Local News
Hip-Hop
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ues that has decided to move away from booking hip-hop
acts. According to Wyatt, Speaker Minds had been per-
forming regularly at the venue for eight to nine months
without incident, yet has become a casualty of the negative
characterization of the genre.
“I think they’re kind of thinking from a general point of
view that all hip-hop and all rap music brings out this cer-
tain demographic that causes problems,” he says. “Venues
Rose Bent
need to take more responsibility for things they’re promot-
ing.
“You won’t catch us with flyers with half naked women
on them, or fancy cars, or anything provoking or promoting
violence. We’re not going to bring out people influenced by
that sort of lifestyle. Our fan base is great. They just dance
and go home.”
Benjamin Eshbach, general manager of the Mt. Tabor
Theater, says hip-hop, along with heavy metal and horror-
core/murdercore music, is being eliminated because of the
neighborhood and financial impact.
“Almost every hip hop show we’ve had has had a greater
neighborhood impact than the other shows,” he says.
“That’s not to say that the hip hop shows have been the only
shows that have had a neighborhood impact. But we’ve
seen an uptick in complaints. People not going home.
Drinking in their cars. The biggest complaint is people
being loud in their cars.”
Different Venue, Same Story
watch over hip-hop events than on other musical perform-
ances. And, they argue, club owners who schedule hip-hop
events face strict punishments.
“The tactic’s root, they say, stems from underlying
racism.”
In 2003, patrons at a Ringlers hip-hop show captured pic-
tures of a police car parked outside with a large stuffed
gorilla attached to the vehicle’s grill, which sparked contro-
versy over the racial overtones of the incident.
Two shootings outside of the Roseland Theater in 2006
prompted then Central Precinct Lieutenant Todd Wyatt to
tell the Portland Mercury, “It’s not a coincidence that all
these shootings happen after a rap concert. We don’t want
to say that because we don’t want to be labeled as racist, but
if you line up the shows, and line up the numbers, there’s a
correlation.”
The shows in question featured Keak da Sneak and E-40,
both Bay Area artists.
Fast forward to 2012. Tensions between the hip-hop com-
munity, Portland police and the OLCC are still high.
The Beauty Bar was recently closed, prompting further
frustration from local artists, including a commentary in We
Out Here Magazine from Mac Smiff. The sense of frustra-
tion was accentuated in the comments section as different
personalities weighed in on the racial patterns of who has
been targeted.
“Different venue same story,” says Jacque Dixon of the
group Rose Bent. “Sugarcoat it. Make it look top 40 so we
can bring in white people.”
Speaker Minds
Although Mt. Tabor is one of the latest venues to take this
stance, the hip-hop community, as well as the Black enter-
tainment community as a whole, has been dealing with an
ever-changing landscape for years.
In 1999, The Skanner News examined the pressure being
put on the now defunct Cleo-Lillian Social Club by the
OLCC and surrounding neighbors. Although the club had
been a well-known gathering spot in the Albina Communi-
ty since 1958, gentrification in the 90s brought a wave of
complaints from new neighbors, who the owners believe
brought racial hostility with them.
A passage from a Dec. 2002 Portland Tribune article titled
“Portland Outside Hip Hop Nation”, reads, “Foremost, the
hip-hop community believes Portland police and Oregon
Liquor Control Commission agents keep a more vigilant
Dress Code
One of the most consistent complaints coming from mem-
bers of the hip-hop community is about the change in dress
code at certain clubs.
Most notably, there has been a crackdown on gang colors.
Jonathan Norman (stage name Smurf Luchiano), a long-
time promoter and artist whose gang past is detailed in the
cautionary documentary “Killingsworth”, says the dress
codes are fair, but does take issue with who they’re being
applied to.
“The dress codes are pretty fair with hoodies and no gang
attire,” he says. “So many people come to hip hop shows
with hoodies on so you have to look at the demographics
and where the shows are actually at. It’s about freedom of
Mt Tabor
speech and being an American citizen.
