By David Flomberg

Content is value.

Sadly, it’s evident that the people responsible for distributing content have long forgotten that fact. From the streaming model — e.g. Spotify, Apple Music, etc. — that cratered the financial value of recording artists’ music to the SAG/AFTRA strike now stretching into its second month, it’s apparent that the list of entities who want a piece of the value of art created by other people has grown exponentially greater than what the movie houses and record labels of yesteryear chiseled out.

And while SAG/AFTRA has some measure of leverage in this battle, for musicians it’s a David and Goliath story where Goliath wins, whether it’s in the local scene or when it’s on a national stage. In this case, it’s the “Pay-to-Play” model, where musicians literally pay a promoter or the venue to perform on the stage. And while it’s not a new concept by any measure, it is creeping into new areas of Colorado’s music and arts scene.

On The Big Stages

When The Weeknd performed for the Super Bowl halftime performance in 2021, he didn’t make a dime. 

In fact, he spent more than $7 million on the production, according to Billboard magazine (“Super Bowl Halftime Shows Cost Millions. Who’s Paying?” Billboard.com, Feb. 5, 2021) — the most expensive “pay-to-play” event a musician will ever encounter.

While the NFL covers most of the production costs of the annual event, the value to the artist is access to the largest captive audience in the world — Super Bowl LVII was viewed by 115.1 million people. After their Super Bowl performances in previous years, “Shakira‘s Spotify tracks increased by 230% compared to the previous week, and Jennifer Lopez’s music went up by 335%,” Billboard reported. Rihanna’s digital album sales skyrocketed 301% after her halftime performance in this year’s Super Bowl, according to Forbes.

In Los Angeles, iconic venue Whiskey a Go Go has long been a “pay-to-play” venue. Audiences often include record label executives and talent scouts. For bands looking to get signed, the cost to play there is viewed as a necessary marketing spend. Given the history of musical acts that launched careers there — ranging from Otis Redding to Guns N’ Roses — it’s a reasonable investment. 

But in Colorado, that practice has never taken hold — certainly not at the myriad small-to-midsized venues dotting the Front Range. Occasionally, major touring acts allow local acts to “sign on” to their tour as an opener at a large venue for a fee — but again, that’s for access to a major act’s sizable audience and it can be worth the cost for that kind of quantifiable exposure. However, that’s the exception. Not the rule. 

According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, the average hourly pay for a professional musician is $36.01. That’s for the performance — not rehearsal/practice time, composition, arranging, or any of the other effort that goes into the job. It’s important to note: this information is based on trackable data. The vast majority of musicians’ income is still untrackable. When John Smith plays a gig at Frank’s Tavern and gets paid with a check written to “John Smith” — there’s nothing telling the BLS that payment was for a music performance — even if it’s still reported as “income” to the IRS. Since the BLS data comes from musicians successful enough to have a recognizable, steady income as such, it’s reasonable to assume the actual average pay for a musician is far lower. In Colorado, anecdotally at least, it appears most professional musicians average between $50-$100 per gig.

Trumpter Steve Illich and David Flomberg playing with Reptiles and Samurai at the Oriental Theater. Credit: Deb Flomberg-Rollins

Pay to Play on the Local Stages

Bridging The Music Promotions LLC, founded locally by Jonah Lipsky, now headquartered in New York, doesn’t operate according to the Centennial State’s established norms. The consensus among both proponents and detractors of BTM call it the same thing: “Pay-to-play.”

BTM books an artist for a specific event where BTM has secured a venue. That artist is responsible for selling an agreed-upon number of tickets for that event. BTM gets 100% of that revenue. For the next cohort of tickets sold above that number, the artist keeps 100%. For every ticket after that, there’s a split between the artist and BTM. If the artist doesn’t meet the number of ticket sales agreed upon in the first cohort, they are still responsible to cover the difference to BTM.

On June 21, BTM emailed me unsolicited (I founded and manage an Oingo Boingo tribute band called Reptiles and Samurai) to see about performing their “miniFEST”:

“Hi Reptiles and Samurai… I just wanted to see if you’re possibly available to perform on September 23rd at Denver miniFEST at Herman’s Hideaway? I have a really good lineup for this show already, but I am looking to fill a few more slots. If you are available please let me know and we can discuss. Also please note, we offer all performers a free HD video of the event, you will play in front of a new audience and we also pay very fairly based on your attendance. In general it’s such a good event for networking, expanding and growing your fanbase. Feel free to email me here or we can jump on a call.”

