Did he [Brooks' father, Lee Baker, Jr.; HistoryMaker Lonnie Brooks] try to like pass on to you all how to avoid that kind of--$$A lot of it, yeah. You know, I mean just telling those kinds of stories, you know, and allowing me to see certain things that a normal side musician wouldn't see--you know, like the business part, taking care of the inside stuff, you know, like running a business, you know. And you have to be on top of everything, you know. He always told me, you know, and I remember today, that you've got to have a vehicle to get to your gig. This is when you're starting a band off, you know, you've got to have a vehicle. It's like, that's like your instrument as well. Take care of it, change the oil, fix the tires, you know, where a lot of people don't even think about that. They just jump in the car and go, "We got a gig" or whatever, you know, and the car breaks down. That's going to happen anyway. But if you try to do preventive maintenance on it, you can alleviate a lot of that, you know. Stuff like that. Or, taking care of the business. You know, sometimes you got to go out there and work just to keep the machine going. You know, you might not make no money, you know. So, you know, and I didn't really understand that until I got on my own. Because see, I look--even today, man, I look at my dad like some people look at Elvis Presley. I never thought that I could play music, because I looked at Dad like, "That's--I can't do that. That's untouchable. You know, that's--." And he instilled confidence in me and my brother, "Yes, you can do it. And this is how you're going to do it. If you want to do it, though. You've got to want to do it." And I remember times when we would be playing around the house, me, him, and [HistoryMaker] Wayne [Baker Brooks]. And Wayne would be playing on some boxes, and I would be playing bass. You know, we'd tune the guitar down where I'd play the bass parts, and Dad would play the guitar, and we'd be having fun with it. But then it got to when I started taking it seriously, I couldn't play in front of my dad. I couldn't sing, I couldn't do none of that, because I was intimidated by him, you know. And it freaked me out when--I think it all started when I went to see Dad play at the ChicagoFest here in Chicago [Illinois]. And I saw the people going (noise). And I was like "Ohhh--."$$Was that the first time you saw him perform?$$The first time. Well, I take that back. I went in the club with him before. I was nine years old, but I was young. I wasn't thinking like that, like I was when I was about--I'd say when I was about twelve or fourteen. It was a little different mentality. When I was nine, it was like a thing to do because Daddy was doing it. You know, when I got a little older and taking music a little serious, I was like, okay, I can't do that. You know, I can't do what Dad is doing like that, and especially when I saw them people going crazy over Dad like that. It was like unbelievable. But it kind of intimidated me, you know. I was like "I can't even play in front of him." I used to have to hide. He'd say, "[HistoryMaker] Ronnie [Baker Brooks], if you can't play in front of me, and I'm your dad, you won't be able to play in front of the people. I'm going to tell you if it's right or wrong, you know." You know, and he built that trust in me, where I could let it out. Now, I run to him when I've got a new song or something I wrote, "Check this out, Dad." (Laughter) So it kind of, that was the first time it hit me, when I was twelve at the Chicago Fest.$And you know, I got one song that I wrote called, 'I'll See You Again,' that came to me. It was written--it initially came to me after Albert Collins passed away. When he died, me and my dad [Lee Baker, Jr.; HistoryMaker Lonnie Brooks] flew out to [Las] Vegas [Nevada] to the funeral. And it didn't hit me--because Albert was one of--like I said earlier, one of the first guys that made me say, "This is what I want to do, this is serious." Because see, my dad put it--his standards were so high to me that I couldn't do it; I didn't believe I could do it. But all the time he was nourishing me, "Yes, you can; yes, you can; yes, you can." And then when I saw Albert Collins, and he said the same thing to confirm what my dad was saying, and I saw it, it was like "Okay, this is what I want to do." So he was one of the first blues guys outside of my dad that embraced me, you know, being that they both were on the same label here in Chicago [Illinois], Alligator [Records]. And you know, they would tour together a lot, and you know, I got to rub shoulders with them. And I got to meet Junior Wells, and Buddy [Guy], and Koko Taylor and all of these people. And they would say, "Well, son, it's going to be up to you to keep this going. You know, learn all you can, you know." And [HistoryMaker] B.B. [King] and Hooker, John Lee Hooker--so, Albert was one of the first ones to embrace me. And when he passed man, it crushed me. And I remember going to the funeral and they were putting the body down in the grave. And his manager came up to me and said, "Ronnie [HistoryMaker Ronnie Baker Brooks], you know, Albert would talk about you a lot, you know." And I was like, "Whoa," because I never heard nobody say that to me. I always thought Albert was just being nice, you know, "All right, son, you're going to do it. You got to keep these blues alive." And then to hear it from someone else to say that, I was like "Whoa," and it touched me. But I couldn't cry, I couldn't--I just felt sad. I got home and I'm playing in my room about three or four months later. I'm in the room and I just had the lights out, playing, man. And this song came to me, 'I'll See You Again.' And I mean the changes, the words were just flowing, like it wasn't me. And I just, I always kept a tape recorder on the side of my bed. I just pushed record and I recorded that song on the tape, and it was inspired from Albert. And then around that time after Albert died, Stevie Ray Vaughan died. I mean we had a lot of, a lot of heroes were just dying, you know, Fenton Robinson, Johnny Copeland, and what's his name? I can't think of it right now, I'm drawing a blank. But all of them was at one time passing away, and I just dedicated that song to all of them. And I didn't write it, man. I mean I wrote it, but it didn't--it was a higher being, it came from a higher being--
