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Jackson-Feild Homes: Historic institution lends helping hand to troubled youths

Just east of the small community of Purdy, Va., down a series of winding back roads bordered by soybean fields and densely shadowed forests of oak and pine, the sturdy white columns of the nineteenth century home are just visible as you approach the gravel lane and the sign rising from the miles of dust and rural emptiness like a mirage: Welcome to Jackson-Feild Homes.
It’s a name unfamiliar to most outsiders, to anyone who didn’t grow up in the immediate vicinity. To most locals, it’s simply a mystery, a local legend first encountered in childhood during playground taunts or at the feet of their parents, after the normal threats of groundings and switches proved ineffective: “If you don’t straighten up, we’re going to have you put in Jackson-Feild Homes!”
Though subject to more than its fair share of rumor and speculation, the reality behind the wood framed house and the lush green fields surrounding it proves far more thought provoking than anything the fertile imaginations of local children could conjure up.
The homes history stretches back to 1855, to the height of the yellow fever epidemic that ravaged the city of Norfolk, Va., eventually claiming the lives of 10 percent of its population. In response to the outbreak and the hundreds of children left orphaned in its wake, the Rev. William N. Jackson, a rector for the city’s St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, established the Jackson Orphan Asylum, working tirelessly throughout the epidemic before eventually succumbing to it himself.  For the next 70 years the orphanage would provide a home for needy children throughout the region, its staff working to find adoptive parents as its board of managers defied the conventions of the day, refusing to let females under the age of thirteen or males under fifteen be “bound out,” or sold into indentured servitude, as was the custom of most orphanages of the period.
Though the orphanage was moved several times following its inception, even greater changes were ahead as the twentieth century unfolded.
In 1920, responding to an appeal from the Nationwide Campaign of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the United States, Greensville County residents Mr. And Mrs. George Wythe Feild, who lost their daughter while she was still an infant, realized their long-time dream by opening the Episcopal Home for Girls. The home was originally located in a rectory house beside Grace Church in Purdy. At the end of 1920 there were six children in residence.
Two years later, the Feilds made the decision to donate their ancestral home in Greensville County, “Walnut Grove,” and 70 acres to the Episcopal Home. In 1925, due to economic interests and in order to pool resources, The Jackson Orphan Asylum was merged with the Episcopal Home for Girls. The new institution was renamed Jackson-Feild Episcopal Home in honor of the family and individual whose work and dedication brought about its formation. During this time it was decided that the institution would serve girls exclusively.
According to Tod Balsbaugh, Jackson-Feild Homes’ director of development, the nature of the home’s residents began to change in the early fifties, when many of the girls they treated were not orphans but instead suffered from various behavioral problems. “The home began to see there were different needs coming in to play, and made adjustments in the program to deal with that,” said Balsbaugh.
Over the following decades, Jackson-Feild continued to expand. Cottages, a dining hall and later a recreational hall, swimming pool and chapel were added. To meet the demands of problems caused by more widespread drug use, the institutions director and board of managers steered the homes focus in the direction of treatment programs. In 1975 the home took over operation of Eleventh House, a community transition program in Richmond that allows preparation for independent living and provides prenatal care, a service not offered on the main campus. In 1991, the Gwaltney School, a fully accredited educational facility, was added to the campus.
Today, Jackson-Feild Homes operates as a nonprofit community-based organization dedicated to educating, equipping and empowering at-risk teen girls. Surrounded by 135 acres stretching to the Nottoway River, the home boasts 75 staff members and offers a wide range of up-to-date services and programs for their residents, which range in age from 12-18. Most of the girls now come to the home through the recommendation of the State Department of Social Services and the juvenile court system. Independent Living, Maternity and Infants and Family Service programs are each recent additions to the home’s ever-expanding treatment options.
While the institution has continued to change with the times, Tricia Delano, Jackson-Feild Homes’ executive director, believes their basic approach remains simple. “We try to provide the girls with a safe harbor. Many of them have never had the opportunity to lead calm, structured lives. That’s why we’re here.”
According to Delano, few of the girls have been through the criminal justice system. Many come from foster care and mental health facilities and are typically one to one and a half years behind their peers in terms of education. “These kids have bounced around from one foster home to another,” said Delano. “For a lot of them, we’re the last hope.”
Balsbaugh said many of the girls are what he refers to as “social orphans,” due to financial problems, abandonment and physical and mental abuse; a large percentage come from homes ravaged by drugs and alcohol. “I was shocked at the level of the problem when I came on board,” said Balsbaugh, who previously spent 34 years with the Virginia Home of Boys and Girls.
After a child is recommended to the home, what Delano termed a “team of deciders” consisting of the home’s director of education, clinical director, social worker and director of programs, reviews the case and decides if the child meets the admission criteria. Once accepted into the home, an individual case program consisting of goals and treatment recommendations is established for the resident. Each child undergoes an assessment period where they meet the staff and the program is explained to them.
Delano said the individual programs are geared towards the different needs and abilities of each girl. The program works on the “phase system,” in which the residents move through different levels of goals, gaining responsibilities and privileges as they progress. During the program the residents are taught basic life skills, attend daily classes at the Gwaltney School, and work through a variety of intervention programs, including trauma focus, individual and group therapy and cognitive therapy.
One of the more modern programs, neurotherapy, uses electrodes to allow the residents to control video game-like devices with their brain waves. According to the home’s Director of Therapeutic Services, Debbie Mehl, the program processes bilateral eye movement to ascertain how the left and right side of the brain are working together. Mehl said the process “teaches the participants how to replace anxiety with healthy positive ways of thinking to lead to more relaxed, better decision making.”
The program also works with a psychiatrist to distribute medication when needed. Said Balsbaugh: “None of the services work in isolation. The beauty is all of them working together for maximum outcome.” Proof of the program’s positive results, he said, can be seen in the numerous girls who have successfully worked through the homes educational and therapeutic system and gone on to lead productive lives in the outside world.
One of those residents currently on the path to success, Angel, came to the home at age 16 after moving through several foster homes. According to Angel, at one of those homes she was the victim of sexual abuse. After speaking with a social worker she made the decision to come to Jackson-Feild Homes.
When she first began the program, Angel said she was withdrawn and angry, staying mostly to herself and paying little attention to staff members or fellow residents.  “I suffered from low self esteem, really bad,” she remembered.
It’s a pattern Mehl has seen time and time again. “When a lot of girls get here they want to leave. They can be very self destructive; they have a lot of anger and repressed anxiety to deal with.”
Balsbaugh offered that while many of the girls have fled from their previous homes, Jackson-Fields’ remote, rural location offers little incentive for anyone thinking of running away. “They may make it to the road, but after that, there’s really nowhere to go.”
Now 18, Angel said that with the help of staff members and the homes treatment programs she’s been able to work through many of the issues that led her to Jackson-Feild. Through the homes partnership with Southside Community College, she was able to graduate from the Certified Nurses Aid Program and is currently living in Jackson-Fields’ Independent Living Home, where she’s saved up $2,000 working in the kitchen as part of the home’s mandatory savings program.
Though Angel’s plans for the future include working as a nurse and becoming a mother, she hasn’t yet settled on a definite plan. “Whatever God gives me, I’ll work with,” she said.
Another Jackson-Field Homes resident and graduate of the Certified Nurses Aid Program, Katrita, was involved in drugs and prostitution by the age of 12.  Suffering from severe injuries following a suicide attempt, she was found naked on the streets of New York after being brutally raped by two men. Returning to her hometown in Central Virginia, Katrita eventually found her way to Jackson-Field Homes.
Delano said the task of overcoming Katrita’s anger and impulse control issues was painstakingly slow. “We had to make her feel loved and accepted. That was no small task. Our staff went above and beyond the call of duty day in and day out to help this young lady.” Eventually their efforts were rewarded. Katrita graduated from high school in June and returned to her community to live with family members. She is currently enrolled in college. “She’s been an inspiration to everyone,” said Balsbaugh.
According to both Balsbaugh and Delano, the home will continue to expand its services as new needs and challenges arise. Delano pointed to the success of the Gwaltney School, which to date has graduated 111 students, 20 of those in last years class, the largest in the school’s history. “We have proms and a full cap and gown ceremony. We try to make it as much like a normal high school experience as possible. For the last class we had State Senator Louise Lucas as the speaker. The kids loved it.”
After leaving the home, Delano said the former residents are surveyed at 90 days, six months and one-year intervals in order to gauge the outcomes of their treatment. Delano said studies have shown that after six months, 91 percent remain in school, while 75 percent of mothers are still placed with their child.
“Twenty five years ago these girls would have been in a mental health facility,” said Delano. “I think it’s finally starting to sink in that the cost of not providing early treatment is enormous. We end up paying for it later in the juvenile system, prison and unemployment.”
While the benefits of the program may be obvious, Balsbaugh said many people still have misconceptions about the home. “A lot of people believe we’re run by the government. That’s not true. We’re a non-profit, we rely on private donations and grants.” Balsbaugh said Jackson-Feild Homes recently applied for a $25,000 Robins Foundation Grant, which they hope to use to update their current program.
As for Jackson-Feild Homes’ educational programs, Balsbaugh commented, “We offer much the same thing that a first-class boarding school does. We offer a wonderful, caring environment; we give them opportunities.”
“We’re a pit stop on the road of life. Breaking through their defenses and hurt can be very painful,” said Balsbaugh, summing up Jackson-Feild Homes’ philosophy. “Lots of kids don’t believe in themselves, but if you believe in them they can start to realize their potential. We try to give kids a safe place where they can feel good about their day to day lives and be loved.”