The timing was serendipitous. I had literally just spoken with local musician and Colorado Musicians Union co-founder Sarah Mount (profiled in YS: “Spotlight on Sarah Mount,” June 12, 2021) a week before about BTM’s business model because of a Facebook post she published decrying this model. Her post on the topic — where multiple local musicians weighed in referring to BTM as a “scam” —  was responded to with a cease-and-desist letter from BTM’s attorney, Mateo Perez, esq. We’ll revisit that in a moment.

Sarah Mount

I scheduled a call via that email and ended up on the phone with Lipsky.

(Disclosure: On that first call, I did not reveal that I was a journalist — I wanted to hear his full pitch from the perspective of an actual client.)

“We use a ‘business partnership’ kind of situation,” Lipsky said. “Everyone we book must sell at least 35 tickets and the next set of tickets is profit. So if you sell 70 tickets at the base price of $22, you make $770 at that point so there is a lot of money on the back end of things where you can do really well on ticket sales. We also live stream the event… We pay you $5 to $7 on each live stream order, separate from the ticket requirement, so you start making money for those right away. We give you a clear HD video of the entire event. We give you a free group video on stage on our Instagram page, and if you want an edit, it’s only $100. Based on that do you have any questions?”

“How do you handle your marketing on your end?” I asked. 

“We have digital posters with all the artists on them, online calendars, we also make collages with all the people involved. Most importantly we keep everyone motivated, organizing as leaders so as to get a really good night, and with everyone selling tickets it makes it beneficial — when you don’t have that you are playing to a small audience.” Additionally, Lipsky said he sets aside some money for paid social media promotion. “Typically a couple of hundred dollars.” Lipsky said he had 12 acts lined up, each with a 30-minute slot to perform. But whether or not it actually happens at Herman’s Hideaway may be in question. 

“That date in specific is a little up in the air right now,” said Joe Hoffman, talent buyer at Herman’s Hideaway, where BTM is producing the show Lipsky wanted to book my band to play. I spoke with Hoffman over the phone after I chatted with Lipsky. “That (event) was apparently booked before we took over.”

Herman’s Hideaway changed ownership in March, 2023, and the deal with BTM pre-dates Hoffman’s employment with the venue. “Bridging The Music — the way they approach things doesn’t necessarily align with the way we want to approach things. I haven’t seen a contract yet. I don’t really wanna discuss this too much, honestly, but there’s an existing contract that is probably gonna have to be honored.” 

Herman’s model has been consistent for decades: Bands got paid based on attendance for their shows. It’s not pay-to-play, but acts often would be lucky to make enough to cover the cost of gas getting to the venue. Under new ownership, Herman’s is changing that model by providing a guarantee to bands, which has been lauded by performers who’ve played there since.

“The place is looking great,” said Troy Thill, a saxophonist who performed there recently with Denver-based reggae band Iron Roots. “We played on a week night and still got paid a guarantee, the sound system’s way better, they cleaned up the green room — it was a better experience all around than it was in the past.”

So, why would someone pay to perform on Herman’s Hideaway’s stage? According to Hoffman, Herman’s capacity is 500. Based on the contract I received, if 12 acts are on the bill for this BTM event, and each act actually sells 35 tickets, that adds up to 420 sales just for all of the bands to break even. This leaves a total of 80 potential “profit-making” tickets to be sold. At $22 per ticket, that’s a pot of $1,760 to be split among 12 bands, or $146 total, per band. 

The most important takeaway from the contract Lipsky offered: The band would be on the hook for $770 to perform at this event. Additionally, “streaming tickets,” as well as any tickets sold at the door, do not qualify against the 35 tickets the band is contractually responsible for. And about that contract: Lipsky made me pay a $20 “registration fee” through his online system just to get a copy of the contract. As a professional musician with 30 years of experience, I’ve never been charged a fee just to get a contract.

All of this is to say: This is the very definition of a pay-to-play model.

ABOVE: This is the contract provided by Jonah Lipsky to Reptiles and Samurai.

I paid the $20 and got the contract, which I later shared with attorney Max Hass, a partner at Holon Law Partners who specializes in entertainment law, among other areas. 

“This is music vulturism at its worst,” Hass said.

“If a client handed me this contract,” he continued, “I’d tell them either don’t sign it, or we’d have to basically re-write the whole thing…There isn’t a single obligation on the side of the promoter other than this line, ‘promoter will provide the Artist a performance slot at the event.’ There’s a basic concept in contract law that there is an equitable exchange of obligations on a contract. Everything here is about the artists’ obligations, nothing here about what the promoter is obligated for. Nothing even about promotions or marketing. It’s dangerously close to being unenforceable in Colorado.”

Not all that surprising, considering Lipsky’s attorney’s legal tactics (assuming he drafted the contract), starting with the questionable cease-and-desist notice he sent to Sarah Mount:

As I tried to contact Perez for comment on this article, I discovered an attorney named Mateo Perez received an official admonishment by the New Jersey State Supreme Court in 2013 for practicing law in the State of New York without a license for a case he tried there in 2011.

