Scratch
      the
      Record
      Slowly:
      Prominent
      DJ
      Murdered
      in
     
     
      Cold
      Blood
     
    
   
   
    
     
      As
      I
      started
      my
      walk
      home
     
     
      from
      school
      last
      Wednesday
      my
      mind
     
     
      popped
      back
      to
      one
      of
      the
      most
      electri-
     
     
      fying
      concert
      experiences
      of
      my
      life,
     
     
      seeing
      Run
      DMC
      live
      on
      stage
      back
      in
     
     
      ‘99,
     
    

    
     
      We
      waited
      in
      the
      winter
      cold
     
     
      to
      be
      bussed
      from
      downtown
      Toronto
     
     
      to
      a
      large
      airport
      hanger,
      somewhere
     
     
      on
      the
      outskirts.
      DJ
      Hurricane,
      Beastie
     
     
      Boy
      predecessor
      of
      Mix
      Master
      Mike,
     
     
      was
      spinning
      an.incredible
      set
      and
     
     
      everyone
      but
      security
      and
      me
      seemed
     
     
      to
      be
      on
      Ecstasy.
      After
      watching
      dazed
     
     
      teens
      whirl
      glow
      sticks
      around
      for
      a
     
     
      while,
      I
      decided
      to
      make
      my
      way
      into
     
     
      the
      area
      where
      Run
      DMC
      would
      be
     
     
      playing
      early.
      The
      room
      was
      already
     
     
      packed
      full
      with
      a
      multicultural
      mix
     
     
      decked
      out
      in
      relatively
      similar
      urban
     
     
      wear,
      and
      much
      flying
      of
      the
      Adidas
     
     
      flag.
      After
      almost
      two
      hours
      I
      had
     
     
      managed
      to
      worm
      my
      way
      to
      front
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
        
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      By
      Will
      PATE
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      stage
      and
      lose
      my
      friends
      in
      the
     
     
      process.
     
    

    
     
      When
      the
      band
      hit
      the
      stage
     
     
      the
      crowd
      came
      alive
      as
      one
      large
      con-
     
     
      gregation
      of
      the
      church
      of
      Run
      DMC,
     
     
      presided
      over
      by
      his
      holiness
      Jam
     
     
      Master
      Jay.
      They
      were
      a
      study
      of
      hip-
     
     
      hop
      at
      its
      best:
      rockin’
      beats,
      tasteful
     
     
      cuts
      and
      quality
      rhyming.
      There
      was
     
     
      no
      glorification
      of
      violence,
      sexual
     
     
      symbolization
      of
      women
      or
      overblown
     
     
      obsession
      with
      greed.
      These
      were
      three
     
     
      middle-class
      Hollis
      boys
      that
      knew
     
     
      how
      to
      lay
      down
      solid
      songs
      that
      fit
     
     
      the
      bill.
      There
      was
      no
      denying
      the
      tal-
     
     
      ent
      that
      made
      them
      the
      most
      influential
     
     
      rap
      group
      of
      the
      80's.
     
    

    
     
      As
      I
      continued
      my
      walk
      home
     
     
      last
      Wednesday
      reminiscent
      of
      that
     
     
      concert,
      I
      started
      singing
      some
      of
      the
     
     
      lyrics
      of
      Run
      DMC's
      best
      tribute
      to
     
     
      Jay,
      "Peter
      Piper."
      Jay's
      like
      King
     
     
      Midas
      as
      I
      was
      told/Everything
      that
      he
     
     
      touched
      turned
      to
      gold/He’s
      the
      great-
     
     
      est
      of
      the
      great,
      get
      it
      straight
      he’s
     
     
      great/Claim
      fame
      cause
      his
      name
      is
     
     
      known
      in
      every
      state/His
      name
      is
      Jay
     
     
      to
      see
      him
      play
      will
      make
      you
     
     
      say/Goddamn
      that
      DJ
      made
      my
      day!
     
