The MC5: How the City of Detroit Spawned a Rock & Roll Revolution

 
 

The story of Detroit’s White Panther movement, the MC5, the F.B.I., and how John Lennon helped free leader John Sinclair is as pertinent now as it was in the 1960s.

 
 

As difficult as it is to believe from walking the mean, deserted streets of Detroit in 2017, the Motor City has an affluent, revolutionary and influential history in the worlds of politics, business, the underworld, social activism and, of course, music. And it is there, with the wild worlds of activism and music, that we begin our story.

Founded in 1966 by black nationalists Huey Newton and Bobby Seale, the Black Panther Party for Self Defense quickly sunk its claws into Detroit’s counterculture by gaining the sympathy of a vast number of that city’s black population. As membership numbers across the U.S.A. spread, so too did Black Panther notoriety, mantra and militance. So much so, that by 1968, Huey Newton and Bobby Seale both had heavy-hitting institutions like J. Edgar Hoover’s F.B.I. on their tales. By 1969, a paranoid Nixon government had thousands of homes and establishments wiretapped and under 24-hour surveillance, with the sole intention of bringing down a culturally intrusive Black Panther Party.

Enter one John Sinclair.

After hearing a radio interview with party founder Huey Newton, whose call to action invited disillusioned white people to join forces with the Panthers, John Sinclair, a charismatic poet and activist from Flint, Michigan, rallied a number of associates to form what would eventually become the White Panther Party. Among Sinclair’s associates was a rag-tag group of young musicians from one of the poorest areas of Detroit who were utilising any means necessary to escape their bleak existences.

These musicians were Rob Tyner, Fred Smith, Wayne Kramer, Michael Davis and Dennis Thompson. They proved to be the blueprint of downtrodden white folk that Huey Newton had been searching for—unemployed, broke, wasting away on drugs and booze, and young and passionate. It didn’t take much for Sinclair to convince the boys to join him in his assault on the establishment. And, once they did, they ruled the Detroit underground. The MC5 (formerly Motor City 5) became their collective name, and little did they know at the time, they would become one of the most influential rock groups ever to be formed.

 
 

The White Panther ideology was simple: anti-racism, anti-capitalism, and through socialism they would “fight for a clean planet and the freedom of political prisoners” such as prominent Black Panther, George Jackson. Through the early days, due to its double-edged moniker, the party was often mistaken for a white supremacist movement, similar to that of the Ku Klux Klan or the Aryan Brotherhood. It wouldn’t take long for the naysayers to be corrected.

John Sinclair, a born leader of the cultish variety, took on the role as MC5’s manager, regarding the group a perfect soapbox to spread the word of both the White and Black Panther parties. Front-man Rob Tyner, with his wild afro and distinct voice, became both the face and mouthpiece of the movement, preaching passionate stage incantations in between lyrically radical and sonically blasted songs.

The White Panther party is a total assault on culture by any means necessary, including rock ‘n’ roll, dope, and fucking in the streets. Rob Tyner is the perfect frontman for all three.
— John Sinclair

By the time the MC5 were ready to record their first album, they had gained such a following across America that it was decided in order to capture the tension of the times, the debut release would be recorded live.

The group claimed notoriety too, with the F.B.I. launching an investigation into the White Panther’s movements, charging even the most minor of infractions in the hope of landing John Sinclair, fellow founder Pun Plamondon, or any one of the MC5 members in prison.

Jerry Duprey was a teenager in Detroit in the late 1960s and was a regular attendant at MC5 shows.

“I remember at one show at the Hideout on North & 14, two suits were busting kids for smoking pot and then turning them loose only once they had given information on Sinclair. These assholes didn’t even bother going undercover. They wanted Sinclair to know full well that they were coming for him.”
— Jerry Duprey

The live recording of the MC5’s debut album, performed at Detroit’s infamous Grande Ballroom, captured the essence of a growing movement that shook the American establishment to its core. Now, the police, and a growing list of politicians were the ones being watched as they broke up poorer communities with force, as they planted dope on cultural leaders, and as they moved in night after night to close down any concert attached to the White or Black Panthers.

