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A new doc sheds light on the mysterious crew who were as much a part of the trailblazing hip-hop group as Flavor Flav
From the time he first met Chuck D at a Public Enemy concert nearly 40 years ago, director Janol Ture was on his way to befriending and working with the members of the groundbreaking hip-hop collective, including a stint as president of Chuck D’s SLAMJamz label. But when he saw Straight Outta Compton, the dramatized 2015 version of N.W.A’s story, something clicked for him and others in that camp. “It was a phenomenal movie, and we thought, ‘That’s a great story,'” he says. “But we were looking at it like, ‘We have to have a Public Enemy movie.’ It has to happen.”
Little by little, the market for hip-hop nostalgia has been percolating. For years, back catalog and streaming numbers for vintage rap records were paltry compared to those for classic rock. But in recent years, some of the genre’s legends have been getting more of their due, from Straight Outta Compton (which has grossed $161 million domestically) to a 2013 arena tour by Nas and Wu-Tang Clan that grossed $18 million, among many other examples.
In that context, has Public Enemy’s time arrived? Ture and those close to the group seem to think so. Talks are currently underway to produce a dramatized feature on the PE story, a la Straight Outta Compton, or possibly a stage musical — either of which would surely include socially conscious and sonically ambitious hip-hop landmarks like “Fight the Power,” “Bring the Noise,” “Rebel without a Cause,” and “911 Is a Joke.” In what he calls a “teaser” for a potential feature film, Ture has completed To My Rescue, It Was the S1Ws (A Public Enemy Story), a two-hour doc on the mysterious, uniformed crew that, in various configurations, has been part of the Public Enemy live show and organization as long as the group itself has existed.
Even in a world of posses onstage and off, the S1Ws (the name stands for Security of the First World) stood apart. Their berets, army fatigues, black boots, and plastic Uzis were partly a nod to the Black Panther movement, and their choreographed military drills during PE stage shows derived from the Nation of Islam. The 911 hotline may have been a joke, but the S1Ws were definitely not. “They were symbols of resistance, discipline, power, organization, and purpose,” says Ture. “Seeing the S1Ws and how disciplined, organized, and structured they were was impressive. It wasn’t, ‘Hey, let’s party.’ It was music with a purpose, not just for vanity.” As a testament to their role in the development of rap, an S1W uniform from the early Nineties is in the National Museum of African American History & Culture in Washington, D.C.
After decades behind the scenes, the founding members of the crew —James Norman, John Oliver, James Allen, Roderick Chillous, and Michael Williams — decided it was time to step forward and teamed with Ture for the new doc. “People looked at us like we were some guys who didn’t talk and who looked very militant,” says Norman, known as Brother James, “but we were so much more than that, from taking care of things with the group to making sure everything was on point on that side.”
This summer, To My Rescue, It Was the S1Ws (A Public Enemy Story) won two awards — the Social Impact Award and the Audience Award for Best Feature — at a film festival held at the Long Island Music and Entertainment Hall of Fame. The location of that festival made sense, since both PE and the S1Ws had their roots in that area. The original five members (all executive producers of the movie) met on Long Island, and as the documentary reveals, each had distinctive back stories, from a stint in the Marines to a friendship with a young Eddie Murphy. At first, the five men, along with the soon-to-be-controversial Professor Griff, bonded through a mutual love of martial arts classes.
The crew grew out of Unity Force, a uniformed security group that kept things in check at the legendary Spectrum City hip-hop parties of the early Eighties. “When Chuck and [brothers/DJs] Hank and Keith Shocklee were doing those parties, they wanted to make sure anybody who came was going to be safe,” says Norman. After Public Enemy signed with Def Jam, Chuck D, who was firmly in control of the group’s vision, renamed them the S1Ws and began putting the crew onstage with Flavor Flav, DJ Terminator X, and himself. “We started into the performance aspect of it, doing one or two songs, and some of us were standing onstage with our arms folded, giving that security presence,” says Norman. “It was just to enhance the overall image of Public Enemy.”
The S1Ws Were the Militant Might Behind Public Enemy. After Decades, They're Finally Opening Up
A new doc sheds light on the security crew who were as much a part of the trailblazing hip-hop group Public Enemy as Flavor Flav and Chuck D
www.rollingstone.com