(The names of all residents used in this story have been changed to ensure privacy.)

Cedar Grove Cemetery, New Bern, NC

Group brings songs of praise to the Valley

Roanoke Jubilees

The small gray van pulling the battered utility trailer sits parked outside the doors of the empty venue. A few early arrivals mingle around the van, joking with the musicians as they gather in the last of their equipment. Inside, the men unpack their instruments, adjusting amps, tightening bolts on drum cymbals and testing microphone volumes. The guitarist plucks out a few hesitant, quicksilver notes, then turns a knob on his amp and cuts loose with a flurry of distorted, blues-rock riffs. “All right Mick Jagger,” says one of the singers, unpacking a case of microphones, “you cut that out. You’ll have us singing out on the street.”
It’s a scene played out nightly across the country: a small group of hardworking musicians setting up for one more gig in yet another small town in Anywhere, USA.
Yet the fans making their way out of the rapidly cooling October dusk into the Littleton Community Center are decked out not in jeans and T-shirts but instead don their Sunday best suits and dress hats, high heels and flower print dresses. As they make their way to the seats, the musicians gathered around the stage greet them like long lost family members.
“I think I’ve just seen a ghost! Where you been hiding brother? You want a piece of sweet potato pie.”
“God bless you sister, so glad you could come out tonight.”
Clearly this is no ordinary concert. Just as clearly, The Roanoke Jubilees are no ordinary group.
Originally formed in 1931 in Roanoke Rapids, the Jubilees — which currently consists of singers Clentis Wilkins, Telly Wilkins, Edward Allen, Tracy Parker and James Gatling; guitarist Tony Branch; bass player John Allen and drummer Kevin Doby — are the longest running gospel group currently playing the Roanoke Valley area. All original members save one have passed away.
“This is something we do because we love it,” said Branch, the bands unofficial businessman, as the group relaxed following their community center performance. “It’s just like a baby with a piece of candy. About the middle of the week the guys will start calling me and I’ll start getting excited.”
“We do it because we love the Word,” echoed Gatling, pushing his shoulder length dreadlocks back from his face.
Though all the band members are married with families and hold down full-time jobs, they still manage to perform two to three times every weekend and practice at least once a week.
“There’s really no money involved, if we were doing it for the money,” said Clentis Wilkins, who’s been performing gospel music for over 60 years, “we’d all be starving. Most of what we do is for free.”
Performing up and down the East Coast for audiences in New York, Maryland, D.C., Virginia and South Carolina, the group hasn’t let economic troubles or high gas prices slow them down.
“It hasn’t stopped us one bit,” said Edward Allen, who, along with Wilkins, acts as the self-described “daddy” of the group. “And I’ll tell you something else, in 40 some years we’ve never had a flat tire. The Lord has always looked out for us.”
While the church provided both framework and inspiration for each of the musicians growing up, the eight member group interacts more as a family unit than a traditional, career-minded gospel outfit, no surprise when one considers the father and son team of Edward and John Allen and the fact that drummer Kevin Doby is Wilkins’ son-in law.
“That’s what this is, one big family,” said Parker, who handles most of the groups cooking, “If one of us is in need, we’re all in need. But we do fight, we do disagree.”
Though the group admits brotherly conflicts do arise occasionally, their performances bear testament to their years of practice and dedication to craft, offering congregations across the country a seamless, sweat-drenched lesson in communal kinship and rapturous rapport.
Dressed in matching gray and black pin-stripe suits, the musicians waste little time with introductions or pleasantries, diving headlong into traditional classics such as “Somebody Touched Me” and “Never Let Go of God’s Hand” with a drive and force that belies the members combined ages.
As each singer trades off lead vocal duties, the other members quickly fall in around him, offering the kind of call and response harmonies that have been a hallmark of the African-American church experience since the early days of Emancipation.
During a rollicking, fire and brim stone reading of “God Told Noah,” Wilkins wipes the sweat from his face and, eyes shut tight, lifts his head to the ceiling, shouting out a raw-voiced message of sin and retribution, invoking both 9-11 and Biblical prophecy.
“We got a lot of people that they think the fire gonna fall from the sky, but the fire’s already here,’ he cries, as his fellow Jubilees intone a sere, hypnotic chant in response.
“No more water, fire this time. No more water, fire this time.”
Wilkins also handles lead vocal duties on the self-penned “Never Let Go of God’s Hand” whose refrain “Some days my body is wracked with pain, but I still go in Jesus’ name,” echoes another of the group’s most explosive numbers, “Hallelujah Square,” during which Edward Allen recites his long-running battle with cancer and his eventual recovery.
“Somebody in here may be sick and don’t even know it,” he offers in a hushed yet commanding voice, “I was sick. The doctors thought I had cancer, cancer of the bone, of the liver and the prostate. The last checkup I had was three months ago. I was cancer free. Whatever’s wrong with you God can fix it!”
The congregation members rise to their feet in celebration and Allen slowly retreats into the wall of sound and harmony behind him, taking up the final chorus as the Jubilees bring the song to a close.
“Won’t be no cripple (in Hallelujah Square). Won’t be no blind (in Hallelujah Square.) Won’t be no cancer…”
As the performance draws to a close, Branch sets down his guitar, draws the other members around him and leads them slowly down the venues center aisle as they sing out a final, a capella hymn. Their voices growing slowly dimmer, the Jubilees disappear behind a side door as wide-eyed children and stone-faced seniors clap their hands and turn in their seats to watch. Cries of “Hallelujah” and “Praise God” follow them from the room, which, grown suddenly quiet after their departure, rings with the high, bell-like tones of their passing.
In the dimly lit storage room the members grab bottles of water and relax before beginning the process of breaking down their equipment and loading up the truck.
As they discuss the night’s performance, friends and family crowd around the tables.
“You know, there’s another Jubilees you may not see,” smiled Gatling, “Our wives. They’re there every program, supporting us. They might as well be up on stage with us.”
One of those “other Jubilees,” Jean Wilkins, Clentis’ wife, discussed the importance of the group in maintaining her husband’s sense of purpose and devotion over a 60 year performing career.
“It’s great. He’s got to love it because he’s been doing it so long, since before we got married. He just enjoys singing. If he misses a Sunday or is feeling bad, he goes to the program and he feels better. If you really want to do something and do it from the heart, it will turn out right.”
The fall light fading quickly, the members excuse themselves and begin packing up, hauling amps, monitors and bass drums out to the utility trailer, packing away their sound until next weekend finds them on the road to one more church or community center in one more small town somewhere on the East Coast.
“We sing as hard if it’s five people or 1,000 people in the room,” James said earlier, noting the somewhat sparse attendance, “It doesn’t matter. I love these fellows. I wouldn’t sing with nobody else.”

