2012 Big Easy Music Awards

Marie Lovejoy, Big Easy Awards executive director, with Female Entertainer of the Year Meschiya Lake

The 24th annual Big Easy Music Awards ceremonies were held last night at Harrah's Casino amid much revelry and glitz and down home New Orleans flavor. Executive producer Margo Dubos and executive director Marie Lovejoy put together a showcase of some of New Orleans's biggest show business names and the music community came together to honor one another with a very diverse and talented line-up of stars.

Drummer Johnny Vidacovich ("Astral Project") took to the stage as the master of ceremonies for the evening as Honorary Music Chairman, arriving in a cloud of smoke and a drum set that afforded him the opportunity to emulate different styles of play. Later, he called his wife Debbie to the stage to "sing" the rules for eligibility to the tune of "Basin Street Blues" while he tapped out a beat with his drumsticks.

Top recognitions went to the Rebirth Brass Band, recent recipients of a Grammy Award for their Basin Street Records release "Rebirth of New Orleans." The Rebirth Brass Band won for the award as 2012 Entertainer of the Year, presented by their former member Kermit Ruffins as well as the Best Album of 2011 and the award for Best Contemporary Brass Band of 2011.

Jazz performer Meschiya Lake, also a presenter and last year's Female Entertainer of the Year recipient, repeated that award for 2011.

Trombone Shorty, absent from the ceremonies, won the Male Entertainer of the Year Award for 2011. New Orleans Jazz Fest executive director Quint Davis and jazz educator and performer Germaine Bazzle accepted the award on his behalf.

Irma Thomas presented the 2012 Lifetime Achievement Award to Walter "Wolfman" Washington, a former member of her band. Earlier, Washington was surprised by Mac Rabennack - Dr. John - who won the award for Best Rhythm and Blues 2011 and insisted on presenting it to him as a token of his appreciation.

The 2012 Ambasadors of New Orleans Award was presented to the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, who also picked up the award for Best Traditional Jazz of 2011.

Performances by Irma Thomas and the Professionals, Los Po-Boy-Citos with Blac Sol, the Stooges Brass Band, Gal Holiday and the Honky Tonk Revue and Big History were interspersed between awards. The final jam session in honor of Washington had Washington on guitar, Ivan Neville and Dr. John on keyboards, George Porter Jr. on electric bass and Vidacovich on drums.

Special recognition awards went to Dithyrambalia for "The Music Box," a performing space on Piety Street dedicated to musicians and to the Louisiana Campaign for Tobacco-Free Living, who were given the 2012 Business Recognition Award by Margo and Clancy Dubos on behalf of The Foundation for Entertainment Development and Education, which funds the Big Easy Entertainment Awards for Theater, Music and Classical Arts.

The 2012 WWOZ Guardian of the Groove Awards were presented to volunteer Eric Ward and on-air personality Gene "Jivin' Gene" Mark for their longtime dedication to the radio station.

A special video tribute to the late executive director Gloria Powers was also seen by audience members, who remembered her dedication to making the awards shows bigger and better for the more than two decades she served. Powers died February 7 and a memorial service was held in her honor on February 17, her birthday.

Other awards presented were:
Best Gospel Choir 2011 - Tyrone Foster and the Arc Singers
Best Gospel Grop/Individual 2o11 - Trin-I-Tee 5:7
Best World 2011 - Debauche
Best Latin 2011 - Los Po-Boy-Citos
Best Mixed Bag 2011 - The New Orleans Bingo! Show
Best Roots Rock 2011 - Honey Island Swamp Band
Best Cajun 2011 - Lost Bayou Ramblers
Best Zydeco 2011 - Nathan Williams and the Zydeco Cha-Chas
Best Funk 2011 - Galactic
Best Blues 2011 - Tab Benoit
Best Traditional Brass Band - The Storyville Stompers
Best Rock 2011 - GIVERS
Best Hard Rock/Heavy Metal 2011 - Haarp
Best Contemporary Jazz 2011 - Helen Gillet
Best Rap/Hip Hop 2011 - Big Freedia
Best DJ/Electronica 2011 - Mannie Fresh
Best Country/Folk 2011 - Hurray for the Riff Raff
Best Emerging 2011 - Brass-A-Holics "Gogo Brass Funk" Band

