XXV: SOUTHERN TRIP 2018 – PART 3: FAIRFAX, COLUMBIA, PHILLY, CHERRY HILL
This article is the third and final installment in a series by Die Jim Crow producer Fury Young about the DJC Southern Trip 2018. Thanks to our gofundme donors for making the trip possible.
PART 1:
ALLENDALE CORRECTIONAL INSTITUTION
Fairfax, SC
In Fairfax, South Carolina, a predominantly black, low-income southern town, there is a prison called Allendale Correctional Institution that holds 1,090 men in a medium security unit. Allendale is where dr. Israel and I will be recording in March 2019, along with Camille Griffin Graham Correctional Institution (CGGCI), a women’s facility 80 miles north in Columbia. For October 18th and 19th, I had scheduled introductory workshops to meet the collaborators we will be working with in March. The guys at Allendale were up first.
Coming from Birmingham that night, the drive was smooth, but once you get off I-20 you’re in what a city kid like me would call rural. No streetlights, just trees, trees, and trees. It’s a bit eerie in the dark if you’re thinking about Texas Chainsaw Massacre or smashing into a deer. Luckily no bucks or Leatherfaces.
I got in late on Wednesday night, October 17th, and found a Days Inn a few minutes away from the prison. After watching some Vice show on recovering/relapsing heroin addicts — the most interesting thing I could find on TV — I crashed. I had a full day on the way.
October 18, 2018.
My time at Allendale was awesome. Ach*, who has organically fell into the role of Musical Director at Allendale by nature of his solid leadership skills, had set up a packed day for my visit [*as per South Carolina Department of Corrections regulation, I am not allowed to use real names]. Unfortunately I wasn’t allowed to bring in a camera, so I’ll do my best to paint the picture.
After going through security and running into Warden John Pate — the guy who really pushed for this project to get approved and I bestow a sincere thank you to — I strolled down towards the gym unaccompanied. With the nonchalant air of a busy man, Warden Pate had asked, “You know where you’re going right?” “Ahh, not really, no.” “Follow the signs down that way, you’ll see it.” So I made my way across the prison yard.
Built in 1989, Allendale looks more like a community college campus than an old school penitentiary. Between 1990 and 2005, a new prison was built in America every ten days (source: Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson, page 260), so you could say ACI is a mass incarceration-era prison. The construction looks quite similar to Warren Correctional Institution — where the Die Jim Crow EP was recorded — also built in 1989.
About halfway to the gym I ran into Ach, who I had only seen via online state ID photo but somehow recognized instantly, though he was now bearded and looked older. With the swiftness and ease of someone familiar with a their surroundings, Ach led me to the back of the gym where a group of state-garbed men were curiously awaiting this new-comer New Yorker named Fury Young.
Unsupervised by staff and in this casual setting, the situation was new for me. Though I communicate with people in prison on a daily basis, it is always one-on-one correspondence via phone call, letter, or for-profit email service. When I get access to record, I’m there for that; so there’s rarely time to sit and schmooze in a group setting. This was different — since I was only there to meet the guys and record demos, it was an opportunity for everyone to be themselves and pow wow for a minute. The group of curious collaborators before me were Ach, Tone, I-Self, Ace (nom de plume: Possessed), J.D., T.G., and Chop. Everyone except for J.D., who held an acoustic guitar, I’d quickly find out were emcees.
After introductions and some q&a, we got to recording demos of songs the men had prepared. Though I wasn’t able to bring in a camera, I did have my trusty Zoom6, a mic stand, and an SM57; an efficient and quick setup for the mostly acapella material we were about to record. As I got levels on the Zoom6, the guys looked curiously at the small recording device as if it was the coolest technology they’d seen in years. “That thing does all that? Wow,” Tone said excitedly.
