By Sophie Young for Mirror Indy.
Broadcast version by Joe Ulery for Indiana News Service reporting for the Mirror Indy-Free Press Indiana-Public News Service Collaboration.

Robert Montgomery was only about five years old when his father, legendary jazz guitarist Wes Montgomery, died of a heart attack at age 45. He doesn’t remember much from that time.

“His death really shook me,” said Robert, the youngest of seven siblings, and it wasn’t until he got older that he began to listen to his father’s music. 

“I remember going to my mother and saying, ‘Mom, Dad was really good,’” he said. “And she goes, ‘Of course, you blockhead. Of course he was.’”

Now, Robert, 62, is one of his father’s biggest fans. 

“To me, nobody plays as good as he does,” he said. “You know, not just because he’s my dad. Because I’ve listened to guitars, and they’re great. But they’re not Wes.”

Wes Montgomery, who was born in Indianapolis in 1923, was an innovator on the guitar, creating a new sound by playing with his thumb instead of a pick — a style he created so he wouldn’t disturb his family or neighbors while practicing at night after working long days at a factory. He got major record deals, won Grammys and toured. 

Even though his music took him across the world, his home was always in Indianapolis. He was recognized on March 6 with a public dedication of a historical marker on what would’ve been his 101st birthday.

The Indiana Historical Bureau, which runs the marker program, has had Wes on its wishlist of people to recognize for years. Wes left his mark across the city, so it wasn’t easy to decide where the marker should go.

It could have gone on Indiana Avenue, where he played in jazz clubs. Instead, it will be at 10th and Bellefontaine Streets, near the Indianapolis Cultural Trail. The marker is close to where the Montgomery family home stood on Cornell Street before it was razed to build the interstate. 

The decision for the location aligned with Wes’ priorities. He wanted to move to the West Coast to pursue music, but he stayed in Indianapolis for his wife, Serene, and their kids. Wes and Serene were 19 years old when they married in 1943 and were together until Wes’ death in 1968.

“The music was second. We were first – and my mother,” Robert said. “He was really truly a family man. At the very heart of being a family man, the love for us was impeccable.”

It wasn’t easy to capture Wes’ 45 years – his family, his work, his music – on a historical marker. Each side of the metal sign can only hold 372 characters, including spaces. And the text can’t include superlatives like “best” or “first;” everything has to be factual and backed up by primary sources. 

“You had to really think about, ‘Okay, how do we talk about this person and not connect my emotional feelings and inspirational things that he brought to my life and music?” said Rob Dixon, a saxophone player. “That was a challenge, but it was rewarding.” 

Dixon is the artistic director of the Indy Jazz Fest, and he was part of a team that helped with the application process. 

The research was led by Scott and Katie Taylor, who met Robert’s siblings while applying for a marker for John Hope School 26, an initiative led by the Oaks Academy to pay tribute to the history of the school it had purchased. From there, they became interested in Wes’ life and legacy. 

All the research fits in a thick, heavy binder full of newspaper clippings, advertisements for shows and more. The book ends with pages of articles about Wes’ legacy and influence.
 
Wes died on June 15, 1968, and 2,400 people showed up at his funeral, including Julian “Cannonball” Adderly, a renowned saxophone player who “discovered” Wes in 1959 at the Missile Room on North West Street. Adderly and other jazz stars were in town for a show at the Indiana Theater, according to IndyStar reports from the time. 

After the public dedication ceremony for the marker on March 6, the Bottleworks Hotel hosted a private reception where Robert and other family members, and musicians and friends from across the country came out to remember Wes. 

Serene Miles Montgomery-Woods, who later remarried, died in 2020 at age 96. Robert shared a story his wife told about riding in the car with Serene when she was in her 80s.

“This song came on – Freddie Jackson’s ‘My Lady.’ And my wife thought maybe she didn’t want to hear it, so she turned it down,” he said. His mom said, “‘No, turn that up.’ And she said, ‘Wes used to say that about me all the time. I was his lady.’”


Sophie Young wrote this article for Mirror Indy.


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A Wyoming arts hub is surveying organizations across the state to see if a potential new AmeriCorps program could help fill gaps in arts and humanities programming.

The AmeriCorps Rural Intermediary Program would provide extra support for Wyoming arts and humanities organizations, which are often rural and can employ just enough staff to operate.

Allison Maluchnik, executive director of the Nicolaysen Art Museum in Casper, said it could provide several benefits to the museum.

"We could utilize AmeriCorps members to help with our art education, outreach," Maluchnik explained. "There is potential for capacity-building at different arts organizations, volunteer programs. There are many different ways that AmeriCorps members could serve different organizations in the state."

Maluchnik noted the first step toward implementing the program is gauging interest. Wyoming arts organizations can take a survey on the topic through Jan. 20. They can contact the Nicolaysen museum for more information.

According to a University of Wyoming report, arts and culture added more than $540 million to the state's economy in 2022 but it varies widely by county. Teton County saw nearly $230 million in arts-based economic output, while 11 counties saw less than $5 million.

