Sometimes, being under 21 in Jackson is like serving a term under house arrest.In February, when the Crossroads Film Society managed to secure a copy of "The Ramones, End of the Century," it celebrated by throwing a Thursday night gala for the screening at Hal & Mal's. An avid indie-rock fan, 18-year-old Logan Holleman alerted a couple of his friends to the event, and made the 20-minute trek from his home in Flowood to meet up with them in the parking lot before the film began.
"We thought it would be interesting and fun," recalls the Hinds freshman. "I had just seen 'The Motorcycle Diaries,' and was enjoying the fact that you could see movies you don't see a lot."
But Holleman never made it past the entrance that night.
"When we got there, we were stopped by an officer of the law, and he told us that it was 21 and older."
The disclaimer attached to the screening announcements on the Crossroads Web site provides some insight into the situation: "As Hal & Mal's serves adult beverages, no one under 21 will be allowed to attend."
Charly Abraham, a general manager at the pub, elaborates: "People under 21 are not allowed to drink or possess alcohol on the premises. If we can't sell them alcohol (and) can't make money off them, then they become more of a liability than an asset."
Establishments that sell alcohol across the city have followed suit in enforcing strict 21-plus policies at their venues. Their measures are a reaction against a regulation imposed by the Alcoholic Beverage Control Board, which holds bars responsible for any underage drinking that occurs on their premises. Abraham acknowledges that underage drinking has always been a problem at the venues it opens to the underage set. Not only is it difficult to police a crowd as large as the one that shows up, but kids often respond bitterly when confronted for possessing alcohol.
Abraham empathizes with the hostility. "You just paid six (or) seven dollars for a drink, and someone comes along and picks it out of your hands. How would you feel about that?" he questions. But he also staunchly maintains, " We have a lot to protect here. We would love to see the law change to make it legal to drink at 18, but there's nothing we can do about it except obey it."
Motown Brown, the entertainment manager at the neo-soul club Santiago's, says his club closes itself off to minors for a different reason. "I say no because kids now a-days have no loyalty or morals. So when they get ready to get in their own environment, where in somewhat of control, they lose their minds," he says. Brown attributes this to a lack of structure in modern families, and points out a lack of maturity can lead to violence, which endangers the club's goal of reaching a 25th anniversary.
Because the establishments that usually book the town's hottest tickets also specialize in liquor sales—Martin's, Headliner's, 930 Blues Café and Hal & Mal's are regularly mentioned by 18- to 20-year-olds as venues that would definitely spice up their weekend's repertoire—exclusion from these places can serve an almost fatal blow to the night lives of minors living in the Jackson area.
Tough for Music Fans
Hardest hit are the serious music fans who effectively become cut off from an outlet into Jackson's music scene. This reality couldn't be more upsetting than at the present time. In addition to having a bevy of talented local bands, Jackson has lately been successful in attracting some impressive national acts. In its golden age, Martin's regularly played host to acts worshipped by indie-rock fans nationwide such as Elf Power and Iron & Wine.
Julian Vu, a 20-year-old music aficionado attending the University of Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg, remembers a particularly disconcerting experience in which his age cheated him from catching a band that's hard to come by in this town.
"Of Montreal came to Jackson with Viva Vouche, after having played South by Southwest," he says, alluding to Austin's esteemed music festival to stress the magnitude of the band's acclaim. "They came to Martin's, but it was 21 and older, so I didn't even bother trying to get in."
Fortunately, there have always been local entrepreneurs who realize the opportunity to capitalize on the overwhelming under-age demand to experience live music in Jackson. In past years, the city has seen the rise and fall of establishments such as the Musiquarium, The University Pub and the CLB, all of which billed themselves as 18-plus venues. Currently, Jackson is home to several mainstays that promise to never turn away anyone over the age of 18.
The Joint, located at 206 Capitol St. across from the dilapidated King Edward Hotel, is a hole-in-the-wall endeavor that nevertheless boasts a professional setup that is utilized by an average of a hundred bands per month, owner Chip Matthew estimates. A glimpse into the crowd on any night reveals faces that are truly representative of the diverse age demographic that The Joint targets as customers.
"What do we have tonight, 18 to 60 in there?" muses The Joint's booking agent, Lee Morgan, in reference to the crowd that had shown up to see the Charity Soul Band.
Both Matthews and Morgan have extensive histories in Jackson's music business, and are excited that "the band scene is getting back to where it used to be," as Matthews notes. It's their shared enthusiasm for what the Jackson music scene has to offer that motivates them to open their venues to anyone defined as a legal adult.
"We like bands," Matthews puts it simply. "It doesn't have anything to do with the bar business. Nothing but music with me."
