‘Five Guys Named Moe’: Heady Stew of Blues, R&B and Swagger
• 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.

Marion Barry: Mayor—Not for Life—But of Our Lives
•

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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December 3 Business Ins and Outs
•

Neam’s Property Under Contract to Roadside Development
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 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 is 5,873 square feet.

IN: CrossFit Balance

CrossFit Balance Georgetown is now open at 1251 Wisconsin Ave. NW., at the Reebok FitHub Georgetown store. The fitness trend has expanded across D.C., with new studios popping up in almost all of the District’s neighborhoods.
IN: Ledbury Pop-up Shop
Ledbury Clothing Store, headquartered in Richmond, Va., popped up again for Christmas shopping in Georgetown this season in the same location – 1254 Wisconsin Ave. – as last season. The store opened on Nov. 22 and closes Dec. 22.
Francesca’s Coming to M Street
Mid-level women’s clothier Francesca’s has signed a lease to open a store at 3128 M Street NW. The new store will mark Francesca’s second in the District, and will act as a flagship for the retailer in the mid-Atlantic, according to Geoff Mackler of H& R Retail. Francesca’s also operates stores in Bethesda and Pentagon City. Francesca’s is known for selling affordable fashion, with dresses ranging from $50 to $150 and handbags starting around $30.

COMING: Mashburn at G’town Court
Mashburn, a clothing store out of Atlanta, will be coming in 2015 to 3206 N St., NW, which is part of the Georgetown Court complex and in the former space of Neyla Restaurant and the long-closed
The store will stretch from Prospect to N Street with a women’s and men’s side. There will also be a coffee shop on the west side of the store, facing the courtyard. “Think L.L. Bean meets Starsbuck’s,” said the architect, who showed plans at the Dec. 1 meeting for the Georgetown-Burleith advisory neighborhood commission (ANC2E).
•

   

The One and Only Marion Barry
•

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.

Taking Back Our Land
•

Council member Jack Evans appears to be gearing up for a fight to take back from the Federal Government some of the city’s most valuable assets, including many of its parks, squares, and Georgetown waterfront. In his column in the Nov. 19 Georgetowner, Evans writes of the District’s desire for a measure of self-determination: “From the Georgetown Waterfront to Franklin Square to Pennsylvania Avenue, local control of parks and roads in the District is a win-win for the District and Federal governments. The Republican Congress can shrink the size of the Federal Government, and the District can more appropriately utilize those spaces for city residents.”

The council member’s thoughts appear to be well in-line with many in the city who are frustrated by the imposed infantilization of the community at the hands of the federal government. Examples of our lack of control abound. The National Park Service controls about 637 parcels of land in the District for a total of 6,776 acres, with 425 of those parcels tiny at an acre or less. Little money or care is spent by the NPS in maintaining those spaces and they are generally desolate, empty and sad.

The city made what many now see as a deal with the devil when it ceded control of most of the Georgetown waterfront to the NPS in the 1980s. The arrangement was structured in large measure to avoid the associated maintenance costs and a real fear among some in the Council that the area would be forever lost to developers as a quick, but shortsighted way to help fill the city’s empty coffers.

The chickens have now come home to roost, and the true downside of the deal is glaringly apparent. While the NPS could become a true partner with the people of Georgetown, it appears to have its own plans and private agenda as to how to use the most valuable property in the District. We have seen recently how the federal agency is tone-deaf to local wishes, as it repeatedly bungled the waterfront for boaters from Thompson Boat Center down to Fletcher’s Boathouse. This indifference was brought to light in 2012 during the Jack’s Boathouse debacle when, despite a huge outcry by thousands of citizens, civic leaders and city political leaders, the NPS threw out long-time local operators to place Boston-based concessionaires in the spot.

The NPS’s curious indifference for local needs was detailed in a Washington Post article, headlined, “The Grand Canyon or Logan Circle? It’s all the same to the Park Service.” The Post story frames the problem as, “A bureaucratic mentality at the National Park Service that insists on applying the same regulations at the Grand Canyon and Logan Circle, without recognizing the vastly different role that parks play in urban settings.” The Post goes on to opine: “The Park Service throws up obstacles to new ideas rather than work with local communities to find solutions, even when doing so would advance the agency’s mission of preserving national resources for the enjoyment of all.” There is no argument that the District has an important national interest that surely needs consideration, but that’s not happening as well as it could be. Beyond the national concerns and politics, D.C. is the home of more than 600,000 citizens, who are in a far better position to decide, protect, promote and pay for the kind of neighborhood public spaces they deserve without having to beg for the morsels tossed from the federal government.

Perhaps we’re grasping at straws by reading too much into the few words that Evans wrote, but we’re hoping it means that getting our land back is a priority for him and the city. If that’s the case, we look forward to hearing about the next steps to make it happen.

The One and Only Marion Barry
•

He never really left the stage. And 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.

A self-proclaimed “situationist,” Barry 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. The at-large position required him to win citywide. Four years later, he needed to moderate his image. So he became a pinstriped politician who romanced Georgetown and Cleveland Park residents in their living rooms. He won them over and began his reign as mayor.