(Full pdf available for download HERE.)

A search of Colorado Supreme Court’s Office of Attorney Regulation Counsel returned no results, suggesting Perez does not appear to be licensed to practice in the State of Colorado.

A search of the New York Unified Court System revealed no records as well, suggesting that Perez is not currently licensed to practice law there either.

Even more curious is the language in the cease-and-desist letter Mount received. Perez wrote: “If you do not comply with this cease-and-desist then a lawsuit may be filed in the proper jurisdiction seeking monetary damages and legal fees, as well as pursuing all available legal and criminal remedies for your harassment.” 

According to attorney Michael Gates, a partner at Foster Graham Milstein & Calisher, LLP law firm in Denver, that tactic is not allowed: “Threatening criminal prosecution or administrative action to gain an advantage in a civil lawsuit negotiation is a violation of Rule 4.5 of ABA model rules adopted in most states, including Colorado,” he said.

Multiple attempts to contact Perez via email and phone have gone unanswered.

Later, I found that Lipsky had also dissolved the LLC in Colorado back in 2019. No LLC operating under that name is registered with the State of New York where Lipsky now resides, or the State of New Jersey where his attorney is located, (according to his letterhead). Between the contract, the dissolution of Lipsky’s LLC in Colorado, and the legal tactics employed by his attorney (and the fact I couldn’t reach him at all), it was time for another chat with Lipsky. 

The View From Backstage

First up: the contract itself and concerns Hass raised such as the lack of obligations like promotions or marketing on BTM’s part. 

“That has nothing to do with the contract at all,” Lipsky said. “This is a ticket agreement… We do supply a lot of other things, but that has nothing to do with the deal.”

“Your cancellation clause mentions plenty of obligations around the artist’s side for cancellation, but zero obligations on your side for cancellation,” I said.

“It says if anything got canceled, we’d move to a different date and time,” Lipsky said. “It also says all dates and venues are subject to change.”

“Yes. It does,” I replied. “But it also doesn’t specify any framework of time whatsoever to get rebooked. That could be what, three months, 10 years? How many bands implode after a year or two?” 

I inquired about his dissolution of the LLC in Colorado in 2021. Lipsky didn’t like the line of questioning. “Why does that have anything to do with our contract?” he asked. I replied that it called into question the credibility of the business he was asking me to enter into a “partnership” with, as per our first call. Lipsky said BTM is registered as an LLC, but would not share which state it was registered in.

I revealed my identity as a reporter at this point, along with the information I uncovered about his attorney. I asked if his attorney drafted the contract. Lipsky refused to answer. I asked what other bands were on the bill, and he also refused to answer. That’s another sticking point — according to the contract he sent me, the band was on the hook to sell tickets and pay him money long before the event itself was scheduled. Trying to sell a $22 ticket to someone and telling them, “Well, my band is playing for 30 minutes and there are also 11 other bands on the bill, but I can’t tell you who those bands are,” seems like a pretty tough uphill battle. 

Lipsky did clarify that the deal he offered me was not the same deal for everyone. “Let’s say like you’re a solo act and you’re like, ‘Hey, I can only sell like, like 15, 20 tickets.’ …We’re not gonna contract somebody on a 35-ticket deal that can only sell like, you know, a handful of tickets. That’s not our style at all. We have a lot of artists that have, like 10-ticket deals, 15, 20.”

Throughout our call one thing became clear – Lipsky believes in what he does and finally acknowledged that the value BTM brings to the artists it books has less to do with money and more to do about “exposure” and “networking” despite the focus of the contract. And there are other artists who agree.

The View From The Stage

KeithM McClinton is an R&B/Pop artist in Chicago who also works as an extra on TV shows that have included Empire and Shameless. McClinton first performed at a BTM event in Chicago last October and has since played BTM events in Minneapolis and Atlanta (find out more about him at linktr.ee/4keithm).

“I knew it was pay-to-play,” McClinton said via a phone call. “To me, it was like I was booking the actual venue. You gotta pay the deposit, get a certain amount of tickets. And then you’ll get a back end of the ticket sales.” For McClinton, it wasn’t about the money.

“Even after the 25-ticket sales … There’s still not a profit, he said, laughing. “You’re not gonna get that back unless you are at least bringing in 100 people…It’s like gambling to me. But I met people; that was a success for me. I got friends in Minneapolis now because of what I did with Bridging the Music. The value is about expanding your reach, networking, and having the opportunity to grow your fan base,” McClinton said. 

