NOLA Cops Arrest 2nd-Line Band Members During Funeral

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David in Atlanta
Joined: 21-04-06
Oct 29 2007 23:42
NOLA Cops Arrest 2nd-Line Band Members During Funeral

ttp:// com/news/ feature/2007/ 10/29/treme/ print.html

Band on the run in New Orleans

Police have cracked down on funeral processions, a time-honored
cultural tradition in the historic black neighborhood of Treme. But
musicians vow to play on.

By Larry Blumenfeld

Oct. 29, 2007 | On the evening of Oct. 1, some two dozen of New
Orleans' top brass-band players and roughly a hundred followers began a series of nightly processions for Kerwin James, a tuba player with the New Birth Brass Band who had passed away on Sept. 26. They were "bringing him down," as it's called, until his Saturday burial. But the bittersweet tradition that Monday night ended more bitterly than anything else -- with snare drummer Derrick Tabb and his brother, trombonist Glen David Andrews, led away in handcuffs after some 20 police cars had arrived near the corner of North Robertson and St. Philip streets in New Orleans' historic Tremé neighborhood. In the end, it looked more like the scene of a murder than misdemeanors.

"The police told us, 'If we hear one more note, we'll arrest the whole
band,'" said Tabb a few days later, at a fundraiser to help defray the
costs of James' burial. "Well, we did stop playing," said Andrews. "We were singing, lifting our voices to God. You gonna tell me that's wrong too?" Drummer Ellis Joseph of the Free Agents Brass band, who was also in the procession, said, "They came in a swarm, like we had AK-47s. But we only had instruments. "

The musicians were no longer playing but instead singing "I'll Fly
Away" when the cops converged and the cuffs came out. A New Orleans police spokesman claimed the department was simply acting on a neighborhood resident's phoned-in complaint. And the department maintains that such processions require permits.

But when they busted up the memorial procession for a beloved tuba player, arresting the two musicians for parading without a permit and disturbing the peace, they didn't just cut short a familiar hymn -- they stomped on something sacred and turned up the volume in the fight over the city's culture, which continues amid the long struggle to rebuild New Orleans.

In that fight, Tremé is ground zero. Funeral processions are an
essential element of New Orleans culture, and the impromptu variety in particular --- honoring the passing of someone of distinction, especially a musician -- are a time-honored tradition in neighborhoods like Tremé, which some consider the oldest black neighborhood in America. For black New Orleans residents who have returned to the city, these and other street-culture traditions -- second-line parades and Mardi Gras Indian assemblies -- offer perhaps the only semblance of normalcy, continuity and community organization left. In a changing Tremé, within a city still in troubled limbo and racked by violent crime, long-held tensions regarding the iconic street culture have intensified. The neighborhood, the breeding ground for much of this culture, has a history of embattlement. And now more of that history is being written.

"I've been parading in the Tremé for more than 25 years, and I've
never had to deal with anything like this," said tuba player Phil
Frazier, who leads the popular Rebirth Brass Band. He's brother to
James, who died of complications of a stroke at 34. "I told the cops
it was my brother we were playing for, and they just didn't seem to
care. He's a musician and he contributed a lot to this city in his
short life."

Katy Reckdahl, a reporter for the New Orleans Times-Picayune, had rushed to catch up with the Monday-evening procession when her 2-year-old son Hector heard tubas in the distance. What she didn't expect was a sudden flood of patrol cars, sirens blaring. Her
front-page, full-banner- headline report two days later described
police running into the crowd, grabbing at horn players' mouthpieces, and trying to seize drumsticks out of hands. "The confrontations spurred cries in the neighborhood about over-reaction and disproportionate enforcement by the police, who had often turned a blind eye to the traditional memorial ceremonies," she wrote. "Still others say the incident is a sign of a greater attack on the cultural history of the old city neighborhood by well-heeled newcomers attracted to Tremé by the very history they seem to threaten."

