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Gary Tischler • December 4, 2014

Director Robert O’Hara’s version of the Louis Jordan-based musical, “Five Guys Named Moe,” now at the Kreeger Theater at Arena Stage is said to be very different from the original which proved to be popular on Broadway and on tour and in the West End in the 1990s and in revivals.

Sad to say, I didn’t see the original, and Jordan, the man and the music and precursor of rock and roll, was just a little before my time. So basically, what I saw was as brand new as a baby, more or less, although a pretty energetic and loud baby.

What O’Hara has done is to place the music—it’s a heady, stewy mixture of blues, R&B, a little bit of big band oomph—into the hands of what purports to be a contemporary (or at least 1980s style boy group), echoing with contemporary swagger and style, who pop out of a radio being listened to by one very sad sack guy who’s heading towards hangover at five in the morning, lost his girlfriend, and is generally moe-aning the blues.

The five Moes—No Moe, Big Moe, Little Moe, Four-Eyed Moe and Eat Moe—are dazzling in white smooth outfits and decide to help out the lost guy, by the name of Nomax by giving him free musical advice about life, women, drinking, women, dancing, women, attitude, and oh, yes, women. Count the audience as the sixth moe—More Moe.

The Moes are all terrific singers with a lot of range, and even more moves. They dazzle with attitude. Try, for instance, Little Moe with “Messy Bessy” and the classic “Saturday Night Fish Fry” and Sheldon Henry as Big Moe, hooking up with Kevin McAllister, as the befuddled Nomax on “What’s the Use of Getting Sober When You’re Gonna Get Drunk Again.”

There’s a bit of contemporary flash and dazzle here—all achieved with the help a scintillating group six musicians to help glide things along. You might think Kanye or Jay-Z could come waltzing out to try their hand at some Jordan tunes. Yet, the songs have echoes—they have some of that bounce and rhythms of early rock, to be sure along the Bill Haley and Chuck Berry lines—but they dig back, too, with riffs and dollops of urban and southern blues and a little male Bessie Smith lamenting.

All the Moes can do their splits and spins, their cool moves—with sunglasses or not—they shine like a group of charmers who could talk and sing you into just about anything. They do just that when they persuade audience members—women all—to come up and do a conga line, in the calypso-raggae flavored first act closer “Push Ka Pi Shi Pie.”

The Moes— Jobari Parker-Namdar, as No Moe, Henry as Big Moe, Clinton Roane as Little Moe, Travis Porchia as Four-Eyed Moe, and Paris Nix as Eat Moe—are terrific entertainers and look great in white dinner jackets to boot. They embrace the music with their own sense of style, while leaving all the fun Jordan parts including the bluesy, often funny lyrics in.

And Nomax—as sung and performed by Kevin McAllister—does his part too. He’s got a deep and impressive bass voice that’s surprisingly evocative and affecting, and his stumble-bum act comes close to being endearing

What’s maybe missing from this—given that so much of the songs and material is about women of all shapes, sizes and dispositions—is an-in-the-flesh female performer. I’d say E. Faye Butler, who’s been at Arena enough to be comfortable, would be right at home with this bunch.

“Five Guys Named Moe” runs through Dec. 28.

Gary Tischler •

If there was one man, one politician, who in the annals of home rule in the District of Columbia personified the struggles and human makeup of this city, it was Marion S. Barry, Jr.

Through all the turbulent years of his public life in the city he seemed to love with a great passion, as school board member, city council member and four-time Mayor of the District of Columbia (1979 to 1991; 1995 to 1999.)

Through his triumphs of which there many, and through his troubles, of which there were an equal amount, Barry remained, up and down but not always all around the town, the most indelible, inspiring, divisive and unforgettable political figure of this town, the town inhabited in its neighborhoods, not its federal presence as capital city of the United States of America.

Even now, a day and some hours after he died early on Sunday morning a little after midnight, it’s hard to believe that he’s gone. He died of heart problems associated with his various medical issues including diabetes, after just being released from the hospital after complaining that he was not feeling well. In Washington, in the latter part of Barry’s life, the news of Barry landing in the hospital was practically a standing headline, but the news of his death was a shock.

He lived a big, big life here, footprints, imprints, images, accomplishments that irrevocably changed the city, and reckless and wounding acts that divided the city.

Long-term, the landscape changed. The geography of opportunity changed for the better for a time for African Americans in general, and those living in poverty, looking for jobs, for the elderly, the sick, the disadvantaged youths whom he inspired with his outsized presence, his outsider ways, his often in-your-face approach to white establishment types. He opened up opportunities for jobs in the District government which did not exist before, in its bureaucracies and its police and fire departments. When he was first elected—narrowly over the District’s first popularly elected mayor, Walter Washington—he was young and electric, running on a slogan of “Take a Stand.” When he took office, the city was a town that was still suffering from the effects of the 1968 riots. Although no longer segregated, it had the look of a segregated city, complete with the desolation of run-down neighborhoods along the 14th Street corridor.

