Motown Museum

So, as I was saying a while back, the Motown Museum leaves a lot to be desired. And it’s a downright dirty shame. It’s still a fun place to check out simply because of the history. If you admire the different artists, the history and the Funk Brothers, like I do, then going there is a very humbling experience. But the reality is that the place is deplorably lacking in funds. There is no energy or seriousness about it as an experience.

It’s inexcusable when you consider the people and the money that passed through the place. You could hand pick several individual Motown artists of the past or present who could single handedly amp up the place to something much more presentable. Not to mention the Gordy family. What about the Jacksons? Stevie Wonder? The list is huge.

The Motown museum should be a MAJOR attraction in the city of Detroit. It should have been for years. If it had been done right, and marketed right, the Baby Boomers would have flocked to it, bringing their kids. It could have been bringing massive amounts of income to the city, if handled right.

The biggest problem with the city of Detroit is not what has been done, it’s what hasn’t been done. The same is true in a lot of businesses and churches. It’s the missed opportunities. And Detroit has missed a lot with their failure to attract businesses and entertainment.

Mike Ilitch is the obvious exception to all of this. I know people have different opinions about him. I don’t know anything about him personally. But he and his wife have certainly invested heavily in the city of Detroit. They’re from the Detroit area and obviously have a personal passion for making the city shine while pursuing their business interests. It’s a great thing.

But where are the others? Are people being chased off by the city government? All of those Motown artists, producers and executives who moved west when Motown did and never looked back? I know that a lot of the artists were shafted by the payment system. Royalties were rare. But others have made massive incomes. And with a well planned effort, I think they could make even more with a carefully put together and promoted Motown.

And say none of that works out?

How about this? Find a way, whatever it takes, to move the Motown Museum, piece by piece if necessary, and set it up at the Henry Ford Museum complex. It could be a whole new section, with the history of Detroit tied into it. 12th street, with the positives of the clubs and other record companies, as well as the reality of the riots and their connection to it. Old Tiger Stadium. Sports in Detroit. Classic Jazz clubs. The theaters and Woodward Avenue. The possibilities are endless. It would draw the Baby Boomers. It would add huge value to the Henry Ford experience. And it might just help draw some people from Detroit to the Henry Ford.

What it comes down to is Motown deserves better. The historical impact of Motown records is both musical and cultural and political. It is massive and it needs to be promoted and respected.


Peace to you.

© LW Publishing 2011

Anishnabeg

The man cutting the tree, taking it down from the sky where it had lived for so long, raising its hands to the Almighty — that man, in his pride, broke the soil for the seed, a voice planted into the earth, a whispering that would continue to rise and speak, like wild-flowers, like the sound of a poet reading a holy book, like water springing from the ground and jumping into the thirsty mouths of children who laugh with the joy of the cool breeze and the sun, yellow and bright, caressing their faces.

The voice, still blooming when the season is right, still whispers the dreams of histories, from the rock and dirt that make up the Michigan landscape, still hints at memories floating in the waters of the great lakes. The voice whispers with the currents, saying, “The Anishnabeg were here, their lives singing in the soil. The Great Fish and the Loon, the Crane, the Bear and the Marten. On this land, laughing, eating, raising their children, they sing from the stones, from the sand and the seed.”

The man cutting the tree from the sky did not care for what he should have offered to the People. He did not care to speak life into their world, unless it might serve his purpose. So money spoke instead. And power. The language of commerce and comfort with it’s many adjectives of overwrought dreaming about the Dream, the dimming lights of a city on a hill, which had been distorted beyond recognition by the countless and pervasive lusts that fill the human heart.

The man cutting the tree said, in so many words, “Be like us or do not be.” Not for the sake of the Light, which would not make such empty and destructive demands, not for the sake of the People themselves, not for the sake of the land or the wonder of creation and what it might yield for the good, but for the sake of a pocket or two in a shiny, expensive suit, and a vague destiny that someone somewhere said had to be.

Memory continues to speak through histories and the symphonies of life. Someone remembers and speaks it. Someone hears again and speaks it. And through the stream of these memories, the Anishnabeg speak. They are asking...

“What do you need?”



Ephesians 4:17-19
Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2010