Scholarship winner hits the books to overcome disabilities

ROANOKE RAPIDS —  Listening to Crissy Garner discuss her life’s journey, one would never guess that beneath the soft spoken, placid exterior there lies the fierce determination and hard won strength of a survivor, a passionate drive to succeed hidden just beneath the surface like the metal plates fused to the bones of her arms and ankle.
That strength was first put to the test in 1989, when at the age of 19, Garner found herself raising a son on her own. “I was taking classes at the ECPI College of Technology at the time. After I had my son, I had to put everything on hold,” she remembered during a recent interview.
While temporarily unemployed during the mid-90’s, Garner joined the AmeriCorps program, taking classes at UNC Greensboro and eventually earning her Early Child Care Credentials. The pro-active approach paid off when she found work with the Halifax County School System, taking an entry-level position as a cafeteria worker,
Garner said she had just applied for a job as a teachers assistant when, on April 12, 1998 — Easter Day — she was involved in a head on collision with a drunk driver. Seriously injured in the crash, Garner was transported to the Medical College of Virginia in Richmond, where she would spend the next two weeks on life support. After regaining consciousness, she was transferred to Pitt Memorial Hospital in Greenville, spending another month and a half in the physical rehabilitation unit, where she had to relearn basic motor skills. “They told me there was a possibility I might not be able to walk again or use my left arm,” said Garner. “I had to learn everything just like a baby taking its first steps.” In total, said Garner, the healing and recovery process took well over a year.
When Garner returned home she was unable to work and was placed on disability.” It changed my life completely. Everything changed,” she remembered. Though she was incapacitated, Garner said she used the time to draw closer to her two sons, Brandon and Tyrell. “I used that time to take care of the children, just spending time with them,” she recalled.
Though the recovery process was slow, Garner said she never became depressed or bitter. “I thought I was going to die. I could have felt sorry for myself and given up. But that wasn’t the case. I think it actually motivated me to think for myself and be an advocate for myself. It taught me to never take no for an answer; never be a quitter.”
Last year, acting on the advice of a friend, Garner began considering a return to school at Halifax Community College, a move she admits she was unsure of in the beginning. “At the time I was thinking, ‘I have a plate in my arm; I can’t walk long distances and I can only stand for a short amount of time. I really wasn’t too certain I could do it.”
Once Garner contacted the schools student services office however, she found her fears were unfounded, as the school offers handicap parking, tutors, and other services to facilitate the disabled. Said Garner: “That really renewed my spirit. I felt like ‘Okay, I can do this.’”
Drawing on her lifelong interest in the medical profession, Garner chose to major in Medical Office Administration. “I just want to help people; plus I’ve been taking my grandmother back and forth to doctors since I was a kid, so it just seemed natural.”
Having been away from the classroom for 20 years, Garner said it took some time for her to readjust to a scholastic schedule. Despite some early frustrations, Garner’s work ethic soon paid off — she currently boasts a 3.712 GPA.
Thursday, her efforts reaped farther dividends when she was selected as the recipient of the 2009 Daily Herald Women in Business Scholarship. “I was shocked,” said Garner. “I’m honored.  I was just glad I was in the running.”
The school’s recommendation letter made it clear that Garner was the right choice. “Crissy Garner has proven herself to be dedicated, motivated, and committed to excellence,” the letter states. “She is well respected by students and faculty… Crissy Garner exemplifies the character, scholarship, and leadership abilities we seek to promote at Halifax Community College.”
Looking towards the future, Garner said she hopes to one day open a medical billing and coding office. “I believe in doing services for others and not always looking for something extra. I want to let people know, if I can do it, you can.”
Through all the hard times and struggles, Garner said she never lost sight of the blessings in her life. “I wouldn’t change any of it because it’s made me a stronger person.”
With her two sons nearly grown, Garner believes the time is right to spread her wings.
“Everything is coming full circle now. Twenty years ago I couldn’t have imagined this” she exclaimed, raising her hands towards the ceiling.” This is my time and the sky’s the limit.”