Maluchnik stressed rural arts organizations could especially use the support.

"This would hopefully give those organizations that do not have the larger community a sense of support," Maluchnik emphasized. "And also, a means to build programming and volunteer capacity."

The program would be a state-facilitated arm of the national AmeriCorps service program, which offers resume-building and scholarship money to members who serve.


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By Amy Felegy for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Kathleen Shannon for Greater Dakota News Service reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

Ask any six-year-old and they’ll tell you just how to play the classic game of Go Fish: Get a handful of cards. Try to get four that match. Repeat as attention spans allow. 

But swap out the fish for owls and say “gookooko’oo” instead of “go fish,” and you have Bineshiiyag: one of several new amusements in the Nashke Native Games award-winning line. 

Launching a year and a half ago, the three-person business is trying to bolster Ojibwe language and culture in the Midwest—in a fun, accessible (not to mention, effective) way.

“Our mission is to increase awareness and the power of learning through gameplay. And boy, we just see it come to fruition every day,” says founder and CEO Tony Drews “Chi-Noodin” (Big Wind). 

Language learners, teachers, families, and curious board-gamers alike can purchase the games, ranging from modern takes on traditionals (like Bagese: The Bowl Game) to fast-paced fur trade-simulation kits with puzzles and tile matching challenges (like Mii Gwech). 

The games are an avenue for discovery; they can be played in Ojibwe or English (Dakota expansion packs coming soon!) Here, words are intentionally not forgotten. 

Drews says there are less than 700 first-language Ojibwe speakers in the U.S. 

“And if we don’t do something, we’re gonna become known as the people who were the Ojibwe,” he says. “Native history is Minnesota history. And without a spark, our youth aren’t gonna learn it.” 

Drews’s great-grandmother only spoke Ojibwe. Her daughter was sent to Pipestone Indian Training School and now, Drews’s father doesn’t know more than four words in Ojibwe.  

“It took one generation to strip my family of its culture, its language and the millennium of our culture,” Drews says. “We can’t talk about language and culture separately. They’re intertwined.” 

Take the word mindimooyenh. Somebody who holds the family together. A term of high respect for an elderly woman. 

“If you call someone an old woman in English, that’s a dig, right? So if we lose that word, we lose the cultural perspective of how we truly look at elderly women,” Drews says. “And the same with elders. We call our elders gichi-aya’aa: ‘the Great Beings.’”

Second-grade teacher Lisa Schussman’s students have played Ginebig: The Snake Game, Makizinataagewin: The Moccasin Game, and Bineshiiyag in her Lincoln Elementary classroom.

She loans out take-home kits at the Bemidji, Minnesota, school where many Native students attend; the area is surrounded by the Leech Lake (Ojibwe), Red Lake (Chippewa), and White Earth reservations. 

“I just find it such a valuable way to get … excited about the language and about their culture and respect too,” Schussman says, overhearing students using words learned in the games. 

“I think that a lot of times we get nervous to try or we don’t want to do something wrong, so then we don’t. But I’ve found that through the games, you’re a lot more willing when it’s in a fun, laughing atmosphere to just try.” 

Goji’ewizi: Just try.


Amy Felegy wrote this story for Arts Midwest.


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By Amy Felegy for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Mike Moen for Prairie News Service reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

Director Anj Karna describes Parachigo as a three-layer cake. 

Sitting on multiple floors, the grassroots art venue in Fargo, North Dakota, hosts pay-what-you-can studios, a music and event stage, a 24/7 band practice room, and an art store. 

It’s what many call a third place — a no-cost hangout spot. Run by five board members and a handful of volunteers, Parachigo is for all ages, alcohol free, and low cost. 

“Parachigo is a seat at the table that we built ourselves for local artists,” Karna says. “It’s the community voice of art.” 

This particular voice has a particularly uncommon name, too.

“I think a lot of the people who run the space and are passionate about the space share very similar views, but the goal is also to be neutral ground, regardless of that, for anybody recovering or like may come from a different angle, but shares the understanding that equality is important. So I think that’s kind of the only guideline and expectation.” 

Storefront Director Crona Solberg says Parachigo is “the little glue” between people and community, which often don’t meet due to financial or other barriers. 

“Everywhere in life, it seems, everything is just so disconnected. And this is the only place that feels connected,” Solberg says. “Mom and pops died 40 years ago. We’re bringing that back, but now it’s like 30 mom and pops all together.” 

Up next for Parachigo is adding more board members and volunteers, partially to lessen Karna’s workload as director, manager, fundraiser, outreach specialist … the list goes on. 

A main goal is climbing out of $2,800 in debt from relocating this year. People can donate by texting DIY to 53555. 

A dedicated space to make art happen is just as integral as the art happening in it, Karna says. Parachigo is Fargo’s unwavering reminder of it. 

“I think in all cities, local communities and art communities are a dying breed. But they’re not going anywhere. [Artists] just need a place to get together. And if you have an empty space and open it to local creatives, they will fill up the space with beauty.”


Amy Felegy wrote this story for Arts Midwest.


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