By Rose Vance-Grom for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Farah Siddiqi for Ohio News Connection reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

Akron, Ohio has been a hotbed for jazz in the Midwest since the 1930s. Its central location between bigger cities like New York and Chicago made it a perfect stop for traveling musicians. Many renowned artists, including Duke Ellington and Ella Fitzgerald, performed in Akron as they passed through; but there was also a thriving local scene, the roots of which can still be felt today. 

For much of the 20^th century, Akron was an industrial powerhouse. People flocked to the “Rubber Capital of the World” in search of jobs causing the population to jump, growing from 70,000 in 1910 to nearly 210,000 by 1920. Akron’s Black population increased eightfold in that time, and many of them settled along Howard Street between Downtown and West Akron.

Where It All Began

This neighborhood – dubbed “Little Harlem” – became the center of the business and entertainment district along Howard Street, with Black-owned hotels, restaurants, clubs, barbershops, and beauty salons that served the tight knit community. According to the Ohio Informer, Akron’s short lived Black newspaper, there was always music and dancing at the clubs down “Rhythm Row” from the Cosmopolitan, to the Hi-Hat Club, to Benny Rivers, just to name a few.

By the late 1960s the rubber industry was dwindling and much of Howard Street, like the rest of Akron, was in decline. A 1968 “urban renewal” project to build a highway spur linking Akron to the larger interstate network would seal the fate of Howard Street. Construction on the Innerbelt began in 1970, resulting in the destruction of the predominantly Black neighborhood within the decade. Adding salt to the proverbial wound, the project was never fully completed and is now mostly abandoned. In 2023, the City of Akron issued an apology for the lasting harm the project caused for generations of Akronites. 

The loss of the Howard Street neighborhood was devastating but it was not the end of the jazz scene. It lived on in small clubs and church basements, and through the people who continued to play anywhere they could. 

Where It Lives On

When Justin Tibbs, a local saxophonist and composer, was a teenager in the 2000s his mom snuck him into a blues bar where he met local legends Jim Noel, Waymon “Punchy” Atkinson, and Donald Stembridge. 

“Growing up, I always had to ask one of the legendary guys, ‘where’s the jam session at?’, and it would be in some church somewhere. We would go there and play tunes and watch ‘em all play. I didn’t know how big they were,” Tibbs said of his early experiences. This exposure led Tibbs to enroll in The University of Akron in 2006, later joining the Jazz Studies program. 

The University of Akron Jazz Ensemble has a direct link to Howard Street. It began in 1978, under the direction of Roland Paolucci, a jazz pianist who played on Howard Street in the late 1950s and early 1960s. He led the program for 22 years before Jack Schantz, a UA graduate and jazz trumpeter, took over for the next 20 years.

The program continues today, co-chaired by Theron Brown, a jazz pianist and two-time UA graduate. Brown moved from Zanesville, Ohio in 2005, unaware of Akron’s jazz history and Howard Street until about 2009, “That’s when I just heard of the names like Punchy Atkinson and Jimmy Noel.”

Brown was part of a Howard Street tribute concert in 2019 at BLU Jazz+, one of Akron’s premier live jazz venues. He played with 91-year-old Jimmy Noel for the first time, only months before his death. Brown reflected, “That’s when I really woke up… There is literally nobody else that can tell the story. We need to go out and find out … there’s a spirit in the air for this music, there’s a vibe, you can call it whatever you want.”

It was similar for Tibbs, who grew up in Akron, “I would talk with them, and they would tell me stories… And I wish I would have had an iPhone at that time to record everything because it’s gone to history… It’s sad that history is gone, but I feel like I’m a part of it in a way because I know their story.”

Jazz for the Future

This sentiment has been shared in recent years as more attention than ever is being paid to this era of history. In 2016, Brown started the Rubber City Jazz and Blues Festival to celebrate Akron’s musical legacy. Now in its ninth year, it has grown into a cultural festival featuring dance, performance art, digital art, and a celebration of Black musical traditions. 