Ian Svagdis, drummer for the band Mojocat based in Boston, echoed the sentiment. “It was about exposure and networking,” he said. “It was great to meet a lot of the other bands — people in the scene I hadn’t met yet. We had a great experience playing, but also just backstage meeting new people.” (Find out more about Mojocat at facebook.com/mojocatband).

Between McClinton and Svagdis’ experiences, a picture started to form that clarified things: The BTM model isn’t for professional, established musicians. It’s aimed at those just getting started. But even for novices, the Colorado Musicians Union is vehemently against the pay-to-play model.

“The Pay-to-play model…is a predatory model which ultimately serves the employers of said musicians by extracting value generated by the performers into their own pockets, while also ensuring that any losses or underselling of tickets would be at the loss of the musicians and not the employer,” said Frederick Pagnani, one of the founders of the Colorado Musicians Union. “Can we think of another job where this is the case? Are grocery baggers, clothing store cashiers, etc. expected to provide customers for the business or to pay the business when sales are short one day?”

Pay-to-play aside, even the “networking” aspect of the BTM model leaves much to be desired by Mount’s estimation. “It’s a situation where all these newcomers are getting together with each other, and what appears to be missing is leadership from the music scene,” Mount said. “There are open jams every night of the week all over the city, and they’re attended and hosted by players at every level — like the guys from Lettuce, for example. There’s so much more value for newcomers in a situation like that, as opposed to one where you’re paying to play on a stage with a bunch of other artists who are also just starting out and learning the scene.”

Ultimately, regardless of where the value lies for novice musicians, the million-dollar question remains: How does the pay-to-play business model impact the profession in general? 

Ask most professional musicians in Colorado, and they’ll tell you the answer: Poorly. 

Learn more about the Colorado Musicians Union at www.comusiciansunion.com.

The post Spotlight on Pay to Play appeared first on Yellow Scene Magazine.

Two things happened last month that, amidst the roiling, boiling sea of insanity that has become the political atmosphere around our federal government, may have been easily shrugged off by the Left and Right alike — the Left just adding to our teeth-gnashing and hand-wringing; the Right shrugging it off as yet another example of the Left looking for any reason to castigate our Commander-in-chief.

But whichever direction you lean, you should be more than concerned about it.

The first was a meeting the President took mere hours after the dismissal of FBI Chief James Comey. Even the hardline Right could look at the meeting Trump took with Russian Foreign Minister Sergey V. Lavrov and say, “Hey, Mr. President? Ya know, ya may wanna wait a couple weeks on this one,” just to claim plausible deniability on the argument of why Trump pulled the trigger on Comey.

(It turned out that didn’t really matter, as the administration openly admitted Comey’s termination was at least in part to shut down Comey’s ongoing investigation into whether or not the Trump Campaign colluded with the Russians to interfere with the Presidential election.

“We want this to come to its conclusion, we want it to come to its conclusion with integrity,” said Deputy Press Secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders. “And we think that we’ve actually, by removing Director Comey, taken steps to make that happen.”)

The meeting in and of itself was bad timing at best. But far worse was the release of photographs taken in that meeting — by Russian TASS photographers. The state-owned news outlet had its media representatives in that meeting. U.S. media was not allowed.

Let that sink in for a moment.

Our own press — something so intrinsically significant to the fabric of our nation that it was protected in the very first Amendment to the Constitution — was. Locked. Out. And we let the Russians in.

And that’s not all. On May 12, the President tweeted out intention to end daily press briefings altogether:  “As a very active President with lots of things happening, it is not possible for my surrogates to stand at podium with perfect accuracy!” he tweeted. “Maybe the best thing to do would be to cancel all future “press briefings” and hand out written responses for the sake of accuracy???” He echoed the statements in a later interview with Fox News.

This is maddening. Both situations are symptoms of the greater issue — no one can keep up with our President’s penchant for thoughtlessness and pathological dishonesty. The stories spin so quickly and with so little regard for truth that the people in his administration whose job it is to keep them straight — simply can’t.

And what’s worse is, tyranny withers under the glare of the spotlight. It’s only in the shadows where it takes hold, spreads, and destroys its host.

You. Me. The United States of America.

We are the host.

The post What Happens in the Shadows appeared first on Yellow Scene Magazine.

Yellow Scene sent mild mannered reporter Dave Flomberg to see what Denver Comic Con 2014 was all about. The 3-day event ran June 13-15, drawing around 75,000 people. That’s about a 20% lift from last year, and keeps it entrenched in the top five of the nation’s comic cons. The celebrity attendee list reflected its geek cred, drawing the likes of Bruce Campbell, William Shatner and Adam West this year, to name a few. Check out his photos, and pretend you were dorky enough to be there. (To see the full gallery, click here.)