Local craftsman forges ahead with ancient art

When most people dream of retirement, they imagine long, pool-side naps, care-free road trips and the sweet sounds of mountain streams and bird song. When Carl Peoples began contemplating his own golden years, something a bit different sprang to mind: The glow of red hot coals, the acrid smell of sulfur, and the harsh metallic clang of metal striking metal.
“I consider it an avenue of relaxation,” he said Thursday, as he scanned the blacksmithing tools set up in the backyard of his home in Halifax.
Peoples’ love affair with metalworking goes back decades. The Roanoke Rapids native spent 42 years as a welder with International Paper, a job he said gave him a leg up when attempting to learn the basics of blacksmithing. “It definitely gave me an advantage, having worked with metal all my life. I knew all about the different types —high, low and medium carbon steel; ferrous and non-ferrous metals.  It gave me a head start.”
When Peoples began exploring his new interest in the mid-nineties, he turned to his friend, Wayne Short, a practicing bladesmith (blacksmiths who create knives, swords, etc.), who was interested in learning the craft of welding. “I told him we’d trade knowledge,” said Peoples. “He shared the basics of blacksmithing with me and I showed him about welding.”
With his appetite whetted, Peoples began taking classes at the John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, working his way up through the intermediate courses before moving on to study with mastersmiths, the specialized elite of the blacksmithing world. Working at their side, he learned the finer points of crafting everything from flowers and animals to dragons and tool implements.
Since his early years working beneath a canopy in his backyard with a piece of railroad iron for an anvil, Peoples has acquired the professional tools that are basic to most blacksmithing operations: The forge, where the coal is heated; the anvil, where the steel is worked with a hammer and tongs; the vices, cutting tools and presses which all play a part in shaping the final product.
After retiring four years ago, he also built a blacksmith shop, a crude 14×15 feet building perched on a hillside off of N.C. Highway 125. “I don’t get to spend as much time out there as I’d like,” said Peoples, scanning his lawn. “Seems like I spend all my time mowing the grass and shopping.”
Though Peoples deemed it too hot to fire up his backyard forge Thursday, he took the time to run through the basic movements of blacksmithing.
As Peoples explained, once the metal is heated in the forge to between 1,800 and 2,200 degrees, the blacksmith uses tongs to place it on an anvil; with the opposite hand he uses a forging hammer to work the steel, drawing out, flattening and cutting to shape the plastic-like substance into the form he desires.
Peoples said it’s important to strike while the iron is hot. “If you let it cool too much it becomes hard to work with, the iron will crack.” He also warned against reheating the steel once it’s taken out of the coals, explaining that the process will burn out all the carbon in the metal, rendering it weak and useless.
Despite what is often portrayed in movies, the metal is not dipped in cold water. Instead, it is placed in either ashes or sand and allowed to cool on its own. “You never quench a piece of hot steel,” said Peoples, “it will change the molecular structure.
Looking around the yard at some of his handy work, including a birdhouse and several plant holders, Peoples said he enjoys the challenge of creating new shapes and learning new tricks. “I really enjoy anything that taxes my skill, to improve on what I know already. It keeps you sharp. You can always learn something from someone else. No matter who the smith is, he’ll always have something you don’t know.”
He also enjoys sharing that knowledge. Peoples said his 11-year-old grandson, Eli, has become interested in the hobby and, with little help from granddad, recently completed his first wall hook.
This Saturday, Peoples’ years of knowledge and blacksmithing experience will be on display at Riverside Mill’s grand opening event. Peoples will offer free demonstrations and advice for anyone interested in the craft. He will be joined at the mill by his wife, Norma, an avid woodcarver who specializes in walking sticks, wizards and songbirds.
Recalling his own humble beginnings in the field, People’s recommended anyone interested in blacksmithing start by apprenticing with a skilled craftsman. He also suggested taking courses in art and design, two areas of study he believes will “feed into your blacksmithing work.”
“It’s physically demanding,” he added. “It helps keep you in shape. Your mind has to concentrate on what your doing at the time. Anytime you forget what you’re doing when working with hot metal, you’re going to mess up.”
To demonstrate his point, Peoples showed off a large blister on his right thumb, a souvenir from a brief mental lapse during a recent blacksmithing session. “I’ve never forgotten how to burn myself,” he stated knowingly, staring at the wound. “It’s so easy to do.”
While it may require more than a fair bit of caution, Peoples seems perfectly at ease with his steel and carbon hobby, as he leans back in his chair and contemplates his next project.
“As they say in the blacksmithing world, ‘Fire is my best friend.’”

Remembering the music of a small town kid who took on the world, and won

I can still picture the album, nearly hidden beneath a pile of black and white family photographs, that famous Motown label shinning through the dust and cobwebs like a red, green and gold beacon. There was no cover, just a scratched plastic LP discarded by my aunt, left behind with all the other remnants of her childhood after she married and moved away to the big city.
I must have been around eight at the time and, while I’m sure I’d heard of Michael Jackson before, this was the first time I ever sat down and really listened to the music, in this case a greatest hits album by his family’s band, the Jackson 5.
That music, muted and warped as it was by the years of grime and heat, seemed to my young ears like nothing more or less than pure euphoria; an expression of joy so profoundly rhythmic, so endlessly melodic that it bordered on the manic. Even the ballads made me smile.
I played that record until it was worn down to an un-listenable husk of its former self. For all the joy I found in its muffled grooves, I don’t think it particularly bothered me when I dumped it in the trash.
By this time, 1979, Jackson had completed his first solo album, Off the Wall, a statement of purpose and independence miles removed from his work with the Jackson 5. I walked into the kitchen of my grandmother’s house one day and heard the title track insinuating itself into the nooks and crannies of the room thanks to an oversized boom box that belonged to my cousin, who had recently purchased the tape.
When I think of Michael Jackson now, the real Michael Jackson, this is the music I hear: Funky, earthy and glamorous all at once, the album contains songs as strange and avant-garde as any pop music ever produced, a mix of disco, rock, jazz and sheer charisma that in its very inclusiveness seemed to both embrace and blow apart the very meaning of the word “Pop.”
I was nine, Michael was in his early twenties, and for me at least, it was the last time he would still be recognizable as that young kid from Gary, Ind., the one who may have been forced to the front of the stage by his father, but who was still enjoying every second of his time in the spotlight. Watch the video for “Rock with You,” and then tell me this is a young man eaten up with loneliness and regret over a lost childhood. I don’t think so.
All that came later, I suppose.
You can already hear the fear and paranoia creeping in on “Thriller,” the 1982 atomic blast that helped launch not only the video age and the compact disc revolution but also apparently launched Jackson right off the face of the planet and into a bizarre alternate universe, where every ridiculous whim is encouraged, where childhood need never end. It also obliterated what was left of the humanity in Jackson’s public persona and, even more disheartening, his music.
I’ll be willing to bet people will still be listening to “Off the Wall” and “Thriller” 20-years from now. I’d be very surprised indeed if anyone was still discussing “Bad” or “Dangerous.” The crucial element of his music, simple joy, seemed to have evaporated like so much stage fog.
By the time of “Thriller” I was doing my best to tune out the blare of popular music, having pledged my allegiance to the bombast and aggression of heavy metal several years earlier.
Jackson was lightweight, fluffy kid’s stuff, not to be taken seriously by true rock fans. The Eddie Van Halen solo on “Beat it” just wasn’t enough to sway me.
Try as I might, however, there was simply no escaping the man or his music. The word omnipresent doesn’t even begin to describe the saturation level his stardom achieved: Videos, magazines, radio, clothing, dance — no one who didn’t come of age during that era can possibly conceive of the utter pandemonium that followed Jackson’s every leg kick and finger twitch.
It was the moment when popular culture stepped through the looking glass into a new world of mass idolatry and frenzied press speculation the likes of which this country — this planet — had never seen. The attention afforded the likes of Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley and The Beatles, the three music careers that most closely parallel Jackson’s, seem almost quaint by comparison.
I was saddened by the news of his death this week. Though I haven’t listened to his music in years or kept up with his latest legal troubles, like most Americans I love a good second act, and if any performer deserved a final curtain call, well, who would begrudge a 50-year-old man-child a chance to go out with a little dignity.
But I feel no pity for Jackson. He became what he always dreamed of becoming. Many children before him saw their youth slip away working behind the back end of a mule or stuffing endless rows of cotton into burlap sacks.
Jackson clearly was born to a different destiny, one that brought joy to millions of fans across the world and, however lonely or confused he may have been in his life, those very emotions were at least signs that the enigma behind the mask still retained some vestige of his former self, of that all too human young man who stepped into the spotlight and changed the world for everyone.

