This WIP is down. In September 2012, Lore magazine will publish a much better version of "Melbourn's Storm." As such, any version of the story is unavailable except through them.
Showing posts with label feature story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feature story. Show all posts
Monday, August 2, 2010
Sunday, June 7, 2009
'Rugby Gets in Your Blood'
This was undoubtably the hardest story I ever had to write - and I blame them. You see, the only way they would be interviewed is if I would come join them at a house party and drink with them. Now I am a drinker, so I said I would. But I brought my micro-cassette recorder and three tapes, and the last two tapes were useless. I couldn't tell what I was asking, let alone what any of them were answering. Though, in moments of some lucidity, I could tell we were discussing Iraq, the tax base, Canadian girls, and the NFL. But, as God as my witness, everything in the story had to come off the first tape (and most of that was off the first side of the first tape). These guys say they've never lost a party. They're not lying.
It has been said that soccer is a gentlemen’s game played by hooligans, but that rugby is a hooligan’s game played by gentlemen. It is a violent game, fast moving and dangerous, immortalized by the bumper sticker that reads, “Give Blood. Play Rugby.” In Jackson, those gentlemen who participate in the hooligan’s game are known as the Jackson Rugby Football Club.
Though the majority of local sports fans are not even aware that the club exists, the Jackson Rugby FC began in 1974 and has been active since. The club competes nationally with 365 different teams in their division. Currently the team plays their matches at Chastain School, at 4650 Manhattan Road.
Locally, the men of the club number between twenty-five and thirty, depending on who is asked. The fluid numbers are accounted for easily. These are not professional players. These are men that practice twice a week, play games every Saturday, and have to foot their own bills on road trips during the seasons. Some men are not able to make games or practices with any regularity, some are on leaves of absence, and some are limited to only being available at certain times. But most of them are die-hards, adjusting their work and home schedules to allow them to fully participate in rugby and all of its aspects.
Rugby is one of the oldest team sports in existence. Early variants of the game were played several hundred years ago, but its current form has been around since 1823, when William Webb Ellis, a monitor at the Rugby School in the midlands of England, overhauled some of the then-current rules of the game and made it his own. The rules have been changed and modified numerous times in the one hundred and eighty one years since, but the game is substantially the same.
Both American-style football and Australian Rules football sprang from rugby. Many of the terms are used in both sports: forward pass, fullback, halfback, punt, place kick, and offsides are all used. Rugby is played on a 100-meter-long field – the “pitch” – as opposed to a 100-yard long field. Goalposts stand at each end of the pitch and kicking the ball between the forks results in points on the board. Even the post-touchdown extra point in football comes from rugby’s conversion kick.
But unlike football, rugby is a game of constant motion and speed. During a match, players must play both offense and defense and only minimal substitutions are allowed. Players must be prepared to be on their feet, running and tackling, for most of the game.
The match consists of two forty-minute halves. The clock runs continually, stopping only for injuries. Players are penalized for unnecessarily delaying the game in any way.
This kind of hard play demands a certain level of fitness. These men have it, but these are not the typical athletes. Toughness is more important to a rugby player than physique. As such, potbellies abound, and a six-pack is more likely to refer to cold beer than to abs.
“The majority of guys who are really good athletes aren’t chiseled,” says Blair Lobrano, a prop. “I have a background in Olympic weightlifting. You can be fit and not have the physique of a Greek god. The athletes we see on TV are being marketed, sold to you. They need to look good.” He believes that rugby players need something more important than a chiseled physique.
“It’s a sort of mental and physical toughness. It’s that desire to keep going, because the guy standing next to you is also still going.”
Lock forward Ray Wiltshire, known as “Mouth of the South,” agrees. “Rugby is controlled violence. You can’t be a wallflower, as far as worrying about being hurt. You’re going to get stepped on. You’re going to get scraped, scratched, bruised, and beat up. You have to be tough and a little rough around the edges. I’ve learned to recruit anybody of any size. Look at little Jason over there. He’s tough as woodpecker lips.”
Wiltshire has been playing rugby since 1990, when he graduated from Millsaps College. A four-year football player there, he was brought to rugby by a friend. He says there are many different ways that guys stumble into the rugby scene.
“I happened to walk into the Dutch Bar wearing, unbeknownst to me at the time, a rugby jersey,” says Jason “Booger” Guillot, who plays outside center. “I proceeded to get ragged by the players who were there. They did it hard enough that I finally came out and practiced with them. I started playing in 1999 and never stopped.”
“I met the guys in the Dutch Bar,” says Bradley “Opie” Barnes, a wing forward. When I first met them, I thought, I don’t need to be playing rugby. These guys are entirely too big. But I kind of had a little crush on this girl who said that she knew a bunch of the guys who played. She said she was always there. So I said, ‘I’m going to start playing.’”
To a man, the players all agree that the camaraderie they share is one of the reasons they stay with the club.
“You’re looking at a lot of likeminded, loudmouthed, very opinionated, very strong personalities,” Wiltshire says, which brings laughter from most of his teammates.
“We don’t play because anybody pays us – or whether or not anybody watches us, for that matter,” says Guillot. “We play for the parties after the game, and for the camaraderie. We don’t play for glory. God knows there’s not too much of that. We’ve approached a lot of groups for sponsorships and been turned down. I’m telling you, girls’ soccer teams get more financial support than we do.”
Except from former players. Recently, a group of former (and a few current) players formed OBIG, the Old Boys’ Investment Group. They purchased a piece of land off Medgar Evers Boulevard and are turning it into a rugby playing field.
Club President Mitch Holland, and proud OBIG member, says:
“We’re going to have two rugby pitches there. We’ve leveled the fields and planted the grass. We hope to play on them in September or October this year. In the long term, we need to add a good road and parking. We have a dirt road, but if it rains, you can’t get in at all. In the very long term, we want the two fields to become practice and secondary fields. The premiere field will go in when we have the funds. We plan to have a clubhouse and a video tower, so we can tape our matches.”
OBIG, like the club, is made up primarily of white-collar workers. Several doctors, lawyers, and engineers have regular places on the team.
“Everyone has a degree,” Wiltshire says. “Most of these guys have post-graduate degrees. Well, Opie doesn’t have a degree, since he’s still in college. He’s the baby of the team.”
The social aspect of the club is important to the members. Carlo Bagliane came from Capetown, South Africa, to play baseball for Belhaven College. Bagliane, known as “Bags,” the team’s flyhalf, describes his need for the team.
“I got married. I met my wife. She wouldn’t go back, so I stayed here.” His teammates chant, “Green card! Green card!” while he tells the story.
“I needed some sport to play. There’s no other sport here that’s a club. There’s no soccer in Jackson that’s a club. There’s no baseball in Jackson that’s a club. But there was a rugby club.”
To many of the members, the social aspect is a chance for relaxing and having a few – or several – drinks with friends. The team practices on Tuesday and Thursday during the season and has regular Saturday games. Games invariably end with both teams going to a bar or club together to do a bit of bilateral celebrating. But the celebrating also tends to occur during the week, too.
“To keep in practice,” Bagliane says. Apparently it pays off.
“I can honestly say that we may have lost games, but we’ve never lost a party,” Wiltshire says. “There’s been many places where if we win, the other team gets pissy. They drink a few beers and leave. We’ll kill their keg and drink at their bar until the last guy is ready to leave.”
“Or get kicked out,” Guillot says.
“In Pensacola we did get thrown out,” Wiltshire admits. He says that their combination of hard playing and hard partying brings them an unusual mix of fans.
“We get some fans of extreme sports. We get the oddly curious, the people who just want to see a train wreck out there. But believe it or not, there are a lot of women that rugby appears to attract. I don’t want to toot our horns too much. We’re not the prettiest guys, but a lot of us have very nice looking girlfriends.”
They also have many close friendships.
“The best thing about rugby to me is that the most important person on the field is the man standing next to me,” says teammate John Suyes, who recently returned to the team. Several others nod and agree.
“I’ve been with the club since 1980,” Holland says. “But I got away from it a bit during the 90’s. I’m back now. The guys who are here now remind me of my old teammates. They have that team spirit. They get along well. They remind me of how the team was when I played many years ago.”
“We’re from a smaller municipality,” says James Charbonneau, who plays both lock and wing forward. “So we’re always recruiting new players. We take young, old, whatever. We want people to know we’re here. We’ve been here a long time.”
“We’re just around the corner,” Guillot agrees. “Chastain School is just off the interstate.”
Charbonneau invites those interested in playing to, “Come out and play with us. We’ll train anyone. You didn’t have to play in college or in high school.” But be warned, you might become devoted.
“As long as my body can take it, I’m going to play,” Bagliane states.
“I’m here for the haul,” Barnes says. “As long as I’m able to go, I’m going to play. When I’m not able to go, if I have any money, I’m going to put a little in to support.”
“Rugby gets in your blood,” says Wiltshire. “You will love it.”
It has been said that soccer is a gentlemen’s game played by hooligans, but that rugby is a hooligan’s game played by gentlemen. It is a violent game, fast moving and dangerous, immortalized by the bumper sticker that reads, “Give Blood. Play Rugby.” In Jackson, those gentlemen who participate in the hooligan’s game are known as the Jackson Rugby Football Club.
Though the majority of local sports fans are not even aware that the club exists, the Jackson Rugby FC began in 1974 and has been active since. The club competes nationally with 365 different teams in their division. Currently the team plays their matches at Chastain School, at 4650 Manhattan Road.
Locally, the men of the club number between twenty-five and thirty, depending on who is asked. The fluid numbers are accounted for easily. These are not professional players. These are men that practice twice a week, play games every Saturday, and have to foot their own bills on road trips during the seasons. Some men are not able to make games or practices with any regularity, some are on leaves of absence, and some are limited to only being available at certain times. But most of them are die-hards, adjusting their work and home schedules to allow them to fully participate in rugby and all of its aspects.
Rugby is one of the oldest team sports in existence. Early variants of the game were played several hundred years ago, but its current form has been around since 1823, when William Webb Ellis, a monitor at the Rugby School in the midlands of England, overhauled some of the then-current rules of the game and made it his own. The rules have been changed and modified numerous times in the one hundred and eighty one years since, but the game is substantially the same.
Both American-style football and Australian Rules football sprang from rugby. Many of the terms are used in both sports: forward pass, fullback, halfback, punt, place kick, and offsides are all used. Rugby is played on a 100-meter-long field – the “pitch” – as opposed to a 100-yard long field. Goalposts stand at each end of the pitch and kicking the ball between the forks results in points on the board. Even the post-touchdown extra point in football comes from rugby’s conversion kick.
But unlike football, rugby is a game of constant motion and speed. During a match, players must play both offense and defense and only minimal substitutions are allowed. Players must be prepared to be on their feet, running and tackling, for most of the game.
The match consists of two forty-minute halves. The clock runs continually, stopping only for injuries. Players are penalized for unnecessarily delaying the game in any way.
This kind of hard play demands a certain level of fitness. These men have it, but these are not the typical athletes. Toughness is more important to a rugby player than physique. As such, potbellies abound, and a six-pack is more likely to refer to cold beer than to abs.
“The majority of guys who are really good athletes aren’t chiseled,” says Blair Lobrano, a prop. “I have a background in Olympic weightlifting. You can be fit and not have the physique of a Greek god. The athletes we see on TV are being marketed, sold to you. They need to look good.” He believes that rugby players need something more important than a chiseled physique.
“It’s a sort of mental and physical toughness. It’s that desire to keep going, because the guy standing next to you is also still going.”
Lock forward Ray Wiltshire, known as “Mouth of the South,” agrees. “Rugby is controlled violence. You can’t be a wallflower, as far as worrying about being hurt. You’re going to get stepped on. You’re going to get scraped, scratched, bruised, and beat up. You have to be tough and a little rough around the edges. I’ve learned to recruit anybody of any size. Look at little Jason over there. He’s tough as woodpecker lips.”
Wiltshire has been playing rugby since 1990, when he graduated from Millsaps College. A four-year football player there, he was brought to rugby by a friend. He says there are many different ways that guys stumble into the rugby scene.
“I happened to walk into the Dutch Bar wearing, unbeknownst to me at the time, a rugby jersey,” says Jason “Booger” Guillot, who plays outside center. “I proceeded to get ragged by the players who were there. They did it hard enough that I finally came out and practiced with them. I started playing in 1999 and never stopped.”
“I met the guys in the Dutch Bar,” says Bradley “Opie” Barnes, a wing forward. When I first met them, I thought, I don’t need to be playing rugby. These guys are entirely too big. But I kind of had a little crush on this girl who said that she knew a bunch of the guys who played. She said she was always there. So I said, ‘I’m going to start playing.’”
To a man, the players all agree that the camaraderie they share is one of the reasons they stay with the club.
“You’re looking at a lot of likeminded, loudmouthed, very opinionated, very strong personalities,” Wiltshire says, which brings laughter from most of his teammates.
“We don’t play because anybody pays us – or whether or not anybody watches us, for that matter,” says Guillot. “We play for the parties after the game, and for the camaraderie. We don’t play for glory. God knows there’s not too much of that. We’ve approached a lot of groups for sponsorships and been turned down. I’m telling you, girls’ soccer teams get more financial support than we do.”
Except from former players. Recently, a group of former (and a few current) players formed OBIG, the Old Boys’ Investment Group. They purchased a piece of land off Medgar Evers Boulevard and are turning it into a rugby playing field.
Club President Mitch Holland, and proud OBIG member, says:
“We’re going to have two rugby pitches there. We’ve leveled the fields and planted the grass. We hope to play on them in September or October this year. In the long term, we need to add a good road and parking. We have a dirt road, but if it rains, you can’t get in at all. In the very long term, we want the two fields to become practice and secondary fields. The premiere field will go in when we have the funds. We plan to have a clubhouse and a video tower, so we can tape our matches.”
OBIG, like the club, is made up primarily of white-collar workers. Several doctors, lawyers, and engineers have regular places on the team.
“Everyone has a degree,” Wiltshire says. “Most of these guys have post-graduate degrees. Well, Opie doesn’t have a degree, since he’s still in college. He’s the baby of the team.”
The social aspect of the club is important to the members. Carlo Bagliane came from Capetown, South Africa, to play baseball for Belhaven College. Bagliane, known as “Bags,” the team’s flyhalf, describes his need for the team.
“I got married. I met my wife. She wouldn’t go back, so I stayed here.” His teammates chant, “Green card! Green card!” while he tells the story.
“I needed some sport to play. There’s no other sport here that’s a club. There’s no soccer in Jackson that’s a club. There’s no baseball in Jackson that’s a club. But there was a rugby club.”
To many of the members, the social aspect is a chance for relaxing and having a few – or several – drinks with friends. The team practices on Tuesday and Thursday during the season and has regular Saturday games. Games invariably end with both teams going to a bar or club together to do a bit of bilateral celebrating. But the celebrating also tends to occur during the week, too.
“To keep in practice,” Bagliane says. Apparently it pays off.
“I can honestly say that we may have lost games, but we’ve never lost a party,” Wiltshire says. “There’s been many places where if we win, the other team gets pissy. They drink a few beers and leave. We’ll kill their keg and drink at their bar until the last guy is ready to leave.”
“Or get kicked out,” Guillot says.
“In Pensacola we did get thrown out,” Wiltshire admits. He says that their combination of hard playing and hard partying brings them an unusual mix of fans.
“We get some fans of extreme sports. We get the oddly curious, the people who just want to see a train wreck out there. But believe it or not, there are a lot of women that rugby appears to attract. I don’t want to toot our horns too much. We’re not the prettiest guys, but a lot of us have very nice looking girlfriends.”
They also have many close friendships.
“The best thing about rugby to me is that the most important person on the field is the man standing next to me,” says teammate John Suyes, who recently returned to the team. Several others nod and agree.
“I’ve been with the club since 1980,” Holland says. “But I got away from it a bit during the 90’s. I’m back now. The guys who are here now remind me of my old teammates. They have that team spirit. They get along well. They remind me of how the team was when I played many years ago.”
“We’re from a smaller municipality,” says James Charbonneau, who plays both lock and wing forward. “So we’re always recruiting new players. We take young, old, whatever. We want people to know we’re here. We’ve been here a long time.”