Students at The University of Akron are now further documenting this history with the Green Book Cleveland Project, started by Mark Souther of Cleveland State University with the Cuyahoga Valley National Park in 2021. The restorative history project is rooted in the “Negro Motorist Greenbook” published between 1936 and 1966 for Black travelers and documents the entertainment, leisure, and recreation sites available at the time. 

In addition to his Jazz Studies courses, Brown recently co-taught a project-based class with Dr. Hillary Nunn, called “Round Howard Street: Telling the Story of Akron Jazz” in which students studied jazz culture in connection with the City of Akron to bring about a fuller understanding of its Black History. 

Both Brown and Tibbs credit The University of Akron for fostering an environment for young musicians to meet and play together. “I wouldn’t know any of my buddies that play if it wasn’t for that. It centralized the community in a space even though Howard [Street] didn’t exist,” Brown said. Tibbs similarly reflected, “It’s a whole new generation of musicians… that play original music”. Brown and Tibbs are just two of many musicians playing in the area, all of whom will tell you that Akron still has a unique sound.


Rose Vance-Grom wrote this story for Arts Midwest.


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A Pennsylvania literacy organization is commemorating the Juneteenth holiday by highlighting the history and contributions of Black people in the United States through literacy and artistic freedom.

Vanesse Lloyd-Sgambati, founder of the African American Children's Book Project, said books are vital to communities of color. She explained that before the Emancipation Proclamation was signed in 1863, it was against the law in some states for enslaved people and freed Black people to be educated.

"The Emancipation Proclamation not only freed enslaved people, but it also gave Black people the opportunity to freely be able to read, write and spell," she explained.

In 2021, President Joe Biden signed a bill making Juneteenth a national holiday, which means federal and some local offices are closed, as well as banks and the U.S. Postal Service.

President Donald Trump has made rolling back diversity, equity and inclusion practices a major part of his platform. He has also expressed an interest in ending the Juneteenth holiday, but has not taken any action.

Lloyd-Sgambati said her group promotes books by and about Black authors to preserve Black history, adding that families play a key role in keeping that history alive, especially as schools cut back on cultural and DEI programs.

"If they're not teaching Black history in the schools, then it's your obligation," she continued. "Just like you nourish your children with food, the proper food, with clothing, it is important that you nourish your children with books - because if you can read, you can succeed."

Lloyd-Sgambati added that the American Library Association conference, set for later this month in Philadelphia, brings together global library leaders to share bold ideas and shape the future of libraries. She's producing two panels, one focused on children, the other for adults. More details are online on the ALA website.

By Frankie (Amy) Felegy for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Mike Moen for Minnesota News Connection reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

Poetry really is everywhere—in love, in everyday language, in life lessons—and sidewalks across the Midwest are proving it. 

Head down a given street in certain Midwestern cities and you’ll come across (and maybe even step on or roll over) poems. 

Sidewalk poetry programs have risen across the region, stemming from an initiative started in St. Paul, Minnesota by prolific behavioral artist Marcus Young 楊墨 back in 2008. It was the first sidewalk poetry program in the country, inspired by sidewalk contractor stamps. 

“If you can print that in the sidewalks, can you print other things like poems?” he remembers thinking. “It all goes back to our universal desire that when we see wet concrete, we want to put our finger in it and just mark that, ‘I was here.’”

Public Art St. Paul’s Sidewalk Poetry “allows city residents to claim the sidewalks as their book pages” every spring when the public works department repairs damaged pavement. 

The premise: Invite poets to send in short poems in Dakota, English, Hmong, Somali, and Spanish; choose a handful; create stamps; apply to wet concrete.

“It has changed a sidewalk repair program and turned it into a publishing force,” Young says. 

Since the program began, it has stamped over 1,200 poems—enough for everyone living in St. Paul to walk to a sidewalk poem in under 10 minutes.