It turned out that Marion Barry, as a politician, was something of a natural, like Bill Clinton, a man who couldn’t live without the hurly burly of crowds, meetings, face-to-face contacts. He was more often than not supremely confident in the pubic arena. If his major share of constituents was among the less affluent, heavily black areas of the city, especially when his last base of power became Anacostia and Ward 8, he was comfortable, and uniquely himself in just about any setting. We can recall Barry coming to Citizen Association of Georgetown meetings, where he had some vehement foes, and controlling the meeting by dint of his presence.

The city continued to change. And after the 1990 scandal—the videos of the Mayor of the District of Columbia taking a hit from a crack pipe, “The bitch set me up,” which became a t-shirt slogan, the trial, the journey to prison and the triumphant release—Barry had changed, too. He would be re-elected mayor for a term that was highlighted by the imposed presence of a federally mandated control board which took away almost all his power.

He opted out, not to run again. In 2004, he won the Ward 8 council seat and had been there until his death.

He felt himself redeemed often, and often stumbled, here and there. His talk got him into trouble. His bad habits got him into trouble. He could be racially divisive.

But he was always in the arena. Always.

Everybody who lived here during the Barry years has strong feelings about him, one way or the other, which came as no surprise. Often, it depended on where you lived, who you were or what you were. Often, opinions fell along racial lines.

All that aside, we remember him. Very little time passed over the years when he did not make news. But in Ward 8, he had returned and found a home. His personal life was as turbulent as his public life—four marriages, all ended, and one son, Christopher Barry.

We interviewed him in 2004, when he was seeking to gain the Ward 8 seat. He had said then that he was running because people kept asking him to, that he couldn’t get through a trip to a grocery store without talking for hours with residents.

We met him at his campaign headquarters which was only a block away from the Players restaurant, where we would have lunch (chicken dumpling soup, a favorite). It took us 45 minutes to get there. People at bus stops would hail him or come up to him. An elderly woman touched his hand to “God bless” him, and Barry knew her by name and asked after her grandchildren and health. Young men would look at him in awe. Nothing that happened on that walk was anything less than genuine. Pressing the flesh, a respectful listening to problems. Barry was in his element.

Outgoing Mayor Vincent Gray, who experienced his own share of political and personal troubles, choked up announcing his friend’s death. There was a similar, and emotional moment in 2010, when Barry was stripped of a chairmanship and censured by the District Council as a whole. Gray, stoic but dignified, read off the bill and Barry’s colleagues, one by one, voted (often whispered and muttered) yea on the censure motion, while Barry pleaded with Gray not to proceed.

We remember him too taking on a DPS employee during hearings on potential large-scale layoffs of teachers—in another room, teachers in danger of being fired cheered him in.

We remember him not so long ago over lunch for a story about his autobiography, “Mayor for Life.” He was walking slower but ate with a hearty appetite. He recalled the details of growing up in the segregated south as a poor African-American child, daring to drink out of a whites-only fountain just to see what it was like. He said he had no faith in the idea of the slogan, “One City,” as touted by Mayor Gray. He called it a pipe dream.

There will be no more quotes, outrageous or inspiring. There will be commemorations and vigils to come. Many are saying that the big memorial will come next week after Thanksgiving.

But there will be no more headlines except the last one. In the minds of the people who were there over the course of his time in this city, he will remain the mayor—not for life—but of our lives in his times.
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Mark Plotkin •

He never really left the stage. Now he’s gone. For nearly 50 years, Marion Barry was a force to be reckoned with. There were those who idolized him and saw him as their only champion. Others detested him and viewed him as an odious, destructive presence.

One thing that cannot be taken away from Barry: he was a very successful politician. He was elected Mayor of the District of Columbia four times. The last time was truly amazing. He had been in prison for six months just a few years before but came back in 1994 and reclaimed the highest office. Even hobbled by poor health during his last days, he was still an elected official, representing Ward 8 on the District Council. He could have served there forever.

Barry, a self-proclaimed “situationist,” formulated himself to fit each and every situation. In 1974, when he was first elected to the D.C. Council, he was a dashiki-clad militant activist. He won citywide for the at-large position. Four years later, he needed to moderate his image. So, he became a pin-stripe politician who romanced the residents of Georgetown and Cleveland Park in their living rooms. He won them over and began his reign as mayor.