It's unclear who called the police that night. But it's easy to sense
the difference, longtime residents say, between North Robertson Street before and after the storm. With its proximity to the French Quarter and historic architecture, Tremé, which was not flooded, is newly attractive to home buyers within the city's shrunken post-Hurricane Katrina housing stock. Meanwhile, as in most of New Orleans, rents have sharply increased. Derrick Jettridge, who was born and raised in the Tremé, now lives in the Mid City section. "I'd never find something in Tremé for the $500 I was paying before," he says. On her New Orleans Renovation blog, Laureen Lentz wrote recently, "Since Katrina, the Historic Faubourg Tremé Association has gathered a lot of steam. Our neighborhood is changing as people have begun to realize that this area is prime, non-flooded real estate ... So much is happening in Tremé, it's hard to convince people that aren't here. You have to see it to believe it."

Home prices in Tremé rose nearly 20 percent immediately following the flood, settling at approximately 12 percent above pre-Katrina rates, according to Al Palumbo, branch manager for the historic districts office of Latter & Blum Realty. "Tremé, especially the area around North Robertson and St. Peter, would certainly be among my first choices for return on investment in New Orleans," he says.

But what might such development in the neighborhood ultimately cost? The intensity of the police response during the Kermit James
procession prompted a second-line of print voices, so to speak, in the Times-Picayune' s pages.

"If somebody is blowing a horn in Tremé and somebody else is calling the police," wrote columnist Jarvis DeBerry, "only one of those people is disturbing the peace, and it isn't the one playing the music."

Nick Spitzer, creator of the public-radio program "American Routes," wrote in an Op-Ed piece, "in a city where serious crime often goes unprosecuted and unpunished, jazz funerals make the streets momentarily sacred and safer."

"New Orleans Police Department declared a resumption of its war
against our city's culture," declared columnist Lolis Eric Elie.

The day following the skirmish, discussions between community leaders and 1st District police Capt. Louis Colin yielded a temporary agreement. The evening after the arrests, Andrews, Tabb and other musicians were back on those same streets, leading another procession, this time protected by a permit, which some residents viewed as a disappointing compromise. "We don't need anyone's approval to live our lives," one resident told me.

Efforts to curtail these neighborhood processions as well as the more formal Sunday afternoon second lines hosted by social aid and pleasure clubs, who apply for official permits, continue to threaten traditions already weakened by the loss of residents in Katrina's aftermath. Participants view this as deeply hypocritical, given that so much promotion of tourism for New Orleans includes images of brass-band musicians and second-line dancers.

In April, a federal lawsuit on behalf of a consortium of social aid
and pleasure clubs, aided by the American Civil Liberties Union,
protested the city's hiking of police security fees -- triple or more
from pre-Katrina rates -- for second-line parades held September
through May. The suit invoked the First Amendment right to freedom of speech and expression, claiming that parade permit schemes "effectively tax" such expression. "Should the law not be enjoined," the complaint stated, "there is very little doubt that plaintiff's cultural tradition will cease to exist."

At a street-corner press conference a few days after the musicians'
arrests, Jerome Smith, who runs the Treme Community Center just a block from that scene, recounted the history of an embattled
neighborhood. He invoked the memory of heavy-handed police
intimidation at the 2005 St. Joseph's night gathering of Mardi Gras
Indians, after which Allison "Tootie" Montana, the "chief of chiefs,"
famously collapsed and fell dead of a heart attack while testifying at
a city council meeting. He referenced the "open scar" of nearby Louis Armstrong Park, for which the city demolished 13 square blocks of the Tremé. He spoke of how, in 1969, the creation of Interstate 10 replaced the stately oak trees of Claiborne Avenue, the neighborhood' s main thoroughfare, with concrete pillars.

On the Sunday following the arrests, Councilman James Carter held a meeting with residents at Smith's center. One neighborhood activist, Al Harris, brought an enlarged copy of a photo, mounted on
posterboard, of a Tremé second line in 1925. "We've been doing this a very long time," he said. Carter said that "under no circumstances is it acceptable for police to violate our cultural traditions." He announced plans for a task force organized through his Criminal Justice Committee to propose new city ordinances protecting the cultural practices under fire, and to initiate education and sensitivity training for officers and new residents of Tremé.