“We’re just around the corner,” Guillot agrees. “Chastain School is just off the interstate.”
Charbonneau invites those interested in playing to, “Come out and play with us. We’ll train anyone. You didn’t have to play in college or in high school.” But be warned, you might become devoted.
“As long as my body can take it, I’m going to play,” Bagliane states.
“I’m here for the haul,” Barnes says. “As long as I’m able to go, I’m going to play. When I’m not able to go, if I have any money, I’m going to put a little in to support.”
“Rugby gets in your blood,” says Wiltshire. “You will love it.”
'Pronounced Cha-Ne' - Feature
When I was living in Portland, Maine, I even saw some of his stickers there and wondered about them. I hope he'll break big someday. This was my first piece for Yall, when they said they wanted to write about interesting Southern people, without it looking like a Southern People magazine.
Across the South, the name Chane is becoming known. On the backs of car windows, in places of honor normally reserved for Oakley stickers, more often you will see an oval sticker emblazoned with the word, “Chane.”
Beside the ubiquitous oval logo, you might also see a black “Somå” or a sticker with “Swell Sk8” on it. These are all labels attached to Chane, a unique man from Jackson, Mississippi. Chane is sometimes incorrectly called a fashion designer. He prefers the term “lifestyle designer.”
“If I feel like I can be creative with it, I’m going to design it,” he says. So far, he has been creative with clothing, skateboards, furnishings, and furniture. He is a one-man industry in Jackson, with four different stores in the arts neighborhood of Fondren: Swell, Etheria, Somå, and Studio Chane. In September, he is planning to open a fifth store in the same neighborhood, Dwello @mosphere. This might be his most audacious idea yet. Dwello @mosphere will be a showroom in a loft, a place where customers can browse and see the furniture in use. Chane is making this possible by making the store his home.
“I could have the perfect scenario. You know, the most crisp, clean designed museum to live in, where I’d never get tired of my surroundings, because it’s constantly being sold.” To him, this is not just thinking outside the box. He refuses to get inside the box in the first place.
“It’s the most claustrophobic thing I can think of, from a creative standpoint.” From that place outside the box, Chane has created two lines of clothing, “Chane” and “Modsushi.” Both of them, he is proud to say, focus on women’s garb as much as men’s. He is also responsible for “Chane Sk8 Co.,” his line of skateboard decks, wheels, wax, and grind rails. His most recent design line is “Dwello Furnitura,” furniture crafted of industrial metals and glass.
Born Ronnie Chane 33 years ago in Jackson, Chane doesn’t fit the image of a businessman or an artist. He is whipcord-thin, with the raw type of face and features that implies a more rustic sort of upbringing. He is filled with the youthful energy of a man half his age, but he doesn’t seem to smile as much as simply let a look of satisfaction cross his face. Chane speaks quickly, in a sort of stream-of-consciousness delivery that makes it clear that his mouth cannot keep up with the turmoil of thoughts and ideas in his head. Asking him a question is much like blowing a hole in a dam.
“It started when I was eighteen, because I basically had $150 that inadvertently came from graduating high school,” he says. “I just wanted a summer project to keep me from getting bored, because I didn’t have a lot of motivation and ambition at that point.” Instead of frittering away his $150 during the summer, he decided to design a t-shirt. His first effort was, admittedly, a strange one.
“It was kind of marketing volleyball. I have no clue to this day how that ever happened. [The] volleyball was round, and it wasn’t that hard to draw.” Chane took his idea and searched for a place to turn it into reality. “I probably hit close to a dozen screen printers in town and no one’d really take my order, because I mean, I only had $150. That’s small potatoes.” Frustrated, Chane reached the point where only one place was left to try – and he wished they would turn him down, just so he could spend the money.
“I went to a local screen print shop, Ad-Graphics, and this lady was there and she kind of showed a little bit of interest, and that shocked me.”
Melinda Ledbetter says she was struck by Chane’s presence immediately. She took his order on the spot. “I admired his drive and ambition even then,” she says.
Chane says she added as a joke, “I might need a job some day.”
About a year ago, Chane posted a help wanted ad for a screen printer. Ledbetter took the position. She is now head of production and customer service for his screen-print division.
Chane sold his first t-shirts to his friends and family, “everyone who feels sorry for you,” he says. “They can’t turn you down.” With that success, he decided to design a second shirt. “I never really expected it to be a career.”
When Chane went to college, he started selling shirts out of his dorm room, turning his hobby into a business. He also began to sell his gear at BMX meets. A longtime BMX racer and skateboarder, Chane realized that people who shared the same interests might share the same sense of style. He was correct. His sales increased.
Before graduation, he made the decision to change his life by moving to New York City. He made the move soon after.
“I knew that going to New York was probably the most intimidating thing I could do. It was either going to scare me into the fact that I just need to live a normal life or it was going to push me to the edge and change me forever.” In New York, the spectrum of cultures changed the way he looked at things. “It made me want to be a designer in more than just one way.”
But he was unable to do so in New York. He worked three jobs at one time, leaving him no time to design. Instead he sold his inventory in the streets. “I’d slam the shirts down on a footlocker and sell them as fast as I could, before the cops got there.”
Chane also found himself meshing another time-honored, yet illegal, urban tradition with his own marketing skills. Sharing an apartment with religious cultists meant that he didn’t like to go home much. He preferred not to return until they had gone to sleep. Chane would stay out late, carrying a stencil of his first logo, the Chane oval, and cans of spray paint, tagging walls with stenciled graffiti.
Before long, he realized he was spending so much time simply trying to get by that he had let his designs slip. He left New York and returned to Jackson, after an eight-month stay in Pensacola Beach.
He began designing skateboards and other types of clothing. Still an avid BMX racer, even going professional for two years, he toured from city to city, making sure he was in the right place at the right times for the BMX meets. With this, his business exploded. He found himself calling home frequently and having his gear overnighted to whatever address he could.
The last stop of his tour was back home. During a visit to a skate shop, the owner told him that the restaurant next door had just closed. “It was the only time in my life that I had serious money,” Chane says. “I had $14,000 in my pocket. I went to the landlord and I dropped bills down on it and said, ‘you know what, I don’t care who you got looking at this. The time is right. I’m not ready for it, but I’m supposed to do this right now.’”
They reached an agreement and Chane opened his first store, which is now “Swell.” He had fears that he was not a businessman and he would fail. He set a goal.
“I just wanted to prove to myself that I could do the business for six months.” It did not go quite the way he thought it would. Working under the idea that the store was a little bit of New York dropped into Jackson, he began with no business plan and no idea of how to make it for those six months.
But he had faith in the youth of Mississippi. His initial lines were aimed at the younger crowds. He knew they would find him. From the adults around him, he received apathy. They told him, “’you know what? These young kids don’t have the money.’” Chane admits that is true. “But I know their parents do.”
The youth came through. Six months to the day after he opened his first store, he opened his second. He has not looked back, but he refuses to do anything the normal way. Even though he sells men’s and women’s clothing and furniture, he still considers the high school and college kids his main market. He lets word of mouth carry his name around the country instead of expensive ad campaigns. And he works on his own style of 3-D, guerrilla marketing.
At 2002’s MTV Video Music Awards, Chane went to New York with backpacks full of his stickers and catalogs. He recruited several young men and women to his cause. He strapped the backpacks onto their chests and had them crowd-surf Times Square. They did, throwing Chane’s stickers, his catalogs, and his name out into the crowd.
He received orders because of it. But to this day, New York remains his greatest challenge. He desires to be in stores there, but no one carries his products.
They can be found in stores from Philadelphia to Miami and from Washington D.C. to San Diego. Chain stores like Fast Forward and CHAOS CULTURE carry his gear. Two mail order companies, Dance Competition and Revolution, sell his things through catalogs. Due to the unusual ways he gets his name and his products out, occasionally he is surprised to see his own name.
“On an episode of V.I.P., they pop in and do a fast-forward shot into a freeze-frame of Pamela Anderson’s mailbox. And there sits our oval Chane sticker. How it got there I may never know,” Chane says. It’s not just the mystery person on the V.I.P. set who is a fan.
“Right now, we’ve got stuff that Steven Tyler [of Aerosmith] wears, that he buys from us. We don’t just give it to him.” Referring to the BMX Grand Nationals in Tulsa, Oklahoma, Chane says, “He has a son that races BMX. We end up seeing him on Thanksgiving, pretty much every year. He just happens to pop in every time.”
“We sold a t-shirt to Huey Lewis. He was there at that same race last year,” Chane says, proud that his name is being worn by these celebrities. “I’d love to get it on a million celebrities.”
He has a fairly strong idea for the future. He wants to go after the young men and women who only shop at The Gap and Abercrombie and Fitch. But that’s not the limit of his vision.
“We have got all the elements sitting here. The concrete foundation has been built. We’ve got the elements to make an empire.”
Across the South, the name Chane is becoming known. On the backs of car windows, in places of honor normally reserved for Oakley stickers, more often you will see an oval sticker emblazoned with the word, “Chane.”
Beside the ubiquitous oval logo, you might also see a black “Somå” or a sticker with “Swell Sk8” on it. These are all labels attached to Chane, a unique man from Jackson, Mississippi. Chane is sometimes incorrectly called a fashion designer. He prefers the term “lifestyle designer.”
“If I feel like I can be creative with it, I’m going to design it,” he says. So far, he has been creative with clothing, skateboards, furnishings, and furniture. He is a one-man industry in Jackson, with four different stores in the arts neighborhood of Fondren: Swell, Etheria, Somå, and Studio Chane. In September, he is planning to open a fifth store in the same neighborhood, Dwello @mosphere. This might be his most audacious idea yet. Dwello @mosphere will be a showroom in a loft, a place where customers can browse and see the furniture in use. Chane is making this possible by making the store his home.
“I could have the perfect scenario. You know, the most crisp, clean designed museum to live in, where I’d never get tired of my surroundings, because it’s constantly being sold.” To him, this is not just thinking outside the box. He refuses to get inside the box in the first place.
“It’s the most claustrophobic thing I can think of, from a creative standpoint.” From that place outside the box, Chane has created two lines of clothing, “Chane” and “Modsushi.” Both of them, he is proud to say, focus on women’s garb as much as men’s. He is also responsible for “Chane Sk8 Co.,” his line of skateboard decks, wheels, wax, and grind rails. His most recent design line is “Dwello Furnitura,” furniture crafted of industrial metals and glass.
Born Ronnie Chane 33 years ago in Jackson, Chane doesn’t fit the image of a businessman or an artist. He is whipcord-thin, with the raw type of face and features that implies a more rustic sort of upbringing. He is filled with the youthful energy of a man half his age, but he doesn’t seem to smile as much as simply let a look of satisfaction cross his face. Chane speaks quickly, in a sort of stream-of-consciousness delivery that makes it clear that his mouth cannot keep up with the turmoil of thoughts and ideas in his head. Asking him a question is much like blowing a hole in a dam.
“It started when I was eighteen, because I basically had $150 that inadvertently came from graduating high school,” he says. “I just wanted a summer project to keep me from getting bored, because I didn’t have a lot of motivation and ambition at that point.” Instead of frittering away his $150 during the summer, he decided to design a t-shirt. His first effort was, admittedly, a strange one.
“It was kind of marketing volleyball. I have no clue to this day how that ever happened. [The] volleyball was round, and it wasn’t that hard to draw.” Chane took his idea and searched for a place to turn it into reality. “I probably hit close to a dozen screen printers in town and no one’d really take my order, because I mean, I only had $150. That’s small potatoes.” Frustrated, Chane reached the point where only one place was left to try – and he wished they would turn him down, just so he could spend the money.
“I went to a local screen print shop, Ad-Graphics, and this lady was there and she kind of showed a little bit of interest, and that shocked me.”
Melinda Ledbetter says she was struck by Chane’s presence immediately. She took his order on the spot. “I admired his drive and ambition even then,” she says.
Chane says she added as a joke, “I might need a job some day.”
About a year ago, Chane posted a help wanted ad for a screen printer. Ledbetter took the position. She is now head of production and customer service for his screen-print division.
Chane sold his first t-shirts to his friends and family, “everyone who feels sorry for you,” he says. “They can’t turn you down.” With that success, he decided to design a second shirt. “I never really expected it to be a career.”
When Chane went to college, he started selling shirts out of his dorm room, turning his hobby into a business. He also began to sell his gear at BMX meets. A longtime BMX racer and skateboarder, Chane realized that people who shared the same interests might share the same sense of style. He was correct. His sales increased.
Before graduation, he made the decision to change his life by moving to New York City. He made the move soon after.
“I knew that going to New York was probably the most intimidating thing I could do. It was either going to scare me into the fact that I just need to live a normal life or it was going to push me to the edge and change me forever.” In New York, the spectrum of cultures changed the way he looked at things. “It made me want to be a designer in more than just one way.”
But he was unable to do so in New York. He worked three jobs at one time, leaving him no time to design. Instead he sold his inventory in the streets. “I’d slam the shirts down on a footlocker and sell them as fast as I could, before the cops got there.”
Chane also found himself meshing another time-honored, yet illegal, urban tradition with his own marketing skills. Sharing an apartment with religious cultists meant that he didn’t like to go home much. He preferred not to return until they had gone to sleep. Chane would stay out late, carrying a stencil of his first logo, the Chane oval, and cans of spray paint, tagging walls with stenciled graffiti.
Before long, he realized he was spending so much time simply trying to get by that he had let his designs slip. He left New York and returned to Jackson, after an eight-month stay in Pensacola Beach.
He began designing skateboards and other types of clothing. Still an avid BMX racer, even going professional for two years, he toured from city to city, making sure he was in the right place at the right times for the BMX meets. With this, his business exploded. He found himself calling home frequently and having his gear overnighted to whatever address he could.
The last stop of his tour was back home. During a visit to a skate shop, the owner told him that the restaurant next door had just closed. “It was the only time in my life that I had serious money,” Chane says. “I had $14,000 in my pocket. I went to the landlord and I dropped bills down on it and said, ‘you know what, I don’t care who you got looking at this. The time is right. I’m not ready for it, but I’m supposed to do this right now.’”
They reached an agreement and Chane opened his first store, which is now “Swell.” He had fears that he was not a businessman and he would fail. He set a goal.
“I just wanted to prove to myself that I could do the business for six months.” It did not go quite the way he thought it would. Working under the idea that the store was a little bit of New York dropped into Jackson, he began with no business plan and no idea of how to make it for those six months.
But he had faith in the youth of Mississippi. His initial lines were aimed at the younger crowds. He knew they would find him. From the adults around him, he received apathy. They told him, “’you know what? These young kids don’t have the money.’” Chane admits that is true. “But I know their parents do.”
The youth came through. Six months to the day after he opened his first store, he opened his second. He has not looked back, but he refuses to do anything the normal way. Even though he sells men’s and women’s clothing and furniture, he still considers the high school and college kids his main market. He lets word of mouth carry his name around the country instead of expensive ad campaigns. And he works on his own style of 3-D, guerrilla marketing.
At 2002’s MTV Video Music Awards, Chane went to New York with backpacks full of his stickers and catalogs. He recruited several young men and women to his cause. He strapped the backpacks onto their chests and had them crowd-surf Times Square. They did, throwing Chane’s stickers, his catalogs, and his name out into the crowd.
He received orders because of it. But to this day, New York remains his greatest challenge. He desires to be in stores there, but no one carries his products.
They can be found in stores from Philadelphia to Miami and from Washington D.C. to San Diego. Chain stores like Fast Forward and CHAOS CULTURE carry his gear. Two mail order companies, Dance Competition and Revolution, sell his things through catalogs. Due to the unusual ways he gets his name and his products out, occasionally he is surprised to see his own name.
“On an episode of V.I.P., they pop in and do a fast-forward shot into a freeze-frame of Pamela Anderson’s mailbox. And there sits our oval Chane sticker. How it got there I may never know,” Chane says. It’s not just the mystery person on the V.I.P. set who is a fan.
“Right now, we’ve got stuff that Steven Tyler [of Aerosmith] wears, that he buys from us. We don’t just give it to him.” Referring to the BMX Grand Nationals in Tulsa, Oklahoma, Chane says, “He has a son that races BMX. We end up seeing him on Thanksgiving, pretty much every year. He just happens to pop in every time.”