Rich Square native calls for end to animal abuse

The pictures tell the story: Photo after photo showing cats with blood-encrusted wounds, the hair burnt from their bodies in small, circular-shaped patterns. In one of the more graphic items, a lifeless, yellow tabby is splayed on a white trash bag, the mouth held open to show the internal damage which caused its death.
The cat in the photo once belonged to Myrna Perry, who for the last three years has been documenting what she believes to be the systematic killing of stray and domesticated cats in the neighborhood surrounding her home on Jackson Street in Rich Square.
“I like animals,” Perry said recently, discussing the incidents. “ I want the shooting stopped.”
Perry claims the animals are being injured by high-powered air rifles. Some of them, she said, are lured into the crosshairs with food. Since the shootings started three years ago, three of her own cats have been killed.
Though Perry believes she knows who is responsible, she has no direct proof linking anyone to the animal abuse, a situation which has left her both frustrated and scared. “It’s a lot of stress to live under. You walk out the door and you don’t know if someone’s going to shoot. I don’t have an answer.”
Asked why she believes the cats are being targeted, Perry offered a simple explanation. “They’re just mean people.”
Having spoken to Northampton County Animal Cruelty Investigator Karen Cole and Rich Square Police Chief A.B. Roye, Perry believes her complaints have yet to be taken seriously. “The county officials are not doing their jobs,” she said. “I showed them surveillance tapes I made, but they haven’t done anything. I don’t know where to go. The police chief showed me the ordinance that says you can’t shoot in town. If these people can’t uphold the law, they don’t need the job, let them go do something else.”
Reached for comment, both Cole and Roye said they have investigated Perry’s allegations, but due to insufficient evidence, they are unable to bring charges against the suspected parties. “I wish I could do something for her, I really do,” said Cole. “I’ve seen the cats and they probably are getting shot, but without evidence of who’s doing it, what can I do?”
Cole said the images she viewed on the surveillance tape were inconclusive. “You can see someone shooting but you can’t see who it is or what they’re shooting at. Without evidence there’s no reason to take this to court and tie up the system.”
“There’s no proof they’re shooting cats,” stated Roye. “She showed me some pictures, but I couldn’t say for certain they were shot, it could have been dogs. We’ve done surveillance, she’s done surveillance. She wants me to be Superman and pull evidence out of my hat, but I can’t prosecute without probable cause.”
While the stray cat population has become an increasing problem in the area, both Cole and Royce agreed that harming the animals is no solution. “The cats are breeding, they’re wild, they’re just too many of them,” said Cole. “She (Perry) could take out a cruelty to animals warrant just as easily as I could. I agree, they shouldn’t be shot like that.”
Cole said, ultimately, responsibility for dealing with the incidents falls to local authorities, not the county. “We went before the town board a month ago and told them this is their problem, this falls within the city’s jurisdiction.”
For now, Perry said she sees little hope of resolving the situation. “I’m not the law; I can’t do anything. The chief told me he was going to try to get PETA in here, and I hope he does. These people just deny everything and then, once the police are gone, they start shooting again.”
By bringing the shootings to light, Perry said she hopes to at least shame the culprits into complying with the law. “I want public opinion to take care of this. I’m an animal lover and this is no way to treat an animal.”

Animal populations uncontrolled; Caring for God’s creatures in hard times

The smell hits you as soon as you walk through the front door — A mixture of ammonia and unwashed animal fur causes the breath to catch in your throat and the eyes to water.
In a cramped hallway, five cat cages sit pushed together and stacked on top of one another. Save for a few bowls and litter pans, the cages are empty.
David Turner, an officer with Halifax County Animal Control, scans the area briefly and turns to the home’s occupant, Joni Butts. “Well, it looks a lot better in here,” he tells the young woman, as a pair of dogs scramble and bark behind closed doors at either end of the hall.
Earlier, Turner related that 11 cats had been taken from the home the night before, due to the animal’s less-than-desirable living conditions. “Things just got out of hand around here,” said Butts, by way of explanation, as she steered the discussion toward her plans to pursue a veterinary career.
“That was a big improvement from last night,” sighed Turner, as he pulled away from the home on his way to another animal check. “The ammonia from the cat urine can be a health risk by itself.”
Turner, who has been with Animal Control nearly four years, said the case is symptomatic of what he sees on a day-to-day basis. “A lot of people have good hearts, but maybe they just don’t have the resources or time to take care of their pets properly. A lot of people don’t realize what a responsibility it is.”
Responsibility is something Animal Control Lead Officer Robert Richardson understands all too well. As head of the three-person animal control team, Richardson spent the last 15 years roaming the back roads of Halifax County, checking on abuse complaints, setting traps for animals suspected of carrying rabies and investigating dog fighting rings.
“I’ve always been an animal person,” said Richardson, explaining what’s kept him on the job for so many years. “Not just anyone can do this. It takes a certain kind of person.”
According to Richardson, many people have misconceptions about the profession. While the old stereotypes about the local dogcatcher may have once held true, the days of poorly educated officers chasing down animals with a net and piece of meat are long gone.
Richardson’s team covers all of Halifax County, from Warren to the Edgecombe County lines, covering as much territory as many sheriffs’ deputies. Their main duties consist of taking complaints, setting traps and bringing animals back to the Halifax County Animal Shelter.
While local towns and municipalities have their own animal control officers, Richardson said his men lend them a hand whenever necessary, particularly in cases involving possible rabies infection. “That’s one of our main functions — controlling the spread of rabies,” he stated.
According to Richardson, once an animal is suspected of having contracted the disease, it is quarantined for 10 days while blood samples are sent off to Raleigh for examination. Fifty percent of the tests come back positive.
Working mainly in the more rural areas of the county, the officers carry radios to keep in touch with central dispatch in Halifax, which also calls out the local police. Each officer is equipped with a shotgun, a rifle and safety equipment such as gloves and facemasks. Those who are certified carry a tranquilizer gun. Because of the risk of infection, each officer is given a pre-rabies exposure prophylaxis, which guards against the disease prior to contact.
Throughout their careers, officers receive training in euthanasia, chemical mobilization, animal cruelty and weapons use. Richardson said he recently attended a class in animal blood sports.
According to Richardson, his animal control team recently lost an officer due to county budget constraints. “I fought to get these positions. It’s put a big strain on my guys, but they’ve done really well handling the extra work load,” he stated.
Richardson said the added work has only increased the stress of a job that rarely gives officers time to relax. “I’ve never seen a slack day yet,” he grinned, as he headed out to check an animal abuse complaint in Littleton. “Even in the fall and winter it doesn’t slow down.”
As part of his role as liaison between county, state and federal agencies, Richardson handles all Animal Control criminal investigations and said cooperation with local law enforcement is essential. “The sheriff’s department is excellent. Jeff Frazier does a good job with dog fighting. You’ve got to work together,” he stated.
Though the challenges continue to grow, Richardson said the team’s increased profile has started to turn the tide. “It’s actually gotten a little better in the last seven to eight years. I think people are more educated now. Once people know there’s enforcement it begins to get better, but it doesn’t happen overnight.”