The post Denver Comic Con 2014 appeared first on Yellow Scene Magazine.

I was 17 years old, and LoDo was nothing more than a collection of warehouses, derelicts and drunks, the seedy part of Denver avoided by tourists and locals alike.

There were only a couple of reasons to be in this area back then: score some illicit substances, head over to Muddy’s Café or check out who was playing at El Chapultepec. Sometimes, all three in an evening.

Back then, we couldn’t actually get into The ’Pec. Owner Jerry Krantz was a fireplug of a man, a stout, pugnacious owner-operator who made sure he wasn’t getting busted for minors drinking on his watch. But he left the side door open (for one, The ‘Pec doesn’t have the best ventilation), and we sat on the curb and listened to local lions like Tony Black, Ken Walker, Rich Chiaraluce and Bob Montgomery. And sometimes, national big shots like Wynton Marsalis, or Bill Clinton. (Indeed, take a look at the photos lining the room. If there is a better jazz Hall of Fame in Colorado, I don’t know about it. Everyone played there. Everyone).

The corner bar on Market and 20th hasn’t changed a whit since then. Its sun-bleached façade and poor ventilation is a stoic reminder of a district that long ago moved on to trendy lounges, hip dance clubs and overwrought sports bars. It lures in the “bridge-and-tunnel” 20-somethings from Aurora, Thornton and Highlands Ranch and devolves into a cloud of Axe Body Spray and mace by around 2:15 in the morning on Saturdays and Sundays. But orbiting around The ’Pec is a community of the greatest musicians in the region.

“I would go there all alone before and after headlining at The Soiled Dove just to remember why I played music,” says Jonathan Tiersten, longtime local musician, actor and barfly.

Jazz trumpeter Ron Miles agrees. “We owe a great deal to Jerry Krantz,” he says. “I remember hearing the many national acts passing through who would come down and sit in. This was our connection to the essence of this music. He believed in the Colorado scene and in turn we believed in it even more.”

I first played El Chapultepec’s stage a couple years ago, and it was one of those wow moments for me. Second only to Red Rocks, playing that venue was more than a notch on my horn. Playing on the same stage Frank Sinatra played? Ella Fitzgerald? Tony Bennett?

The local music scene has never been more thriving. Live music clubs dot the Front Range, as prolific as Irish pubs. And a lot of people have contributed to this proliferation, and should get their due.

But Jerry Krantz deserves more special accolades. The club he built—that his daughter Angela still runs—was a flag on the moon, so to speak. For so many years, The ’Pec has been a lone outpost of culture in an area bereft of it.

The positive light gleaming from this loss is that Angela shows no sign of slowing down. While Jerry Krantz may be gone from this plane, The ’Pec remains his living legacy.

Tiersten says it best.

“El Chapultepec was and is about honest creativity,” he said, “and that is why it continues to thrive.

The post In memory of Jerry Krantz appeared first on Yellow Scene Magazine.

“I miss my mommy.”

Maria is 12 years old. She’s a sweet, skinny brunette trapped in those awful years between childhood and high school, facing all those hormonal changes that make middle school the worst time in any child’s life. She speaks softly. She’s still very shy and the pre-teen rebellion hasn’t set in yet, her stepfather says. She’s a good kid and a help with his other children, Dominic, 5, and Darien, 3.

But Darren, Maria’s stepfather, is a little lost himself, working long hours as a cable technician to put food on the table and clothes on his children’s backs. He’s a deeply committed family man who grew up in South East Denver and graduated from George Washington High School. He comes from a typical middle-class Jewish-American family, all hard workers themselves, and a tight-knit bunch at that. When Darren Gordon told them he was marrying a Latino woman, an immigrant from Mexico, they didn’t bat an eye. They welcomed her into their family with wide-open arms, and he was welcomed into hers.

Alma is Darren’s wife. She’s the mother of all three children. She’s a beautiful woman, with chestnut hair and engaging, almond-shaped eyes. When she talks, she too speaks softly. But she also speaks directly. She’s unafraid to speak her mind. She has the quiet confidence of someone who has known hardship and grown from it.

But this latest hardship has been the toughest. Alma’s been living in Colorado since B.N.E. …Before-Nine-Eleven. She got on a bus in Mexico with her then husband and came here to visit. It was back when the borders weren’t rife with gun-toting loons looking to count coup on the people trying to eke out a better life for themselves (speaking to vigilante citizen militia groups, not the U.S. Customs and Border Agents). She split with the man soon after, and found herself alone, child in tow.

Alma found a job at a Country Buffet. She made up some of the information on the required forms (eventually, she did apply for and gain a legal tax ID number) so she could start working. That’s where she met and soon fell in love with Darren.