Here are some highlights of the demos:
After each participant got a shot at recording, everyone left but Ach, who had planned a talent show for that afternoon which he began to set up in the basketball court area of the gym. The chairs were already laid out, and the couple hundred empty seats which I didn’t notice on the way in were a slightly intimidating prospect now. Though I had explicitly told Ach not to advertise the talent show as a talent scout, I knew I couldn’t get away with not introducing myself to the crowd — I was the new guy. I wanted to keep my presence discreet because 1.) I correspond with over twenty incarcerated collaborators, so I never make false promises to people who want to work with me. In other words, I didn’t want a slew of hungry artists coming my way, and 2.) I knew Ach and I could make those calls later as to who fit the bill. At this point I felt confident in Ach as a leader, despite having met him in person 90 minutes prior.
I pulled up a chair next to Ach at the welcome table, where the sign-up sheet was broken into four categories: Art, Poetry, Song, and Hip Hop. Quickly guys started shuffling in, a bunch of grown men in khaki uniforms; some cracking jokes, some standing around, some taking seats, a couple dozen signing up for the talent show. At that point, a fella named E, who I’d met briefly that morning, came up to me excitedly with a pat on the back that could knock you off a chair: “Hey man, you gonna perform something right? Show us what you got!” Needless to say I was “good” on that front. Though the idea of going Johnny Cash and playing a song for the crowd sounded fun, this was not the right time for that. So, I pulled up a seat at the front row, made small talk with some neighbors, and took a deep breath as the talent show got under way.
Not to my surprise, it didn’t take long for the new guy to get called up. After being introduced by Ach, who was co-hosting with E, I said a few words about what I do and thanked folks for coming. I was looking forward to the proceedings… and to sitting back down.
The talent show turned out to be awesome. The audience interaction was what stood out the most; all of these uniformed adults clapping and hollering and sometimes laughing hysterically — young, ancient, fat, giant, tiny, of all walks of life. It was inspiring to see that: an abundance of joy in an abundantly hard place. (For those who are curious, ACI is about 60% white, 40% black, according to Ach. His estimate did not account for other groups so I am assuming there are few). Here are some snippets from the show:
The rest of the day was further new to me. Ach gave me a tour of his unit, and I got to see his art studio (which is bigger than most studios here in Brooklyn), even his cell. It was my first time being in one. Just like you’d imagine: small, a slit of a window, limited light, grey or maybe they were white walls. This one was a double bunker, so the possessions were those of two people. I recall a piece of paper on the wall mounted by band-aids. “What do you do when one of you has to shit?” “We make sure to leave the cell… but worst case scenario we got a curtain.”
I followed Ach down to a classroom on the first floor of his unit that had good sunlight and a bunch of chairs. A few dudes from that morning trickled in — Ace, Chop, E, and T.G. — and we got to go over my concept for the album in depth. This was my favorite part of the day. All the ice had been broken at that point, and we got to go converse on many subjects: the three-act structure of the LP (pre-prison, prison, reentry), the band members from the talent show who could get down, Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” and a bunch of other influences, what Jim Crow meant to people. (“Always being secondary when opportunities come… having a ceiling.” – Ach). It felt like we could turn the conversation into a semi-structured class. I got a couple more demos here from Ach and Ace, both ideas for tracks on the Die Jim Crow LP:
Our final group pow wow was the right way to end a long and fruitful day. I left Allendale feeling inspired, certain that the energy in there was positive and that come March we’d be cooking with grease.
PART 2:
CAMILLE GRIFFIN GRAHAM CORRECTIONAL INSTITUTION
Columbia, SC
Immediately upon leaving Allendale, I headed up the interstate past cotton fields and defunct gas stations to South Carolina’s capital, Columbia. I would be meeting the women of Camille Griffin Graham Correctional Institution bright and early the next morning, and for this visit would have a partner in crime. I’d gotten permission to film the workshop at CGGCI, and my partner Lorena Liñero Lopez (who’d joined me in Dallas) would be coming in to video-document.
October 19th, 2018.
A sunny Friday morning, we checked out of Quality Inn and drove a few minutes to the South Carolina Department of Corrections headquarters, which neighbors three prisons and an officer’s Training Academy. Camille Griffin Graham, one of the three, is about a quarter mile drive once you check in at the main gate, past palmettos and well-manicured lawns tended to by prisoners.