On The Road

As his team, which also includes Officer Elton Garner, hit the road Wednesday morning, Richardson headed toward Littleton to check on a complaint concerning an under-fed horse.
Pulling to the side of the road at the intersections of Wright and Justice Branch Roads, he climbs out of his truck and scans the pasture in front of him with a pair of binoculars.  Richardson doesn’t see the animal and believes it may have been moved. “She knew we were coming,” he states, getting back behind the wheel and pointing his truck toward Deer Run Road off Highway 158, beside the old Halifax County Airport.
Richardson said the area is known for its reputation as a dog-fighting haven. As he drives slowly past a trailer, he points out the line of dogs chained on either side of the home. “You tell me, what does a person need with that many dogs?” he asks, shaking his head. “They’re breeding them to fight.”
Richardson said the plague of dog fighting has only gotten worse since he came on the job. “When I started in 1993 it was just building steam; now it’s everywhere. They keep logs of every fight with the stats in code. Unless you get someone on the inside it’s hard to decipher.”
The criminals have made detection even more difficult by using computers. Said Richardson: “This thing is Internet-wide; they use it to set up fights. It goes so deep underground, unless you’ve got cooperation from the community, it’s almost impossible to catch them.”
Later in the day, Officer Turner loads up the bed of his truck with cat and dog traps, checks his work orders and, minutes later, turns into the driveway of Halifax resident Mack Taylor, who is fed up with all the stray cats in his yard. Pointing to a collapsed tool shed, he grimaces and says, “I call that the cat house. That’s where they all come from. They just multiply so fast and start digging up the plants.”
Taking three traps from the back of his truck, Turner places them several yards apart around the building, then baits them with canned food. “Once they smell this it won’t be long before they walk right in,” he states from experience..
Driving to his next stop on Old Chantilly Road in Halifax, the pavement runs out and turns to dirt beneath the truck, causing Turner to quip, “You better have some off-road driving skills with this job, especially when it’s been raining for a few days.”
Handling as many as 20 work orders at a time. Turner said the long hours spent on the road —he puts between 200 and 250 miles on his truck each day—is one of the things that drew him to the job. “I find it soothing. I work the Hobgood, Scotland Neck, Littleton and Roanoke Rapids areas, so it gives you plenty of time to reflect and plan ahead.”
Having previously worked as a corrections officer at Greensville Correctional Center in Virginia, Turner said the skills he gained during that time have proven useful in his current role. “It relates a lot to what I do here; working with people and the legal side.”
Turner said the law enforcement training has come in handy when confronting some of the areas more ill-tempered pet owners. “Dealing with people’s animals is a lot like dealing with their children,” he stated, “they tend to get irate.”
As he squints into the sun and attempts to read a house number on the side of a rusted mailbox, Turner turns into a gravel driveway on East End Drive off Highway 125. Cats cover the front porch railing and the yelping of dogs comes from a shed nearby. “This is a welfare check,” says Turner, “just to make sure these animals are OK.”
Turner walks up the porch steps and begins examining the cats, running his hand over their backs. “They’re a little underweight,” he says to the homeowner, who emerges from the trailer with a line of dogs following behind. After deciding the cats have no major health problems, he turns his attention to the dogs.
Navigating his way past a mountain of old furniture, household appliances and plastic containers, Turner stares into a pen at a tangle of puppies— Beagles and Hounds—fighting over the food the owner’s boyfriend pours through the fencing. Before he leaves, Turner washes out a mold encrusted water container with bleach, handing it back to the boyfriend and instructing him to do the same every few weeks.
“I look for animals where you can count every backbone and rib,” he’ll say later. “If they’re just a little bit underweight, we’ll work with that. That couple is obviously on a shoe string budget as far as food is concerned.”
Throughout the day, Turner lays trap after trap, placing each one carefully according to the residents’ instructions. One of his last stops is at the home of Bobby Smith on Galberry Road in Scotland Neck. Smith emerges from his small, clapboard house in a white T-shirt, jeans and slippers, greeting Turner like a long lost friend. “There’s about eight or nine of them,” he tells Turner, pointing to a row of shrubbery beside the house. As Turner prepares the traps, Smith shakes his head and says, “Them !@#* is hard to catch man, hard to catch.”
A few minutes later, sitting in his truck, Turner watches as a medium sized, orange-coated stray walks carefully around the trap closest to the house. Clearly nervous, the animal finally abandons caution and walks quickly into the small, wired cage. As it nears the food, its weight shifts a pressure plate in the rear of the trap, causing a spring-loaded door to shut behind it. Realizing it’s trapped, the cat goes into a frenzy, spinning and clawing at the cage frantically.
“They’re curious animals by nature,” says Turner, lifting the trap by its handle and setting it in the back of his truck. “That makes things a little easier.”
Turner closes the tailgate of his truck, secures the trap, and begins the journey back to Halifax.

The Last Stop

At the Halifax County Animal Shelter, Kristy Jones shuts the door to a small side room, cutting off a series of high-pitched cries. “That’s the cat room,” she states evenly, “it stinks. It always stinks.”
Aside from fielding calls from the control officers and members of the public, Jones’ duties consist of feeding and watering the shelters animals as well as cleaning their cages twice a day.
Walking through the dog pens, she points out several pit bulls that have been seized from dog fighting rings as well as one who was picked up after taking a bite out of its owner. “The worst is when people bring in the torn up pit bulls and hunting dogs,” she confides.
According to Jones, the shelter can house up to 28 cats and 55 dogs. Last year it took in nearly 3,000 animals — 848 of those animals were euthanized.
As he took a break in the shelter’s front office, Turner spoke about the inevitable fate of many of the animals brought to the shelter and the psychological toll it takes on the officers. “There’s a lot of mental drain with this job, it’s an emotional thing. Everyone loves animals. It doesn’t ever get easy, but you recognize why you have to do it.”
Earlier in the day, Richardson said the most controversial part of an officer’s job often becomes easier with experience. “You don’t want to ever become numb. I’ve been euthanizing for 12 or 13 years. Sometimes I have to take a break from it. You don’t want to get too used to it, but you try to detach yourself.” Richardson said having a shed attendant has eased the burden somewhat, freeing the officers from the tasks of feeding the animals, which can often lead to emotional attachment.
One bright spot for the officers has been their continuing involvement with Rainbow Animal Rescue, a Roanoke Rapids based organization run by Bob and Nancy Seever. The husband and wife team work with the shelters to adopt animals out to local residents in search of a pet. With the group’s help, the shelter was able to find homes for 481 dogs and 60 cats last year.
Despite the stress and physical strain of the job, Turner said he plans to work another 25 years before retiring. “This is by far the best job I’ve ever worked,” he said. “It’s not about the money, it’s about what you like to do in life.”
There’s some inherent danger and a lot of mental roadblocks, but in the end it’s all about serving the public. We’re here for their protection and safety. That’s what we do.”