The Philadelphia Kid

Dick Clark (©Billboard.com)

As a child growing up in the Sixties, I was very much aware of the music coming over the local radio stations. New Orleans was a major breakout center for singles in the nation as was Baltimore at that time. But when it came to a national center for breaking out new artists, there was only one city that was mentioned with reverential tones that bordered on a rock and roll religion. That city was Philadelphia and if there was a prince of broadcasting there, it was Dick Clark. Clark, with his lean, good looks and easy demeanor was a natural for the camera lens and was beloved of most every boy and girl who turned on his "American Bandstand."

Through the years his fuzzy black and white image became sharper and more focused as color broadcasting was the norm. And the music changed with the times. The Doo Wop sound of the American streets became the mop top harmonies of the British invasion, eventually giving way to the psychedelic era of the Woodstock generation, the anti-war protests of the Vietnam War era and the me first generation of the Eighties. Through it all was Dick Clark, a man who changed with the times and changed the times through his constant search for new, pertinent music performers and styles. He made no distinction about race or ethnicity. If there was talent to be found and a worthy sound to be heard, he brokered those deals and received the gratitude of younger generations, who looked upon him as one of their own.

Eventually, his many productions became instrumental for a host of different TV and radio programming, his American Music Awards, Golden Globes and Rockin' New Year's Eve broadcasts ushering in year after year. Even after a debilitating stroke in 2004, Clark showed his capacity to be resilient and viable for millennial audiences. I remember working in college radio where Dick Clark Productions (DCP) provided weekly programs available on transcription discs. The programming was free of charge as long as embedded commercials - most of whom were from the U.S. Army - were broadcast. It was a stroke of genius. Most college radio stations were not looking for recruitment ads, but they were hungry for good, solid programming. DCP filled that bill and the only requirement was that the shows be aired during prime time.

It is incredible to think that the man who helped introduce America to Bill Haley and the Comets, Roy Orbison, Dion and the Belmonts, Chubby Checker, the Supremes, the Temptations, and the Jackson Five was the same man who gave Madonna and Aerosmith some of their early breaks. In the end it was, as Clark himself admitted, all about the music. While dance shows have gone the way of the 78 rpm disc and the record industry has undergone a paradigm shift, there is still an abundance of music to be had, much of it still waiting for a visionary like Dick Clark to introduce it to contemporary audiences. Yet, there is a sadness, an acknowledgment by most in the know, that there will never be another icon like Clark. The music business is so fractured and the popularity of music sharing and downloading services and websites so different from the way it was in the past that much of the only way musicians and singers can make money these days and achieve fame is through touring and merchandising. Back in the heyday of the record business, hundreds of performers made millions of dollars. Today the sad news is that millions of performers are making hundreds of dollars. Even a tireless producer like Dick Clark would not be up to the challenge of today's music scene. Rest in peace, Dick. Your legacy will live on as those whom you touched remember you as the broadcasting pioneer and music legend you were.

What happened to winter?