In 1982, Barry was supposed to face a formidable foe in former Cabinet secretary and former Ambassador Patricia Roberts Harris. The story is told that while Harris was testing the waters for her potential run, she ventured out to Anacostia. After giving a speech, she felt quite satisfied and thought she had connected with the crowd. She sat down. Seated next to her was Barry. He leaned over and whispered into her ear, “I’m going to kick your ass.” That’s exactly what he did. He cleaned her clock, winning seven of eight wards. I dare you to name his 1986 opponent.

To those who did not want D.C. to have more home rule, Congressional representation and ultimately statehood, Barry was the perfect and ideal justification for saying, “No.” His personal life, the bloated government payroll and corruption by close aides and friends all added up to hold D.C. back. We, the citizens of D.C., suffered — even today.

As a person, Barry was not vindictive or mean-spirited. He once told me that there was only one person in this city he would not speak to. Barry played the race card when needed. But more than anything he was a big-city mayor of the Richard J. Daley, Boss Tweed, Boss Crump and James Michael Curley vintage. That’s the way I believe he wanted to be remembered.

Regularly contributing to The Georgetowner and The Downtowner, Mark Plotkin is a political analyst and contributor to the BBC on American politics and also a contributor to TheHill.com.

Robert Devaney • December 1, 2014

Known for its mindful remaking of historic properties, Roadside Development has the old Neam’s Market property at 3215-3217 P St. NW, also known as the Marvelous Market property, under contract.

Roadside — which is the development firm that recast the old Sears and Hechinger property in Tenleytown with retail and residential units and is set to remake Frager’s Hardware on Capitol Hill — is still in the planning stages for what to do with the closed building with a 13-car parking lot at the corner of Wisconsin Avenue and P Street, where the last Marvelous Market stood until the end of April. The legendary Neam’s Market closed in 2001.

“We don’t own the Marvelous Market property,” Richard Lake, one of Roadside’s founding partners, told The Georgetowner. “We have it under contract. We aren’t talking about plans because we haven’t formulated them completely.”

Roadside has listed the property on its website as part of its portfolio: “Prime Georgetown Retail space available. Ideally situated at the intersection of Wisconsin Avenue, NW and P Street, NW, this marquee corner location has 13 dedicated retail parking spaces. The site offers tremendous branding, visibility and unparalleled accessibility.” According to Roadside, the building space totals 5,873 square feet.

“It’s a really cool corner, and it has a lot of history,” Lake said. “Neam’s Market was on that site for years. The corner is a Washington institution. Obviously, it’s a small piece of property. We want to do something neat there, if we are able to.”

Led by founding partners, Lake, Armond Spikell and Todd Weiss, the D.C.-based Roadside also redeveloped the old market hall at 8th and O Streets into the Market at O with a new Giant food store along with a condominium and Cambria Suites hotel. It also has projects in Virginia and Maryland.
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Anders Ohm •

People are getting set for Thanksgiving, even as the sights and sounds of the holidays are about to pop. So, get ready, Georgetown, here are a few selections to begin the season.

Small businesses make up 73 percent of Georgetown’s retail offerings, according to the Georgetown Business Improvement District, and it has switched into overdrive to promote Georgetown as the place to be — and to shop and dine — just days before Thanksgiving and weeks before Christmas arrives.

Small Business Saturday, Nov. 29, is the day after Black Friday, and is an event begun by American Express, to promote small businesses across the nation.

Here is a fun BID project: Brighten up the holiday season with the Third Annual Georgetown Holiday Window Competition, which 19 merchants participated in last year. Throughout the neighborhood there will be light art installations and festive decorations. Windows should be completed by Monday, Dec. 1, and voting will take place from Dec. 3 to 17. Photographs will be posted on the official Georgetown Facebook page, and the shop window that earns the most “Likes” will announced as the winner.

The annual Swedish Christmas Bazaar will take place Dec. 6, 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Experience and learn about Swedish Christmas traditions — including St. Lucia Day — and shop from a number of different Swedish vendors. The bazaar is at the House of Sweden at 2900 K St. NW, next to Washington Harbour at the Georgetown waterfront.

The Washington Harbour Ice Skating Rink is open now through March. Washington Harbour — 3050 K St. NW — is the largest skating rink in the D.C. area and will host many events through the season.

The Georgetown Glow Winter Public Art Exhibition is an outdoor display of public art and light installations and sponsored by the Georgetown BID. It will be on display Dec. 12 through Dec. 14. The installations will be lit nightly from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. The artwork is by local and regional artists, and the art of international artist Luisa Alvarez of the Spanish art collective, Travesias de Luz. The BID will create a program brochure and map for the weekend that will feature the public art installations as well as local in-store holiday promotions, activities and events.