The men came every day, arriving as the daytime manager slid back the bolt on the front door. They walked into a darkness so solid they’d tip their heads as if dodging a blow.
Some people hate the term "Rust Belt" because of its loaded connotations of decay. For others, the term is a source of pride. I am in the latter camp.
There’s only one Berry Gordy, but Rust Belt America in the 1960s and ‘70s was also home to at least a handful of African-American-run recording studios that thrived without bank loans ...
Ten years ago, I was living in Oberlin, a college town 30 miles from Cleveland. I was newly divorced, and ready to start dating, but not anyone in my small, company town. So I met Cleveland men.
Discovering music history, one garage sale at a time.