Such education could have easily been found in some documentaries screened last week during the city's 18th annual film festival. "Faubourg Tremé: The Untold Story Of Black New Orleans," created by filmmaker Dawn Logsdon and Elie, the Times-Picayune columnist, offered a powerful reflection of Tremé as a place of creative ferment and political resistance for some 300 years, which included Paul Trevigne's Civil War-era founding of the country's first black newspaper, and the unsuccessful 1896 Supreme Court challenge, in Plessy v. Ferguson, to racial segregation. At one point Elie wondered in the film's narration, "How can our past help us survive this time?" Glen David Andrews, one of the men arrested Oct. 1, was featured playing his horn and as an interview subject.

Andrews also figured in "Shake the Devil Off," filmmaker Peter
Entell's chronicle of a particularly cruel twist in modern Tremé
history: Six months after Katrina, the Archdiocese of New Orleans
decided to close the neighborhood' s St. Augustine church and to remove its pastor. The historic church was founded in 1841 by slaves and free people of color. After a 19-day rectory sit-in, the parish was restored, provisionally, though its long-term fate remains in question. Near the film's climax, after footage of Jerome Harris and Jesse Jackson speaking to a crowd, the camera moved in on Andrews, who launched into "I"ll Fly Away," offered as call-to-arms rather than memorial.

A question-and- answer session following a screening of "Tootie's Last Suit" -- filmmaker Lisa Katzman's gloriously insightful look at the world of Mardi Gras Indians through the story of Tootie Montana's final days -- drew some discussion of the recent Tremé arrests.

"We won't bow down," said Sabrina Montana, daughter-in- law of the film's main character, quoting a familiar Indian-song lyric. "This has nothing to do with our disrespect for authority and everything to do with our self-respect. Until what we do is on the city charter,
second-line and Mardi Gras Indian assemblies will continue to be
threatened by the whims of those who are in authority."

Following the public outcry, Sgt. Ronald Dassel of the New Orleans
Police Department was quoted in the Times-Picayune saying, "We don't change laws for neighborhoods. " But in fact the city does and always has. Special legislation protects the tourist-rich French Quarter, for example. The mostly white Mardi Gras carnival parades command a long list of specific ordinances (including much lower permit fees than for second lines). And a recent judge's order, which some critics consider unconstitutional, delineated police arrest and release protocols for municipal offenses specifically by neighborhood -- with the Tremé
among the neighborhoods subject to the sternest treatment.

Recently, I was walking along the bayou with Andrews when he ran into a friend. "Did you hear what they're calling you two?" his friend
asked, referring to Andrews and Tabb. "The Tremé 2! We're making

Andrews winced. "I'm not looking to be somebody's martyr," he said.

Sure enough, a couple of T-shirts emblazoned with "Free the Tremé 2"
could be seen at Vaughn's bar during a Saturday fundraiser for
attorney Carol Kolinchak, to support her pro bono work for Mychal
Bell, one of the defendants in the Jena 6 case. Kolinchak is also
representing Andrews and Tabb, who are due to appear in court in early

"Of course, I wouldn't compare the situation they are facing to Mychal Bell's," said Kolinchak. "However, the discretionary decisions by law enforcement and prosecutors -- on how and when to enforce the law -- require attention in both situations. And those issues lie at the heart of the problems surrounding culture in New Orleans."

Tabb, the drummer who plays in the Rebirth Brass Band and is raising money to create a nonprofit music school, recoils at the thought of children watching musicians hauled off by police for making music. And he says he thinks Andrews may have been singled out by authorities; in addition to leading his Lazy Six band, Andrews is a ubiquitous presence not only at second lines, but also at civic rallies.

New Orleans after Katrina may never fully return without its iconic
street culture. And its renewal -- financial as well as spiritual --
may be more closely tied to those traditions than city officials
grasp. But those who practice the traditions know it. On Friday, Oct.5, the nightly memorial procession for Kerwin James wove through the neighborhood, culminating on the very spot of the arrests prior that week. Andrews put down his trombone and sang "I'll Fly Away," as Tabb snapped out beats on his snare. A tight circle surrounded the musicians, as a middle-aged black woman turned to the man next to her. "They say they want to stop this?" she asked softly. "They will never stop this."

-- By Larry Blumenfeld

Joined: 8-04-07
Oct 30 2007 00:28

What. The. Fuck.

anna x
Joined: 22-09-06
Oct 30 2007 08:03
What. The. Fuck.