“We sold a t-shirt to Huey Lewis. He was there at that same race last year,” Chane says, proud that his name is being worn by these celebrities. “I’d love to get it on a million celebrities.”
He has a fairly strong idea for the future. He wants to go after the young men and women who only shop at The Gap and Abercrombie and Fitch. But that’s not the limit of his vision.
“We have got all the elements sitting here. The concrete foundation has been built. We’ve got the elements to make an empire.”
New Vibrations - Feature
This one's here because, for no reason whatsoever, this is one of my favorite short pieces - and Karen Parker is one of my favorite Jacksonians. If you're ever there, go see her.
New Vibrations owner Karen Parker describes the idea behind her store:
“We call this a store of spiritual and cultural diversity. I wanted to bring things from around the world to Jackson. I wanted to bring things of a spiritual nature to Jackson. It was really important to me to bring the tools and things that people use in different religions.”
New Vibrations opened two months ago on State Street in Fondren. Its bright purple exterior and its location between the Fondren Corner building and Treehouse have brought considerable traffic to the business. Some came following positive word of mouth, some came during Arts, Eats, and Beats, and some simply found it.
“People are beginning to search these days, stepping away from their basic religions, and beginning to open themselves up,” Parker said. “The world is a smaller place than it ever was before. I’ve always felt that we all call God different names, and he or she had different faces in different religions, but that we all pray to the same God and that it’s really important for us to see ourselves talking to – and about – one God and one Creator.”
“I think each person should be allowed their own path to God.” Parker, who was born and raised in Jackson, wanted to let the people of Jackson have some of the same opportunities that she had in determining her own life’s path.
“For us to understand that our diversity and religion is to be celebrated, and not used as a division, I wanted to bring that to Jackson. I found it in my own life really early and I enjoyed reading and studying comparative religion. It’s just always been a fascination to me.”
Parker came from a Christian family, attending both Methodist and Baptist churches while she was growing up. As she grew, she began to attend churches of different denominations, experimenting to find the place where she thought she would be the most content. Now, she says:
“I consider myself an extremely spiritual person, but I don’t put myself in any one religious category.” Her customers do not fit into any one category either.
“Most of the people that come in here consider themselves to be Christian, but they are very interested in other ways of thinking. We have quite a large pagan community here in Jackson and they are huge supporters of mine. They love the things that I have.” What she has is a collection of eclectic items, music, and books.
“I try to make sure I keep things that speak to your spirit or that may be of a religious nature, such as statues of Buddha or Hindu goddesses, or prayer beads. I don’t carry a lot of Christian things, because there are other companies that [do that] and do it very well.”
Instead, New Vibrations carries things like decorative masks, chakra jewelry, crystal balls, Egyptian statuary, karma flags, antique Tibetan singing bowls, natural soap, American Indian jewelry, intention candles, and items to help Feng Shui your home.
“I have things to make you happy and things to give you a spark in your life. I have some Celtic things, I have some things from Bali and Africa, I have some things from different parts of the world.”
“I want to have things that make you happy,” Parker said. “Or make you curious, and intrigue you, and make you question things.” She insists that her store is spiritual, and isn’t representative of what is often called “New Age.”
“I hate the words, ‘New Age.’ I hate them. Everything you don’t understand gets lumped under that heading, and I hate that. I don’t consider myself New Age because I don’t like the words, and I don’t like the connotations those words have. If you’re New Age, then you must be worshipping the devil or something like that, which is ridiculous. Some people may call my store New Age, but I prefer the word, “Metaphysical” – something beyond the physical.”
New Vibrations is Parker’s first business, but she says it is also something more than just that.
“I wanted to have a space – my back room – where people are invited to sit, have a cup of tea or coffee, and talk to each other. Read books about other religions and other beliefs that will open up some conversation between people with different beliefs, so that our intolerance is lessened by communication. I want people of a like mind to gather and talk.” But, she says she knows that conversation and a cup of tea may not be everybody’s cup of tea.
“I understand there are people that aren’t going to be happy with my kind of store. That’s okay. I understand that. If people don’t want to patronize the store, I understand.” But she considers herself fortunate that the business is located in the arts neighborhood.
“I always wanted to be in the Fondren area,” she said. “When I thought about my business, I always conceptualized it here. I wanted the energy here. I wanted the feel of it. This is like a gift from God.”
New Vibrations owner Karen Parker describes the idea behind her store:
“We call this a store of spiritual and cultural diversity. I wanted to bring things from around the world to Jackson. I wanted to bring things of a spiritual nature to Jackson. It was really important to me to bring the tools and things that people use in different religions.”
New Vibrations opened two months ago on State Street in Fondren. Its bright purple exterior and its location between the Fondren Corner building and Treehouse have brought considerable traffic to the business. Some came following positive word of mouth, some came during Arts, Eats, and Beats, and some simply found it.
“People are beginning to search these days, stepping away from their basic religions, and beginning to open themselves up,” Parker said. “The world is a smaller place than it ever was before. I’ve always felt that we all call God different names, and he or she had different faces in different religions, but that we all pray to the same God and that it’s really important for us to see ourselves talking to – and about – one God and one Creator.”
“I think each person should be allowed their own path to God.” Parker, who was born and raised in Jackson, wanted to let the people of Jackson have some of the same opportunities that she had in determining her own life’s path.
“For us to understand that our diversity and religion is to be celebrated, and not used as a division, I wanted to bring that to Jackson. I found it in my own life really early and I enjoyed reading and studying comparative religion. It’s just always been a fascination to me.”
Parker came from a Christian family, attending both Methodist and Baptist churches while she was growing up. As she grew, she began to attend churches of different denominations, experimenting to find the place where she thought she would be the most content. Now, she says:
“I consider myself an extremely spiritual person, but I don’t put myself in any one religious category.” Her customers do not fit into any one category either.
“Most of the people that come in here consider themselves to be Christian, but they are very interested in other ways of thinking. We have quite a large pagan community here in Jackson and they are huge supporters of mine. They love the things that I have.” What she has is a collection of eclectic items, music, and books.
“I try to make sure I keep things that speak to your spirit or that may be of a religious nature, such as statues of Buddha or Hindu goddesses, or prayer beads. I don’t carry a lot of Christian things, because there are other companies that [do that] and do it very well.”
Instead, New Vibrations carries things like decorative masks, chakra jewelry, crystal balls, Egyptian statuary, karma flags, antique Tibetan singing bowls, natural soap, American Indian jewelry, intention candles, and items to help Feng Shui your home.
“I have things to make you happy and things to give you a spark in your life. I have some Celtic things, I have some things from Bali and Africa, I have some things from different parts of the world.”
“I want to have things that make you happy,” Parker said. “Or make you curious, and intrigue you, and make you question things.” She insists that her store is spiritual, and isn’t representative of what is often called “New Age.”
“I hate the words, ‘New Age.’ I hate them. Everything you don’t understand gets lumped under that heading, and I hate that. I don’t consider myself New Age because I don’t like the words, and I don’t like the connotations those words have. If you’re New Age, then you must be worshipping the devil or something like that, which is ridiculous. Some people may call my store New Age, but I prefer the word, “Metaphysical” – something beyond the physical.”
New Vibrations is Parker’s first business, but she says it is also something more than just that.
“I wanted to have a space – my back room – where people are invited to sit, have a cup of tea or coffee, and talk to each other. Read books about other religions and other beliefs that will open up some conversation between people with different beliefs, so that our intolerance is lessened by communication. I want people of a like mind to gather and talk.” But, she says she knows that conversation and a cup of tea may not be everybody’s cup of tea.
“I understand there are people that aren’t going to be happy with my kind of store. That’s okay. I understand that. If people don’t want to patronize the store, I understand.” But she considers herself fortunate that the business is located in the arts neighborhood.
“I always wanted to be in the Fondren area,” she said. “When I thought about my business, I always conceptualized it here. I wanted the energy here. I wanted the feel of it. This is like a gift from God.”
New Life for Women - Feature
I won't say much about this one, except that New Life for Women is one of the worthiest causes I've ever seen. It was brought to my attention by my friend and neighbor, Debbie Parks, who introduced me to the people who run it. Debbie graduated from New Life several years ago, but not before the damage was done. She had cirrhosis, which turned to cancer, which killed her last year. But she was clean and sober from the time she left New Life until the end. They're not just good people; they're the best. Miss you, Debbie.
Planet Weekly originally published this with all the women's real names, but enough time has passed, and I think it likely that some of them may not want their names bandied about on the Interwebs. As such, I've changed their names - out of respect for who they are, and where they may be at this time in their lives.
New Life for Women was founded in 1988 as a secondary treatment program for homeless, chemically dependent women. According to co-founder and current executive director Melanie Parks, women who complete primary treatment for chemical dependency – which consists of detoxification and about 30-45 days of treatment in places like Harbor House – typically return to their same places, people, and situations that caused the dependency, and are successful in maintaining long-term sobriety only about one time out of ten. Secondary treatment helps the women maintain sobriety at a much greater rate. Parks estimates that after 90 days’ treatment at her facility, or one like it, their chances rise to six out of ten, but she does admit:
“I don’t think there’s been any empirical data put together about that, but it would be interesting to know what the numbers are with the support systems established through an agency like this one.”
New Life for Women is a 20-bed facility in Jackson that specializes in helping women with a drive to free themselves from dependency on drugs and alcohol. It is only one of a couple of these kinds of programs specifically designed for women, and it is the only one in the metro area that is not part of an attached primary treatment center. Parks says that there are probably four times as many beds available to men as there are to women in the Jackson area.
“Alcoholics Anonymous numbers say that 50 percent of all alcoholics are women,” she said. “But here in the South, we don’t want to see our mama, our sister, our aunt, or our niece be labeled as an alcoholic or an addict.” She says that insistence on believing that women aren’t addicts is complicated further.
“Women take longer to get addicted and they take longer to get sober. It’s a physiological fact. It takes seven and a half to eight months for the brain to be chemically free from the last time an addict takes any mood-altering substance. And women have more baggage. We have abortions, rapes, molestation, and incest. Women often fall back on what they know and that’s not always healthy. We give them a place to learn new skills.”
Women who stay at New Life get a job during the day and stay in the controlled environment at night, taking part in individual and group therapy, learning coping and living skills like budgeting, taking part in spirituality groups, and earning their GEDs, if they need it. Many of the women have lost their children to DHS or to other family members, and courses are also given on parenting.
“Women are the hidden homeless,” said Parks. “If you can clean or babysit or take care of chores, people will put up with you for a period of time. They’ll put up with your disease until you start stealing from them, lying to them, and then they’re through with you.” To help keep them off the street, or from staying with someone who may prove destructive, New Life offers not only the 90 days at the main facility, but also a chance to live in a structured, more independent setting for a year or more.
“We have transitional apartments for the graduates through a HUD grant,” she said. “Once they complete their 90 days, they are eligible to go into the HUD program. This gives them time to get a job, get settled, and let the fog begin to lift.” Women in the HUD program have an apartment with a roommate. They have to save 30% of their gross income and pay their utilities. The grant pays their rent, buys furniture, and ultimately lets them get on their feet financially. They continue to receive aftercare at the center and have a strong support network. Parks estimates that women who go this far increase their chances of success to eight out of ten.
Currently, [Janice Bruer] is one of eight women taking part in this program. [Bruer] left an abusive marriage and joined AA several years ago. She relapsed, starting drinking again, and ended up in a second destructive marriage. When that one ended, she found herself in a series of bad relationships and was jailed seven times in one year. She says she drank dozens of beers every day.
“My old AA sponsor worked for the Department of Mental Health,” she said. “She called me and told me to go to a meeting that night. I told her I was drunk and not coming. She told me something had come across her desk and she needed me to see if I wanted to do it. I went to the meeting and she had information on New Life. I didn’t go through treatment; I’d done that before. But I sobered up and showed them that the alcohol was out of my system. Ten days after that phone call, I came here.” [Bruer] has been sober for the 8½ months since, went through the 90-day program, and joined the HUD program. She had been a homeless, jobless alcoholic for years, but now:
“I’ve got a job at a hotel. I’m in college full-time and learning to be a hotel manager. Sometimes on the weekends, I manage the one where I work. I’m getting experience, I’ve had my driver’s license reinstated, and I’ve got a car. All these things have happened since I’ve been here.” When asked, [Bruer], who says she once was addicted to “high drama,” insists that she is not yet ready to leave the support of New Life.
“I’ve got another eight months to go. I need the time to stay stable. I hope I’ll be ready; I’m doing everything I can to get ready. This is all part of the process to me.”
[Sara Mitchell] came to New Life in 1989 following 60 days in Harbor House. She ran with a motorcycle club, was an alcoholic and an IV crystal meth user. She had two small children; her mother and sister were raising them. She participated in the 90-day program.
“I needed to get out there and take care of my children,” [Mitchell] said. “I had acquired a job and I was ready to go. I’ve gone back to college. I’m a paralegal; I work for a law firm downtown. I’ve worked there for five years and I’ve been sober from October 1989 until today.” [Mitchell] credits Parks with helping her set long-term goals after she had left the 90-day program.
“You want to know what the program did for me? It took a practicing addict who dragged two little children through hell for years and turned her into a woman with a second chance.” [Mitchell] remains close to New Life, has remarried, and is raising two more young children. She is, quite honestly, happy.
“[Sarah] was one of the first women that went through our program,” Parks said. “We treated 450 women in the first five years I was involved.” Most of them have remained sober since. Parks says the idea for New Life came when she needed the program herself.
“I went through primary and secondary treatment in 1987. There was nothing for women in the city of Jackson – nothing. I stayed at a men’s facility with another gal. After I got out, I knew something had to happen regarding a women’s facility. That’s when New Life was birthed.”
Women at New Life receive a minimum of one hour individual counseling a week and six hours of group therapy every week. Alice Dorman is a counselor and runs a “hardcore” 12-step program.
“I got sober through AA on May 17, 1989,” she said. “I grew up in the ‘70s and tried all the other stuff, but alcohol is what got me. I really love being sober and that’s my deal. I want everyone to have it and I know they can.”
Althea Lewis is another counselor, one who says her strength lies in individual counseling:
“There is a uniqueness about every woman that comes through here, and she has other needs, and sometimes you have to get through self-esteem issues or behavioral issues. There is a reason why we act a certain way and when we can pinpoint why, we can work with that.”
“We’re finding that women and men are using chemicals now younger and younger,” said Parks. “We’ve treated more than one woman who has been a fetal alcohol syndrome baby, that their mother put booze in their thermos to keep them from going through the DTs at school. I’ve had at least two that I know of right now that their first time ever in their life being sober was in this building – ever.”
Unfortunately the work that New Life does has fallen into jeopardy.
“We were that close to going under,” Parks said, holding finger and thumb a quarter inch apart. “We were close to not being able to make payroll a couple of weeks ago, but Althea and Alice were both willing to keep working.” New Life is a United Way agency and they’re funded through the Department of Mental Health, but the money received is barely enough to pay salaries. In addition, the building has fallen into disrepair in the years since it opened, because of the agency’s lack of funds. In fact, the main house itself is currently unoccupied; due to the building’s state, the twenty beds are not used.
“St. Dominic Hospital had donated $20,000 to help rehab the building. They’re to be commended; they’re the only agency so far to have done that. I’ve also called [Hines County] Sheriff McMillin and he is sending his carpentry and painting crews the first of January to build us fire escapes and upgrade the building to where we think it’s habitable.” That’s not all that New Life needs. They need new carpet, improved plumbing, bedspreads, vacuum cleaners, some appliances, and even a new bathroom.
“We have a plan to do one large bathroom, but it would run about $6000. That would take care of it. St. James Episcopal Church is thinking about doing part of it.” Parks says they need many things, but she has one major Christmas wish.
“I’d like to see someone do an extreme makeover, like on TV. Rather than taking one unfortunate family, they can help 20 people at any given time, which works out to over 1000 people a year that they can help.” But New Life isn’t waiting for all the improvements to get back to work.
“We’ve got six beds ready to go and we’ve already got a waiting list. We get calls every day, from all over the state. They haven’t stopped. We fill a need.”