Vino blooms from old cottonfields

The sweet smelling substance pours slowly from the steel tap, filling the small glass decanter held beneath it. As it’s lifted towards the ceiling, the pale yellow liquid catches the light, setting it aglow like flaming amber. “Isn’t that beautiful?” asks Alex McLennan, studying his handy-work. “Just like the sun on a Carolina beach”
As owner operator of Ventosa Plantation Vineyard and Winery, McLennan has reason to wax eloquent about his creation. Located in a remote corner of Scotland Neck on Clark Canal Road, the winery, which has been in operation a scant two years, is already producing blends of a quality well above the average, highly sweetened brands found at the local grocer. McLennan said his wines, both whites and reds, are aimed at those 30 and over who have a taste for something sharper with a bit of bite, or as he explains it, “I like to say it’s the difference between filet mignon and pork chops.”
As anyone who spends time with McLennan will be quick to learn, the process of wine making is as much art as science, as much poetry as planning. There are as many different formulas for wine making as there are wine makers. “People make wine according to the vineyard, the type of grape, and, I swear, their mood. It’s true. The process will often be the same, but the numbers will be different.”
That process begins in the vineyard, in McLennan’s case 16 acres of fertile Halifax County soil carved out of the nearly 5,000 acre farm owned by his father, the senior Alex McLennan, who provides the majority of  financing for his son’s venture. Looking over the rows of vine covered wires running the length of the fields, McLennan’s pride is evident as he inspects the lush green plants teeming with small grapes, a result of years of preparation and hard work.  “I don’t mean to brag, but this vineyard’s doing really well,” he said, lifting a leafy branch to reveal a stem covered in small, green pods.
The vineyard grows Muscadine grape plants of four varieties: Magnolias, a densely fruited plant used for white wines; Triumphs, which are much like the Magnolias, but not as productive; Nobles, a red wine grape, which grow quickly and produce a heavy fruit; and Carlos, McLennan’s favorite, which produces the largest grapes and thickest foliage of the four.
According to McLennan, the Muscadine branch is famed for its high antioxidant content. Recently, it’s gained favor among celebrities due to it supposed anti aging properties.
The vineyard is a labor intensive enterprise said McLennan, explaining that the majority of the work falls on his shoulders. “It can be murder trying to do this by myself,” he said warily, explaining that the 200 vines currently in use can take up to one day a piece to properly prune.
McLennan said a number of factors affect the quality of the harvest, including weather and the type of treatment the farmer gives the plants. Diseases, both viral and bacterial, also play their part. Pointing to a damaged area around the base of one plant, McLennan said the cause is a common disease known as Crown Gall, which forms around any type of injury the vine may receive. “It’s basically cancer of the plant,” he added. Another cause for concern is the dreaded Japanese Beetle, which McLennan said can strip a vineyard bare within a week.
The grapes are harvested during a narrow 7-8 day period in August or September. Using a mechanical harvester outfitted with a conveyer belt, the grapes are knocked off the stems by way of a series of metal arms in the machine’s center, which passes directly over the plants. The grapes are then loaded into a stainless steel harvest wagon before being placed into a crusher and de-stemmer, which separates leaves, stems and other trash from the grape and then crushes it into juice and pulp, known as must.
From there, the pre-wine product goes into a holding tank, where it is tested for acidity (pH levels) before being introduced to the winery.

The Winery
Three stainless steel tanks rise from the floor, giving the room a distinctly sci-fi atmosphere. But there’s nothing remotely alien about the processes going on in the tanks innards, a process that McLennan said goes back to the dawn of recorded history. “It’s an ancient process. People have been doing this forever. I mean people have been making it in their garages for 100 years or better.”
The chemistry and variables involved are enough to make even the most educated winery boss nervous. Beginning with a fine-tuned combination of sugar and yeast additives to control sweetness and begin the fermentation process, the wine is constantly monitored to ensure proper temperature control.
Primary fermentation lasts 3-7 days, after which the wine is removed and put into a clean tank. During this stage the wines temperature must remain in the mid-60’s, which helps the wine to retain the character of the fruit. McLennan said this is made possible by what he called “cold jackets,” bands around the tops of the tanks which can be chilled to lower the wine’s temperature.
Secondary fermentation takes anywhere from 2-3 weeks. The process is halted through the use of a large chiller condenser, which lowers the tanks temperature to around 32 degrees. McLennan said he finds this the most irritating point of the process, as the tank around the cold jacket tends to sweat condensation, leading to wet floors and long hours of mopping.
After secondary fermentation is halted, the wine is allowed to age for nine-10 months. Temperatures are kept cold to inhibit yeast growth. During this time, said McLennan, the wine will loose much if its acidity, which he prefers to keep around the 3.4-3.6 level to allow the wine to have a somewhat sharper bite. Afterwards, the final product is bottled and allowed to set for a time.
According to McLennan, who trained for three months at a technical school in Dobson, the process can be daunting even after several years of experience. Or as he puts it, “I know just enough to know I don’t know squat.”
“It requires a lot of experimentation and a lot of luck,” he offered. “I read everything I can and talk to everyone. There’s always more to find out.”
McLennan said he’s learned several lessons the hard way, producing one batch of wine that was nearly undrinkable during his first year. “The acidity levels are crucial,” he said. “If you get that wrong it can make for some very unpleasant wine.”
Another hazard McLennan mentioned is something known as “bottle shock,” a little understood phenomenon that causes wine to develop a foul taste for a time shortly after being bottled, only to return to normal after it sets for an indeterminate length of time. “It tastes terrible and then, for whatever reason, it’s fine again. Some people don’t believe it, but it’s absolutely real,” he said, with a slightly baffled air.
Red and white wine each have their own peculiarities as well. While white wine must have no contact with oxygen after fermentation, grapes used for red wine skip the de-stemmer process, undergoing what’s known as “fermentation on the skin,” whereby the entire grape is placed in the tank as the yeast is added. Red wine is also aged longer than its white counterpart.
I’m always trying something new,” said the lanky, tattooed farmer’s son, as he raised a glass of Noble wine fresh from the tank. As he drank, he lowered the glass and smiled. “This isn’t quite ready…just a little raw. But it’s still nice.”

