Ellington

Mid-afternoon on New Years Eve, Ward 1 City Councilman Ben Allen is finishing an eight-year run on the Jackson City Council, and artist William Goodman is heading toward his first major exposition in New York City. Worlds apart, Allen surfs through introductions with his gold wedding ring resting against the crease of his jeans, leaning back in his chair just as he does in City Council meetings. The purple acrylic paint on Goodman's fingernail looks bold against the green grapes, as he grabs another from the bag he brought with him to the interview.

Then passion enters the equation: for art, for politics, for change and for the future. Legs uncross and fingers, grasping a grape, begin moving through the air to explain an answer. They begin to lean into the questions being posed. The meeting is no longer an interview orchestrated by a journalist but a conversation illustrating not only the change in our city but change in a person after discovering another.

BA: What type of artist are you?
WG: Um, I like to consider myself an abstract painter, but I dabble in all different types of mediums. I paint in acrylic and spray paint and house paint.

BA: Will you be setting up a studio soon? Are you going to do commission work? How are you going to operate to make money?
WG: That's what I already do. That's what I have been doing. I taught art for three years at a place called Mustard Seed. Are you familiar with it?

BA: Yeah, who did you teach at the Mustard Seed?
WG: I taught the mentally challenged adults ceramics; I introduced them to painting on canvas and stuff like that.

BA: When did you start being interested in art?
WG: My grandmother's an artist here in town. She got me painting when I was probably like 5 or 6 just playing around, dabbling in it. I've always drawn. I guess for the past five years I've really taken my art seriously. I've done art shows around town. A lot of people tell me that my art is geared toward the younger generation.

BA: What is that, 17 to 35?
WG: Yeah, I guess so, but you know, I've done an art show at Brown's and had people in their 60s and 70s purchase my paintings. So, there is really no set age. This is a wall that Mike Peters, my landlord, lets me use this wall (for a mural). I try to change it out once a month, sell pieces and put new ones up.

BA: That looks like a piece of art that would be perfect in a downtown, third story, redone apartment. I could see it.
WG: That's kind of the style my New York stuff is. But, in the past year, I have shot models. I've recruited 70 to 100 girls, guys, friends of mine, people I come in contact with. I walk up to somebody and if I feel they will be a good subject matter for me, I will ask them (to model). I'm not some kind of weirdo walking in. I shoot models, and I work from the image. You know my paintings; I try to tell a story through them, through the people on the canvas.

BA: Tell me about the New York show, the Big Apple, that's so cool. Is it an art expo? Is it a starving artist deal?
WG: It is one of the top five galleries in Manhattan, in the whole New York scene. It is called Agora Gallery, and they have a location in Soho and one in Chelsea. I just walked around and handed out disks with my work, my more black and white, industrial paintings. They contacted me, and I signed a contract.

BA: In the arts in a free enterprise system, you can have tremendous passion, but if you aren't good enough,—a fine line—you can spend your entire life and not make it.
WG: It's a tricky market. Some months, I will do five, 10 commissions and sell some art at a show, and some months I won't sell a damn thing. It is kind of the whole starving artist thing. But, I am in the perfect location for it in Fondren because the art scene is booming here. I love it.
BA: What do your paintings range in price?
WG: My paintings in New York will be going for three and five grand a piece. But, there is no way I can make that kind of money around here.

BA: A lot of local artists have been here for a long time, and they are not selling for near that much. That is good.
WG: I'm lucky if I can get $500 for a piece like that here. And if it is a friend, I feel bad, you know, asking them for a chunk of change. That is the hardest part of being a painter or a visual artist of any kind—deciding how much to charge for it.

BA: You will get to point where your friends will pay the price for it because they respect what you do.
WG: Right. And it is getting to that point.

BA: You gotta be proud of yourself. You are going to New York City to a big gallery where you are selling your paintings for $3,000 and $5,000.
WG: It is my one shot. I've had some things that have fallen through in the past, like I was supposed to paint a mural for Britney Spears three years ago in her family's condo down in Florida, and that fell through. I've had some opportunities that really could have put me on the map. I just do what I do, and I just want people to appreciate what I'm doing with my life.