     
      Little
      did
      I
      know
      what
      news
      would
      be
     
     
      waiting
      for
      me
      when
      I
      arrived
      home:
     
     
      that
      37
      year
      old
      James
      Mizell,
      AKA
     
     
      Jam
      Master
      Jay,
      had
      been
      shot
      and
     
     
      killed
      while
      sitting
      on
      a
      couch
      in
      a
      stu-
     
     
      dio.
      A
      friend
      at
      Dalhousie
      had
      even
      e-
     
     
      mailed
      me,
      knowing
      instinctively
      how
     
     
      much
      this
      turn
      of
      events
      would
      mean
     
    
   
   
    
     
      4
      rr
      2awot
      t7h
      Ao?
      @
      Ores
      at
     
     
      IS
      HEN
      AAS
      SCC
      MAC
      ee
      PHN.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      avi
      (iva
      Vinense
      meo
      HOV.
      UyLonsy
     
    
   
   
    
     
      ~
      to
      me,
      and
      with
      good
      reason.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      The
      next
      day
      was
      spent
      rumi-
     
     
      nating
      on
      the
      injustice
      of
      Jay's
      murder.
     
     
      It
      seemed
      too
      cruel
      that
      a
      man
      who
     
     
      made
      the
      hallmark
      of
      his
      message
      pos-
     
     
      itive
      energy
      through
      music
      would
      suf-
     
     
      fer
      the
      same
      fate
      as
      hard-core
      gangster
     
     
      rappers
      Tupac
      Shakur
      and
      Biggie
     
     
      Smalls.
      Jay
      helped
      countless
      local
     
     
      artists,
      signing
      them
      to
      JMJ
      Records,
     
     
      and
      even
      let
      some
      use
      Run
      DMC's
      stu-
     
     
      dio
      for
      free.
      So
      great
      was
      my
      melan-
     
     
      choly
      I
      almost
      lost
      the
      desire
      to
      join
     
     
      the
      wild
      Halloween
      Pub
      at
      The
      Wave,
     
     
      until
      a
      good
      friend
      wisely
      suggested
      I
     
    
   
   
    
     
      attend
      and
      party
      to
      honour
      Jay's
      legacy
     
     
      of
      good
      clean
      fun.
      While
      I
      may
      not
     
     
      have
      been
      good
      or
      clean,
      fun
      was
      had
     
     
      nonetheless.
     
    

    
     
      In
      the
      days
      after
      the
      murder
     
     
      some
      strange
      facts
      have
      come
      to
      light.
     
     
      Most
      troubling
      was
      that
      the
      murderer
     
     
      was
      buzzed
      into
      the
      studio,
      leading
     
     
      investigators
      to
      believe
      that
      he
      knew
     
     
      his
      assailant
      or
      was
      set
      up.
      Some
     
     
      anonymous
      sources
      have
      speculated
     
     
      that
      the
      killing
      was
      actually
      a
      hit
      gone
     
     
      wrong,
      intended
      on
      rapper
      50
      Cent.
     
     
      Other
      sources
      have
      indicated
      that
      Jay
     
     
      and
      his
      studio
      owed
      between
      $280,000
     
     
      and
      $400,000
      in
      taxes,
      interest
      and
     
     
      penalties.
      Also
      pertinent
      may
      be
      the
     
     
      revelation
      that
      a
      man
      from
      the
      South
     
     
      named
      "Scoon"
      was
      owed
      money
      by
     
     
      Jay
      and
      made
      a
      threatening
      call
      to
      one
     
     
      of
      his
      associates
      in
      previous
      weeks.
     
     
      This
      leads
      to
      the
      conclusion
      that
      either
     
     
      Jay
      was
      collateral
      damage
      in
      another
     
     
      musician's
      street
      war
      or
      that
      financial
     
     
      troubles
      led
      to
      his
      murder.
      Regardless
     
     
      of
      the
      reason,
      his
      death
      is
      a
      great
      blow
     
     
      to
      the
      music
      world
      and
      he
      will
      be
      sore-
     
     
      ly
      missed.
      All
      we
      have
      now
      is
      the
     
     
      musical
      gift
      he
      gave
      us,
      echoing
     
     
      through
      the
      boomboxes
      of
      hip-hop
     
     
      fans
      everywhere.
      Rest
      in
      Peace,
      Jam
     
     
      Master
      Jay-
      You
      made
      my
      day.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Double
      the
      power
      of
      your
      degree
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Hold
      the
      World
      in
      your
      Hand
      2
     
    
   
   
    
     
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      WW
     
    
   
   
    
     
      BUS
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