New Life for Women is a nonprofit 501(c)3 organization. Anyone wishing to donate money to the program, and anyone wishing to donate needed services for the building can reach them at 601-355-2195.
Planet Weekly originally published this with all the women's real names, but enough time has passed, and I think it likely that some of them may not want their names bandied about on the Interwebs. As such, I've changed their names - out of respect for who they are, and where they may be at this time in their lives.
New Life for Women was founded in 1988 as a secondary treatment program for homeless, chemically dependent women. According to co-founder and current executive director Melanie Parks, women who complete primary treatment for chemical dependency – which consists of detoxification and about 30-45 days of treatment in places like Harbor House – typically return to their same places, people, and situations that caused the dependency, and are successful in maintaining long-term sobriety only about one time out of ten. Secondary treatment helps the women maintain sobriety at a much greater rate. Parks estimates that after 90 days’ treatment at her facility, or one like it, their chances rise to six out of ten, but she does admit:
“I don’t think there’s been any empirical data put together about that, but it would be interesting to know what the numbers are with the support systems established through an agency like this one.”
New Life for Women is a 20-bed facility in Jackson that specializes in helping women with a drive to free themselves from dependency on drugs and alcohol. It is only one of a couple of these kinds of programs specifically designed for women, and it is the only one in the metro area that is not part of an attached primary treatment center. Parks says that there are probably four times as many beds available to men as there are to women in the Jackson area.
“Alcoholics Anonymous numbers say that 50 percent of all alcoholics are women,” she said. “But here in the South, we don’t want to see our mama, our sister, our aunt, or our niece be labeled as an alcoholic or an addict.” She says that insistence on believing that women aren’t addicts is complicated further.
“Women take longer to get addicted and they take longer to get sober. It’s a physiological fact. It takes seven and a half to eight months for the brain to be chemically free from the last time an addict takes any mood-altering substance. And women have more baggage. We have abortions, rapes, molestation, and incest. Women often fall back on what they know and that’s not always healthy. We give them a place to learn new skills.”
Women who stay at New Life get a job during the day and stay in the controlled environment at night, taking part in individual and group therapy, learning coping and living skills like budgeting, taking part in spirituality groups, and earning their GEDs, if they need it. Many of the women have lost their children to DHS or to other family members, and courses are also given on parenting.
“Women are the hidden homeless,” said Parks. “If you can clean or babysit or take care of chores, people will put up with you for a period of time. They’ll put up with your disease until you start stealing from them, lying to them, and then they’re through with you.” To help keep them off the street, or from staying with someone who may prove destructive, New Life offers not only the 90 days at the main facility, but also a chance to live in a structured, more independent setting for a year or more.
“We have transitional apartments for the graduates through a HUD grant,” she said. “Once they complete their 90 days, they are eligible to go into the HUD program. This gives them time to get a job, get settled, and let the fog begin to lift.” Women in the HUD program have an apartment with a roommate. They have to save 30% of their gross income and pay their utilities. The grant pays their rent, buys furniture, and ultimately lets them get on their feet financially. They continue to receive aftercare at the center and have a strong support network. Parks estimates that women who go this far increase their chances of success to eight out of ten.
Currently, [Janice Bruer] is one of eight women taking part in this program. [Bruer] left an abusive marriage and joined AA several years ago. She relapsed, starting drinking again, and ended up in a second destructive marriage. When that one ended, she found herself in a series of bad relationships and was jailed seven times in one year. She says she drank dozens of beers every day.
“My old AA sponsor worked for the Department of Mental Health,” she said. “She called me and told me to go to a meeting that night. I told her I was drunk and not coming. She told me something had come across her desk and she needed me to see if I wanted to do it. I went to the meeting and she had information on New Life. I didn’t go through treatment; I’d done that before. But I sobered up and showed them that the alcohol was out of my system. Ten days after that phone call, I came here.” [Bruer] has been sober for the 8½ months since, went through the 90-day program, and joined the HUD program. She had been a homeless, jobless alcoholic for years, but now:
“I’ve got a job at a hotel. I’m in college full-time and learning to be a hotel manager. Sometimes on the weekends, I manage the one where I work. I’m getting experience, I’ve had my driver’s license reinstated, and I’ve got a car. All these things have happened since I’ve been here.” When asked, [Bruer], who says she once was addicted to “high drama,” insists that she is not yet ready to leave the support of New Life.
“I’ve got another eight months to go. I need the time to stay stable. I hope I’ll be ready; I’m doing everything I can to get ready. This is all part of the process to me.”
[Sara Mitchell] came to New Life in 1989 following 60 days in Harbor House. She ran with a motorcycle club, was an alcoholic and an IV crystal meth user. She had two small children; her mother and sister were raising them. She participated in the 90-day program.
“I needed to get out there and take care of my children,” [Mitchell] said. “I had acquired a job and I was ready to go. I’ve gone back to college. I’m a paralegal; I work for a law firm downtown. I’ve worked there for five years and I’ve been sober from October 1989 until today.” [Mitchell] credits Parks with helping her set long-term goals after she had left the 90-day program.
“You want to know what the program did for me? It took a practicing addict who dragged two little children through hell for years and turned her into a woman with a second chance.” [Mitchell] remains close to New Life, has remarried, and is raising two more young children. She is, quite honestly, happy.
“[Sarah] was one of the first women that went through our program,” Parks said. “We treated 450 women in the first five years I was involved.” Most of them have remained sober since. Parks says the idea for New Life came when she needed the program herself.
“I went through primary and secondary treatment in 1987. There was nothing for women in the city of Jackson – nothing. I stayed at a men’s facility with another gal. After I got out, I knew something had to happen regarding a women’s facility. That’s when New Life was birthed.”
Women at New Life receive a minimum of one hour individual counseling a week and six hours of group therapy every week. Alice Dorman is a counselor and runs a “hardcore” 12-step program.
“I got sober through AA on May 17, 1989,” she said. “I grew up in the ‘70s and tried all the other stuff, but alcohol is what got me. I really love being sober and that’s my deal. I want everyone to have it and I know they can.”
Althea Lewis is another counselor, one who says her strength lies in individual counseling:
“There is a uniqueness about every woman that comes through here, and she has other needs, and sometimes you have to get through self-esteem issues or behavioral issues. There is a reason why we act a certain way and when we can pinpoint why, we can work with that.”
“We’re finding that women and men are using chemicals now younger and younger,” said Parks. “We’ve treated more than one woman who has been a fetal alcohol syndrome baby, that their mother put booze in their thermos to keep them from going through the DTs at school. I’ve had at least two that I know of right now that their first time ever in their life being sober was in this building – ever.”
Unfortunately the work that New Life does has fallen into jeopardy.
“We were that close to going under,” Parks said, holding finger and thumb a quarter inch apart. “We were close to not being able to make payroll a couple of weeks ago, but Althea and Alice were both willing to keep working.” New Life is a United Way agency and they’re funded through the Department of Mental Health, but the money received is barely enough to pay salaries. In addition, the building has fallen into disrepair in the years since it opened, because of the agency’s lack of funds. In fact, the main house itself is currently unoccupied; due to the building’s state, the twenty beds are not used.
“St. Dominic Hospital had donated $20,000 to help rehab the building. They’re to be commended; they’re the only agency so far to have done that. I’ve also called [Hines County] Sheriff McMillin and he is sending his carpentry and painting crews the first of January to build us fire escapes and upgrade the building to where we think it’s habitable.” That’s not all that New Life needs. They need new carpet, improved plumbing, bedspreads, vacuum cleaners, some appliances, and even a new bathroom.
“We have a plan to do one large bathroom, but it would run about $6000. That would take care of it. St. James Episcopal Church is thinking about doing part of it.” Parks says they need many things, but she has one major Christmas wish.
“I’d like to see someone do an extreme makeover, like on TV. Rather than taking one unfortunate family, they can help 20 people at any given time, which works out to over 1000 people a year that they can help.” But New Life isn’t waiting for all the improvements to get back to work.
“We’ve got six beds ready to go and we’ve already got a waiting list. We get calls every day, from all over the state. They haven’t stopped. We fill a need.”
New Life for Women is a nonprofit 501(c)3 organization. Anyone wishing to donate money to the program, and anyone wishing to donate needed services for the building can reach them at 601-355-2195.
Metal Finishing Services - Feature
I did some work for a business paper run by a pretty well-known Libertarian, Jack Criss. Though politically we didn't agree, I liked the way he had writers shine a light on the various businesses and businessmen of central Mississippi. I found that it's easy to write about anyone who is passionate about what they do. Everyone I interviewed for MBC was passionate about their work. I picked this piece, because the field in which he works seems dull to those of us who don't understand it, but so necessary and worthy for those who do.
David Church isn’t afraid to spread himself a little bit thin. Unlike some businessmen whose ‘eyes on the prize’ philosophy forces them to focus on one particular role in business – one hat to wear – and whose single-minded determination causes harm to their home life and health, Church is perfectly comfortable wearing those different hats. Husband, father, antique car hobbyist, and avid bicyclist who laments the lack of places to ride a bicycle inside the city of Jackson – he is all of these things. He is also president of Metal Finishing Services, office principal for Criterium Engineers, president of 750 Boling Street Partners, an officer of the Hawkins Field Industrial Park, and a working electrical engineer. Given his choice on what he would rather do, he responds:
“I prefer to be working on my own cars or riding my bicycle. Those are my vices.” In fact, it was one of his interests that led him to opening the doors to Metal Finishing Services.
“It was the old car hobby. I’ve been into cars ever since high school and I never grew up,” Church says. “The first car ever restored was a ’55 Ford; I still have it. In fact, I finally did one for myself and just restored that very car.” Church points to a photo of a 1955 Ford Mainline 2-door sedan, and admits that owning Metal Finishing Services gives him a head start on restoring those cars.
“We do paint stripping, de-rusting, and powder coating for industrial businesses and other customers,” Church says, “like antique car restorers. They’re a big part of it. We take [the auto bodies] down and get all the paint and rust off so they have a good start on it.” This is no shade-tree operation. The company works with several major industries: automotive, aerospace, military, and marine, among others.
“We do some gigantic diesel engines,” Church says, “like for tugboats and railroad locomotives. We can do up to a 20-cylinder electromotive diesel.”
“We do industrial paint rejects. Anyone who operates a conveyorized painting system is going to have a reject rate. We try to reclaim those for people. We also strip paint line hangers that go through the line over and over again and get a buildup of paint.”
In addition to stripping the rust and old paint off everything from old Volkswagen bodies to nine or ten-ton locomotive diesel engines, Metal Finishing Services utilizes powder coating, an alternative to spray painting metal bodies and parts, but one that can still be done in virtually any color and with any type of finish.
“You spray a dry powder that is electrostatically attracted to metal parts,” he says. “You put it in an oven and it melts the little particles and fuses them over the surface. It doesn’t put out any pollution like solvent-based paint and it’s much, much more durable.” He displays several recently coated items, all in red or black. Each is free of any sort of paint flaw, smooth, and with a uniform finish. As proud as he is of the quality of his company’s powder coating, he grows even more animated when he describes their newest offering.
“We’ve got a new service now that is, to my knowledge, the only place in the country that this combination is available,” he says. “We work regionally with car restorers in a 300-400 mile radius. Now after we de-rust their car bodies and strip all the grunge off, we have an arrangement with one of the Tier 1 Nissan suppliers, Systems Electrocoating. They prime all the truck frames for Nissan and they’ve built a special rack. We can now send up a car body – your Volkswagen or ’57 Chevy body – and have it immersed in this water-based primer that’s really high-tech. It’s like an eight million-dollar plant up there. It is totally immersed. [The body] gets in all the little nooks and crannies that you just can’t get with a spray gun. It’s a very good quality primer and you can paint on top of it with whatever you want.” He says the reason why the combination is only available through Metal Finishing Services is simple:
“Systems won’t do it for anyone but us, because there is no way anyone else can get it clean enough. If you were to contaminate their bath, that would be a major problem.” Getting those auto bodies, paint line hangers, and electromotive diesel engines clean enough is a matter that requires elbow grease, ovens to oxidize the paint, and three huge chemical tanks to remove the rust. It also often requires a single item to go through the process numerous times – until Church and his employees are satisfied.
It may sound like a toxic place in which to work, but it is not. We strolled through the plant, and were not disturbed by so much as a foul odor. Church insists that having a healthy, environmentally sound business is of major importance.
“We are environmentally friendly,” he says, ticking off points on his fingers. “We recycle our rinse water. The ovens have incinerators on the stack to burn up any smoke that comes out. Instead of discharging almost 2000 degrees, we recover that heat and heat up our chemical tanks with it. And the powder coating doesn’t use any solvents.”
Church, who currently lives in northeast Jackson with his wife, Allison, and his children Haley and Andy, has lived in Jackson since the third grade. At an early age, he seemed to have an idea of the career path he would follow.
“I always liked to tinker with electronics and stuff, so I went to a two-year program at Hinds Community College and got a technology degree. I did well, and I liked it and wanted to learn more, so I went to Mississippi State and got an E.E. degree.” He was working for Mississippi Power & Light as an engineer in 1981 when he discovered Redi-Strip, a national company that did paint stripping and de-rusting. He visited franchises and their headquarters in Los Angeles and made the move to open a franchise in midtown Jackson; he quit his job at MP&L to do so. He ran Redi-Strip until 2002, when he decided to amicably part from the national company and go his own way.
Before embarking as Metal Finishing Services, Church found his operation had completely outgrown his midtown location and sought to find space in which to work. During that time he discovered 750 Boling Street, which had been the site of the old Challenger plant.
“The ownership reverted to the city of Jackson and they took bids on it,” he says. “We placed a bid that had too many contingencies. The city rejected it. The other bid was way too low and they rejected that, too. We got together with the other guy and came in together to change it up and buy it. The bank actually loaned us the money and I couldn’t believe they did. The building was sitting here empty, with a bad roof and a monstrous note to pay. It was scary.”
Both businesses moved into the building and began seeking tenants. They found them; now the building’s space stays between 85 and 90 percent rented. Metal Finishing Services occupies about 10 percent of the building – about 35,000 square feet. Part of that is set aside for Church’s role in Criterium Engineers.
“Criterium provides real estate-related engineering services,” he says. “We do property condition assessments for people considering purchasing a building. It’s like a home inspection, but scaled up for commercial and industrial properties. We do construction inspection for banks. Right now I’m doing a lot of work for insurance companies because of Katrina and Rita.”
“We’re in about 60 cities now,” he says. “The branch office is a small business; it’s just me and my secretary. The beauty of it is that you have other disciplines in different offices. There’s a chemical guy in Mobile, there’s mechanical, there’s lots of structural people. I get called to do electrical work by other branch offices.” In fact, it was his love of engineering that brought him to Criterium.
“Engineers are required to have continuing education requirements to maintain your license. The head of Criterium was here doing a seminar in Jackson. I attended; that’s how I found out about it. I signed right up.” Church speaks happily when he describes the work he does and the different hats he wears.
“I thought that I would be an engineer and only an engineer, but one thing just leads to another.”
David Church isn’t afraid to spread himself a little bit thin. Unlike some businessmen whose ‘eyes on the prize’ philosophy forces them to focus on one particular role in business – one hat to wear – and whose single-minded determination causes harm to their home life and health, Church is perfectly comfortable wearing those different hats. Husband, father, antique car hobbyist, and avid bicyclist who laments the lack of places to ride a bicycle inside the city of Jackson – he is all of these things. He is also president of Metal Finishing Services, office principal for Criterium Engineers, president of 750 Boling Street Partners, an officer of the Hawkins Field Industrial Park, and a working electrical engineer. Given his choice on what he would rather do, he responds:
“I prefer to be working on my own cars or riding my bicycle. Those are my vices.” In fact, it was one of his interests that led him to opening the doors to Metal Finishing Services.
“It was the old car hobby. I’ve been into cars ever since high school and I never grew up,” Church says. “The first car ever restored was a ’55 Ford; I still have it. In fact, I finally did one for myself and just restored that very car.” Church points to a photo of a 1955 Ford Mainline 2-door sedan, and admits that owning Metal Finishing Services gives him a head start on restoring those cars.