BA: Well, just trust me on this, having Britney Spears buy one of your paintings will not be your mark in life.
WG: I know. It's a real tricky situation to market yourself. Like these stickers for my company, Enhanced Mixture: I put them around town and give them to friends, and they put them around town. And a lot of people think, well, he's just into himself; he's just self-promoting. But, you have to do that if you are going to make it. I know so many freakin' talented people in this town and all over the place—if they would just go out and hand somebody one of their disks or a CD of their music. I mean you have gotta have that drive.

BA: What's next? Everybody in business, everybody in politics wants to know what's the game plan?
WG: Depending on if I make some money in the show, I want to travel. I want to go to Chicago, to Portland, Ore. The best thing about this whole thing is now that this show is on my resume at 24 years old, I can pretty much go in any (gallery).

BA: They will take an extra minute to look at your disk. It gives you some credibility.
WG: Credibility. Exactly. It is all about just building that up. And I have some DVDs, promotional stuff. I've got a team. We are going to have like an Enhanced Mixture tour.

BA: Well, I guess everyone's "American dream" is to work for themselves at something they love and make a living doing it. I suppose if this doesn't work out, an 8-to-5 job working for somebody else is out of the question?
WG: No, I might be stocking shelves at Kroger a year from now. And you know what? It would humble the hell out of me, and I would be probably love it. I would make it some kind of artsy thing; I would take my camera in there and take all kinds of shots from cans in a row.

Let's talk about you. Tell me about yourself. I don't know anything about you. I know I probably should.

BA: We should stop this now—so far the conversation has been good! You are doing something very interesting.
WG: You are, too.

BA: Well, hell, you know, people don't vote for you. They buy your stuff. They don't like what I do, and say, "hey, here's some money." It's different.

WG: Are you from Jackson?
BA: No, I grew up in Vicksburg. I went to Mississippi State University. Got out of school, went in the Army. Vietnam was going on. I got out of the Army and went to Shell Oil Company. I worked there for a while. Ironically, they wanted to transfer me to New York City. I didn't want to go there. So, I got a job here, which I have been doing for the past 30 years. I got involved in politics in the mid-'70s. I was an active member early on in the Republican Party; I got to drive in Ronald Reagan's fund raiser in 1976 before he became president.

WG: Oh, wow.
BA: That is how I got introduced to the Republican Party—by Haley Barbour, who was state chairman of the Republican Party. I got involved in the business I am doing now (yearbook sales) and, in 1988, I got into the position where I could buy the company. At that time we had like 13 guys. We had three offices all over the state and up in Memphis. Then, in 1994, my children were 13 and 10, and the business I was in, I was gone all the time, I had to travel all the time. So, I decided then to sell out a lot of my business to the guys who worked for me. I was gone birthdays. Hell, I missed my first five anniversaries. After a couple years, a friend of mine, a supervisor, asked me if I'd run for City Council. I didn't want to do it, but they talked me into it, and I'm glad they did.

WG: How do you feel about what's going on in Jackson right now? How do you feel about crime? I know there is no way to stop it. But, do you think Jackson is starting to clean up?
BA: Well, look at the cold facts. The first year I was in office, there were 10 cars a day stolen in the city of Jackson. We are having six cars a day stolen in the city of Jackson now. The first year I was in office, we had around 50 murders, and this year we had around 50 murders. Property crimes are better, but they are not good. Look on any survey, and it will tell you Jackson has high crime. People are breaking into places and stealing things.

WG: For crack.
BA: Well, for money mainly. But, the fact of the matter is, I don't remember the last time I read about an individual being apprehended without a long line of prior convictions and arrests. When I got elected, we had 336 sworn-in police officers; we've got 507 today. It's like a big ocean liner—it wants to take a right turn, but it can't make a sudden turn. One of the biggest mistakes that we've made, and I fussed at the chief about this and the mayor, too: Crime is a reality; it is also a perception of leadership if you're asking me. When you do something good, you really have to bang the drum to let folks know. Do you understand what I'm saying, William?

