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Ziggy Marley's Message To His Dad

With a new biopic honoring the life of reggae legend Bob
Marley, his Grammy-winning son pays his own respects.

By Ziggy Marley in People

hat's happening? Long time no see. I miss everything [about you], but mainly your presence. I listen to you. Your songs are always playing -- when I go to my mother [Rita's] house, music is on. Bob is on. Music is always around.

You were so young, but you did more than me could ever do [Ziggy, 55, was 12 when his father died of cancer in 1981 at age 36]. And the movie is another way for you to give even more [The biopic Bob Marley: One Love starring Kingsley Ben-Adir as the reggae pioneer, was released Feb. 14.] Kingsley brings out a strong emotional side of you that people don't normally see. There's moments where we're like, "Yeah, that's just like Daddy." You would laugh, but one of those proud laughs. I admired your discipline. I got that from you and the seriousness that you took with the music, the art. It was really inspiring.

We're spiritual people -- everything we do is a part of the whole. It's like we're a part of you, and you're a part of us. It's one. We speak with our love, and it's not words. We don't have to talk much -- we can just feel. My smile is honoring you. I laugh, and it looks like your laugh. Pieces of you are a part of me.

You would've loved being a grandpa [Ziggy is a dad to seven children]. I see a little bit of something of you [in them] every now and again. It's lovely to see. It's joyful. The grandkids get a piece of you through us. Everything we do is connected to you.  

He's Got A Name

Jim Croce died in a shocking plane crash 50 years ago last
September. Now his son A.J. is honoring him on tour.

By Jordan Runtagh in People

im Croce was bound for a concert when he boarded a plane in Natchitoches, La., on Sept. 20, 1973. But in his mind, he'd already arrived. After years of driving trucks and taking construction jobs to supplement a meager income playing Pennsylvania steak houses and coffee shops, the singer-songwriter notched three Top 10 songs in just 18 months -- including the No. 1 hit "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown." But the promising career of the 30-year-old blue-collar troubadour came to a shocking end when his aircraft crashed into a tree during takeoff, killing everyone aboard. Four days later Jim's widow received a letter he mailed before the fatal flight. It ended with a message to their son A.J., who turned 2 that week: "Give a kiss to my little man, and tell him Daddy loves him."

Half a century after that devastating loss, A.J. -- now 52 and a musician himself -- is touring the U.S. with Croce Plays Croce, a night of music and memories that blends his own songs with those of the dad he never knew. "I'm celebrating the legacy of my father, but it's really the legacy of two generations of musicians," A.J. (born Adrian James) says. "We share a love of storytelling and music."

Until recently A.J. was reluctant to perform his father's songs in public. "I didn't feel there was integrity capitalizing on his music without making a mark on my own," he says. But four decades into his career, it's clear that A.J. is more than his surname. After working as a touring keyboardist as a teen (handpicked by Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin and James Brown, among others), he released a string of critically acclaimed albums. Says A.J.: "Music has always been part of my life."

It helped him cope with his father's death and another tragedy. When A.J. was 4, he lost his sight -- the result, he claims, of physical abuse from his mother's then boyfriend. He drew inspiration from Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder records and blossomed into a piano prodigy. (He regained his vision in one eye at 10). Most of this vinyl collection was lost, along with most other mementos, following a fire at the family home when A.J. was a teen, but they salvaged Jim's 1933 Gibson guitar. It spurred A.J. to learn to play and remains a treasured possession.

The musical bond between father and son was strengthened recently when A.J. found old tapes of Jim performing blues and folk deep cuts. "Every song that he played was a song I had been playing since I was a teen. It made the hair on my neck stand up," A.J. says. "I realized we had a connection that was deeper than just DNA." He's since incorporated some of those covers into his set list. "It gave me a better sense of who he was," says A.J., who is a father himself to daughter Camille, 33, and son Elijah, 27, with his late wife Marlo. Rounding out the family affair is A.J.'s mother, 76, who occasionally joins him onstage. Though speech aphasia has rendered her unable to talk, her singing remains unaffected: "It's one of the cool ways that we're able to communicate now."

The emotional centerpiece of the show, 1972's "Photographs and Memories" (sample lyric: "All that I have are these to remember you..."), is made extra poignant by the childhood snapshots projected onstage. But rather than end on a tearjerker, A.J. always plays the same closer: "I Got a Name," released the day after Jim's death. "I got a name, and I carry it with me like my daddy did," A.J. sings. It's a voice 20 years older than the man who recorded it. And it's a voice brimming with pride.  

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