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He has the presence and personality of a natural performer. He's tall and imposing with an expressive face and a robust "Old Man River" voice.

Recently promoted to assistant public-relations director at Sunrise, he acts for the Light Opera Guild and Kanawha Players, plays guitar and bass, sings with the Esquires, sings in the choir at St. Mark's Episcopal Church and plays with Marshall University faculty jazz ensemble, among other things. On Sunday, he will lecture at his church on black history.

Versatile Phil Washington keeps his fingers in lots of pies, preparing for an eventual grab at the big-time brass ring. At 48, he still flirts with the dream.

For music and song, he gave up the alcohol and drugs he embraced as an angry young man in Detroit.

  Sandy Wells
‘Just singing was a high for me'
Monday February 12, 2001
Photo: Kenny Kemp

During a demonstration on sound at Sunrise, Phil Washington shows visitors how a tuning fork acts in a cup of water. His splashed audience reacts with laughter.

 

Photo: Kenny Kemp

Washington's sound presentation includes an explanation of vocal cords and guitar chords.

Photo: Kenny Kemp

A recording on a record player helps Washington make a point about sound.

 

Photo: Kenny Kemp

His sound program includes a demonstration of the electric bass.

 

This treasured snapshot shows guitarist Phil Washington (back right) playing with renowned trumpet player Wynton Marsalis and his sidekick, Wes Anderson, in Parkersburg.

 

"I GREW up in Detroit, the son of a Baptist preacher. I've got four brothers and two sisters. My father worked at Ford Motor Co. and my mother was a custodian at an elementary school.

"One of my earliest memories was going to work with her one day. I was about 5 years old, and I helped her mop the hall. You know those big industrial mops? It was much too big for me to push, but for the next two or three years, I told everybody how I helped my mom at work.

"We lived right in the city. I lived through the 1967 riots. There were tanks running up and down my streets. It was like a war zone. I saw people snatching stuff, but I stayed away from that. They took you to a detention camp, and I wasn't about to go there. I let other people do the looting, and I watched all the action. There was wonderful action all around, better than television.

"At that time, I was an angry young man. My mother, whom I adored, died of cancer when I was 10. Then my father, the Baptist preacher, split to find someone else to live with. He left me and my little brother with my grandmother. My grandmother was the other woman in my life that I adored. She lived to be 100. She was a very strong and powerful woman. The black community is matriarchal anyway. The men talk and have all this bravado, but it's really the woman who runs the family.

"My grandmother worked for a Jewish family, the Aarons. The Aaron kids loved my grandmother so much that they called her Grandmother. Most of my clothes were hand-me-downs from the Aarons, so I had some really nice clothes.

"I was angry at my father, and at God, and that's when all my fighting started at school. I started dabbling in alcohol and drugs at 10 years old. In Detroit, there were drugs everywhere. I got the money from the Social Security checks from my mother's death. I tried acid, hashish, cocaine, heroine, opium, mescaline, speed. I didn't do enough to get addicted. When people got ready to get really heavy into anything, I would say no, I'm not going there.

"My mother still had a great influence over me. Those morals of right and wrong were still a heavy weight on my back. So I couldn't go too far into anything, although I did drink way too much. That was probably my Achilles' heel and the thing that stopped me from being a drug addict. It was easier to get alcohol and drink than it was for me to hang out with the scum on the corner selling drugs. I didn't want to be part of that element.

"Then I joined the high school choir, and that slowed me down because it was something I really loved for the first time in a long time. I didn't want anything to take away from the joy, because just singing was a high for me.

"In high school, I got introduced to classical music, especially a black classical composer named R. Nathaniel Dett. He wrote this wonderful oratorio called ‘The Ordering of Moses.' Martin Luther King Jr. had just been shot, and I heard this wonderful music and wanted to be a part of it, so drugs and alcohol started to fade. I auditioned for a trip to South America and went on this musical tour, and that was the end of my drug use, totally. If you get caught with drugs in South America, they throw you in prison and forget about you. I did continue to drink. I drank a lot of rum and Cokes in South America.

"Martin Luther King was my hero. The way he lived his life reminded me so much of my mother and her belief system. He wanted to do all these things nonviolently. People who wanted me to hang with them were preaching hate and ‘whitey.' Music was my way of escaping being around them. Whenever they wanted me to do something I didn't want to do, I could say I had a choir rehearsal or voice lesson. When I got back from South America, they knew how serious I was, and they stopped messing with me.

"I wanted to be a musician and an actor, but my brother talked me out of that. He wanted me to do all these macho things. So I went in the Air Force, then did all these macho jobs. I was never really happy. My dad died in 1981, and that's when I decided to do what I wanted to do. I could see that life is not a forever thing, so I stopped drinking and went to Bible college and started studying music.

"I play guitar, bass and a little piano, and I sing. I didn't take lessons until I was 30. Everything else I learned by ear. My mother played piano by ear. Everybody in my family either sang or played some kind of instrument.

"Dr. William J.L. Wallace, who was president of West Virginia State College and pastor of two churches on the West Side, saw me in Pittsburgh and asked me to come to West Virginia to help with his churches. He said he would also get me into college. So I went to State, took music and counseling, and started doing shows for Kanawha Players and the Light Opera Guild, and life was good.

"I went back to Pittsburgh to do a couple of years of drug and alcohol counseling, then came back to Charleston in 1988 to work in the Southway substance abuse unit at Thomas Memorial. Then I became a substance abuse counselor at the Job Corps. My mother always told me to use your experiences to help other people.

"In '94, I was the voice of the plant in ‘Little Shop of Horrors,' and Larry Kopelman of the Esquires saw me and brought me into the Esquires. The rock 'n' roll stuff is fun.

"I went to Marshall to get my master's degree in jazz studies and started playing with the faculty jazz ensemble. I've played with Bob Thompson, Terry Gibbs, Joe Pocaro and Wynton Marsalis. Wynton was coming to Parkersburg to give away some awards, and the arts group hired a bunch of us to play. Wynton said he'd play a number or two with us. He ended up playing with us for about an hour and a half.

"After I got my master's, I continued to work at Marshall as an instructor for a jazz improvisation class, but adjunct professors don't have benefits. I saw an ad in the paper for an actor to play Scrooge at Sunrise. I got the role. They asked me back the next month to do a presentation on music and sound. Then they hired me full-time, and I've done all their plays ever since.

"I'm happy here, but being a religious person, I believe I can do all things through Christ. I'm still like Martin Luther King. Even though he said he had a dream, he was not a dreamer. He worked to make his dream come true. I have a dream that I can do Broadway or movies or something, so I'm preparing myself. I do commercials and call out numbers for the lottery on television and do voice-overs. I keep my hand in each pie, and that sharpens me. If I ever went to New York, I could do voice-overs, acting, music, musicals or sing for commercials. So I wouldn't have to starve to death.

"When I tell people I'm from Detroit, they say, ‘What are you doing here?' I'm sure the Lord moves me to different places and different stages in life, so I can be where I'm supposed to be."

To contact staff writer Sandy Wells, call 348-5173 or e-mail sandyw@wvgazette.com.

 

 
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Last modified: February 17, 2001