WG: Oh, yeah. Exactly.
BA: I don't want to sit here and bash The Clarion-Ledger, but they are a statewide newspaper, and they don't have the space to really get to the bottom, or really do an in-depth study on things.

WG: I agree. I agree.
BA: William, we've got three pockets of town where almost every murder is committed. The downtown Jackson business district hasn't had a murder committed in six years. But, most anybody you talk to says, "Oh, downtown Jackson, go down there, and you'll get shot."

WG: How do you feel about people such as my landlord, Mike Peters, buying the Plaza building and doing urban living downtown? Do you think that people starting to live downtown, walking around at all hours of the night, is going to help lower the crime?
BA: You know, the most frustrating thing about politics is how short people's memories are. When I went on the council, downtown was in trouble. We had strip joints that were operating in Ward 1 and in Fondren, thumbing their nose at the law. We had empty office space all over downtown. Here are the following "pipe dreams" when I got on the council seven years ago: Jackson State Parkway, High Street interests, brand-new library in Northeast Jackson, updating the King Edward's Hotel, Convention Center, Telecommunications Center, the Electric Building turned into apartments, the Plaza Building being turned into apartments. All of these things have happened, and it's wonderful.

WG: It is. It is really wonderful.
BA: But we, in Jackson, have a big chip on our shoulder. We've allowed it to become politically correct to criticize the city.

WG: Exactly.
BA: No one recognizes the improvements. If people talked about their country the way they talk about Jackson, they would be called a traitor.

WG: Well, I think that is really cool to see people like you and realize that there are more good things happening. For instance, if what is happening in Fondren right now—I talk to my landlord, Mike, about this all time—if it can keep spreading down State Street ... there are so many cool buildings that way. I mean, I might end up moving into the Plaza Building— I love downtown Jackson.
BA: Yes, that would be great. I'm 54, but y'all remember the late '60s when the government came in with a big heart, urban renewal, and built high-rise, nice government projects, that were really nice apartments. Suddenly the government had created slums all over the country. So people fled in the '60s. But, the real warriors, the people who were real artsy said, "I'm not leaving."

WG: I see things like that, and I just think it's awesome. Like the Convention Center. Tell me about that. What is happening there?
BA: OK, when you walk out of the Mayflower, and you look to the left, look at all those great old buildings just waiting. Ten years from now, people are going to be there. Naysayers, be damned.

WG: People are going to be opening up jobs (downtown) again.
BA: That is when you know you've won.

WG: Do City Council members get along?
BA: People ask me, "why can't you people on the city council get along?" My question is this: William, do you go to family reunions?
WG: Yes.

BA: Say that seven people were picked at random from your family to live with each other three days a week and decide on a myriad of things. I'm a white conservative, well, a moderate conservative Republican, OK. We have Kenny Stokes, Margaret Barrett, a college professor, a school teacher, an insurance adjuster. We've got people from all walks of life, who live all over the town, and they have to come to live together and make the same plans. I live with it, but the City Council just gets a really bad rap sometimes.
WG: It does. I hear more bad things about it than good things about them. But, now, after talking to you, I see what it's like.

BA: The truth is, I like it.
WG: Oh, I know it. I can tell that you love it.

BA: I look back, and I would do it over again 10 times. But, it is time for me to pass the torch. But, it has no bearing at all on my love for being instrumental in what is going to happen to this town. I wish I was you guys' age, I really do. It is really getting good.

WG: A lot of people from your generation are recognizing the changes being made.
BA: The ones that will recognize it, William. The ones who will meet some of the people and see what's going on. This is not to criticize anyone, but the truth about the matter is: people are mad. They see a judicial system that keeps letting people back on the street.

WG: They blame the City Council. They blame the mayor, you know.
BA: But, we've got some deep-rooted judicial problems. But, I'm sure proud for you, man.

WG: Well, thank you. I'm proud of you, too. It's good to know a city councilman now.
BA: Y'all just need to keep the faith and keep people involved. The old leaders are going. The young folks need to step up and be strong leaders.

Interview facilitated by Jessica Kinnison.