“We do paint stripping, de-rusting, and powder coating for industrial businesses and other customers,” Church says, “like antique car restorers. They’re a big part of it. We take [the auto bodies] down and get all the paint and rust off so they have a good start on it.” This is no shade-tree operation. The company works with several major industries: automotive, aerospace, military, and marine, among others.
“We do some gigantic diesel engines,” Church says, “like for tugboats and railroad locomotives. We can do up to a 20-cylinder electromotive diesel.”
“We do industrial paint rejects. Anyone who operates a conveyorized painting system is going to have a reject rate. We try to reclaim those for people. We also strip paint line hangers that go through the line over and over again and get a buildup of paint.”
In addition to stripping the rust and old paint off everything from old Volkswagen bodies to nine or ten-ton locomotive diesel engines, Metal Finishing Services utilizes powder coating, an alternative to spray painting metal bodies and parts, but one that can still be done in virtually any color and with any type of finish.
“You spray a dry powder that is electrostatically attracted to metal parts,” he says. “You put it in an oven and it melts the little particles and fuses them over the surface. It doesn’t put out any pollution like solvent-based paint and it’s much, much more durable.” He displays several recently coated items, all in red or black. Each is free of any sort of paint flaw, smooth, and with a uniform finish. As proud as he is of the quality of his company’s powder coating, he grows even more animated when he describes their newest offering.
“We’ve got a new service now that is, to my knowledge, the only place in the country that this combination is available,” he says. “We work regionally with car restorers in a 300-400 mile radius. Now after we de-rust their car bodies and strip all the grunge off, we have an arrangement with one of the Tier 1 Nissan suppliers, Systems Electrocoating. They prime all the truck frames for Nissan and they’ve built a special rack. We can now send up a car body – your Volkswagen or ’57 Chevy body – and have it immersed in this water-based primer that’s really high-tech. It’s like an eight million-dollar plant up there. It is totally immersed. [The body] gets in all the little nooks and crannies that you just can’t get with a spray gun. It’s a very good quality primer and you can paint on top of it with whatever you want.” He says the reason why the combination is only available through Metal Finishing Services is simple:
“Systems won’t do it for anyone but us, because there is no way anyone else can get it clean enough. If you were to contaminate their bath, that would be a major problem.” Getting those auto bodies, paint line hangers, and electromotive diesel engines clean enough is a matter that requires elbow grease, ovens to oxidize the paint, and three huge chemical tanks to remove the rust. It also often requires a single item to go through the process numerous times – until Church and his employees are satisfied.
It may sound like a toxic place in which to work, but it is not. We strolled through the plant, and were not disturbed by so much as a foul odor. Church insists that having a healthy, environmentally sound business is of major importance.
“We are environmentally friendly,” he says, ticking off points on his fingers. “We recycle our rinse water. The ovens have incinerators on the stack to burn up any smoke that comes out. Instead of discharging almost 2000 degrees, we recover that heat and heat up our chemical tanks with it. And the powder coating doesn’t use any solvents.”
Church, who currently lives in northeast Jackson with his wife, Allison, and his children Haley and Andy, has lived in Jackson since the third grade. At an early age, he seemed to have an idea of the career path he would follow.
“I always liked to tinker with electronics and stuff, so I went to a two-year program at Hinds Community College and got a technology degree. I did well, and I liked it and wanted to learn more, so I went to Mississippi State and got an E.E. degree.” He was working for Mississippi Power & Light as an engineer in 1981 when he discovered Redi-Strip, a national company that did paint stripping and de-rusting. He visited franchises and their headquarters in Los Angeles and made the move to open a franchise in midtown Jackson; he quit his job at MP&L to do so. He ran Redi-Strip until 2002, when he decided to amicably part from the national company and go his own way.
Before embarking as Metal Finishing Services, Church found his operation had completely outgrown his midtown location and sought to find space in which to work. During that time he discovered 750 Boling Street, which had been the site of the old Challenger plant.
“The ownership reverted to the city of Jackson and they took bids on it,” he says. “We placed a bid that had too many contingencies. The city rejected it. The other bid was way too low and they rejected that, too. We got together with the other guy and came in together to change it up and buy it. The bank actually loaned us the money and I couldn’t believe they did. The building was sitting here empty, with a bad roof and a monstrous note to pay. It was scary.”
Both businesses moved into the building and began seeking tenants. They found them; now the building’s space stays between 85 and 90 percent rented. Metal Finishing Services occupies about 10 percent of the building – about 35,000 square feet. Part of that is set aside for Church’s role in Criterium Engineers.
“Criterium provides real estate-related engineering services,” he says. “We do property condition assessments for people considering purchasing a building. It’s like a home inspection, but scaled up for commercial and industrial properties. We do construction inspection for banks. Right now I’m doing a lot of work for insurance companies because of Katrina and Rita.”
“We’re in about 60 cities now,” he says. “The branch office is a small business; it’s just me and my secretary. The beauty of it is that you have other disciplines in different offices. There’s a chemical guy in Mobile, there’s mechanical, there’s lots of structural people. I get called to do electrical work by other branch offices.” In fact, it was his love of engineering that brought him to Criterium.
“Engineers are required to have continuing education requirements to maintain your license. The head of Criterium was here doing a seminar in Jackson. I attended; that’s how I found out about it. I signed right up.” Church speaks happily when he describes the work he does and the different hats he wears.
“I thought that I would be an engineer and only an engineer, but one thing just leads to another.”
Magic on the Court - Feature
This was one of the first pieces I did that I was thoroughly proud of. It was a hoot hanging out with these guys, and I did my best to make sure their personalities came out in the piece. Ever since, it became a standard in my pieces to do that.
It’s a typical Thursday night at Champion Johnnie Community Center in Jackson. Four men are playing a fast pickup basketball game. Shouts ring out: “Go to the net!” “Right here!” “Shoot!” Their voices echo off the walls, mixing with the squeak of rubber against the floor. The ball travels from hand to hand before James Clayton grabs it and takes a quick shot. The ball bounces off the rim and back. Clayton and another player, Bob Woods, grab for it. Both barely touch it, but the ball bounces past and out of bounds.
Clayton and Woods both race to the ball and immediately start arguing about which of them, if either, touched it and who touched it last. Clayton finally ends the argument by simply throwing the ball inbounds to his teammate. Woods races by and yells:
“He’s a cheater! Put that in the story!”
Clayton laughs, missing his shot. Woods tries to keep a straight face while he trash-talks Clayton, but can’t. He breaks up laughing even after continuing to rag his opponent. The good-natured squabbling continues. The men rebound, pass, pick-and-roll, block, foul, shoot, and score. After forty-five minutes of hard half-court play, the game ends and the four athletes start over to the sidelines.
The men push themselves to the bleachers. When they arrive, all four are tired, but all are smiling. Their wheelchairs may be a tiny bit more battered from the game, but all are still intact.
James Clayton is the team representative for the Mississippi Magic, Jackson’s own member of the National Wheelchair Basketball Association. He plays forward and has the upper body of a pro ball player: shaved head, broad shoulders, and muscular arms. The fact that he plays from a wheelchair becomes somewhat unimportant.
“It was a spinal cord injury,” he says. “It’s been about twenty-three years ago. Gunshot wound right here,” he taps the center of his chest. “Right in my heart. I lost a kidney and a lung.”
“I was on a respirator, kidney dialysis,” he says, speaking about the time not long after he had been shot. Clayton had participated in track-and-field in Memphis before the injury. He was hospitalized for one year. A friend, Ivey Earley, introduced him to wheelchair basketball when he was discharged. Today, both Earley and Clayton play on the same team. Clayton says the sport has been a vital part of his life and his health.
“It helps build my lung and makes it a lot stronger. It’s really been a lifesaver.” In fact, the sport has become so much a part of his life that his body requires it. “Without them, this time of year would be rough. When I’m not working out, I have respiratory problems.”
Alfred Woods, who also plays forward, agrees.
“I find that anytime I just quit for a little while, I find myself having illnesses. My body’s just used to being active.” Johnson is a ten-year veteran of wheelchair basketball, and has been playing with the Magic since its inception. He has been in a wheelchair for twelve years.
“I was cleaning a machine out over at Tyson and someone turned it on when I was inside,” Johnson tells us. “It was called a chiller, a big, huge machine where the chickens drop off to cool. There’s blades and stuff in it. It threw me around, up in there. Ruined my spinal cord.”
Bob Woods is actually the coach of the Mississippi Magic, and has been so for five years. A victim of polio, he began playing wheelchair basketball in 1977 in Portland, Oregon. He came to Jackson in 1991, and has been an active member of the community ever since. Woods suffered injuries to his hand and arm a few years ago, requiring surgery. He gave up playing regularly to become the team coach. He is still proud of his hoop skills.
“I was a Tasmanian rebounder and passer,” he says. “I was the Dennis Rodman-type guy. ‘Go get the ball.’ Give it to the man who can shoot. All I wanted to do is to play with somebody who can shoot the ball.”
Arm injury or not, Woods can still shoot, and he can still play. He pressed Clayton hard, occasionally locking their chairs together. Whenever that happened, everyone would stop and untangle them before continuing play. Clayton points to a gap in the frame of his chair.
“Bob, he knows,” he says, grinning. “One thing I can say about him…” he laughs. “I can say…you know…he’s a dirty player.” Woods denies this loudly while everyone else laughs. He finally joins in, reminding me that Clayton is a cheater. The laughter increases.
The Mississippi Magic is a member of the Division III Gulf Coast Conference, which includes teams in Gulfport; New Orleans; Lafayette, Louisiana; Beaumont, Texas; Austin, Texas; and Montgomery, Alabama. The Magic also regularly plays non-conference games with Memphis, Chattanooga, Knoxville, and Jackson, Tennessee.
This weekend, the team plays Jackson twice on Saturday at Champion. The community center is more than just where they practice, it is also where they compete.
The Magic fields a team of fourteen players, between the ages of 23 and 56. The last few seasons have all been winning ones. This one continues the pattern; the Magic are 10-4, with only one conference loss. NWBA seasons run from September to February, which means the teams are beginning their run to the final tournaments. The team’s goal this year is to make it to the national tournament in Bloomington, Indiana.
To get there, to play in the rest of the games and tourneys that will take them there, the team needs about ten thousand dollars to do so. Collecting money for the season is a challenge that the team has to meet every season. Not only does the team have the usual financial problems: gas, motel rooms, food, uniforms, and so on; but they have to pay for things you may have never thought about.
Athletes do not typically use standard wheelchairs. The chairs can’t stand up to the punishment of a basketball game. Good athletic chairs have their wheels canted out for better performance, allowing them better agility and quickness on the floor. The problem is that the chairs are wider than the standard 32-inch doorway, which makes them impossible to use in one’s own house, or even in most businesses.
The average sports wheelchair costs between two and three thousand dollars. Tubes for the tires cost around $100. In fact, several members of the team need completely new wheelchairs.
“We’ve played it tight. It’s been close,” Woods says. “But there hasn’t been a trip we haven’t been able to make. We’ve been really blessed. The general public in Jackson and the surrounding areas really support us.” But even with that, things aren’t easy. Speaking of last weekend’s trip to Tennessee:
“We’re short this weekend, but we’re pulling in together for the motel. We’re leaving some of us behind to make this tournament.”
Fielding a team out of Jackson proves more difficult than in some cities.
“Memphis, New Orleans, Atlanta; these teams are being sponsored by the professional basketball teams. Where here in Mississippi, we don’t have a professional basketball team,” Woods says.
To keep going, the team, a non-profit group, accepts charitable donations of any size. Clayton says the team receives support from Wal-Mart, and from Kroger in Brandon. But their largest sponsor is the Mississippi Paralysis Association, who gives them five thousand dollars every year. Natalie Ellis, president of the MPA, says they are delighted to sponsor the team.
“It brings a lot of public awareness. It also benefits the people who are injured. It encourages them to take part and shows them that they can still participate in activities that they enjoyed before they were injured.” The MPA also helps sponsor rugby and hockey teams in the state.
Woods says the Magic doesn’t even charge admission to games. “We just ask for donations. Basically, we just want to get people to get out and get involved with the team, and to give them general support.”
To return that support, the Magic doesn’t let the end of the season mean the end of the team’s work. They play all year, switching to exhibition games in early spring. The team goes to schools and plays games against the teachers, or students, or basketball players. The team will spot them fifty points or so and put the other players in wheelchairs.
“The kids always look forward to it,” Clayton says. The team uses the exhibition games as fundraisers, splitting the money raised with the school. They use the opportunity to inform the children about living in a wheelchair, about understanding those people who do, and about avoiding situations that could put them at risk. They also use the opportunity to speak directly to children who are disabled.
“We try to encourage them. You don’t stop. You can go to school, you can work and be active. You can live a normal life,” Clayton says.
“Come out and see the games,” Woods suggests. “You’ll definitely enjoy it. There’s a lot of action, a lot of fun. The people who come really enjoy seeing us play.” He smiles. “It’s as good as pro ball on television.”
The team may not have the roster, and they may not have all the equipment they desire. The team does need support, both financial and spiritual. Come out, watch a game, meet the players, and find out why – both on the court and off – these athletes are Magic.
It’s a typical Thursday night at Champion Johnnie Community Center in Jackson. Four men are playing a fast pickup basketball game. Shouts ring out: “Go to the net!” “Right here!” “Shoot!” Their voices echo off the walls, mixing with the squeak of rubber against the floor. The ball travels from hand to hand before James Clayton grabs it and takes a quick shot. The ball bounces off the rim and back. Clayton and another player, Bob Woods, grab for it. Both barely touch it, but the ball bounces past and out of bounds.
Clayton and Woods both race to the ball and immediately start arguing about which of them, if either, touched it and who touched it last. Clayton finally ends the argument by simply throwing the ball inbounds to his teammate. Woods races by and yells:
“He’s a cheater! Put that in the story!”
Clayton laughs, missing his shot. Woods tries to keep a straight face while he trash-talks Clayton, but can’t. He breaks up laughing even after continuing to rag his opponent. The good-natured squabbling continues. The men rebound, pass, pick-and-roll, block, foul, shoot, and score. After forty-five minutes of hard half-court play, the game ends and the four athletes start over to the sidelines.
The men push themselves to the bleachers. When they arrive, all four are tired, but all are smiling. Their wheelchairs may be a tiny bit more battered from the game, but all are still intact.
James Clayton is the team representative for the Mississippi Magic, Jackson’s own member of the National Wheelchair Basketball Association. He plays forward and has the upper body of a pro ball player: shaved head, broad shoulders, and muscular arms. The fact that he plays from a wheelchair becomes somewhat unimportant.
“It was a spinal cord injury,” he says. “It’s been about twenty-three years ago. Gunshot wound right here,” he taps the center of his chest. “Right in my heart. I lost a kidney and a lung.”
“I was on a respirator, kidney dialysis,” he says, speaking about the time not long after he had been shot. Clayton had participated in track-and-field in Memphis before the injury. He was hospitalized for one year. A friend, Ivey Earley, introduced him to wheelchair basketball when he was discharged. Today, both Earley and Clayton play on the same team. Clayton says the sport has been a vital part of his life and his health.
“It helps build my lung and makes it a lot stronger. It’s really been a lifesaver.” In fact, the sport has become so much a part of his life that his body requires it. “Without them, this time of year would be rough. When I’m not working out, I have respiratory problems.”
Alfred Woods, who also plays forward, agrees.
“I find that anytime I just quit for a little while, I find myself having illnesses. My body’s just used to being active.” Johnson is a ten-year veteran of wheelchair basketball, and has been playing with the Magic since its inception. He has been in a wheelchair for twelve years.
“I was cleaning a machine out over at Tyson and someone turned it on when I was inside,” Johnson tells us. “It was called a chiller, a big, huge machine where the chickens drop off to cool. There’s blades and stuff in it. It threw me around, up in there. Ruined my spinal cord.”
Bob Woods is actually the coach of the Mississippi Magic, and has been so for five years. A victim of polio, he began playing wheelchair basketball in 1977 in Portland, Oregon. He came to Jackson in 1991, and has been an active member of the community ever since. Woods suffered injuries to his hand and arm a few years ago, requiring surgery. He gave up playing regularly to become the team coach. He is still proud of his hoop skills.
