Friday, July 01, 2011

Lunch Concert in the Park

In downtown South Bend, in the pocket-sized park on the corner of Michigan and Jefferson, they put out round red tables and chairs and hire in good local musicians to play over a generously defined lunch hour each weekday from mid June to early August. It’s called the Red Table Plaza Lunchtime Concert Series, and here’s how it works. You bring a sack lunch or pick up a roast beef and melted cheddar sandwich across the street at the Chickory, say, or line up at the so-shiny-it-hurts-your-eyes hot dog cart for the special with brown mustard and kraut. Whatever you choose, you’re in good shape when you sit down and the music begins.

The offering varies from day to day—Irish, pop, blues, folk, Latin, Bach for the cello, jazz, gospel, and more—and there’s always a good dose of conversation and people watching, with bonus points if you recognize a local celebrity or two. On recent visits I’ve spotted notable area journalists, artists, civil servants, and elected officials from both city hall and the State House—some of the people who make life good and keep democracy alive in Michiana.  A song or two into the concert and a bite or two into your sandwich, you’ll forget all the “South Bend is a dying city” hoopla that distant journalists have been propagating lately. After only seventeen years in Michiana my credentials as a local are still under review, but here’s my thought: if there’s to be a conversation about the health of one of our towns, we ought to have it ourselves. The fly-in journalists probably aren’t as smart as they think they are, and they can fly right back out again, thank you very much.

Sitting in the middle on Monday, I had a first-rate view of some of the other music fans. A red-haired woman sat down with her husband and their two little red-haired boys—each one working away on a Technicolor blue lollipop the size of a nectarine but probably twice as sweet. The boys especially liked the banjo songs; during that part of the concert they laughed and flashed the singer great big blue smiles.

Pedestrians of all stripes and sizes strolled by, too, and office workers of every rank. One woman rolling past in a wheelchair chimed in with a front row gospel choir voice. We were a mixed group, listening, tapping our feet, chatting with friends and even with strangers, and happily reflecting hard-won progress on the issues that come with diversity. It occurred to me that the little park itself was on the former location of a notable downtown store where racial discrimination reigned for many years. One of my keenest memories is the sorrowful story one of the elders told of being refused a hot dog at the lunch counter there on the same corner where the free music now plays for any who stop by. The wound, I thought, had not quite fully healed for her. And of course the fly-in journalists are both wrong and right: while South Bend is not dying, the city and its good people have not fully healed. There are neighborhoods and commercial districts where that is easy enough to see.

The singer picked up his guitar and gave us the kind of lyrical social protest song that once filled the airwaves. The buoyant tune was perfect for the beautiful massed voices of a people who have come together in peace; the hopeful words reflected on ideals not yet fully achieved. In that moment, the city, as it is, as it was, as it might be, hung sweetly and bitter-sweetly on the melody in the air of our lovely red table park.

Broadcast by Ken Smith on July 01, 2011 • WVPE's Audio Archive
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