'18 to Party'
This is a mantra repeated by W.C. Don's proprietor Terry Butler, who claims his impetus to place the age restriction at 18 stems from "being all about the music down here." Butler has also been a staple in the Jackson music business, and the younger generation he's opened his doors to hopes he'll be able to bring expose them to the scene's most promising acts.
Although W.C. Don's current location in the 100-year-old building adjacent to Martin's frequently prompts complaints of being hot and uncomfortable, it simultaneously seems to add to its appeal.
"The back room with the couches: that's really why I like it," jokes Chelsi West, a sophomore at Millsaps College. "That, and they have the policy I wish every place had, which would be '18 to party and 21 to drink.'"
Occasionally, the two clubs extend the invitation to those younger than 18 by hosting an "all-ages" show. These are set up at the request of the featured act, usually local bands such as The Rockwells, King Elementary or Colour Revolt, who have a notable high school fan base or contain underage members.
In the past, the all-ages movement has been aided along by Palmer Houchins, who used his own "frustration that there weren't many good concerts in Jackson" as his basis to undertake the plight of music-deprived youth in Jackson. What resulted was a series of concerts under the banner "All Ages, Low Wages," that Houchins orchestrated whenever he returned to Jackson on school break.
"I guess the idea came because we have a lot of friends who were musicians," Houchins says. "That summer of 2003 was really when we did the bulk of it. I think we did five shows then, and they were on Monday nights. (When) we did a CD release party for (Colour Revolt), we had over 300 people at that. It was just a really big success."
Ironically, Houchins turned 21 in the year he decided to pull the plug on his All Ages, Low Wages promotion, but this has more to do with wanting to focus on his studies at Ole Miss than with losing interest in an issue that no longer affects him. "Luckily, there are other all-ages places doing stuff now," he says. "I don't feel like I have to do it or there's not a chance to play, and that's a good thing."
X Marks the Hand
Because all-ages shows are infrequent—W.C. Don's usually only hosts them about once a month—the establishments holding them generally have two to four bands play. "We make it an event because it's so seldom that we do it," says Butler. This is the same concession by the other venues that open their doors to all-ages shows, which has grown to include establishments that close themselves off to those under 21, such as Headliner's and Hal & Mal's. In July, Headliner's held its first all-ages show, with an ambitious lineup featuring Jonezetta, The Rockwells, This Tragic Memory, Simply Human and The Fox Chase Drive.
Only soft drinks are sold at the all-ages shows, but neither Butler nor Matthews is too concerned that alcohol will fall into the hands of a minor at any of their shows.
"We have a system," explains Matthews. "We armband at the door, and ID again at the bar. And then security's walking around all night. If a minor has a beer, they pull the beer."
W.C. Don's equips a similar strategy by having the doorman mark large X's on each hand of those underage to designate their status to the bartender. The markings certainly don't complement an outfit, but it's worth it to be able to sit on the couches with your friends and take in the live music together.
Eighteen-plus venues provide a reliable solution to the weekend woes of most underagers, but many 18- to 20-year-olds still find there is much to be dissatisfied with what Jackson's nightlife has (or does not have) to offer them.
"Right now, it's hang out at someone's house or go to a show at one of the two spots where they're offered," says Millsaps sophomore Elizabeth Boteler. Boteler has an advantage that most minors don't: Because her boyfriend is a musician in a local band, she often gains access into shows that are restricted to those 21 and older. Still, Boteler says, "In Jackson, there are so few bars where I would actually hang out. I find a lot of the time I end up hanging out at the studio where my boyfriend records instead of bars."
Boteler's comments parallel her peers' opinions that there aren't enough entertainment options in Jackson. It would make sense for Jackson to focus on generating a large portion of its revenue from entertainment venues, given the large number of students attending the city's seven institutes of higher education.
University of Jacktown
But even with nearly 30,000 students, Jackson isn't really a college town, some say. Rather, this is a title that lends itself more readily to a place like Oxford, which grew up and around the student presence.
Patrick Crews, a freshman at Ole Miss who hails from Jackson, contends that Oxford does provide a better context for minors to socialize. "The (businesses) there tend to cater more to people who are 18 because there are more of them. The Square has a lot of fun activities. They have different bars and clubs you can go to. "
Vu, however, believes that Oxford is an exception to the rule. "Oxford definitely has a little more going on during the school year," he says, pointing out that having members of the Colour Revolt stationed there has helped to stimulate its music scene. However, he uses his own experience of living in Hattiesburg to prove that college towns don't necessarily guarantee a surplus of entertainment options made available to minors. Outside campus activities and The Thirsty Hippo, a hotspot he compares to W.C. Don's, Vu says "there's not really a venue that consistently has shows or art events or anything interesting like that. To be honest, Jackson and Hattiesburg are just about the same."