In 1982, Barry was supposed to face a formidable foe: former cabinet secretary and 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, thinking she had connected with the crowd. She sat down. Seated next to her was Barry. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I’m going to kick your ass.”
And 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 justification for saying, “No.” His personal life, the bloated government payroll and corruption by close aides and friends all combined to hold D.C. back. We, the citizens of D.C., suffered. We suffer 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 in the mold of Richard J. Daley, Boss Tweed, Boss Crump and James Michael Curley. That’s the way I believe he wanted to be remembered.

Carry On Barry’s Belief for a Better D.C.
•

The District of Columbia lost one of its founding fathers last week when Marion Barry, Civil Rights leader, mayor, council member, passed away at the age of 78.

During my time in D.C. and in local government, we have experienced an incredible amount of change as a city, but there has always been one constant: Marion Barry. From my earliest days in the District, I’ve always known a city with Marion Barry. I moved to Washington in September 1978 and started working as an attorney at the Securities and Exchange Commission on a Monday. The next day, Marion won the Democratic primary for the Mayor of Washington, D.C. He truly was my “Mayor for Life.”

For the last 10 years, I’ve had the office right next door to Marion. Serving on the Council together was like having an historical figure right within your reach. I had the opportunity to travel with him around the country and the world, and no matter where we were everyone always came up to him and wanted to take their picture with him. From Las Vegas to South Africa, people loved Marion Barry.

In the 35 years I knew him, he never backed down from his belief that Washington, D.C. should do more, should be more, for every person who lives here. Marion looked out for people who were down and out and he should always be remembered for that.

Most people know that Marion Barry served as Mayor of Washington, D.C. longer than anyone else in history, and everyone knows of his infamous struggles, but many people are unaware of how integral a role Marion played in the Civil Rights movement.

Marion participated in the Nashville sit-ins in 1960 as a student at Fisk University. Later that same year, he was elected the first chairman of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, one of the most important groups of the Civil Rights movement. It was through SNCC that he first came to Washington, D.C.

During those early years in Washington, he helped to organize boycotts and peaceful demonstrations. He fought for District home rule. He went to the federal government and won funding to establish Pride, Inc., a jobs training program for unemployed black men.
Helping people find jobs became a passion for Marion, and he made it his life’s work. As mayor, he created the Mayor’s Summer Youth Employment Program, which has provided summer jobs to nearly every young Washingtonian over the last 25 years, including my triplets, and through his final days on the Council, he kept fighting for “the last, the lost, the least,” as he would say.

While Marion is gone, his belief in a better District for all residents lives on. It’s now for the rest of us to continue to make it so.
My thoughts and prayers continue to be with his wife, Cora, his son, Christopher, and the hundreds of thousands of Washingtonians who loved Marion Barry.

Bring Justice to Ferguson, Mo.
•

Ferguson, Mo., was a warzone the night of Nov. 24, after local prosecutor Robert P. McCulloch announced that a St. Louis County grand jury decided not to indict police officer Darren Wilson in the killing of Michael Brown. The police chief called the scene, “Worse than the worst night we had in August.” Viewers tuned to cable news to see cop cars and buildings on fire, hear gunshots and tear gas canisters explode and witness heavily armed police officers marching in line like an infantry against protesters. But this occupying army (as it appeared) let the city burn.

McCulloch, seemingly the army’s leader, announced the no-indictment decision at night, giving cover to some that he should have known from past experience would incite violence. He triggered more anger by making a case for Wilson’s innocence at the press conference. It is worth asking whether McCulloch and his office intended to fan the flames of unrest or are just flat-out incompetent.

The next day, we learned that McCulloch took a hands-off approach during the entire process, essentially guaranteeing that Wilson would not be indicted. He never ordered Wilson’s arrest, and he relinquished the traditional role of the prosecution, dumping all of the evidence on the grand jury rather than presenting an argument for indictment. Hence, Wilson’s story – which contradicted those of numerous eyewitnesses in its narrative of Brown’s alleged attacks on Wilson – was not cross-examined. The grand jury was given little to no guidance.

Protesters assembled on Nov. 25 in every major American city, chanting, “Black lives matter” and “No justice, no peace” – not only because they thought Wilson should be charged for Brown’s death, but also because it became more and more clear that McCulloch gave Wilson special treatment during the grand jury process.

There is still hope for justice, though. The Justice Department’s Civil Rights Division has the opportunity to bring criminal charges against Wilson and to overhaul the Ferguson Police Department’s training with regard to racial profiling and use of force. We urge the Justice Department to hasten their investigations in the hope that this will alleviate the violence and heartbreak in Ferguson. But we also insist that the Civil Rights Division expand the scope of its investigation to McCulloch and St. Louis County’s grand jury procedures.

There are still many steps that need to be taken to improve race relations and minimize police brutality in the U.S. Whether or not the Justice Department acts on Ferguson, we hope that protesters around the country continue to air their grievances peacefully and that police do not encroach on Americans’ right to assemble.

Woman, Dog Pulled From C&O Canal
•

A woman and her dog were rescued from the C&O Canal near 31st and M Streets NW on Nov. 21, according to NBC4 News. It is unclear how and why the woman and the dog were in the water, with temperatures hovering above freezing. They likely fell in the water on a morning walk, around 8:30 a.m. Neither the woman nor her dog was injured.