Instrument for Unity : Singer’s ‘L.A. Music Week’ Seeks to Bridge Racial Gaps

Blues belter Margie Evans is a big woman with a big sound and a big idea to use music to help mend Los Angeles’ tattered social fabric.

About two years ago, she and some of her blues buddies were sitting around the 5-4 Ballroom on Broadway lamenting the relentlessly downward spiral Los Angeles seemed to be caught in--the numbing round of riots, earthquakes, fires and a depressed economy.

And even though some in the group had spent years at the top of show bills, few of them could even buy a local booking. To their minds, that was about as lowdown and dirty as a shame could get.

A city fracturing along racial and ethnic lines, profoundly talented Los Angeles-based musicians being ignored by local clubs and promoters . . . something had to be done.

Evans decided to try to recapture an earlier era when the races mixed more easily at various venues, brought together, momentarily at least, by a shared passion for music.

She decided to launch “Los Angeles Music Week,” a celebration of locally based musicians in performances ranging from soul to salsa, blues to bolero, bebop to hip-hop.

“Music can bring every race together on the face of this Earth,” said Evans, who once sang with a Latino band in Monterey Park. “All of the greatest messages of the world are spoken through music.”

At the Airport Hilton this evening, Evans will kick off the second installment of Los Angeles Music Week with headliners that could send listeners to their sourcebooks to get a fix on the names.

But their fans have not forgotten Richard Berry, the man who gave the world “Louie, Louie,” or O.C. Smith, whose “Little Green Apples” has become a standard.

The 6 p.m. kickoff will also honor Mabel Scott, a vibrant song stylist whose star shone brightest in the 1940s and 1950s, and Nellie Lutcher, who came to prominence even earlier and had hits such as “Real Gone Guy” and “Fine Brown Frame.”

The gospel choir from Phillips Temple Christian Methodist Episcopal Church will fill the house with spirit, Evans said. And Latino stars Al Sanchez and the Story Tellers and Chuck Real, whose “Tequila” once sat atop the charts, will be there, as will saxophonist and singer Jimmy Maddin, who runs his Capri club in Glendale.

“Most musicians who have been in the limelight in the 1940s, ‘50s and ‘60s are still treated royally in other parts of the world,” said Evans, who makes her living these days in Europe and Australia. “But when they come home, they go into a state of deep depression because no one ever seems to be welcome in your own hometown.”

Evans is a woman easy to laugh, even when she describes painful memories, losing herself in joyful shrieks until she has to call upon the Lord to give her relief.

But the laughter quickly subsides when she recalls Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton, whose music shaped generations of imitators, and Esther Phillips, who ascended to the first rank of rhythm and blues singers when she was still a teenager.

Both died alone in Los Angeles, down and out--painful ironies given all that they gave to others, she said.

“I don’t want to let what happened to Big Mama Thornton and Esther Phillips happen to us,” Evans said, suddenly turning wistful and remembering how Thornton used to tell her: “Gal, you remind me of me, with your big voice.”

Los Angeles’ musical heritage is a blessing, she said, embracing mariachi, rap, world beat and other genres along with the blues-based forms.

“This city can be one of the first to begin to bridge racial gaps with music,” she said.

She began the music week last December at the 5-4 Ballroom, where Oliver Wilson is still struggling mightily to complete restoration of the vintage dance and concert palace. This year it moves to the Airport Hilton, where banners have been hung--as well as in Hollywood--celebrating the event.

“This can be a catharsis for this city,” Evans said.

Mayor Richard Riordan and the City Council have issued formal proclamations, and Evans spent a busy morning last week fielding calls from latecomers who wanted desperately to be a part of the festivities.

Each year, she said, the idea gains momentum. Ultimately she wants it to become a citywide festival bringing together culturally varied audiences under the same roofs.

And she has already begun dreaming and laying plans, promising: “Next year, the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.”