There are things I think I know– half stories I’ve heard over the years. I accept rumors moreso than wanting to delve into what really happened.

Earlier this month I decided to focus on Teddy Pendergrass’ accident that left him paralyzed. I’d forgotten what the real story was if I ever knew it. For Teddy that accident was something of a rebirth, setting him on a different path.

Same with the incident with Al Green. The accident he endured is joked about so much its nearly mythical– did it ever happen and why?

Looking around for ideas to finish up the month, I ran across a blog and blatantly swiped the story Green himself tells about what happened between him and Mary Woodson.

The PS to the story as I was reading it on Wikipedia is this incident is what led Green to gospel music. He became pastor of Full Gospel Tabernacle in Memphis in 1976. Briefly during this conversion, Green kept recording regular R&B but the vibe was wrong; the record he made failed and he suffered another unmentioned accident while performing so he gave up on R&B all together and remained in the church. I’m beginning to learn: Pain is about transformation. And should you choose to go there and fellowship here’s what you’ll get.

But I digress. Ladies and Gentlemen, Al Green:

“It was at one of those prison concerts for the inmates at the New York State Correctional Facility, that I first met Mary Woodson. She was the kind of woman that when you first saw her, you’d take a second look, and then a third look, and then, after a while, your eyes would just become accustomed to turning her way. Mary was a radiant and ravishing woman. Mary had a classy way of carrying herself: She was statuesque graceful and proud. She was at the prison visiting a friend but she never told me what her friend had did to land in prison. Mary had all kinds of secrets, more that I could have imagined at the time. I casually asked Mary where she was heading after the concert but I already knew the answer and it was “There’s nowhere else you’re going but home with me.”

But Mary didn’t fall under my spell quite so easily. She begged off my invitation to come back with me to the hotel. It was late, she had to get up early. So, I offered her a ride in my limo into the city. I wasn’t pushing anything. She was pretty and I liked having pretty women around me.” But Mary had other things on her mind, right from the beginning. She was a real woman, I loved the smell of her perfume, she was new and exciting.

After my tour, I returned home to Memphis, Mary was in town. The infatuation I had for her blinded me to all the warning signs. I didn’t care where she had come from or the baggage she’d picked up along the way. When I asked her about her past, she lied and told me that she had never been married and of course she didn’t have any kids. The truth was, Mary had left behind a whole family in New Jersey to come and be with me but I’d only find that out later, after it was way too late.

Soon, her husband had come down from New Jersey to bring her back. She refused but he wasn’t going to let her go and made it clear that she belonged to him and their children. She was living out a fantasy on borrowed time.

One night, I was in the studio working on new material when the door opened and a good looking woman rushed in and gave me a hug. It took me a minute to recognize her, her name was Carlotta Williams, a flight attendant I’d met on my travels.

When Mary came to the studio later, I introduced the two women and suggested that we all go back to my house.

The women seemed to get along fine as we all piled in my Rolls Royce. Carlotta sat up front with me and Mary sat in the back.

I kept glancing at Mary through the rearview mirror, disturbed by the strange expression she had on her face. Once she caught me looking at her and fixed me with a cold, appraising stare that sat my nerves on edge.

I went to my room to change my clothes. When I went to the kitchen, Mary was standing at the stove, stirring a big pot of water with a wooden spoon. She turned around and asked me had I ever thought about getting married, I replied, “Maybe we should talk about that in the morning.”

When I asked her what she was cooking, she didn’t answer me. Then suddenly, she whispered in my ear, “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Carlotta was in another part of the house listening to music. I then decided to take a bath. After I got in the tub, I soon heard a noise, I looked up and Mary was standing with the steaming pot in both hands. In the next second, my world exploded into a thousand splatters of pure agony. Mary had added grits to the water, making a thick, boiling hot paste. With all her strength, she hurled it at me. The grits scorched my naked back. The pain was so intense that I started screaming.

Carlotta burst in. “Al!” she screamed. It was then that I saw the egg sized blisters rising on my burned flesh. Mary rushed out of the bathroom.

Carlotta called a ambulance and was tending to me as best she could-when suddenly, we heard a gunshot. Despite being in pain, I rushed to Mary, she lay on the floor dead, clutching a gun.