Even the iconic cherry blossoms in the nation's capitol are early

According to scientists, today marks the vernal equinox, the beginning of spring. As a season in the Northern Hemisphere, spring is regarded as romantic and highly anticipated, coming as it does at the end of the cold, unforgiving winter season. But after the last few months, when the expected snows and cold winter weather failed to appear, the big question is where has winter been hiding? Does this confirm the alarmists' predictions of global warming? Or does this mean that every now and again winter loses its grip and peters out? There is a another decided downside to all of this warm weather. If there never was a winter, then the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico have hardly had a chance to chill in any way. That means they will be especially nurturing to any closed weather systems that enter the gulf during hurricane season. That spells the possibility of super storms of the type like Hurricanes Katrina and Rita nearly seven years ago. This is not something most people along the Gulf Coast would prefer. As a matter of fact, most residents could well do with a heavy, frigid winter if it meant somehow a guarantee that the hurricane season would be mild. Yet, as I recall, the winter season before those major storms was considered within normal range. Oh, well, it's not up to us. Indeed, like the flea that rides atop the canine bounding in a field, we are mere hitchhikers along for the ride. Here's to the season....

Jeff Zaslow's Lasting Legacy

The late Jeffrey Zaslow, an amazing man and journalist

When February rolls around in New Orleans, the fever pitch of Mardi Gras parades and balls hastens and in typical fashion this year, the days leading up to the big celebrations prevented me from hearing the tragic news that Wall Street Journal columnist and author Jeffrey Zaslow had been killed in a car crash on a snowy Michigan highway on February 10. Zaslow, who had appeared in New Orleans to promote his book "The Girls of Ames" on November 18, 2010, was scheduled to reappear this year as part of the Jewish Community Center's "People of the Book" series of events to pitch his latest and, unfortunately now, his last tome "The Magic Room: A Story About the Love We Wish for Our Daughters." Some of us know of the incredible and intriguing story of Zaslow, an award-winning reporter for the Wall Street Journal, who heard about a story that called out to him. A dynamic professor at Carnegie-Mellon University was going to be delivering to his students what had been termed as his "last lecture." Randy Pausch had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and had been given only a matter of months to live by his doctors. Zaslow was in Detroit when he improbably heard about the lecture. The drive to Pittsburgh would take five hours and another five to get back. Lesser reporters might have opted for a phone interview or an exchange of e-mails. He elected to drive there and see for himself what this dying man might have to say to his students. The lecture so interested and energized him that he and Pausch became fast friends and Zaslow's writing about the lecture in the Wall Street Journal tugged on the heartstrings of the nation at large. Pausch insisted that Zaslow help him write his story in the short time he had left. Pausch became a viral video star on the Internet and a genuine celebrity, appearing on the Oprah Winfrey Show and other TV news programs. With a very short time to prepare a book, Zaslow worked on a draft for "The Last Lecture" and after it was quickly edited and released, sales of the book climbed into the millions worldwide. The book established Pausch as a noted figure and Zaslow as a very capable writer and made them both wealthy. It wasn't long after that episode of his life ended with Pausch's passing that Zaslow seized on the story of the "Miracle on the Hudson." He focused on Chester "Sully" Sullenberg, the reclusive U.S. Airways pilot who had saved every single passenger on Flight 1549 when it ditched into the Hudson River in January of 2009. Again, with public demand for a book at high pitch, Zaslow set to work to get Sullenberg's story in print at great haste, but with great taste. The result was "Highest Duty: My Search for What Really Matters." Zaslow's easy manner and cheerful disposition made his ability to connect with others like an uncertain airline pilot something of a fete accompli. I saw this myself when he spoke at the New Orleans JCC about the ten