“She’s been my rock. She’s been everything to me,” Darren says. Diagnosed with bipolar disorder, many things have been an uphill battle for Darren. He’s been medicated on and off for the condition through the years.

“…But Alma’s stood by me through everything. Through the very darkest times. She makes everything so much better.” His eyes mist over as he breaks eye contact. “It’s just…so tough.”

“I was her manager, and she was my employee,” Darren says, recounting how they first met. “That was…gosh it must be 9 years ago now.” Alma already had Maria then. Maria’s biological father is going through the same thing Alma’s going through. “Maria doesn’t have a biological parent in this country now,” Darren says. When Darren and Alma met, both were coming out of bad marriages themselves. They were wed Jan. 26, 2008.

Alma’s Gone
In April of 2008, Darren and Alma decided that it was time for her to become a legal citizen. It’s something she’s wanted to do for years, and they figured that it would be a small hurdle to manage since they were happily married, Darren was a natural born citizen and already had two children with each other. “We didn’t get married to try and fool the system,” Darren says. “I’m in love with her. She’s in love with me. Hell, since 9/11 (just getting married) doesn’t work anymore anyway. We just want her to be able to be a part of this culture. For her to be able to find a better job if she wants. To be able to visit her family in Mexico and be able to come back.”

So they began The Process.

“I’ve regretted this decision ever since,” Darren says.

The Process is capitalized for a reason. The act of trying to explain The Process literally takes Darren an hour. If you take this process out of context and hand it to Jon Stewart, it becomes one of those entire Daily Show segments with Rob Corddry or Samantha Bee as the “Senior Immigration Process Navigation and Frustration Correspondent.” Such is the absurdity of the amount of money spent and the collection of hoops the Gordon family has been forced to jump through.

“You start with a lot of forms. We went to one of these places where they do tax preparation and immigration form assistance.” The first visit cost $300.

“The next thing that happened was we got a response from the National Visa Center several weeks later asking for a whole bunch more documentation. Birth Certificates, proof of residency, income, tax returns, all that stuff,” Darren says. At that point, Darren admits, they figured they might need some help.

“The number of forms is overwhelming, and if you make a mistake on any of it or miss a deadline, you basically have to start over from scratch.” They decided to secure legal representation. Darren and Alma called Miguel Martinez, a lawyer in Denver, for assistance. “We knew it was going to cost us more money, but we figured better safe than sorry.”

And it did cost more money. All told, the Gordons have spent several thousand dollars between legal fees, travel costs and form filing fees throughout this process. And the expenses continue to stack up. “And, from what we’ve heard, it’s not even that much compared to what some other people have spent.” Meanwhile, with several thousand out the window, the door remains shut to Alma. (Requests for an interview with Martinez were not granted).

“As a citizen, I’m ‘sponsoring’ Alma for her to be able come here,” Darren says. “Basically, we have to show that Alma wouldn’t be a burden on the state; that we could afford for her to live here. But I didn’t have enough, so my parents had to co-sponsor.”

The irony of that statement isn’t lost on Darren. He’s already barely staying afloat in this process because Alma used to bring home nearly half of their income. Now, she’s trapped without a job in Guadalajara, Mexico, while Darren’s trying to juggle all the bills on one income. Because of their loss of income, incurred because of this process, they almost couldn’t even qualify to complete this process.

After months of waiting and sending forms back and forth, including Darren’s parents’ financial history, the Gordons got to wait another six months for an appointment at the U.S. Consulate in Ciudad Juarez.

“She had to go back to Mexico to have this interview; you can’t have it here,” Darren says. It’s an outdated tradition forcing people to go back to a “port of entry” before they re-enter this country legally. Once you’re out, you can’t get back in without a visa.

“That’s not what I would have advised,” says Shannon Underwood, attorney with Seattle’s Global Justice Law Firm. The CU graduate is a highly respected immigration specialist and an immigration reform champion. “Here’s the thing: If you’ve been in the country for over a year without (legal documentation) and leave, it immediately starts a 10-year ban on your return. Now, you can qualify for a waiver, but you have to prove extreme hardship on your sponsor family—for instance, you’re the primary caregiver and your sponsor has cancer, or something like that. If she had stayed here and worked through the process locally, she would have had some other legal protections, like the appellate court system.”

Unfortunately, that wasn’t what Darren said he was advised to do. Instead, they packed up and headed south.

“We left on Jan. 31, 2010, on a bus down to Juarez.” First up, a medical examination, a cattle call to make sure Alma wasn’t carrying any communicable diseases and was up-to-date on all her immunizations. It’s only good for one year; if you don’t get your visa approved, you have to go back and get another medical exam. Then it was on to an interview at the U.S. Consulate.

