GQ - July 2001

   

Hip-Hop Mama
Teresa Caldwell Keeps Lil Bow Wow On A Short Leash

The calendar says Sunday, but Teresa Caldwell isn't resting. Snapping her pager shut, the 36-year-old mother spreads out a pair of dirt-smeared junior-size overalls on a chair, shakes her head and sighs, "What in the world made me think that a kid could wear white?"

As manager, stylist, accountant and hip-hop mama to Lil Bow Wow, Caldwell is responsible for keeping the coolest peewee rap act since Kris Kross in line. She is also responsible - like most moms - for doing her son's shopping. Which is why she's at L.A.'s Beverly Center today. Blowing through Foot Locker, she dismisses the SOUTH CENTRAL and LONG BEACH jerseys and makes a beeline for the Lakers garb. Fourteen-year-old Bow Wow (a.k.a. Shad Gregory Lamar Moss - a name he's called only at home when he's in trouble) prefers a sporty look, so Caldwell loads up, dropping a quick $461.

Caldwell then makes a quick stop at Louis Vuitton to drool over a piece of carry-on luggage that, you could argue, she actually needs. In the past year, because of Bow Wow's constant touring, Caldwell hasn't spent more thann a week straight at her home in Columbus, Ohio. It's an odd life for her son, but few things have been normal since Bow Wow's hip-hop godfather, Snoop Dogg, discovered little Shad when he was 6 and christened him with his mini-canine nickname. In the past year, Bow Wow has sold 2 million copies of his debut album, Beware of Dog. What happens when he pens a Snoopish rap? "I look at it as if he's the kid and I'm the boss. At the end of the day, if I don't like it we're not going with it," says Caldwell, which tough side is betrayed by a barking dog tattoo on her chest.

After her shopping run, Caldwell arrives at L.A.'s Wiltern Theater, where Bow Wow is performing a pair of shows at 3 and 7 P.M. Before entering the venue, Caldwell shoos away bootleggers hawking illegal Bow Wow shirts. She then banters with local hip-hop radio deejay Big Boy and consultas with Jermaine Dupri, the producer who crafted her son's (and Kriss Kross's) career. Finally backstage, she turns a corner only to spy two elaborately braided, fruity-lip-glossed shorties grabbing hold of her four-foot-seven son and, giggling, refusing to let go. Caldwell does a drop-jawed double take.

When he's not trying to extricate himself from bear hugs, Bow Wow spends the afternoon dribbling a basketball and sitting through interviews, which makes him cranky. Mom comes to the rescue, wispering jokes in his ear. Bow Wow admits that his mom is not all that strict. "She's a good person," he says. "I love her to death."

Once the show begins, Caldwell realizes how quickly things can move from G to NC-17. During a between-song break, teenagers are brought onstage and compete to be named top Ghetto Girl. It all spins out of control as one little hottie executes some rapid-fire pelvic thrusts. Caldwell, who had been bopping along to the earlier numbers, stands stock-still, eye-balling the activities. "I've got to talk to somenoe about this," she says sternly. Pity the fool who ends up in her doghouse.