Allegations of racism and mismanagement spark a power struggle at the Mutual Musicians Foundation
Amid Kansas City's failure to preserve and redevelop 18th Street and Vine — a historic business district that flourished during segregation and a cradle of the jazz that put Kansas City on world maps — the Mutual Musicians Foundation has kept the beat.
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Nearby, the American Jazz Museum requires a $550,000 annual subsidy from the City of Kansas City, Missouri. Ideas about the proper recognition of Buck O'Neil divide the leadership of the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum. The district's main redevelopment agency can't seem to fill storefronts or rehab the fragile, old homes in its care.
But the foundation is different.
In a former union hall for black musicians, the foundation endures as a social club, after-school program for young music students, performance space and speakeasy. At late-night jam sessions, which begin after 1 a.m. on weekends, musicians cut loose before an audience of jazz lovers, hipsters and dipsomaniacs in a tradition that dates back to 1930. "The history is very, very thick," says Brad Williams, a percussionist who sometimes performs there.
On most blocks within the 18th and Vine District, vibrancy feels either lost or manufactured. That gives an even warmer glow to the neon treble clef above the foundation's front door.
But in the past year, the pink stucco building at 1823 Highland has been visited by tribulations from which it seemed immune.
In December, the foundation's 100-odd members installed a new board of directors. Many of those members were new to the cause. In the weeks leading up to the election, a local singer suggested that the old board had allowed the foundation's legacy to be "pimped." The singer, Lisa Henry, branded Betty Crow, the foundation's secretary and driving force, a racist.
Crow is 80 years old and twice widowed. Her supporters say she is anything but prejudiced. "My God, if she were, I don't think she'd spend the considerable amount of time and money to do what's going on down there," says Mike White, a lawyer and member of the volunteer Kansas City Jazz Ambassadors. Ron McMillan, a community activist, says Crow is "heartbroken" by recent events.
McMillan, who is black, calls Crow a "godsend" and an "angel." Crow made some mistakes, McMillan says. But he's upset that she came to be cast as a villain. "I respect what Miss Betty was doing," McMillan says, "because a lot of our own folk weren't doing it."
Grace Temple, a stone church off 18th and Vine, empties its worshippers into the street. A few doors down, a different sanctuary begins to swell.
It's a Sunday afternoon in late November. Musicians and jazz supporters are gathering at the Mutual Musicians Foundation to affirm their memberships. Just a few months earlier, the number of foundation members in good standing (annual dues: $65) could fit in a small room. But in the course of the afternoon, dozens of performers and music aficionados, as well as those with only a loose connection to Kansas City jazz, will pass under the treble clef.
Wearing a fedora, black suit and polka-dot tie, Ray Reed moves between the lobby and the lounge, a room on the first floor with honey-colored wood paneling. He retrieves a copy of the foundation's bylaws for a man with a question about the proceedings. "This is the bible," Reed says. "Just like at church."
Reed was the doorman at the foundation until Betty Crow fired him in October. Though he's no longer collecting $8 cover charges late at night, Reed remains active in foundation affairs. He's part of a nominating committee that has selected candidates to run for positions on the foundation's board.
Formed in September, the nominating committee represents a challenge to the authority of the current leadership. The committee came together at the same time that the foundation saw a surge in membership applications, leading one member of the board, speaking in confidence, to describe it as a "plot."
Reed, a singer, worked the door at the late-night jam sessions for four years. He remembers one night when a woman went out on the stoop with a cigarette. She told him that it felt like smoking in front of a house of worship. "That's a special little place," Reed says of the two-story building. "It's sacred."
Reed describes himself as a "political casualty." He compares his struggle with that of a union organizer. He says Crow and the other 14 members of the board had abandoned the bylaws and caused the membership to dwindle and disengage. "They didn't want any members," Reed says. "I guess they felt members would be a problem."
On this cold and cloudy Sunday, one of the regular bartenders, Charlie Minton, has set up a spread of cookies, soda pop and bottled water. Eventually, the board members assemble in the lounge and begin to talk about the election.
Horace Washington, a bandleader who is wearing a Monarchs cap, leads the meeting. Washington is on the foundation board but is not an officer. The president, Al Pearson, resigned in September. Virtually the entire board is on its way out; only one member decided to seek re-election.
A discussion about voting procedures exposes the battle lines between the board and those pushing for regime change. Reed warns that they might have to ask the Kansas City Election Board to monitor the vote. The board scoffs at the idea.
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Mary Farney 02/13/2010 1:16:28 PM
Even though musicians perform well together I have learned that doesn't mean they like and get along with one another. The same goes for their appreciative audiences. Racism has nothing to do with it. I have always enjoyed listening to jazz at the Foundation because that is a place that racism does not play a role. If you can play jazz well, you are welcome on stage. If not, you are asked not to join in on the jams. No hard feelings - this desired level of skill is well understood. Many of the professional musicians do teach younger musicians and when they are ready, they continue learning through the jam sessions. Betty Crow's passion is only that the jazz tradition be kept alive. She has helped many a musician without even the slightest thought about race. She had the help of others, most of whom she paid, to get the place running and supporting itself. She didn't like the emphasis on after-hours drinking but realized that the tradition of the place was music plus the nightclub atmosphere. That is why she worked so hard with the help of others to continue after hours as it always had. Her efforts here remind me of the often quoted words "No good deed goes unpunished." In spite of the disagreements, let's hope the new Board can keep the jazz alive and preserve the history of the Foundation.