It’s hard to believe that Mary Washington is 35 years old. To look at her, you’d say she was at least 10 years younger. Listening to the things she has done, you’d think she has to be 10 years older.
Twice divorced, mother of two daughters she raised alone, a former model, a former jazz singer, a college graduate and for 10 years a successful private nurse, Washington is embarking on her biggest challenge.
“I want to be the first black female member of the Grand Ol’ Opry,” Washington says confidently.
Don’t bet against her. Washington, a Fort Lauderdale resident, is taking the first step toward that goal. Emerald Records of Nashville will release her first album, Best Seller, this month. She calls it “country with a jazz flavor.”
“This is something Mary is very serious about,” says Sam Denom, Washington’s personal manager and business partner. “It is not a lark.”
At first it sounds nutty, but when you think about it, it’s really not. There aren’t a lot of blacks in country music, but Charley Pride has been a big star for more than 20 years, and the late O.B. McClinton enjoyed a respectable career.
And it already has been proven that jazz and country, in the right hands, makes a potent mixture. Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys adapted a big band jazz sound to invent Western swing. One reason Willie Nelson struggled for so many years was the unfamiliar (to country music record producers) jazz phrasing he brought to his singing.
“Whites think blacks don’t like country music, but that’s just not true,” Washington says. “I like traditional country. The music I do has a jazz flavor simply because I was trained for so many years as a jazz singer.”
Born in Sarasota, Washington grew up in a family of six boys and six girls. She learned to appreciate country music while living in Texas, modeling and working small jazz clubs. “In Texas, it’s all you hear. You like it, or you don’t turn on the radio,” she says.
Washington worked on Best Seller for more than a year with Cliff Ayers, president of Emerald Records and producer of the album. It’s a combination of five country standards and five new songs.
“I tried to bring a new interpretation to the standards,” Washington says. “I had fun with it.”
A single released in January, Stormy Goodbye/Grain of Salt, has enjoyed “a lot of airplay” in certain parts of the country, especially Nashville, Austin, Texas, and Spokane, Wash.
She met Ayers in 1972 while playing a Texas club. On a whim, she sang a couple of country songs in her usual jazz set. By chance, Ayers, who had been on the lookout for a black woman who could sing country, was in the audience.
“But personal life overtook me,” Washington says. “I had two small children, a recent divorce. Singing is unstable — you can’t count on a regular paycheck. And I wanted to go back to school and do something with my brain.”
Returning to Fort Lauderdale, where she once had worked for a local modeling agency, Washington became a private nurse. Ayers kept in touch, however. Knowing her children were almost grown, he offered Washington a record deal last year.
“He says I have a good voice,” Washington says. “He must believe it to stay interested all this time.”
Washington is comfortable with the knowledge of the cultural and racial gap she is bridging. People often come up after her performances to ask how she sings the way she does.
“A lot of people tell me if they close their eyes they wouldn’t know I’m black,” says Washington.
Most people, black and white, have accepted Washington on the merits of her talent, but there have been exceptions.
“I’ve had a lot of blacks ask why I’m doing what they call ‘redneck music,’ ” she says. “I say, if you don’t like it, that’s OK, but it doesn’t mean I don’t. If I didn’t like it, I couldn’t do it well.
“On the other hand, some whites come up with a suspicious look and say you’ve been practicing to sound that way, haven’t you? I say, so what if I have? If you can relate to it, what’s the difference?”
As a black performer, Washington finds no less room for personal artistic expression in country music than she does in jazz.
“I try to capture what to me are the best elements of country,” she says. “A lot of the words I can relate to. I can relate to the heartache songs. I’ve had two divorces.”
Washington’s biggest supporters are her daughters, Ricshonda Brooks, 18, and Christal Brooks, 17. “My kids like country music. We’ve always played it in the house. They tell me they’re proud I do it. They take it on themselves to call up radio stations and help promote my record.”
As a jazz singer, Mary Washington was influenced by Nancy Wilson and Billie Holiday, but never tried to imitate them. Her approach to country is similar. She admires Loretta Lynn, Tammy Wynette and Reba MacIntyre, and considers herself a traditionalist, but avoids the nasal twang that once characterized the country sound.
“Some of my music is country with a little jazzy singing,” she says. “Some of it is more jazzy instrumentally and the singing is more traditional.”
On the basis of three tracks, Best Seller is a refreshing record that places Washington in the camp of what’s being called “the new traditionalists.” The instrumentation is plain but effective, with guitar and smoky country piano prominent. It has none of the cynical, set-your-teeth-on-edge overproduction that plagued Nashville for several years, but which thankfully seems to be falling into disfavor.
Washington’s voice is beautiful — full, rich, clear, yet husky. She’s right, it is distinctive, but it also has a quality strongly reminiscent of the late, great Patsy Cline. It’s obvious she has been listening to the right records. The country-to-jazz ratio is about 90-to-10, maybe 95-to-5. If the rest of the album is this good, then Washington is the real thing.
“On the next album, I want to try jazz songs and give them a country treatment, which is the opposite of this record,” Washington says.
In addition, she plans to write some of her own songs. “I wrote several jazz songs in the ’70s. I will write some country songs, too. The subject matter, the emotions, are the same. It’s only the music that’s different.”
But that’s part of a future that seems remote. Right now, Washington is more concerned with promoting Best Seller and establishing a successful club act, especially in the local area. She has visited local country music radio stations to lobby for her record, but was disappointed.
“I didn’t get the kind of response I expected,” she says. “But it wasn’t really planned. Now we’re developing marketing and career strategies.”
Emerald Records, a small but venerable company with more than 30 years in the business, has promoted Washington heavily in Nashville. She visited the Grand Ol’ Opry in June, usually finding herself the only black present. “I signed a lot of autographs,” she says, laughing. “Everyone thought I was Charley Pride’s sister.”
The company plans to “showcase” the album in Nashville, that is, have Washington perform all the songs for an elite audience of disc jockeys, industry execs, promoters and buyers. She also plans to make personal appearances in South Florida at clubs and record stores.
“The kind of music Mary’s doing will be accepted by local people,” manager Denom says. “There’s a void now, everybody is waiting for what’s next. Mary can fill that void. The audience response in local clubs has been fantastic.”
“I say if I can be as good an entertainer as I was a nurse, I’ll have it made,” Washington says. “My patients love me.”