“Alma went into the interview at 6 in the morning, came out around 10 am and then was told she had to come back for another interview. She said that they asked her how she got into (the United States) and she told them and then they said ‘you’re going to have to come back for a general pardon review.’”

Since Alma entered the country “illegally,” she was going to have to come back for what amounts to basically a hearing as well as pay a fine. She came into the country on a bus back before the borders became a militarized zone. No digging holes or climbing over fences. She got onto a bus and rode it here. Between that and her legitimate tax ID number, full-time employment and commitment to her family, Alma might be the most legal “illegal” in the country at
the time.

The kicker: The next interview was then scheduled for March 16…fully six weeks later.

Trapped in Mexico
“So Alma went to Guadalajara, where she has family, and I came back here,” Darren says. And then they waited. For six weeks. “We were hoping that at the end of that time, we’d be able to go to the pardon review, pay a fine, get a visa and bring her home.” While they waited, Alma spent some time with family and Darren worked, took care of the children with the help of Alma’s parents—both here on a legit visa.

“On March 15, I took Darien on a bus to Mexico. We had a stopover in Albuquerque, and I saw on the TV that there was a shooting in Juarez,” Darren says.

Ciudad Juarez is not going to top any “safest vacation destination” lists any time soon. Drug cartel beheadings and sexually charged crimes—kidnapping, rapes and murders—make the capital city of Chihuahua less than hospitable on its best days. On March 14, 2010, an American employee of the U.S. Consulate, her husband and a Mexican employee of the U.S. Consulate were murdered in a drive-by shooting, blamed shortly thereafter on a local drug cartel.

“So we get down there on March 16 and find out the Consulate is closed because of the shooting.” They rescheduled the pardon review for March 27. Another 11 days of waiting, and more expenses, as Darren had to return home while Alma flew back to Guadalajara.
“Alma has a friend who lives (in Juarez), but it’s a really small home, and, to be honest, it’s really not safe. There are military and police everywhere with machine guns and shooting all over the place. I wouldn’t want her to stay there all that time waiting,” Darren says.

On March 25, Darren, his son Dominic, and his father Dan drove back, meeting Alma in Juarez again on the eve of her next meeting at the Consulate. “Her appointment was at 7 the next morning. She gives them everything she’s supposed to give them—the forms, the fine ($540), the letter I wrote.” The Gordon’s lawyer suggested that Darren write a letter explaining why her being away was a hardship on them. Admittedly, having the mother of three children torn away from them is kind of a no-brainer on the “hardship” front, but every ‘I’ needed to be dotted, every ‘T’ crossed. No stone unturned. “We even contacted our state rep seeking advice.” Rep. Jared Polis’ office offered no comment other than to say they have no record of a conversation with Darren. Further interview requests were not granted.

“She comes out of the appointment 20 minutes later and they tell her she’s going to have to wait for a ‘packet’ with a bunch of information for her, and that’s going to take another 5-7 days. It’ll either provide the visa and her passport, or ask for a bunch more information,” Darren said.

After all the hoops, it was just short of a devastating blow. Another week of waiting. Two months away from home and her family. Savings bleeding dry.

A week later, Alma received her packet informing her that her family was going to need to prove a greater hardship. They were provided a deadline exactly 84 days out to return this information. Apparently, the letter Darren had been instructed to write wasn’t good enough. So, they contacted a different lawyer who guided Darren through the process of documenting his medical history, providing much more detail on his bi-polar disorder.

“Apparently, a lot of people have been successful simply claiming they have some sort of debilitating condition, and (the immigrant they’re sponsoring) is their primary caregiver,” Darren says. His frustration is evident. “But I can’t do that. I’m not gonna lie. That’s one thing we agreed upon is that we’ll be honest throughout this process. And besides, why would we have to do that? Why would we have to play that game?”

Nonetheless, this issue did force Darren to discuss his particular affliction in greater depth than he would have liked to whom ever the packet traveled. Which, as it turns out, was quite a few miles.

“The lawyer sent the packet to Alma; she signed some papers, and then was to send the completed packet to a P.O. Box in El Paso—that’s where the American Consulate mail is to be delivered.” Alma signs the papers, delivers the packet to UPS in Guadalajara. After a snafu with delivery, it finally finds its way to the Consulate.

The waiting continues. There’s a phone number Darren calls every day for a status update. Every day, the same thing: no information yet. As of press time, Alma is still in Mexico, seven months since she crossed the border. Alma and Darren’s children, meanwhile are doing the best they can.

“They ask a lot, ‘When’s mommy coming home?’ I keep telling them ‘soon.’ But even I’m beginning to wonder.”