A four-hour drive east lands you in Appleton, Wisconsin, with its own program inspired by St. Paul’s. The city announced five poetic winners just last week, after a community panel narrowed down submissions from nearly 100. 

“It’s a beautiful art form,” says librarian Peter Kotarba, who works with Appleton’s sidewalk poetry program. “Poetry, especially in sidewalk poetry, is permission. It’s giving people permission to feel maybe what’s in that poem, but also permission to find their own avenue of expression.” 

Kotarba says he only sees programs like these growing. He’s planning to add QR codes on signs near the poems so passersby can hear audio recordings from the authors. And he recently fielded a call from a small city in northern California looking to start a similar effort. 

“It is an opportunity for the reader to step into someone else’s world,” or even just another state, he says, “to see reflections of themselves or others around them.”

Young says footpaths can be—and are—more than safe transportation venues. He wanted to instill “elevated, beguiling moments” in someone’s dog-walk or commute. 

“Bring a bit of reassurance, bring a bit of comfort, a bit of delight and mystery to your life,” Young says. “Your life is, yes, this ordinary moment, but it’s also this extraordinary moment.”


Frankie (Amy) Felegy wrote this story for Arts Midwest.

By Frankie (Amy) Felegy for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Mark Moran for Iowa News Service reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

Inside a two-story, century-old brick fortress, sun shines through stained glass artworks. 

Music serenades down the hall; a koi pond will soon reflect a kaleidoscope of oranges and whites. Magic happens here. 

But it isn’t a fairytale—this is Cedar Rapids, Iowa. 

Eastern Iowa Arts Academy—a nonprofit offering accessible arts education—recently purchased this historic Arthur Elementary school, which was meant to be demolished.

“It’s like a whole new place … You can unwind. You can be creative. You can be exactly who you want to be here. It’s a safe place,” says Heather Wagner, the organization’s executive director.

The building’s plans include a hallway gallery, open studio spaces, and a community room with a food pantry, clothing closet, and mental health support. Folks can rent out instruments; there’s a sensory room, and a kitchen and gym rental. 

Students can sign up for band practice, create in the community maker’s space, or record tracks at the studio.

Music as Healing

One of those students, Zoe Wolrab, is a high school senior involved in three rock bands through the academy. She sings and plays bass guitar, covering artists from Carol King to Toto.

“When I was 14, I was kind of struggling a lot, just focusing in school and wanting to go to school in the first place. And I was also struggling a lot mentally,” Wolrab says.

So their mom suggested getting involved with music. Joining after-school sessions at Eastern Iowa Arts Academy perhaps saved their life, says Wolrab.

“Music is what I want in my life now. This kind of helped me find my career path in the first place. I just want to keep doing this forever.”

The academy is open to students of all ages and abilities, who pay full or partial memberships up to $190 or so a year. By the next three years, organizers plan to have full ADA-accessible programming.

It’s for everybody—by everybody. 

“The whole community coming together is working … on making this the arts hub for this area,” Wagner says. 

Meeting a Creative Need 

When bringing folks back to the academy’s previous building after pandemic restrictions, the problem was clear: The demand was just too high. 

“They came back in droves,” Wagner says of the students. “The need for expression in the arts was huge.” 

Classes started racking up waiting lists and students wanted more private instrument lessons. The academy was running out of room. With the help of a cohort grant through the Iowa Arts Council, the team secured the school for $260K. 

The building, though largely untouched save some painting, has transformed into an arts refuge. Wagner says people can come just as they are: There’s no need to put on a mask, empty your wallets, or be uncomfortable.

She just wants people to feel restored, much like the building’s newfound purpose. 

“Art can do what it’s supposed to do. People can kind of bury themselves in the art,” Wagner says. “You can just heal. And that’s what it’s all about.”


Frankie (Amy) Felegy wrote this story for Arts Midwest.


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