Warning Signs

By this point in the series, dear reader, you may be asking, “was there some ulterior motive behind Tanisha keeping such detailed notes and saving everything?” Valid question. Black women working in corporate America, a work environment infamous for misogynoir run amok (misogynoir was coined by Professor Moya Bailey in 2008 to describe the unique nexus of misogyny and anti-Black racism uniquely experienced by Black women — often in the workplace), are often advised to document everything in the very likely event that some f**kshit mess goes down.

Thankfully I won’t have to worry about that, I thought back then as I began my dream job in earnest. When I took the position as The Spinners first-ever in-house publicist and woman to work for the organization (after having been the first-runner up for the management position), I marveled at my luck. This role was the ideal matrimony between my passion (if you haven’t noticed, I love classic soul of the 1960s and 1970s — especially vocal groups!) and my values. It was gratifying to know that I was working on behalf of a vocal group that was both family-run and Black-owned. Preserving legacy and promoting Black generational wealth are of utmost importance to me. Initially, I saw no need to take a defensive posture in this particular work environment.

How naive. One incident shattered my delusions of a supportive work environment, after which I made it a point to meticulously document everything.

October 2022: Just two months into my tenure, Heather was already showing tiny but consistent signs that her uniquely toxic blend of deliberate obtuseness and unearned authority would be a thorn in my side for the entirety of my tenure. It didn’t take long for her to renege on her pledge to grant me the autonomy I needed to effectively execute my tasks.

The month began with an October 5-10 jaunt to LA for a run of shows at several Canyon Club locations around Los Angeles County. On October 7, she interrupted my day on the road twice to nitpick about a few posts I’d made to the Spinners’ Instagram feed. Motown staff writer and producer Ivy Jo Hunter died a day prior, and I thought it important to acknowledge his passing on the Spinners Instagram page. Hunter co-wrote and co-produced The Spinners first chart hit at Motown (note: their 1961 debut hit, That’s What Girls Are Made For, was released on the Tri-Phi label, which would ultimately be acquired by Motown). I’ll Always Love You (Motown, 1965) reached #35 on the Billboard Pop Hot 100 chart and #8 on the R&B Singles chart. The record had since gone on to achieve near-Holy Grail status among Northern Soul fans across the pond. Needless to say, the archetypal Motown tune figured prominently in The Detroit Spinners’ lore.

Heather’s query was heavy-handed in its wrongness and provocative in its aggression; a slap in the face to the expert deployment of my Motown geekery to create an engaging piece of social media content. This heffa with the stank attitude, I thought with a piquant flash of annoyance. I had half a mind to respond, “oh, Ivy Jo? That’s my dad’s horse racing buddy from back in the day, I just unilaterally decided this morning that I’m going to repurpose the Spinners Instagram feed as my personal family obituary page, nincompoop.” I mean, if I’m posting it to the Spinners page, wouldn’t a critically thinking adult assume it’s someone connected to the Spinners in some way? I agreed with her note that I could have added more detail, but her haughty tone left a lot to be desired.

While I was tending to the Instagram page, I’d seen that The Keswick Theater had posted an advertisement for an upcoming Spinners show scheduled for February 18, 2023 to its Instagram stories. The concert flyer featured an outdated promo picture that featured former Spinners lead singer Charlton Washington. I went ahead and shared the flyer to the Spinners Instagram story with an accompanying link to purchase tickets. As I’d just explained to Heather weeks earlier on a conference call, oftentimes promoters and ticketing services will continue to use outdated promotional photos and artist biographies on their websites. Artists and their teams have little control over such matters, pretty much everyone who works in this business is aware of this. To illustrate my point, I discovered that at least two ticketing websites — Seatgeek and Axs — are still using pictures of The Spinners featuring Charlton Washington in the lineup. The photo that SeatGeek has deployed for The Spinners artist page even features Bobbie Smith, who has been dead since 2013!