The Land
McLennan’s ties to the farm go back to the early days of pre-Revolutionary War America, when his ancestors first settled in the area some 300 years ago. His immediate family has worked the land for the last 31 years.
Discussing a memoir written by one of those ancestors, William Clark, who once lived on the farm, McLennan recalled the former North Carolina Supreme Court Justice’s description of sitting on his front porch, watching as “40 slaves pulled 40 plows.”
“There used to be slave houses all along the edge of these fields,” he said, describing an aerial photo he’s seen from the 1940’s.
Other historical factors also influenced his eventual career choice. According to McLennan, one of the first wineries in America was located in Halifax County, at Medoc Mountain.
Though he’d been working the land beside his father since he was 10, McLennan said he was determined to cut his own path. “I was sick to death of cotton, which is our main cash crop. I wanted to do something where you weren’t constantly replanting.”
Inheriting what he describes as “one of the finest pieces of agricultural land in the state,” McLennan said he and his father both decided to try the no-till method of farming several years ago, a decision he couldn’t be happier with. “Tilling the land is for dummies. Down here we have the hardest, tightest soil you could ever work. You can make mistakes and the land will let you get away with it.”
McLennan said anyone thinking of following in his footsteps should understand that “the winery business isn’t a short term proposition. You have to be in it for the long haul. It takes time, but you have to stick with it”
“This vineyard will outlive me; it will outlive my children and probably their children,” offered McLennan, when asked about the legacy he hopes to leave future generations. “It’s a little patch of paradise, that’s why I want to hang on to it.”
Scanning the deep green fields one last time before climbing in his truck and heading back to the winery, McLennan summed up the philosophy that’s kept him moving forward, in search of the perfect grape for the perfect wine. “I love working outdoors, but the depth of history surrounding this place is what drives me. If I’m going to make my mark, this is how I’ll do it.”

Local music prodigy hits it big with SNL, NHL awards show

From the halls of Weldon Middle School to the concert stages of New York City and beyond, Katreese Barnes has followed her musical instincts to the pinnacle of her professional career and well beyond the dreams of the gifted young prodigy who once called Halifax County home.
Growing up as an Army brat moving from state to state, Barnes and her family settled in Weldon in 1976. At the age of 10, she began taking classical music lessons, a move her mother, Esther, recognized as inevitable. “She was just a very talented child,” she said during a recent interview. “The teacher gave her the sheet music and she went through it just like that. They had to start writing out charts for her after that. She won all kinds of competitions.”
After attending Weldon City Schools for several years, Barnes was awarded a music scholarship to the N.C. School of Arts in Winston Salem. Thriving in the creative atmosphere of her new environment, she played with the Wilmington Symphony as a featured soloist during their performance of Bach’s “Concerto in D Minor,” a coveted slot that brought her recognition outside of regional music circles.
Drawing inspiration from her father, an avid musician who played in Top 40 bands in his spare time, Barnes joined her equally talented brother, Jerry, to form the early 80’s R&B group Juicy, and was quickly signed to a recording contract with Arista Records. The group released their debut album in 1982 and went on to record the theme for the seminal 1984 movie “Beat Street,” one of the first motion pictures to explore the world of break dancing and hip-hop. Moving on to Atlantic and CBS records later in the decade, Juicy released a number of singles and two more full-length albums before disbanding in 1987.
Several years later, in the early nineties, Barnes made the decision to move to New York, a decision that would ultimately catapult her career into an entirely different direction.
Following the move, Barnes, now in her early-twenties, quickly established herself as a backup singer after being tapped by legendary R&B artist Roberta Flack to work on her 1994 album “Roberta.”  She would go on to work with some of the biggest names in the music industry, such as Sting, Carly Simon, P. Diddy and Billy Joel, stretching her wings into the fields of writing and arranging in the process.
Speaking to the Daily Herald from her home in New York Tuesday, Barnes recalled this formative period of her career fondly. “It was funny how I acclimated so fast working with people I idolized. I felt that was where I was supposed to be. I believe you are just destined to be who you are going to be. When you meet people who are like-minded, it really opens your eyes.”
In 1999, a band mate informed Barnes about an opening for a pianist with the house band of the famed late-night comedy show Saturday Night Live. Though somewhat skeptical of her chances at first, Barnes auditioned for the spot. Much to her surprise, she got the job.
Slowly but surely, Barnes worked her way up the ranks, writing, arranging and learning the ropes of working in live television. Eventually, Barnes would be promoted to musical director, the first African-American female to hold that title in the show’s history.
“In this industry there’s a lot of pressure to have your own band and constantly tour and make records,” Barnes said of the career change, “but very few people can sustain that. With SNL, it’s a different challenge. You’re always doing something different. It’s worked out for me and I believe I found the thing that’s right for my soul.”
Though she was thrilled to get the job, Barnes said the change of pace took some getting used to. “Working at SNL is completely different from the work I did before. I can’t even explain the madness of that show from week to week. There’s nothing quite like it anywhere. It’s amazing working with this brilliant cast of comedians and musicians.”
One of the high points of Barnes’ tenure on SNL thus far was winning the 2007 Emmy for Best Original Music and Lyrics for her work on “D..k in a Box,”  a classic comedy sketch starring Justin Timberlake. “That will never leave my piano,” Barnes said of the award. “A lot of people think I wrote the lyrics but I didn’t. I just wrote the music. They came to me and said they wanted a spoof of the nineties R&B stuff, like R. Kelly and Color Me Badd. I came up with the music on Tuesday and they recorded the vocals Thursday night. You’ve got to be on top of your game to do this because a lot of it is last minute.”
Addressing the risqué nature of the song, Barnes said she was told it was a “stretch for some of the older Emmy nominating committee members. But comedy is so different now than it was 30 years ago, and I think people are smart and will recognize that.”
With her career in full swing, Barnes was recently picked as musical director for this year’s National Hockey League Awards show, a task that Barnes obviously relishes. “I was flattered,” she stated. “When people recognize your work outside of the show, it’s an accomplishment.”
Barnes said although her work on the awards ceremony is similar to her day job, it does offer some distinct advantages. “It’s not as high pressured as SNL. It’s less stress because you have more time to put things together. I’ve been working on it for two months, brainstorming, getting things finalized.”
Outside of the television industry, Barnes has kept one foot in the performing world, staging a one woman show, what she refers to as a “dark comedy” called “Rocket Man.”  Barnes said the show features funked-up arrangements of songs by Elton John, who she formerly worked for as a backup singer.
With a career that’s branched off into soundtrack work, classical composition and low brow comedy, Barnes seems content to let the music take the lead, following the sounds wherever they choose to take her.
“I only really knew I was going to be able to do this full-time eight years ago,” she stated, sounding grateful and surprised. “It wasn’t one of those things where I thought ‘Wow, I’m automatically going to be able to do this for a living.’”
I can’t say what the future holds, but I’ll always be involved in composing and arranging, whether it’s for artists, TV or Broadway musicals. I think that’s what I was born to do.”