ladies in his book "The Girls from Ames: A Story of Women and a Forty-Year Friendship," all lifelong friends. It was as if he channeled each one of the various personalities, regaling audience members with details of their lives with immaculate recall. But that was what made meeting him so special. He had an amazing gift of empathy. He could look into your eyes and glean more of your soul than you thought possible. This gift proved especially important when he took on the happy task of writing about Gabrielle Giffords, the U.S. Representative who was the target of a deranged gunman. That attack, which left several others dead, left her partially blind and unable to speak for a time. Yet, it was Zaslow, along with her astronaut husband Mark Kelly, who captured for America her indomitable spirit in "Gabby: A Story of Courage and Hope." In just a matter of five short years Zaslow had established for himself a journalistic career as a prolific writer, who not only got the story right, but got it out fast. I remember what an impression he made on me when I showed him a picture of my dad I kept as the wallpaper on my phone that night in November. Knowing his close work with Pausch and the effect of pancreatic cancer on everyone who ever had had the displeasure of dealing with it, I told him this is "my dad who died of pancreatic cancer almost 16 years ago." Right away he honed in on what I was saying. He understood what those words meant and more. The two of us exchanged contact information. I was more than pleased when a few days later he accepted my request to be a Facebook friend. In his last book, “The Magic Room," Zaslow recounts in the forward of the importance of family. He speaks about his three girls and the importance of being there for them through their formative years and the hope he would be there for them as they grew older. By all indications he was a great father and reveled in being there to give each of them positive reinforcement and support. He mentions how the words "Remember, I love you" were endearingly spoken by an Illinois judge to his daughter as she went out the door one night never to return, the victim of an automobile accident. The judge took solace that the last words he said to her left no doubt about his feelings for her. It is sad that Zaslow was, likewise, a victim of a similar scene of carnage on the highway. There is little doubt that he shared his love for his daughters with his wife Sherry, a Detroit TV anchor and that she will have a difficult time dealing with his sudden, unexpected departure. But that is the happenstance of life and the unpredictability of nature. There should be great comfort in knowing that he knew of their love for him and that they deeply felt his. Since hearing of the grave news of his passing, I began to ponder just where Zaslow's remarkable capacity to connect with others came from and I remembered how, early in his career, Zaslow had won a contest at the Chicago Sun-Times to replace Ann Landers as the advice columnist there. He had already displayed his capacity to empathize with others and write about his feelings in a way that readers could appreciate and he was only 25 years old. What a remarkable man and what a remarkable career! While there are other writers who will bemoan the loss of their longtime friend and colleague like Bob Greene, I only had the luxury of knowing him for a few minutes. But those minutes were well spent and I am truly glad I had the opportunity to get to know him, however briefly, and to share my world with him. He set the bar as few other journalists have done before or probably will in the future. Jeff Zaslow was only 53 at the time of his death. With Pausch gone and Giffords still recovering, it was the courageous airline pilot “Sully" Sullenberger who gave the moving eulogy at the funeral service at Congregation Sharey Zadek in Southfield, Michigan on February 12. He described how Zaslow went after his own story and how he came to like him within the first 30 seconds they had met. They worked together over the phone and in person for six days a week and over a period of several months before the book was finished. He described their experience as a long-distance relationship, but one that worked. Sullenberger was charmed by Zaslow's quest for life and his appreciation for how fleeting the nature of life is. "Many of you think you know who I am," he said to the crowd. "Let me tell you who I am and why I am here. I am a friend of Jeff." For me, too, that pretty much says it all.