“With other genres it’s a free thing. You can wear what-
ever you want to wear. Hip-hop is the only one I’ve seen
with a strict dress code. All the way down to promoters.
Then it starts to turn into a race thing. It’s more like preju-
dice vs. fair.”
Eshbach says the dress code is determined by the promot-
ers.
“From the way they approach me, if someone can dress
up and put on a certain style of clothing it shows they’re a
little more grown up and aren’t going to cause problems,”
says Eshbach. “We want everyone to have a good time but
at the same time some people’s definition of a good time is
different from someone else’s. The dress code, from the
way it was explained to me, it helps separate out riff raff.
Troublemakers that aren’t looking to have a good time but
cause problems for somebody else.”
Questions have emerged about how arbitrary these dress
codes are and whether painting clothing decisions with a
broad brush is the best approach.
Dixon, who is also a teacher at Roosevelt High School,
says she sees the same approach used at clubs and bars in
schools. She says the effect is discouraging to certain
groups, rather than being something that prevents problems.
“It encourages counter cultures to stay at home or in their
neighborhoods,” she says.
Wyatt, who discusses subjects like the consequences of
promiscuity and gang lifestyles, says doing research on
artists is imperative.
“I know a lot of good people that threw events and their
friends couldn’t get in because they were wearing some-
thing blue,” he says. “That’s ridiculous. I wear blue all the
time and I’ve never been associated with a gang. I just
enjoy the color.”
Part 2: The Name of the Game is ‘Security’
Street
continued from page 1
but everyone here grew up in the church.
We need to help the streets get involved
with Sunday, and Sunday get involved in
the streets.”
The men discussed the challenges facing
Black boys and men. Finding a way to make
a few dollars, for example, is crucial for
young men whose families are struggling
financially.
Val Polk, who works with gang-affected
youth, said his team has taken five guns
from teens and broken up countless fights.
What’s frustrating, he said, is for church
members to be present, but not helpful.
“I was breaking up a fight between a mom
and her son,” he said. “And you just stood
there watching me. It’s hard for me to
accept what you’re doing when I’m looking
at what you’re not doing.”
Harris said violence prevention takes
youth workers into dangerous situations
where they are literally putting their lives on
the line. When support is needed they turn
to
one
another
for
backup.
When trouble is underway, “I’m going to
come and get Spank,” Harris said. “We
might both get shot… But we’re brothers on
the street, and that’s love.”
The perception is that the pastors are not
taking those same risks, he said.
Pastors and church members are only
human so like everyone else they have
lence prevention, despite rumors to the con-
trary. And pastors are dealing with a lot of
different demands –from comforting
bereaved families to organizing help for
seniors.
‘The reality is that the two most influential groups
of Black men in Portland are pastors and gang
members. We have a situation where, as men,
we are caught up in those labels’
—Royal Harris
shortcomings, said Pastor Mark Strong, to
general agreement. Churches will never be
perfect places; they are what we make them.
Strong said some criticisms come from mis-
perceptions. For example, Eleven:45 is not
receiving any money to work on youth vio-
“Everything you do, you don’t put it on
blast,” he said. “Most pastors I know, they
go weeks without a paycheck. Yes, there are
areas where the church needs to be and do
better. Church is not a perfect place. The
church is about people that are in process.”
Two men talked about being turned away
from a church because of the clothes they
were wearing. Polk said he was raised in the
Southern church and missed its familiar
atmosphere. He had tried several churches
in Portland, but had yet to find a church
where he felt at home.
Rob Richardson, a longtime prison visitor
and prisoner advocate, said too many Black
children are being raised through institu-
tions because of family breakdown, and the
incarceration
of
Black
men.
Relationships built on caring, and under-
standing one another at the heart level, are
what help young men stay on track and
become successful adults.
“If you can keep them breathing, then
they can be a pastor, or get that degree,” he
said.
Much more important than giving young
men a few dollars, is to show them you care
by
spending
time
with
them.
“Because they will remember that fishing
trip,” he said. “You spell love T I M E.”
The men’s group plans to meet on a regular
basis.
August 22, 2012 The Portland Skanner Page 3