We were cordially greeted at CGGCI’s main entrance by Senior Chaplain Larry Truitt, who I had met at my initial visit to the prison and had been my point person thus far. Chaplain Truitt led us past some classrooms and into the yard, where Taniya was there to greet us [Since the ladies of CGGCI did not give me nicknames, I will be using fake names]. Taniya, like Ach, had taken on a leadership role naturally, and was steering the ship in terms of who would be involved with our forthcoming recordings. However, Taniya – unlike Ach – was on her way out in two weeks after serving twenty years, so the women she’d introduce me to would be passed the baton.
We made our way to the gym, where some kind of graduation ceremony was wrapping up. Off to the side, there was a large storage room, and Taniya informed Lorena and I that we’d be having our meeting in there. It wasn’t much to look at, but it would serve us well. We began to set up camera and sound while Taniya and Casia, both keyboardists/vocalists, set up a 90s-looking synth. More folks strolled in until there were a total of six: Taniya, Casia, Monica, Britt, Andy, and Laurie.
We went around and introduced ourselves, me asking the women what kind of music they were into as an attempt to break the cold vibe. If Allendale at first was an ice cube tray, this was an iceberg. Maybe it was a gender thing, maybe stage fright, me being white, perhaps all of the above, but there was more trepidation with this crew than I was expecting.
Once the formalities were over and the participants got to sharing their work, the iceberg started to melt. All of the women aside from Andy (a guitarist) were vocalists; some rappers, some singers. Britt was the brave first one up, and shared a piece called “Black in the USA,” a politically-minded rap she performed acapella: “It’s a struggle every day being black in the USA / Make no mistake they still racist today….”
I’d like to share material from the women, but I do not have permission from them. To be candid, the only two who have been in touch with me are Britt and Casia, and Britt has told me she does not want her work public until it is completed and copywritten. So, I’ll share a recording of “Amazing Grace” with Taniya, Casia, Monica, and Laurie.
POST SCRIPTUM: I’m completing this article months later in February 2019 with only a few weeks before I return to CGGCI, this time with my Co-Producer/Engineer dr. Israel in tow. It’s going to be a different type of recording experience and I’m looking forward to that. Britt has a few songs lined up and I’m talking to Casia about working with the choir and hoping this happens. In the process of all this, I think other people will be encouraged to share their talents.
The big difference between this prison and others we’ve recorded at will be lack of instrumentation. Andy, the guitar player, was released this month. That leaves Casia as the sole player on keys, a beginner who is not at a point where she wants to write original music. On paper, our first round of recordings next month will be hip hop tracks with Britt and maybe some choir stuff. But who knows; there is always a surprise element to this kind of thing…
PART 3: PHILLY & CHERRY HILL
That about sums up the 2018 Southern Trip, though no journey back north is complete without seeing some familiar faces around Philly. If you’re hip to the Die Jim Crow crew you probably know who I’m talking about; B.L Shirelle and Maxwell Melvins. My last night on the road, I stopped by north Philly to kick it with B.L and share a few laughs. A matter of business, I also asked if she’d be interested in being on the Board of Directors for the newly formed non-profit, Die Jim Crow Inc.. The answer was yes.
A final stop the next morning, Lorena and I drove to Maple Shade, New Jersey for a diner breakfast with Maxwell Mevlins, who was in indefatigable form.
And… all things come to an end:
IN CONCLUSION —
It has taken awhile to write this third and final installment of the Southern Trip 2018 blog series because, well, I have been busy gearing up to go right back down south! In late March, dr. Israel and I will be recording at the three prisons discussed in Parts 2 and 3 of this blog series: Allendale, Camille Griffin Graham, and Central Mississippi Correctional Facility’s Youthful Offender Unit. We would love your help. You can donate here, share this blog, follow us on social media, and spread the good word! Thank you!
Fury Young
Producer, Die Jim Crow