To err on the side of imprudence

The final act of revenge (Photo by Laura Graham)

Josh Powell had maintained all along that he hadn't killed his wife. Even after offering the most questionable of alibis, his stone face denials continued. You may remember that while his wife, Susan Powell-Cox, a beautiful vibrant brunette was busy vanishing in 2009 from her home in West Valley City, Utah, he had taken it upon himself to take his two young boys camping in the middle of a snowstorm. According to Powell, when he returned, she was gone. It made little sense to the Utah authorities who considered Powell a person of interest in the disappearance. But there was no evidence of the crime withstanding and so, without the corpus delecti being able to be proven, all the police and judges could do was wait and hope that Powell would trip up in some way and make a case for them. To his credit, he did not. Meanwhile his father Steven became an unwitting tool in this drama, suggesting to ABC News that the victim had been sexually flirtatious with him and, more to the point, was a trollop. Perhaps his thinking was that he could persuade the public that Susan had found a more attractive man than her husband, which would explain to a few delusional supporters of Josh that he was right. Susan, the tramp, had run off with some other guy and left Josh alone to rear her two young sons. Yeah, that made a lot of sense. Steven eventually got arrested in September and now faces some steep jail time himself for child pornography. By putting the spotlight on himself, authorities focused their attentions on his own lifestyle and found compromising video images of neighborhood children and Susan that were apparently taken without their knowledge in addition to images of young children engaged in sexually explicit conduct on his home computer. But with the paternal grandfather hauled off to the hoosegow, authorities had a problem. The mother was missing. The father was the subject of a criminal inquiry and the grandfather was accused of serious crimes himself. Neither of them was an appropriate person to take charge of the two littlest victims of this tragedy, the two little boys. Quite rightly, Utah child protection services stepped in to take custody. Chuck Cox, Susan's father, filed for custody the day after Steven Powell was arrested and he was granted temporary custody. If only the court had seen fit to make that condition permanent. Josh petitioned the court to get his children back. To their credit the court refused to grant him any relief. In fact it was just this past week that a judge denied Powell the right to regain custody of his two sons. So a recalcitrant Powell petitioned the court for a weekly supervised visit. The judge reluctantly agreed that a four-hour supervised visit would be allowed. Child protective services was ordered to bring the two boys to Josh Powell's home for the first time yesterday. The court apparently saw no implied threat to the children and so the social worker was ordered to observe Powell with the boys and to bring them back after the visit was over. When the social worker arrived with the boys without a police escort, Powell took the children inside and barred the woman from entering the house. She immediately called her supervisor for police intervention and to complain the house smelled of gasoline fumes. No sooner did she make that call, the house burst into flames, the explosion shaking neighbors' homes and sending flames high into the air. The propellant used killed all three Powells and forever ended the possibility that Josh Powell would ever be brought to justice for the suspected murder of his wife. Powell sent a tersely worded e-mail to his attorney just prior to the explosion: "I'm sorry. Goodbye." Some police consider that an admission of guilt and will now use all speed to close the case of his missing spouse, which has cost millions of dollars. There is no doubt here, though. Josh Powell was a murderer. His two boys will never get to experience what could have been long and productive lives. This senseless act of rage against authority should serve as a cautionary tale. Never should children be allowed to be used as innocent pawns by selfish sociopaths whose parental rights should not be restored without the most rigorous series of protective acts put into place. Powell should have been made to go to a neutral site where authorities could have kept a better eye on him and not put the children in harm's way. But I guess this is all good with 20-20 hindsight. No matter what provisos authorities had put in place, Powell would have bided his time until he passed muster with the courts and then carried out his nefarious plan of double murder and suicide. I care not for Powell, but I do mourn for those two kids who lost their mother and were used by their father and grandfather to further their own agendas. No one is left to mourn for Susan Powell-Cox except for those of us who shake our heads in dismay and disgust and her father who should take the court to task for two wrongful deaths. Perhaps now the courts will be prompted to err on the side of caution knowing that such a tragedy could make an already bad situation even worse. In the future when a defendant asks why his children are not allowed to visit in his home, all authorities need to do is show two photos - one of the two innocent boys and the other of the burned out remnants of the Powell home. I anguish over this senseless tragedy and want to cry out "never again!"