“I was a Tasmanian rebounder and passer,” he says. “I was the Dennis Rodman-type guy. ‘Go get the ball.’ Give it to the man who can shoot. All I wanted to do is to play with somebody who can shoot the ball.”
Arm injury or not, Woods can still shoot, and he can still play. He pressed Clayton hard, occasionally locking their chairs together. Whenever that happened, everyone would stop and untangle them before continuing play. Clayton points to a gap in the frame of his chair.
“Bob, he knows,” he says, grinning. “One thing I can say about him…” he laughs. “I can say…you know…he’s a dirty player.” Woods denies this loudly while everyone else laughs. He finally joins in, reminding me that Clayton is a cheater. The laughter increases.
The Mississippi Magic is a member of the Division III Gulf Coast Conference, which includes teams in Gulfport; New Orleans; Lafayette, Louisiana; Beaumont, Texas; Austin, Texas; and Montgomery, Alabama. The Magic also regularly plays non-conference games with Memphis, Chattanooga, Knoxville, and Jackson, Tennessee.
This weekend, the team plays Jackson twice on Saturday at Champion. The community center is more than just where they practice, it is also where they compete.
The Magic fields a team of fourteen players, between the ages of 23 and 56. The last few seasons have all been winning ones. This one continues the pattern; the Magic are 10-4, with only one conference loss. NWBA seasons run from September to February, which means the teams are beginning their run to the final tournaments. The team’s goal this year is to make it to the national tournament in Bloomington, Indiana.
To get there, to play in the rest of the games and tourneys that will take them there, the team needs about ten thousand dollars to do so. Collecting money for the season is a challenge that the team has to meet every season. Not only does the team have the usual financial problems: gas, motel rooms, food, uniforms, and so on; but they have to pay for things you may have never thought about.
Athletes do not typically use standard wheelchairs. The chairs can’t stand up to the punishment of a basketball game. Good athletic chairs have their wheels canted out for better performance, allowing them better agility and quickness on the floor. The problem is that the chairs are wider than the standard 32-inch doorway, which makes them impossible to use in one’s own house, or even in most businesses.
The average sports wheelchair costs between two and three thousand dollars. Tubes for the tires cost around $100. In fact, several members of the team need completely new wheelchairs.
“We’ve played it tight. It’s been close,” Woods says. “But there hasn’t been a trip we haven’t been able to make. We’ve been really blessed. The general public in Jackson and the surrounding areas really support us.” But even with that, things aren’t easy. Speaking of last weekend’s trip to Tennessee:
“We’re short this weekend, but we’re pulling in together for the motel. We’re leaving some of us behind to make this tournament.”
Fielding a team out of Jackson proves more difficult than in some cities.
“Memphis, New Orleans, Atlanta; these teams are being sponsored by the professional basketball teams. Where here in Mississippi, we don’t have a professional basketball team,” Woods says.
To keep going, the team, a non-profit group, accepts charitable donations of any size. Clayton says the team receives support from Wal-Mart, and from Kroger in Brandon. But their largest sponsor is the Mississippi Paralysis Association, who gives them five thousand dollars every year. Natalie Ellis, president of the MPA, says they are delighted to sponsor the team.
“It brings a lot of public awareness. It also benefits the people who are injured. It encourages them to take part and shows them that they can still participate in activities that they enjoyed before they were injured.” The MPA also helps sponsor rugby and hockey teams in the state.
Woods says the Magic doesn’t even charge admission to games. “We just ask for donations. Basically, we just want to get people to get out and get involved with the team, and to give them general support.”
To return that support, the Magic doesn’t let the end of the season mean the end of the team’s work. They play all year, switching to exhibition games in early spring. The team goes to schools and plays games against the teachers, or students, or basketball players. The team will spot them fifty points or so and put the other players in wheelchairs.
“The kids always look forward to it,” Clayton says. The team uses the exhibition games as fundraisers, splitting the money raised with the school. They use the opportunity to inform the children about living in a wheelchair, about understanding those people who do, and about avoiding situations that could put them at risk. They also use the opportunity to speak directly to children who are disabled.
“We try to encourage them. You don’t stop. You can go to school, you can work and be active. You can live a normal life,” Clayton says.
“Come out and see the games,” Woods suggests. “You’ll definitely enjoy it. There’s a lot of action, a lot of fun. The people who come really enjoy seeing us play.” He smiles. “It’s as good as pro ball on television.”
The team may not have the roster, and they may not have all the equipment they desire. The team does need support, both financial and spiritual. Come out, watch a game, meet the players, and find out why – both on the court and off – these athletes are Magic.
International Museum of Muslim Cultures
This is the kind of piece that made me love Mississippi. When we printed this, the only (and I mean only) complaints we got were from two people from Alabama. One was a guy who logged on and fussed, sight unseen, about them "damn terrorists." The second was an Alabama girl who knew 'me' from some boards on IMDb and followed me on Planet's site. She couldn't believe we'd waste space on the Muslims and blasted on the site. I cut ties with her, but we left her comments up. That was the only bad feedback we got. Most of what we got was, "I've been there. It's pretty cool." It is. I'm not Muslim, and neither is about 98% of the people who go, but it's refreshing to see a place that takes the time to educate you about a people you should know more about - and about how positively they've affected the direction of the world.
Jackson has its fair share of good museums. The Old Capitol Museum is one. The Mississippi Museum of Art and the Smith Robertson Cultural Center are both well known far beyond the borders of our state. One of the most important ones sits less than a block from the Museum of Art and is, quite literally, unique in this country. There is no other like it.
That museum is the International Museum of Muslim Cultures (IMMC). The museum opened its doors in April 2001 with the exhibit, Islamic Moorish Spain: Its Legacy to Europe and the West. Developed by Okolo Rashid, the current executive director of the museum, and by Emad Al-Turk, the board chairman of the museum, the exhibit was conceived as a companion piece to the Majesty of Spain exhibit when the organizers, Mississippi Commission for International Cultural Exchange, Inc., decided not to include any pieces that reflected the nearly eight hundred years of Moorish influence in the exhibit. Islamic Moorish Spain received considerable local press in its first few weeks. The Museum of the Southern Jewish Experience and the Catholic Diocese of Jackson both gave their blessings to it.
After the events of September 11, 2001, the museum was thrust briefly into the spotlight again when it was vandalized and a major fundraising event was nearly canceled due to guests worried about their public image. But people who had never visited the museum did just that, seeking a working understanding of Islam.
After the exhibit opened, scholars, members of the Islamic community, members of the African-American community, and supporters of the arts and museums prevailed upon the IMMC to stay open. According to Rashid, funding for the exhibit initially came from many different sources.
“A big bulk of the money came from the Islamic community,” she said. “But we got a lot of funding from the Mississippi Development Authority, the Mississippi Arts Commission, the Humanities Council, the Community Foundation of Greater Jackson, the Jackson Convention and Visitors’ Board, the Mississippi Band of Choctaw Indians, the Arts Alliance, and the city of Jackson.” These groups saw the benefit of the museum and believed that it could only help the tourism industry. That has proven to be true, but perhaps not in a way originally intended.
The IMMC is the only museum of its kind in the United States. As such, it has become a destination for scholars of Islam or Islamic history, for scholars of world history, for individuals studying cultural differences, and for organizations striving for true cultural understanding. A quick glance at the guest book reveals as many visitors from New York, California, Nigeria, Russia, and Indonesia as it does of visitors from the greater Jackson area.
This is partly due to the international press, who has written about the museum in newspapers from Los Angeles to Asia. But in Jackson, the museum has almost completely dropped from the radar.
“We haven’t had a marketing budget since that first exhibit,” Rashid said. Without the budget to compete with the major exhibits and the ever-growing arts community, the museum has occasionally struggled. But the fundors who helped with the first exhibit have continued to show their financial goodwill to the museum.
“We’ve been getting funding from all of them on an ongoing basis,” Rashid said. “We’ve had some private donations, as well. We’ve had support from Entergy, Mississippi Valley Gas, law firms, people like that.”
The museum is located in a small space downtown and shows a limited number of pieces, but, “The whole purpose of the museum is that it was established as a research and educational institution,” said Rashid. “What we want to do is to be able to provide relevant information to the public about Islam and Islamic cultures. We knew that many of the people who come to the museum would be non-Muslim.” Somewhere between 85 and 90 percent of those who come are non-Muslims.
The museum focuses primarily on the influence that Islam had on Spain, but finds its voice with panels detailing the influence that Islamic culture had on the world as a whole. Muslims were responsible for many advances in industrial technology, including new techniques for weaving, making ceramics, and working metal. The famed Toledo steel was a Muslim creation. Muslims also had huge impacts on the fields of math and science. Algebra (from the Arabic al-jabr) was developed by Muslims and chemistry first became a science in the Muslim world. Scientists developed the concepts of systematic observation, controlled experimentation, and the “proof,” the idea that no discovery was valid until it could be reproduced. Muslim chemists divided the elements, created distilled water and alcohol, and discovered processes like calcination.
The science of optics was an Islamic creation. This allowed for the invention of eyeglasses, microscopes, and telescopes. Muslim astronomers, botanists, zoologists, and geologists also made great strides.
Arguably the most important developments and discoveries of the era concern medicine. In the Islamic world, pharmacies were created, the science of toxicology was created, the first illustrated medical texts were written, hollow needles were invented, hospitals and medical schools were combined for the first time, and the idea of patient notes was first utilized. Even the Muslim belief of links between diet, lifestyle, psychology, and wellness are reflected almost exactly in today’s holistic medicine.
But, as the IMMC points out, these advances occurred because the most important aspect of Islamic learning was learning itself. While most Europeans were still illiterate, almost every Muslim could read and had received at least an elementary education.
“There was no concept of public education before the coming of Islam,” Rashid said. “Islam established that. It was because of Muhammad’s first revelation and the importance given to it.” That revelation was simply ‘Read, in the name of thy Lord and Cherisher.’ Rashid points out that, at the time, Muhammad was a successful businessman, a trader, but at age 40, he was still unlettered – he could not read. He had to learn to read himself.
“Right from the start, he obligated his follower to learn those verses, to read and to teach others. That’s how they had all the schools.” Rashid is quick to mention that these were not large facilities, but that they were held in individual homes. “In Cordoba alone, they had 80 public schools. In Timbuktu, there were over 150.” Muslims believed in more than just public schools. Students from all across Europe traveled to Cordoba to study at The Academy, where they learned math, science, literature, history, and law. Universities were found in almost every major city in the Islamic world. Each became a center of learning and even non-Muslims considered them to be the finest places one could receive an education. Rashid says that the Muslim view of life creates a unique connection between religion and science.
“Islam is not a ‘religion’ in the terms that we see, but it is a worldview, a cultural philosophy that incorporates all the very different areas of culture. In the Quran you will find quotes and principles that address trade, government, religion yes, but also education.” She explains further. “The cultural philosophy that underpinned everything the Muslims did was the idea that there is no conflict between religion and science, between theology and rational thought.” Historically, this reached its zenith in Islamic Spain, the first multinational and multicultural population of its kind in history, with Muslims, Jews, and Christians all living together. In the late 15th century, this ended with the Inquisition.
The Islamic empire, which was nearly the size of the Roman Empire at its height and had lasted for far longer, began to fracture around the same time. Originally, Muslim rulers were bound by the laws of Islam as outlined in the Quran and by the practices of Muhammad. Conquered peoples, for instance, had to be treated justly and fairly. This had begun to change.
“The Islamic empire fell became of internal problems,” Rashid said. “The leaders began falling away from the practice of the prophet – the original teachings as practiced by him. This led to corruption and the divisiveness.” This divisiveness plagues Islam even today.
The next major exhibit that the IMMC will show is The Legacy of Timbuktu: Wonders of the Written Word. Scheduled to open next year, Timbuktu’s feature attraction will be a collection of rare African manuscripts that shows that literacy was prevalent and education was a part of life in Timbuktu for more than 700 years. These manuscripts are hand-lettered and –illustrated on homemade parchment and paper, bound in leather. These manuscripts are among a group of over one million documents discovered in the African country of Mali in recent years.
These manuscripts refute the common belief that African society was primitive with a strictly oral history.
“Scholars are coming here for this,” Rashid said. “It wasn’t known that Africa had a literate culture. They’re finding that there is an enormous amount of knowledge being preserved. They’re saying that there is evidence enough to rewrite African history.” Rashid lights up when discussing the Timbuktu collection and admits, “We’ve never had so much excitement here.”
The collection documents the political, religious, and social history of Africa before the coming of the colonial era. Most of these documents were hidden by their owners, protected by the families for generations. A majority of the ones to be exhibited will be loaned to the IMMC by the Mamma Haidara Memorial Library in Timbuktu. The Haidara family collection covers a multitude of topics: science, medicine, poetry, copies of the Quran, travel journals, legal documents, family histories, and even philosophical documents regarding marriage, women’s rights, and conflict resolution. All were written before the coming of slave trade to the West African coast.
Arrangements have been made, or are being made, to send the exhibit to both Chicago and New York from Jackson. A preview of the Timbuktu exhibit will begin to tour the U.S. the first week of December. Fundraisers will begin in November with a major event at Tougaloo College, who is partnered with the IMMC and the William Winter Institute for Racial Reconciliation to bring the exhibit.
“If you don’t have a sense of the significance of the education and academics that your ancestors had, it affects your self-esteem and the pride you have in yourself,” said Rashid. “I think this is really going to impact the youth in our community. This is major for African-Americans, phenomenal.”
The International Museum of Muslim Cultures is located at 117 E. Pascagoula in Jackson. Current hours are 9:30 a.m. – 5:30 p.m., Monday through Thursday and 9:30 a.m. – 12:30 p.m. on Friday. Admission is $7 for adults and $4 for senior citizens and children. Special hours and rates are available to groups on request at 601-960-0440.
Jackson has its fair share of good museums. The Old Capitol Museum is one. The Mississippi Museum of Art and the Smith Robertson Cultural Center are both well known far beyond the borders of our state. One of the most important ones sits less than a block from the Museum of Art and is, quite literally, unique in this country. There is no other like it.
That museum is the International Museum of Muslim Cultures (IMMC). The museum opened its doors in April 2001 with the exhibit, Islamic Moorish Spain: Its Legacy to Europe and the West. Developed by Okolo Rashid, the current executive director of the museum, and by Emad Al-Turk, the board chairman of the museum, the exhibit was conceived as a companion piece to the Majesty of Spain exhibit when the organizers, Mississippi Commission for International Cultural Exchange, Inc., decided not to include any pieces that reflected the nearly eight hundred years of Moorish influence in the exhibit. Islamic Moorish Spain received considerable local press in its first few weeks. The Museum of the Southern Jewish Experience and the Catholic Diocese of Jackson both gave their blessings to it.
After the events of September 11, 2001, the museum was thrust briefly into the spotlight again when it was vandalized and a major fundraising event was nearly canceled due to guests worried about their public image. But people who had never visited the museum did just that, seeking a working understanding of Islam.
After the exhibit opened, scholars, members of the Islamic community, members of the African-American community, and supporters of the arts and museums prevailed upon the IMMC to stay open. According to Rashid, funding for the exhibit initially came from many different sources.
“A big bulk of the money came from the Islamic community,” she said. “But we got a lot of funding from the Mississippi Development Authority, the Mississippi Arts Commission, the Humanities Council, the Community Foundation of Greater Jackson, the Jackson Convention and Visitors’ Board, the Mississippi Band of Choctaw Indians, the Arts Alliance, and the city of Jackson.” These groups saw the benefit of the museum and believed that it could only help the tourism industry. That has proven to be true, but perhaps not in a way originally intended.
The IMMC is the only museum of its kind in the United States. As such, it has become a destination for scholars of Islam or Islamic history, for scholars of world history, for individuals studying cultural differences, and for organizations striving for true cultural understanding. A quick glance at the guest book reveals as many visitors from New York, California, Nigeria, Russia, and Indonesia as it does of visitors from the greater Jackson area.
This is partly due to the international press, who has written about the museum in newspapers from Los Angeles to Asia. But in Jackson, the museum has almost completely dropped from the radar.