 
 

Kick Out the Jams became the voice of the times, and right from track one, Ramblin’ Rose, the listener can feel the sweat dripping from the Grande Ballroom. Rob Tyner, as directed by John Sinclair, played his role to the letter: part rock singer, part preacher. At the introduction of a new song, Tyner wouldn’t simply utter a few cliched words. Instead, he would rally his troops with raw and powerful manifestos that fired up a weary crowd as much as it angered the authorities stalking the venue at the time. This is how he introduced the song Motor City is Burning:

Brothers and sisters, I wanna tell you somethin’! I hear a lot of talk, by a lot of honkies, sittin’ on a lot of money, tellin’ me they’re high society! But I want you to know somethin’, if you ask me, this is the high society! This is the high society!

The F.B.I. fabricated a set of trumped up charges in order to wipe Sinclair from the streets and break the spine of the White Panthers. With John Sinclair being a vocal marijuana advocate, his captors simply added a list of far-fetched charges to go with his drug misdemeanours. This was enough to send Sinclair to prison for an extended period. Ultimately, he was sentenced to ten years after handing two joints to an undercover police officer—an offense that only yielded a twelve month sentence in Detroit at that time. “Ten years for two” became a popular war chant in the angry streets.

 
 

With prominent Black Panther leaders either dead or incarcerated, and with civil rights pioneers Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X recently assassinated, the White Panther party, with their own leader now imprisoned, became a rudderless ship. Just as the party itself was on the cusp of something huge, they disbanded. With the influx of other rock groups like Iggy & the Stooges and Alice Cooper, the MC5, without backing, were swallowed whole and rendered unable to obtain a venue booking.

The band did go on to release two more albums; 1970’s Back in the U.S.A. and the following year’s High Time, but neither were a match for the incendiary nature of the debut. By 1972, the five original members went their separate ways as the excesses and decadence of the glam rock movement took over. The group’s split served as another blow for the White Panther movement who had failed to regain traction after the arrest of their leader.

Meanwhile, the arrest and sentence of John Sinclair was proving to become a major distraction for those remaining in the party. Immediately after his imprisonment, a series of violent protests broke out in the streets of Detroit and other major cities, demanding his immediate release. These protests garnered news headlines and prompted several celebrities to jump on the cause. All efforts failed dismally.

Until a rock ‘n roll megastar swooped in.

Sitting in his New York apartment, an angered John Lennon was at his wits end. Throughout his time in America, he and partner Yoko Ono had seen many injustices aimed at innocent civilians. Upon hearing of the plight of John Sinclair, Lennon and Ono made a beeline to the heart of the battle.

In December 1971, after an increase in violent protests, the John Sinclair Freedom Rally was held in nearby Ann Arbor with Lennon as the main drawcard. Other musicians, writers and artists gathered and performed on behalf of Sinclair, including Stevie Wonder, Phil Ochs, Bob Seger, Allen Ginsberg and the Fugs’ Ed Sanders. Of the keynote countercultural speakers, one was Black Panther co-founder Bobby Seale.

But it was because of Lennon that the mainstream finally cottoned on. Three days later, as Sinclair and his lawyer Leonard Weinglass were appealing the 10-year sentence in front of the Supreme Court, John Sinclair was released and all charges dropped. He had served two years, a good portion of that time in solitary confinement. The landmark Supreme Court decision to free John Sinclair is now a well-documented footnote in legal theses and is known as United States vs U.S. District Court.

 
 

However, for the White Panthers, these events occurred far too late. By the mid-1970s, the movement had fizzled into irrelevancy. In the early 1980s, the party disbanded altogether.

But the template was set. Through the fusing of John Sinclair’s philosophies and the MC5’s rock and roll prowess, the platform was laid for future movements. By the late 1970s, punk had worked its way into the consciousness, and with the belligerent music came a political edge that harkened back to late-60s Detroit. From there, outspoken acts such as the Dead Kennedys, Black Flag, and Crass ensured that the Sinclair/MC5 legacy would remain.

If he’d been a soldier man
Shooting gooks in Vietnam
If he was the C.I.A.
Selling dope and making hay
He’d be free, they’d let him be
Like you and me

—John Lennon (From the song John Sinclair)

 
© Benny Munday
 

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