Mama Glo

The news for the New Orleans arts community is sad today. Gloria Powers, the executive director of the Big Easy Entertainment Awards, is about to take to the heavenly stage after her busy life here on earth. In recent days some have begun to refer to her as "Mama Glo," perhaps a tribute to her deeply nurturing spirit or to acknowledge the fact that she is to many in the New Orleans music, theatre and dance communities a second mother. Gloria suffered a debilitating pontine stroke a week ago and doctors have advised that her chance for recovery is slim. Although she is breathing on her own, the family has girded itself for what they believe will be her final transition. Like no one else that I know, Gloria can move easily from one artistic sphere to another. She is equally at home talking to a Mardi Gras Indian Queen as she can be to a member of the New Orleans Opera Association or to a local ballet mistress. Her ability to integrate with such widely divergent artists is one of her great strengths. Her ability to empathize with artists and to petition on their behalf has been nothing short of amazing. Gloria has been a tireless promoter for all things that are unique to New Orleans including its Creole heritage, its history and its vibrant music scene I, myself, owe a great deal of my journalistic career to Gloria's insistent push that I be a member of not one, but two Big Easy Awards committees (Theatre and Opera and Classical Music). She never failed to make me feel special in what I was doing and to let me know that my dedication was appreciated. Gloria is a force of nature and it is sad to think of her as in the process of leaving. Her special friendship has been extended across New Orleans to hundreds, if not not thousands, and I pray that she is surrounded now by the positive energy of well-meaning family and friends who hope for the best for her.

When greatness succumbs to disloyalty

Less than a year ago, had he expired from the lung cancer that ultimately robbed him of life, legendary Penn State football coach Joe Paterno would have been mourned across the board as one of the greatest men to ever tread upon a college gridiron. In October, short of the news that he had covered up a scandal involving young boys and one of his former assistant coaches, Paterno set the record as the winningest Division I coach by eclipsing the 408 wins set by Grambling Coach Eddie Robinson. His record will probably stand for some time to come because most of the more successful college coaches these days end up being tempted by the National Football League or run afoul of their alumni for one reason or other. To have a successful college program that is consistent in its winning ways, to stay at the same school from his time as a young man, to have good health and live long enough to realize the title are all long odds prospects. The great "Pops" Warner (Glenn Scobey Warner) owned the record for decades when I was a young man. It was the University of Alabama's Paul "Bear" Bryant who exceeded his staggering 319 wins in 1982 and then promptly retired. Bryant died less than a month later, never having really been given a lot of time to bask in the sunset of his historic career. Since then several other coaches have moved up in the ranks including Robinson and the now-retired Bobby Bowden from Florida State. Of all Division I coaches Paterno had the most wins of all coaches. Only if one includes smaller Division III schools do the names of John Gagliardi of St. John's of Minnesota (484-133-11) and Larry Kehres (317-24-3) of Mount Union even get mentioned in the same comparisons as that of Paterno and company among active coaches. But the scandal that swept up "JoePa" in the last several months and ultimately robbed him of exiting in a graceful manner likely contributed to his declining health. Paterno was a fighter and influenced a great many of his players to give more than they thought they were capable of doing and to contribute positively to society. When it came time to consider his institution over the lives of several young men at risk, Paterno did only what was necessary. He failed to report the alleged incidents of sexual abuse in such a way that he could distance himself from the scandal. He reported at least one incident to his immediate bosses in 2002, but never made calls to the police to advise them of the scandal. Again, after 35 years at College Station, Pennsylvania, Paterno made an ill-advised call. He thought he could balance the lives of possible victims of sexual abuse against the image of the university he called home. He took a chance that doing just enough would keep the eyes of an inquiring press and an outraged nation off him and focused instead on the alleged perpetrator. In the end Coach Paterno forgot what he emphasized to his young lieges through his many decades as head coach at Penn State, to wit, just doing enough will not win the game. As one has to excel on the field of play, so, too, does one have to do all they can to find justice in the world for possible victims of those who would take advantage of their positions as mentors. It may have been one of the few times Paterno failed to read from his own playbook and it ultimately cost him universal worship of his great achievement and an unsullied legacy. With the passage of time his reputation may regain some of its former luster, but for now, Joseph Vincent Paterno is gone and so is the opportunity to have left the game with his head high, much like Robinson and Bryant did. It is an American tragedy which will continue to play out in the press and in the courtroom. The final ticks of the clock have come for this celebrated coach. His record of 409 wins, 136 losses and 3 ties will stand long after his passing, but so will the specter of coverup and possible disloyalty to those innocent victims who would have been better served by a coach more closely following his own guiding principles.