“We haven’t had a marketing budget since that first exhibit,” Rashid said. Without the budget to compete with the major exhibits and the ever-growing arts community, the museum has occasionally struggled. But the fundors who helped with the first exhibit have continued to show their financial goodwill to the museum.
“We’ve been getting funding from all of them on an ongoing basis,” Rashid said. “We’ve had some private donations, as well. We’ve had support from Entergy, Mississippi Valley Gas, law firms, people like that.”
The museum is located in a small space downtown and shows a limited number of pieces, but, “The whole purpose of the museum is that it was established as a research and educational institution,” said Rashid. “What we want to do is to be able to provide relevant information to the public about Islam and Islamic cultures. We knew that many of the people who come to the museum would be non-Muslim.” Somewhere between 85 and 90 percent of those who come are non-Muslims.
The museum focuses primarily on the influence that Islam had on Spain, but finds its voice with panels detailing the influence that Islamic culture had on the world as a whole. Muslims were responsible for many advances in industrial technology, including new techniques for weaving, making ceramics, and working metal. The famed Toledo steel was a Muslim creation. Muslims also had huge impacts on the fields of math and science. Algebra (from the Arabic al-jabr) was developed by Muslims and chemistry first became a science in the Muslim world. Scientists developed the concepts of systematic observation, controlled experimentation, and the “proof,” the idea that no discovery was valid until it could be reproduced. Muslim chemists divided the elements, created distilled water and alcohol, and discovered processes like calcination.
The science of optics was an Islamic creation. This allowed for the invention of eyeglasses, microscopes, and telescopes. Muslim astronomers, botanists, zoologists, and geologists also made great strides.
Arguably the most important developments and discoveries of the era concern medicine. In the Islamic world, pharmacies were created, the science of toxicology was created, the first illustrated medical texts were written, hollow needles were invented, hospitals and medical schools were combined for the first time, and the idea of patient notes was first utilized. Even the Muslim belief of links between diet, lifestyle, psychology, and wellness are reflected almost exactly in today’s holistic medicine.
But, as the IMMC points out, these advances occurred because the most important aspect of Islamic learning was learning itself. While most Europeans were still illiterate, almost every Muslim could read and had received at least an elementary education.
“There was no concept of public education before the coming of Islam,” Rashid said. “Islam established that. It was because of Muhammad’s first revelation and the importance given to it.” That revelation was simply ‘Read, in the name of thy Lord and Cherisher.’ Rashid points out that, at the time, Muhammad was a successful businessman, a trader, but at age 40, he was still unlettered – he could not read. He had to learn to read himself.
“Right from the start, he obligated his follower to learn those verses, to read and to teach others. That’s how they had all the schools.” Rashid is quick to mention that these were not large facilities, but that they were held in individual homes. “In Cordoba alone, they had 80 public schools. In Timbuktu, there were over 150.” Muslims believed in more than just public schools. Students from all across Europe traveled to Cordoba to study at The Academy, where they learned math, science, literature, history, and law. Universities were found in almost every major city in the Islamic world. Each became a center of learning and even non-Muslims considered them to be the finest places one could receive an education. Rashid says that the Muslim view of life creates a unique connection between religion and science.
“Islam is not a ‘religion’ in the terms that we see, but it is a worldview, a cultural philosophy that incorporates all the very different areas of culture. In the Quran you will find quotes and principles that address trade, government, religion yes, but also education.” She explains further. “The cultural philosophy that underpinned everything the Muslims did was the idea that there is no conflict between religion and science, between theology and rational thought.” Historically, this reached its zenith in Islamic Spain, the first multinational and multicultural population of its kind in history, with Muslims, Jews, and Christians all living together. In the late 15th century, this ended with the Inquisition.
The Islamic empire, which was nearly the size of the Roman Empire at its height and had lasted for far longer, began to fracture around the same time. Originally, Muslim rulers were bound by the laws of Islam as outlined in the Quran and by the practices of Muhammad. Conquered peoples, for instance, had to be treated justly and fairly. This had begun to change.
“The Islamic empire fell became of internal problems,” Rashid said. “The leaders began falling away from the practice of the prophet – the original teachings as practiced by him. This led to corruption and the divisiveness.” This divisiveness plagues Islam even today.
The next major exhibit that the IMMC will show is The Legacy of Timbuktu: Wonders of the Written Word. Scheduled to open next year, Timbuktu’s feature attraction will be a collection of rare African manuscripts that shows that literacy was prevalent and education was a part of life in Timbuktu for more than 700 years. These manuscripts are hand-lettered and –illustrated on homemade parchment and paper, bound in leather. These manuscripts are among a group of over one million documents discovered in the African country of Mali in recent years.
These manuscripts refute the common belief that African society was primitive with a strictly oral history.
“Scholars are coming here for this,” Rashid said. “It wasn’t known that Africa had a literate culture. They’re finding that there is an enormous amount of knowledge being preserved. They’re saying that there is evidence enough to rewrite African history.” Rashid lights up when discussing the Timbuktu collection and admits, “We’ve never had so much excitement here.”
The collection documents the political, religious, and social history of Africa before the coming of the colonial era. Most of these documents were hidden by their owners, protected by the families for generations. A majority of the ones to be exhibited will be loaned to the IMMC by the Mamma Haidara Memorial Library in Timbuktu. The Haidara family collection covers a multitude of topics: science, medicine, poetry, copies of the Quran, travel journals, legal documents, family histories, and even philosophical documents regarding marriage, women’s rights, and conflict resolution. All were written before the coming of slave trade to the West African coast.
Arrangements have been made, or are being made, to send the exhibit to both Chicago and New York from Jackson. A preview of the Timbuktu exhibit will begin to tour the U.S. the first week of December. Fundraisers will begin in November with a major event at Tougaloo College, who is partnered with the IMMC and the William Winter Institute for Racial Reconciliation to bring the exhibit.
“If you don’t have a sense of the significance of the education and academics that your ancestors had, it affects your self-esteem and the pride you have in yourself,” said Rashid. “I think this is really going to impact the youth in our community. This is major for African-Americans, phenomenal.”
The International Museum of Muslim Cultures is located at 117 E. Pascagoula in Jackson. Current hours are 9:30 a.m. – 5:30 p.m., Monday through Thursday and 9:30 a.m. – 12:30 p.m. on Friday. Admission is $7 for adults and $4 for senior citizens and children. Special hours and rates are available to groups on request at 601-960-0440.
Jay Fleming Feature
All I need to say about Jay Fleming is that he has an abundance of talent and a geniunely whimsical way of looking at the world that you want to share. I have a few of his signed prints that I'm proud to own.
Jay Fleming is one of Jackson’s more unique artists. During the last several years, he has begun to cultivate a strong following among collectors who enjoy retro scenes of the 1950s and 1960s and his work tends to sell out quickly in the galleries and shops that carry his work.
“I really focus on that early era of technology; on the optimism, energy, and exuberance of the times,” he said. At first glace, Fleming’s work – pastel-hued, clever, and bright – is the definition of retro. Bathing beauties in swim caps dive into kidney-shaped pools. A three-wheeled car waits in front of salmon-colored shops for a female passenger. Huge motel signs jut into pastel-blue skies.
“All my paintings depict scenes from the 1950s and early 1960s,” Fleming said. “It was a time when man didn’t seem to have any limits, due to breakthroughs in science, medicine, and unlimited new products; there was so much energy, excitement, and optimism about the future and that was reflected in the architecture and design of the products of the era. There were products that seem a little wacky today, like the three-wheeled Messerschmitt cars.”
Fleming’s work might easily be categorized and filed away as only a bit of retro kitsch, but it’s not. Those bathing beauties dive into water that is just a bit too dark, under a blue sky filled with flying dirigibles. The female shopper standing in front of her Messerschmitt bears more than a striking resemblance to Jackie Onassis – complete with pillbox hat.
Unlike some artists who see “retro” as a destination, Fleming sees “retro” as a means to an end; a way to frame his ides in a visually lush and appealing manner. He says they mirror the unique mindset of the era.
“The paintings reflect the optimism and absurdities of the times,” he said. “They have a narrative feel and tend to be kind of humorous; they’re over the top.” In addition to the humor, Fleming’s work invariably hides a fragment of darkness – also a reflection of those years.
“We can’t forget, there was an undercurrent of fear and dread then, because it really was the dawn of the atomic age,” he said. But he also believes that the atomic age brought something necessary to society.
“I believe that technology has benefited us so much more than we know,” he said. “There’s been a benefit of an increased social awareness and increased originality, although many social theorists would have you believe something different. Their idea is that technology is alienating and it decreases originality and I’m not sure I believe that.”
Fleming was born in Greenwood and knew from an early age that he wanted to be an artist. In high school, he took as many art classes as he could and entered several competitions. He attended Southern Illinois University as an art student.
“I think taking art theory was partly my motive,” he said. “Theories about aesthetics seemed to fascinate me.” Fleming’s influences came to the fore at a young age; he cites artists of the Bauhaus school.
“I always had a fascination with the Bauhaus artists, like Lazlo Moholy-Nagy,” he said. “They just did everything; they painted, did photography, product design, and architecture. They were the only artists of any school that didn’t distinguish between high art and low art. Their influence is pervasive and profound. It continues to be reflected in architecture and product design of today. You see it in everything. There’s no way for it to wane; it’s too much into the fabric of everything.” Fleming’s influences are not limited to that particular school of thought.
“I also like the surrealists, like [Rene] Magritte,” he said. “I love the way his works tend to tell a story and tend to break with artistic conventions. There is a lot of humor and a subtle affront to established tastes.” He also cites James Rosenquist, Jim Dine, and Andy Warhol as artists he admires. On local artists he said:
“There are lots of people locally to enjoy. Charles Carraway – I really like his work. I have broad tastes in every way – in music, art, movies, reading material; I love it all.”
Fleming, a Jackson resident, is a full-time artist. Currently, Fondren Traders in Jackson carries some of his work, as does Stodgill & James Gallery in Ridgeland and The Attic Gallery in Vicksburg. Edward St. Pé is an avid collector, with eight different pieces.
“I’m interested in that period of time he gravitates toward, the whole Rat Pack/Las Vegas era,” said St. Pé. “He has an interesting take on it; he calls them dreamscapes. It’s almost surrealism focused on that era in time. I find it interesting and different; it’s a unique angle on it. Since the first time I saw anything by him, I’ve been a fan.”
Fleming has developed a following in Florida and on the Gulf Coast – possibly because of the sun-drenched pastel hues he utilizes. He recently received interest about representation from galleries in Sarasota and in Boston. About Sarasota, he said, “Things are going forward.” Fleming said he is highly motivated to work and he is adding to several series of paintings. One such series is Dixi Cola.
“That’s about how we revere and mythologize our past,” he said. “All cultures do that, but at times there’s humor it in.” Another is Alligator Girl. He describes her as “disregarding social expectations by riding an alligator instead of a pony.”
“One of my newest pieces is Rocket Motel,” Fleming said. “It has become a series of paintings. All the girls are wearing retro swim caps and the paintings all have slightly suggestive symbolism.” Fleming says he intends to continue to concentrate on that 50s and 60s era.
“All the galleries have been supporting and encouraging to me from the get-go, and I will continue with the retro themes. It’s fun and optimistic – it’s wacky absurdity. I want to have fun doing it and I want people to have fun looking at it. What more can you ask for?”
Jay Fleming is one of Jackson’s more unique artists. During the last several years, he has begun to cultivate a strong following among collectors who enjoy retro scenes of the 1950s and 1960s and his work tends to sell out quickly in the galleries and shops that carry his work.
“I really focus on that early era of technology; on the optimism, energy, and exuberance of the times,” he said. At first glace, Fleming’s work – pastel-hued, clever, and bright – is the definition of retro. Bathing beauties in swim caps dive into kidney-shaped pools. A three-wheeled car waits in front of salmon-colored shops for a female passenger. Huge motel signs jut into pastel-blue skies.
“All my paintings depict scenes from the 1950s and early 1960s,” Fleming said. “It was a time when man didn’t seem to have any limits, due to breakthroughs in science, medicine, and unlimited new products; there was so much energy, excitement, and optimism about the future and that was reflected in the architecture and design of the products of the era. There were products that seem a little wacky today, like the three-wheeled Messerschmitt cars.”
Fleming’s work might easily be categorized and filed away as only a bit of retro kitsch, but it’s not. Those bathing beauties dive into water that is just a bit too dark, under a blue sky filled with flying dirigibles. The female shopper standing in front of her Messerschmitt bears more than a striking resemblance to Jackie Onassis – complete with pillbox hat.
Unlike some artists who see “retro” as a destination, Fleming sees “retro” as a means to an end; a way to frame his ides in a visually lush and appealing manner. He says they mirror the unique mindset of the era.
“The paintings reflect the optimism and absurdities of the times,” he said. “They have a narrative feel and tend to be kind of humorous; they’re over the top.” In addition to the humor, Fleming’s work invariably hides a fragment of darkness – also a reflection of those years.
“We can’t forget, there was an undercurrent of fear and dread then, because it really was the dawn of the atomic age,” he said. But he also believes that the atomic age brought something necessary to society.
“I believe that technology has benefited us so much more than we know,” he said. “There’s been a benefit of an increased social awareness and increased originality, although many social theorists would have you believe something different. Their idea is that technology is alienating and it decreases originality and I’m not sure I believe that.”
Fleming was born in Greenwood and knew from an early age that he wanted to be an artist. In high school, he took as many art classes as he could and entered several competitions. He attended Southern Illinois University as an art student.
“I think taking art theory was partly my motive,” he said. “Theories about aesthetics seemed to fascinate me.” Fleming’s influences came to the fore at a young age; he cites artists of the Bauhaus school.
“I always had a fascination with the Bauhaus artists, like Lazlo Moholy-Nagy,” he said. “They just did everything; they painted, did photography, product design, and architecture. They were the only artists of any school that didn’t distinguish between high art and low art. Their influence is pervasive and profound. It continues to be reflected in architecture and product design of today. You see it in everything. There’s no way for it to wane; it’s too much into the fabric of everything.” Fleming’s influences are not limited to that particular school of thought.
“I also like the surrealists, like [Rene] Magritte,” he said. “I love the way his works tend to tell a story and tend to break with artistic conventions. There is a lot of humor and a subtle affront to established tastes.” He also cites James Rosenquist, Jim Dine, and Andy Warhol as artists he admires. On local artists he said:
“There are lots of people locally to enjoy. Charles Carraway – I really like his work. I have broad tastes in every way – in music, art, movies, reading material; I love it all.”
Fleming, a Jackson resident, is a full-time artist. Currently, Fondren Traders in Jackson carries some of his work, as does Stodgill & James Gallery in Ridgeland and The Attic Gallery in Vicksburg. Edward St. Pé is an avid collector, with eight different pieces.
“I’m interested in that period of time he gravitates toward, the whole Rat Pack/Las Vegas era,” said St. Pé. “He has an interesting take on it; he calls them dreamscapes. It’s almost surrealism focused on that era in time. I find it interesting and different; it’s a unique angle on it. Since the first time I saw anything by him, I’ve been a fan.”
Fleming has developed a following in Florida and on the Gulf Coast – possibly because of the sun-drenched pastel hues he utilizes. He recently received interest about representation from galleries in Sarasota and in Boston. About Sarasota, he said, “Things are going forward.” Fleming said he is highly motivated to work and he is adding to several series of paintings. One such series is Dixi Cola.
“That’s about how we revere and mythologize our past,” he said. “All cultures do that, but at times there’s humor it in.” Another is Alligator Girl. He describes her as “disregarding social expectations by riding an alligator instead of a pony.”
“One of my newest pieces is Rocket Motel,” Fleming said. “It has become a series of paintings. All the girls are wearing retro swim caps and the paintings all have slightly suggestive symbolism.” Fleming says he intends to continue to concentrate on that 50s and 60s era.
“All the galleries have been supporting and encouraging to me from the get-go, and I will continue with the retro themes. It’s fun and optimistic – it’s wacky absurdity. I want to have fun doing it and I want people to have fun looking at it. What more can you ask for?”
