affair with Ike. He had seduced every woman in our circle. That’s what he did. In his mind, sex was power. When a woman became his conquest, he believed he owned her.
I forgave Rhonda because, in a funny way, we were in the same boat, dependent on Ike, constantly at his beck and call, ruled by him, abused by him.
We were like members of a cult. Sister wives who always came through for each other, despite Ike’s attempts to divide us.
Now I was on my own, she agreed to be my manager, even though the wolf was howling at the door.
After I’d left Ike, all our upcoming concert dates were cancelled. Since I was the one who’d dropped out, I was getting subpoenaed by all the scorched venues for lost revenue. So now I had to find a way not only to support my family, but also to pay the creditors.
Rhonda swung into action but found that nobody wanted to take a chance on Tina without Ike.
END
Be the first to comment