Seconded... That's mental.
Who the hell decides what is an appropriate way to grieve/celebrate someone's life?
David in Atlanta - is this a case where a natural disaster has facilitated the beginning of gentrification of an area or is my conspiracy nut radar a little off?
All the best.

Joined: 31-01-07
Oct 30 2007 13:04
gregg wrote: this a case where a natural disaster has facilitated the beginning of gentrification of an area or is my conspiracy nut radar a little off?...

I'm not Dave, but I'll chime in anyway. I'm reading Naomi Klein's Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism. The thesis is that, under the sway of neo-liberal privatization, what once were disasters are now seen as opportunities to profit.

I don't know how that plays into policing funerals, if it does or not. But in general, yeah, NOLA is being consciously rebuilt in a manner quite different to what was destroyed. You're not being paranoid in that instance.

Edit: the tsunami in Sri Lanka is another example, subsistence fishers were forced out by the water, then forcibly denied return. For "safety reasons". Meanwhile, high rise hotels are shooting up where their shacks once stood.

anna x
Joined: 22-09-06
Oct 30 2007 13:35

Thanks for that Randy. Sounds like a good book.
All the best.
gregg red n black star

David in Atlanta
Joined: 21-04-06
Oct 30 2007 15:03

indirectly it does play into the cops reaction. Pre-hurricane, no one in that neighborhood would have dreamed of calling in a noise complaint about a marching band. On the plus side, it looks like they screwed up and pissed off almost everybody in the city who actually cares.

Black Flag
Joined: 26-04-06
Oct 30 2007 15:41

Thats fucking sick!!!

David in Atlanta
Joined: 21-04-06
Oct 30 2007 16:51

If anyones interested in more information about Tootie Montana and the Mardi Gras Indians
He's The Prettiest: A Tribute To Big Chief Allison "Tootie" Montana's 50 Years Of Mardi Gras Indian Suiting

Joined: 8-04-07
Oct 30 2007 21:29

It was a FUCKING JAZZ FUNERAL. If you don't like it, why the fuck do you live in New Orleans?
Gentrification of New Orleans thanks to the hurricane isn't a conspiracy theory, many have been calling it since day one. What the fuck are they doing to that city? I'm afraid to visit, I'd rather remember it like it was as a kid.

Joined: 31-01-07
Oct 30 2007 22:52

In addition to "natural" disasters, war (which has long been rumored to be "good for the economy", but has typically in reality only directly benefited a narrow sector of the ruling class, the fabled military industrial complex) is also being transformed from something of a grim necessity in the eyes of the ruling class, to a corporate profit bonanza. The privatized soldiers are only the tip of the iceberg. Food service, equipment maintenance, all manner of tasks until recently performed by the military, are being outsourced to the tune of billions in profit.

Edit: Remarkably little comment has been occasioned by these extraordinary developments, instead the news is drowned out by the media clamor over *security*.

Joined: 11-07-06
Nov 1 2007 03:42

Fuck this shit depresses the hell out of me...

I live in Montreal Quebec, which because of the french language and diferent culture is a pretty fuckin rad city. Im not born here but Ive been here long enough to see that an influx of new people and development is destroying the old culture, it feels like genocide, on a cultural level...

Mabey that sounds over the top, but fucking capitalism is killing culture, pretty soon everything will be some kind of Disney nightmare....

Whats the name of that Disney owned town? The intentional community heel of the future.

David in Atlanta
Joined: 21-04-06
Nov 2 2007 16:00

rebelworker, this is one area where the situationists got it right. Capitalism is out to destroy organic "diy" culture.

The society that reshapes its entire surroundings has evolved its own special technique for molding its own territory, which constitutes the material underpinning for all the facets of this project. Urbanism — “city planning” — is capitalism’s method for taking over the natural and human environment. Following its logical development toward total domination, capitalism now can and must refashion the totality of space into its own particular decor.

Mike Davis has been sounding the alarm for years over the destruction of public space for public use. (Yeah, I know he's something of a Trot but when he's right he's right)

The development industry will now tell you that the mall is dead.
What it is being replaced by is a historic district of a city being turned
into a theme-park, with great concentration of media and entertainment,
motion picture theatres, and stores which are usually branches of
franchizes of national chains. All this is protected by a layered,
invisible segregation and security.

Celebration, Florida is the Disney town