Cowboy Mouth
This was my most contentious piece ever. The editor of Yall loved the idea. The band loved it (and the publicist loved it, of course). My photographer colleague, Tom Beck and I met them in New Orleans, I wrote it, and we submitted our work. The photo editor kept asking Tom for different shots - the editor had no idea what he wanted, and he apparently was still in college. The editor I was dealing with had left and the publisher was running things. He decided that he wanted a Southern People and bumped this story without notice for one issue. No big deal, except that, in doing so, the band released a live album in the interim and their publicist wanted that in there now. Further troubling things was that the publisher changed his deadline for work three times, finally calling me and saying he needed a rewrite and could I do it in 10 days? I told him I could. He called me 2 days later and asked where it was. I told him I still had 8 days. He said he meant 2 days, but said 10. I sent him a rewrite, which someone reedited, and they published it. This is the version I originally submitted.
November 28th, the night after Thanksgiving. A crowd approaching one thousand men and women have come in out of the cold and filled Howlin’ Wolf, a music club in the warehouse district of New Orleans. The patrons, who have been warmed up by local punk-pop band, Gang of Creeps, and by a three-song reunion gig by The Red Rockers, generate happy, anxious excitement. They crowd the stage, awaiting Cowboy Mouth, one of the South’s favorite bands.
When the band takes the stage, an eruption of cheers that would be more at home in a stadium greets them. With little ceremony, they launch into “Light it on Fire,” a barnburner guaranteed to create a roar. It does. By the time they tear into their second number, “Disconnected,” the crowd is moving as one organic unit, almost desperate to absorb the band’s energy and return it to them tenfold. In return, Cowboy Mouth does their level best to blow the audience out the front door.
Standing front and center, Fred LeBlanc, the Mouth’s lead singer and drummer, pounds the skins and exhorts the fans to cheer, to jump, to take part in the show. The front man and chief cheerleader, he builds energy both on and off the stage with his ferocious drum work, his vocals, and his interaction with the crowd. He brings them into the show, refusing to let them be passive witnesses to the performance. There are no passive witnesses.
“They make sure you leave a show feeling better than when you arrived,” says fan Ginger Winstead. “It’s a catharsis. They won’t let you leave unhappy.”
This tall order might break a lesser band. Cowboy Mouth – LeBlanc, guitarists John Thomas Griffith and Paul Sanchez, and bassist Mary LaSang – play between 150 and 200 shows every year, to an estimated one to one-and-a-half million people. But these folks are not a normal band. They thrive on the road, playing venues of any size, from small intimate gatherings to festival concerts of 50,000 or more.
“It’s all the same,” LeBlanc says. “The same energy, whether you’re playing to a big crowd in a big space or a small crowd in a small room. It’s just what we put out. People respond to it.”
People respond to them. Alternately standing over and sitting at his drum riser, LeBlanc becomes the on-stage focal point for the band’s activity. A cheerful Everyman off stage, LeBlanc becomes a larger than life force of nature onstage, whipping the audience into frenzy with the fervor of a tent revival.
Griffith provides raw guitar power in the blues-punk style, preferring a playful stage presence to the trite angry guitarist image. He is also the band’s primary keyboardist, effortlessly switching instruments and never disturbing his ever-present cowboy hat.
Sanchez plays versatile guitar, switching from lead to rhythm to acoustic with nary a beat. He is the stylish Mouth man, with an aura of quiet, Crescent City cool that creates a counterpoint to LeBlanc’s intensity. Sanchez addresses the crowd frequently and easily, poking fun at himself and his band mates.
Prowling the stage is LaSang, seemingly unable to remain still. She brings a dash of fearlessness and sass to the band, without becoming the token female. She is a bass picker, creating a fat-bottomed sound to the music that gives her band mates more room to play. She smiles broadly – and often – clearly happy with where she is now.
Occasionally dismissed as a “frat boy” band, Cowboy Mouth is more of a bouncy blues-rock project, melded with a sheen of Clash-era punk, an occasionally raunchy sense of humor, and an overwhelming sense of Southern style. All four are gifted musicians, able to play various instruments. Everyone sings and everyone writes music.
Cowboy Mouth came into being almost by accident. The three men were all veterans of the New Orleans music scene. LeBlanc and Sanchez were in a band together before LeBlanc joined legendary swamp rockers Dash Rip Rock. Griffith fronted The Red Rockers, the political punkers who rode to fame on the strength of “China,” a huge single of the early ‘80’s. Griffith and Sanchez both suffered dead-end solo careers. Sanchez grew so frustrated with the music business that he left it altogether for a few years to work in the movie industry.
In 1990, LeBlanc called Sanchez and told him he had a solo record deal and invited him to join him on the album.
“[I] quit my job on the movie, came home, we drove three days to a studio in Wisconsin, and his A&R guy flew in and said, ‘I’m sorry, Fred. I got fired and you got dropped.’ Fred looked at me and went, ‘Sorry, dude. I hope you can get your job back.’”
He didn’t. Instead, they decided to put together another band.
“We rehearsed for two or three months and we stunk. We were lousy,” LeBlanc says. “It was me, him, and a bass player. We tried, tried, and tried, but we stunk.”
Eventually, they recruited Griffith, who was working in a whole foods store in New Orleans. It made all the difference.
“From the first song we played together, it was magic,” says LeBlanc. “We went from stinking really, really bad to being really, really good in the space of three seconds.”
“I know when we all finished, I can honestly say, we all three…looked at each other.” Griffith taps his chest. “I can feel it right now, like I just want to take a big old deep breath. I definitely went, ‘this is going to rock. This is going to be fun.’”
Together, the three formed Cowboy Mouth with bassist Paul Clement. Over the years, the band has Spinal Tapped their way through a series of bassists; including Steve Walters and Rob Savoy. Savoy, a six-year veteran of the band, left amicably after Mardis Gras in 2003. After his departure, the band sought a fresh sound and found it with Mary LaSang, from the band Dingo 8. She was the first bassist to audition.
“When Mary joined, she added fire,” LeBlanc says. “She’s got a great attitude, a great spirit. She’s a wonderful player. She’s game for anything. She doesn’t have that hesitation that sometimes guys will have on stage, because they’re trying to look cool.”
LaSang suddenly found herself as a member of one of the hardest-touring bands in the country. “The biggest thing for me was – and still is – is that I’ve never been away from home, traveling so much, on a bus.” But it has its pluses as well. “I’ve never been able to play music full time, without having a day job. That’s a really wonderful thing.”
LeBlanc says the rest of the band gets a bonus from LaSang being a member: “It’s fun to see what we’ve experienced for a while, by someone who is completely new.”
Sanchez agrees. “She really kicked us in the butt and reminded how fun it is to play rock and roll for a living.”
Cowboy Mouth is currently touring in support of Uh-Oh, their eighth album, and their first with Bay Area-based 33rd Street Records. The record is arguably the band’s most radio-friendly release yet, meshing their robust stage-ready style with a modern rock edge that elicits comparisons to the Foo Fighters and Barenaked Ladies.
“Can’t Stay Here,” written and sung by Griffith, adds a distinct Southern California feel to a bluesy lament. “Invincible,” a driving Sanchez/Griffith number with Sanchez on vocals, harkens back to mid-‘80’s pop rock as performed by the Foo Fighters. “Disconnected,” the current radio single, manages to turn the feeling of alienation into a jumpy, upbeat number.
“You are, to a certain extent, responsible for what you put out there,” LeBlanc says. “You can’t translate the experience for your audience all the time, but you can do your best to put out something that’s constructive, instead of destructive.”
“With Cowboy Mouth, we consciously made a decision to try to do something positive initially. We weren’t sure how we were going to do it, but we knew we didn’t want to be a regular negative band.”
“We never discussed how to do it,” Sanchez says. “We never conceptualized the band. We just got out there and went, ‘duh,’ and it was good. As long as we keep doing that, I think we’ll keep being good.”
“I’ve never seen a band who puts more heart and soul into their music,” says Andrea Blum, who flew from Detroit to see the show. “Their live shows are like no other. You have to take part…and be thankful to be alive.”
Cowboy Mouth roars through a twenty-two-song set of new cuts and the classics: “Everybody Loves Jill,” “Hurricane Party,” “Jenny Says.” When they finally leave the stage, they – and the audience – are exhausted, sweaty, and feeling on top of the world. The tumult of cheers and applause remains long after they have gone.
“I always try to remember that feeling when we first started playing,” LeBlanc says. “We’ve been fortunate to have this thing last as long as it has. I still try to play with that give-it-everything-now, because one day when I’m sixty or seventy, I just want to say, ‘I had a ball. I played in one of the best bands in the world and gave it everything.’”
November 28th, the night after Thanksgiving. A crowd approaching one thousand men and women have come in out of the cold and filled Howlin’ Wolf, a music club in the warehouse district of New Orleans. The patrons, who have been warmed up by local punk-pop band, Gang of Creeps, and by a three-song reunion gig by The Red Rockers, generate happy, anxious excitement. They crowd the stage, awaiting Cowboy Mouth, one of the South’s favorite bands.
When the band takes the stage, an eruption of cheers that would be more at home in a stadium greets them. With little ceremony, they launch into “Light it on Fire,” a barnburner guaranteed to create a roar. It does. By the time they tear into their second number, “Disconnected,” the crowd is moving as one organic unit, almost desperate to absorb the band’s energy and return it to them tenfold. In return, Cowboy Mouth does their level best to blow the audience out the front door.
Standing front and center, Fred LeBlanc, the Mouth’s lead singer and drummer, pounds the skins and exhorts the fans to cheer, to jump, to take part in the show. The front man and chief cheerleader, he builds energy both on and off the stage with his ferocious drum work, his vocals, and his interaction with the crowd. He brings them into the show, refusing to let them be passive witnesses to the performance. There are no passive witnesses.
“They make sure you leave a show feeling better than when you arrived,” says fan Ginger Winstead. “It’s a catharsis. They won’t let you leave unhappy.”
This tall order might break a lesser band. Cowboy Mouth – LeBlanc, guitarists John Thomas Griffith and Paul Sanchez, and bassist Mary LaSang – play between 150 and 200 shows every year, to an estimated one to one-and-a-half million people. But these folks are not a normal band. They thrive on the road, playing venues of any size, from small intimate gatherings to festival concerts of 50,000 or more.
“It’s all the same,” LeBlanc says. “The same energy, whether you’re playing to a big crowd in a big space or a small crowd in a small room. It’s just what we put out. People respond to it.”
People respond to them. Alternately standing over and sitting at his drum riser, LeBlanc becomes the on-stage focal point for the band’s activity. A cheerful Everyman off stage, LeBlanc becomes a larger than life force of nature onstage, whipping the audience into frenzy with the fervor of a tent revival.
Griffith provides raw guitar power in the blues-punk style, preferring a playful stage presence to the trite angry guitarist image. He is also the band’s primary keyboardist, effortlessly switching instruments and never disturbing his ever-present cowboy hat.
Sanchez plays versatile guitar, switching from lead to rhythm to acoustic with nary a beat. He is the stylish Mouth man, with an aura of quiet, Crescent City cool that creates a counterpoint to LeBlanc’s intensity. Sanchez addresses the crowd frequently and easily, poking fun at himself and his band mates.
Prowling the stage is LaSang, seemingly unable to remain still. She brings a dash of fearlessness and sass to the band, without becoming the token female. She is a bass picker, creating a fat-bottomed sound to the music that gives her band mates more room to play. She smiles broadly – and often – clearly happy with where she is now.
Occasionally dismissed as a “frat boy” band, Cowboy Mouth is more of a bouncy blues-rock project, melded with a sheen of Clash-era punk, an occasionally raunchy sense of humor, and an overwhelming sense of Southern style. All four are gifted musicians, able to play various instruments. Everyone sings and everyone writes music.
Cowboy Mouth came into being almost by accident. The three men were all veterans of the New Orleans music scene. LeBlanc and Sanchez were in a band together before LeBlanc joined legendary swamp rockers Dash Rip Rock. Griffith fronted The Red Rockers, the political punkers who rode to fame on the strength of “China,” a huge single of the early ‘80’s. Griffith and Sanchez both suffered dead-end solo careers. Sanchez grew so frustrated with the music business that he left it altogether for a few years to work in the movie industry.
In 1990, LeBlanc called Sanchez and told him he had a solo record deal and invited him to join him on the album.
“[I] quit my job on the movie, came home, we drove three days to a studio in Wisconsin, and his A&R guy flew in and said, ‘I’m sorry, Fred. I got fired and you got dropped.’ Fred looked at me and went, ‘Sorry, dude. I hope you can get your job back.’”
He didn’t. Instead, they decided to put together another band.
“We rehearsed for two or three months and we stunk. We were lousy,” LeBlanc says. “It was me, him, and a bass player. We tried, tried, and tried, but we stunk.”
Eventually, they recruited Griffith, who was working in a whole foods store in New Orleans. It made all the difference.
“From the first song we played together, it was magic,” says LeBlanc. “We went from stinking really, really bad to being really, really good in the space of three seconds.”
“I know when we all finished, I can honestly say, we all three…looked at each other.” Griffith taps his chest. “I can feel it right now, like I just want to take a big old deep breath. I definitely went, ‘this is going to rock. This is going to be fun.’”
Together, the three formed Cowboy Mouth with bassist Paul Clement. Over the years, the band has Spinal Tapped their way through a series of bassists; including Steve Walters and Rob Savoy. Savoy, a six-year veteran of the band, left amicably after Mardis Gras in 2003. After his departure, the band sought a fresh sound and found it with Mary LaSang, from the band Dingo 8. She was the first bassist to audition.
“When Mary joined, she added fire,” LeBlanc says. “She’s got a great attitude, a great spirit. She’s a wonderful player. She’s game for anything. She doesn’t have that hesitation that sometimes guys will have on stage, because they’re trying to look cool.”
LaSang suddenly found herself as a member of one of the hardest-touring bands in the country. “The biggest thing for me was – and still is – is that I’ve never been away from home, traveling so much, on a bus.” But it has its pluses as well. “I’ve never been able to play music full time, without having a day job. That’s a really wonderful thing.”
LeBlanc says the rest of the band gets a bonus from LaSang being a member: “It’s fun to see what we’ve experienced for a while, by someone who is completely new.”
Sanchez agrees. “She really kicked us in the butt and reminded how fun it is to play rock and roll for a living.”
Cowboy Mouth is currently touring in support of Uh-Oh, their eighth album, and their first with Bay Area-based 33rd Street Records. The record is arguably the band’s most radio-friendly release yet, meshing their robust stage-ready style with a modern rock edge that elicits comparisons to the Foo Fighters and Barenaked Ladies.
“Can’t Stay Here,” written and sung by Griffith, adds a distinct Southern California feel to a bluesy lament. “Invincible,” a driving Sanchez/Griffith number with Sanchez on vocals, harkens back to mid-‘80’s pop rock as performed by the Foo Fighters. “Disconnected,” the current radio single, manages to turn the feeling of alienation into a jumpy, upbeat number.
“You are, to a certain extent, responsible for what you put out there,” LeBlanc says. “You can’t translate the experience for your audience all the time, but you can do your best to put out something that’s constructive, instead of destructive.”
“With Cowboy Mouth, we consciously made a decision to try to do something positive initially. We weren’t sure how we were going to do it, but we knew we didn’t want to be a regular negative band.”
“We never discussed how to do it,” Sanchez says. “We never conceptualized the band. We just got out there and went, ‘duh,’ and it was good. As long as we keep doing that, I think we’ll keep being good.”
“I’ve never seen a band who puts more heart and soul into their music,” says Andrea Blum, who flew from Detroit to see the show. “Their live shows are like no other. You have to take part…and be thankful to be alive.”
Cowboy Mouth roars through a twenty-two-song set of new cuts and the classics: “Everybody Loves Jill,” “Hurricane Party,” “Jenny Says.” When they finally leave the stage, they – and the audience – are exhausted, sweaty, and feeling on top of the world. The tumult of cheers and applause remains long after they have gone.
“I always try to remember that feeling when we first started playing,” LeBlanc says. “We’ve been fortunate to have this thing last as long as it has. I still try to play with that give-it-everything-now, because one day when I’m sixty or seventy, I just want to say, ‘I had a ball. I played in one of the best bands in the world and gave it everything.’”
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