Although a “fair” amount of attention has been given to the death of Ronnie Spector a.k.a. Veronica Bennett, who never saw fit to change her last name back after the divorce, it still seems somehow as though there was more fanfare made about when her “Svengali,” Phil, died a year ago on January 16, 2021 (apparently both preferred to have it end at the beginning of a new year)—at which time Ronnie was overly generous when she said that he was a “brilliant producer, but a lousy husband.”
Upon Ronnie’s death, Zendaya, who we’re all lucky to have, was of course “kind” enough to offer her own unique tribute statement as a result of playing her in a forthcoming biopic that Ronnie will now never get to see (though, from the looks of it, it’s going to be pretty boss). To that end, there are countless movies that pay “homage” to Phil, even if mostly to the murder charge that initiated in 2003 when Lana Clarkson was found shot in his mansion.
The idea that the woman who never got to be in control of her own image and work is still largely thrust under the radar even in death is a telling phenomenon of how women in music are treated. Especially those deemed to have never been “in control” of their success. And while some would, of course, blame Ronnie for marrying Phil after observing his behavior for enough years and also realizing that he lied to her about being a married man when they started “going together,” no one can understand what it was like to be under Phil’s thumb, or, what’s more, to need a ticket out of, well, being a “conventional” Black woman in the 1960s. And yes, there were perks to being with an influential white man. Even if it didn’t always immediately pay off if he wasn’t around to stave off racists like the ones that showed up at the Delmonico Hotel one day after she and Phil had one of their trysts. After Phil departed abruptly to attend to some music emergency, two men cornered Ronnie in the hallway as she was leaving and told her they’d called the police to apprehend her for prostitution. Ronnie had them contact Phil to explain everything and, in typical Phil fashion, he completely erupted on them with threats. Ronnie was subsequently taken back to Spanish Harlem in a limo that the hotel paid for.
With Phil acting as both savior and oppressor, it was no wonder that Ronnie’s emotions could often be confused. Yet, at the beginning, there was no doubt that Ronnie was technically in love. As she put it in her biography, “…I knew he wasn’t perfect. I knew he had a temper, and that he could be jealous around other men. But I figured I’d seen him at his worst, and it wasn’t really all that bad. Besides, I knew Phil’s romantic side, which is something most people never saw. To understand how romantic Phil was, all you have to do is look at the titles of the songs he wrote for me…”
Yes, Phil’s “teddy bear” (a nod to his first band, The Teddy Bears) side was the one that won Ronnie over. But it was his beastly side that became more pronounced over time. Indeed, Phil even presaged their dynamic by calling themselves Beauty and the Beast early on. Self-conscious about his appearance as it was (complete with a toupee already), he was made even more so by having to stand next to a beautiful woman—even though, more often than not, they were sneaking around rather than standing next to each other. What’s more, Phil would always make sure the light was turned out, especially as he removed his toupee. An image that makes one shudder to think of as Ronnie endured sex with such a grotesque creature. But, as it is said, love is love.
After sealing a certain doom by marrying Phil in 1968, he proceeded to isolate and further psychologically abuse her. The telltale mark of a man who never got the love he needed as a child (what with his father committing suicide when Phil was barely ten years old). And so, he tried to, in his own twisted way, create the family he always wanted, and the duo adopted a child they would name Donté Phillip. Soon after, Phil “surprised” Ronnie with two more adopted children as a Christmas present, like they were puppies or something. It was obviously a maneuver designed to maintain further control over Ronnie, and keep her focused on the business of being a homemaker rather than a talented singer. That would mean she would actually have to go out into the world and be ogled by other men—and Phil wasn’t havin’ none of that. Which is why, eventually, Ronnie had to break out—barefoot and broke, as the chapter in her book is called—in 1972.
Taking some time to rebuild her life, it wasn’t until 1980 that she would record again as a solo artist, releasing only four studio albums up to 2016. Unfortunately, even after escaping from Phil, she could never escape the identity he had “branded”—even if it was all her own. She was still Ronnie Spector of The Ronettes. “Phil’s creation.” Her greatest hit being something that Phil wrote to mark her with.
Nonetheless, so many have been influenced by Ronnie, from Elvira to Amy Winehouse. And it is actually the latter who perhaps took Ronnie’s stance on all-consuming relationships a little too seriously in her own life and music. Maybe “enough” attention has been made about the 60s icon dying. But the shadow that Phil still casts over any of that attention is apparent in the fact that almost every headline includes the mention of Ronnie as the “‘Be My Baby’ singer.” The command—be my baby—that Phil gave and Ronnie answered. While it was of great personal detriment for her to do so, it was of great benefit to the world. Such is the way of the true artist. Giving themselves to the public and so often getting nothing in return. Not even a little singular publicity in death.