When it comes to discussing the best settings for an underage college student's nightlife, most point toward major cities. Micki Dockins, a Jackson native who spent her freshman year of college in New Orleans, and will be spending her sophomore year in Atlanta, says: "I'm trying to stay as far away from Jackson as I can. I do want to live near a major city because there are more things offered."
But is the notion that major cities are more accommodating to minors more of a perception than a reality? Recently, Rolling Stone put out "Schools That Rock," a college guide geared to help the "music-obsessed iPod generation" make their college decisions based on the quality of music venues available in locations that house campuses. Most of the schools that rock are located in metropolitan areas such as Boston or NYC, aside from the occasional nowheresville like Athens, Ga., whose explosive indie-rock scenes have helped put them on the map.
Yet even the author concedes in the introduction that most of the venues in these places "are 21-plus, and a lot are pretty strict about that rule."
Where's Da Hip-Hop?
Dockins sees no discrepancy with this assertion from her own experience. "In New Orleans, they pretty much raised the age limits for everything. Everything's pretty much 21 and up." But she also points out that "New Orleans is geared toward tourism; that's how they make their money, so there's always something to do." She lists a number of things she does for recreation in New Orleans, all of which she feels she can't do in Jackson. "You can always go to the French Quarter, and there's always something going on. You can go to a great restaurant, you can walk up and down the river. There are places down there where you can listen to poetry."
Dockins also points out that "there's not really places for the hip-hop scene," in Jackson. She notes that "any open-mic night I've been to is like a band. It's not anyone rapping or singing. In New Orleans, it's ridiculous. Somebody was always throwing a party, and the party was geared toward them, to get their CD out and get people to listen to them." Her favorite local artists that do perform "do it at clubs I wouldn't go to that just aren't safe."
The fact that many of the 18-plus hip-hop venues operating in Jackson are unsafe is a reality highlighted by the recent murder of LaKita Williams outside the Upper Level night club. "Every time I go to a party, a fight will break out," Dockins says.
Brown agrees that the outlook for conscious underage hip-hop fans in Jackson is bleak, and also believes that it is much worse here than in some of the big cities that he has lived in, such as Los Angeles and Detroit, because the clubs there utilized more security. "(Minors) really don't have anything anymore. I wouldn't send them to the Upper Level. I have a son who's 19. If he came to visit me from college, I wouldn't want him to him to go to the Upper Level."
Brown has a theory that the underage hip-hop clubs in Jackson are dangerous and unsuccessful because they play rap music. He says: "When hip-hop started out before, it had a message. There were storylines, there was a culture." Now, he says, "it's more the physical than the material," and this causes those clubs to attract the wrong kind of crowd. "There was a club across the street that had under 18, and that's all they played was rap. (On) New Year's Eve, there was a shooting."
Because of his convictions, Santiago's venues center on "neo-soul, poetry, blues, and old school R&B. No rap—at all." In addition, Wednesday's open-mic poetry night—the only event Santiago's allows 18 and older to participate in—is censored.
But while it's one thing to complain about the prospects Jackson presents for entertainment, it's quite another to do something about it.
Making It Happen
"The only thing Jackson is lacking in is motivation," says Daniel Johnson, a recent addition to Jackson band Alexander's Dark Heart.
At 26, Johnson has long since been of age. But he's impassioned about the opportunities he sees for artists and those interested in supporting it to create their own scene in Jackson. "Really, when you go to large cities, all the stuff that's going on is superficial. It's usually regional acts coming through or corporations putting something onto market to kids. In reality, Jackson has more to offer a young person than a large city. There's the opportunity for someone to decide that they want to make something happen, and they can actually go and do it."
Johnson clearly follows his own advice. In May, Johnson decided to utilize Smith Park by inviting local bands to play a concert there open to Jackson residents. Unlike many music venues here, it did not feature an age limit. "We really tried to set it up as an ageless thing, for families, kids and old people. There was a really diverse group of people that came.
Holleman, for one, found this an enjoyable way to spend the weekend. "That's probably the best live music I've seen in Jackson, ever. That's what I would rather go do than just one show at 9 o'clock that you pay $5 for," he says.
Together with Houchin's all-ages concerts, as well as other examples of community-created events such as the Friday art display at Flashbacks, Johnson's Smith Park venue creates the model for how minors can use their situation to work against it.
Even Brown believes "it's gonna take the youth getting together," and says he's willing to allow a minor to organize 18-plus venues within his facilities. But only on certain conditions. "They need to first be a lover of music. If they love music, and they're in school … then I'm with them." Brown also states that the person who proposes the events must be willing to undergo training to understand the business. "Without those elements, I wouldn't want to touch it," he says.
Either way, in a town more geared to those "of age," the almost-legal have to make something happen.
"You're only under age once," says Houchins. It's a very transitional thing. You make the most of whatever time you have."
Comments
Use the comment form below to begin a discussion about this content.