On the website for the U.S. Bureau of Consular Affairs, there is a “Customer Service Statement to Visa Applicants.” It includes a promise to all visa applicants to: treat you with dignity and respect, even if we are unable to grant you a visa; treat you as an individual and your case as unique; remember that, to you, a visa interview may be a new or intimidating experience and that you may be nervous; use the limited time available for the interview to get as full a picture as possible of your travel plans and intentions; use our available resources to fairly assist all applicants to get appointments to allow travel in time for business, study, and other important obligations; explain the reason for any visa denial to you.

The Gordons say they haven’t felt like they’ve been treated as individuals, or that their case is unique. In fact, their case doesn’t appear to have been treated as it should have been, according to current family visa rules. Perhaps most frustrating is that this process is dragging out so long despite the rules currently in place concerning family visas.

According to the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services Customer guide, “There is no waiting period for immediate relatives of U.S. citizens, which include a U.S. citizen’s spouse, parent, or unmarried child under 21 years of age.”

Apparently, “No waiting period” is government speak for half a year. And counting.

The post American Limbo appeared first on Yellow Scene Magazine.

We had a death in the family this winter. She was a beautiful, gracefully aged gem, the matriarch of our entire populace. She had guided us through tragedy, triumph and turbulence with a steely resolve, steady hand and strong leadership.

The Rocky Mountain News died on Feb. 27, 2009. She was 149 years old.

By now, you know the history. The Rocky wasn’t just Colorado’s oldest paper—it was Colorado’s oldest operating business. But she didn’t die of natural causes; she could have lived another eon. Several, in fact.

Scripps Howard is a corporation. Corporations aren’t evil any more than sharks are. They are, by definition, designed to do one thing: make money for shareholders. For decades, big profit margins were the norm, and like the grasshopper of fable, no one was preparing for the long winter.

The Joint Operating Agreement E.W. Scripps and MediaNews Group entered into was the beginning of it all. It was playing “not to lose.” Instead of forking over $60 million to the Denver Post in the partnership deal, Scripps should have invested in the Rocky’s infrastructure. Without true competition to force both models into finding and developing true niches to fill, they became the same restaurant with two different cooks. When one cook failed, the other cook’s salary got cut.

Ad prices became fixed. Ad buyers were incensed and began to look elsewhere for their marketing needs. Craigslist.org came along and stole the biggest revenue-generating source either paper had: classifieds. From that point on, the only people paying for classified ads were those looking to appeal to a shrinking demographic too old to understand how to use a computer.

Shareholders freaked. The economy was tanking and Scripps had an albatross around its neck. It did what any responsible corporation would do; it panicked. If the officers hadn’t closed her down (the tax write-off on the loss would be far greater than any legitimate sale offer they received…and they did receive some), they would have been run out on a rail, tarred and feathered, and traded to Detroit for a seventh-round pick to be named later.

By the end of 2008, it was far too late. If the Rocky had been allowed to toss national coverage out the door and focus on nothing but local, local, local, she’d be here today. If the Rocky had been allowed to grow her Internet operations and shrink her print costs, she’d be here today.

For the last seven years, I have filed my column every single week. The editorial departments ran leaner and leaner and still managed to put out a tremendous package. I got one raise in seven years, and I held on because I was writing for the greatest paper in the state and one of the best in this country.

This magazine you hold in your hand is doing it right. It’s privately held, for one thing. It’s increasing its Internet operations. It’s focused on covering what truly matters to its readership: the events, news and people in its community. The Rocky tried valiantly to do all the above, but in the end, corporations are blind, and people are short-sighted.

Now, who killed the Rocky Mountain News really doesn’t matter anymore. The simple fact is she’s gone.

I lost something tremendous on Feb. 27. But the loss isn’t my own. The loss is a blow to all of us, to our predecessors who built this state, to the pioneers and the gold miners and the oil companies and the tech sector. It’s a blow to everyone who ever lived here and was a part of the range of beautiful communities across this Rocky Mountain paradise we call Colorado.

We lost the one thing that told all of our stories. That connected all of them to all of us and would have connected all of us to those who were to come later.

We lost the News.

Goodby Rocky Mountain News

Like journalism like this? Support the local press that’s been telling the truth for 25 years. Become a sustaining member and get our monthly print edition at home. We’ve weathered 9/11, floods, fires, economic crashes—and some deeply chaot

Like journalism like this? Support the local press that’s been telling the truth for 25 years. Become a sustaining member and get our monthly print edition at home. We’ve weathered 9/11, floods, fires, economic crashes—and some deeply chaotic years. With your support, we’ll keep going. Because democracy still depends on journalism.

Democracy needs journalism more than ever. We’ve been telling the truth for 24 years. Your support helps us keep telling it for at least the next four years.

The post Who Killed the Rocky? appeared first on Yellow Scene Magazine.