Not even ten minutes after I re-shared the post, here comes Heather, in my inbox once more talking out the side of her neck with a level of authority inconsistent with her insufficient level of knowledge, requesting that I refrain from “posting pictures” of the group that included Charlton. The screenshot below tells the tale of her cringeworthy self-own — her second within mere hours that day. Besides, it hadn’t even been a month ago that she called upon Charlton to stand in for Marvin at a private gig in San Diego on September 10. Over the next three years, Charlton would capably sub for both Marvin and Curt on several occasions. One of the more notable occasions that Charlton filled in subsequent to Heather’s untenable edict was when Curt skipped out on the group’s Hawaii tour dates in June 2023 for a conflicting performance date in Las Vegas (tour manager Fred Adams shared with me over coffee that Bobbie Smith wouldn’t have tolerated a Spinner appearing on another stage with another group during a Spinners performance). Considering how Charlton had just bailed out the group a month ago, her prohibition wreaked of ingratitude and disloyalty.

One of the first orders of business when I began my tenure was to shoot a new promotional photo to reflect The Spinners’ post-Henry Fambrough era. Up until August 2022, fans attending a Spinners concert could rely upon at least one original member’s presence to confer authenticity upon the proceedings. With Henry’s unofficial departure from the stage, it was essential that our promotional materials reflect his absence. I wanted to avoid any potential backlash as a result of inadvertently misrepresenting the group’s lineup. I also wanted to visually acclimate Spinners fans to the group’s new normal: The Spinners were now a quartet made up of four younger men hand-selected by Bobbie and Henry (Jessie Peck and Marvin Taylor) or just Henry (Ronnie Moss and Curt Jefferson) as the talented torchbearers of this mighty legacy.

The early October run in LA was the perfect opportunity to squeeze in a photo shoot. My cinematographer and collaborator NAOE was in LA and so were any number of studio spaces for us to shoot. I was excited about this second road trip with the entourage — I could continue to build my rapport with the fellas and capture more footage to deploy on the group’s socials. This jaunt was also an opportunity for me to better understand the makeup of the Spinners ticket-buying fanbase. Professionally, it was a rare, coveted opportunity for me to flex the full spectrum of my talents — PR, creative direction of a photo shoot, production management — I was looking forward to sinking my teeth into this work and being in the trenches with my talented colleagues. I’d scouted a highly touted Black-owned location for the photo shoot — I.F.B. Studios in Glendale, CA, owned by a pair of very talented brothers (Ryan and Richard Taylor) — and happily discovered that my photographer NAOE also recommended it. The plans were set: the photo shoot would take place on Saturday, October 8 at I.F.B. Studios.

My crackerjack team consisted of myself as Creative Director, NAOE as photographer along with her lighting tech, and my Pittsburgh homeslice the brilliant stylist extraordinaire Jay Barlow. I’d invited one of my talented girlfriends, singer Avis Harrell, to drop in on the shoot as well. At the time I had hoped to implement a fan participation element into the Spinners live show that would involve the group inviting a local female vocalist to join them in singing Dionne Warwick’s part in Then Came You, the duet that earned both The Spinners and Lady Warwick(e) their first number one hit. Avis, a seasoned performer best known for being a member of Ray Charles’ world renowned Raelettes as well as the longtime backing vocalist for King of Las Vegas Wayne Newton, was one of the singers I was eyeing for this initiative.

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Thrown Rocks, Hidden Hands

October 8, 2022: Naoe and Jay were set to arrive at I.F.B. Studios at 9 AM to set up, while The Spinners and I would arrive an hour later. We arrived a little after 10 A.M., and were warmly greeted by Richard, Ryan, and their Detroit born-and-bred mother Lynda. Classic Spinners jams pumped from the studio sound system as Naoe was setting up her cameras, and her assistant was tinkering with the lighting. The atmosphere was convivial and purposive and I was delighted to see that the studio exceeded my expectations in every way imaginable. It was a vibe. There was a dressing room for Jessie, Ronnie, Marvin, Curt, and Larry (the group’s wardrobe manager) to shoot the breeze while we continued to set things up. We were running slightly behind schedule due to some par for the course delays that I can’t recall at the moment, but nothing out of the ordinary. Heather hadn’t given me much of a budget to work with beyond paying for the studio, but thankfully, my team took it upon themselves to purchase pastries and coffee for the guys.

Avis’ arrival set off a minor sensation; the gents were all too thrilled to meet and ham it up before this classically beautiful, musically accomplished diva. Introductions were made as we continued to set up for the shoot. Before we actually shot photos, I first conducted a filmed sit-down interview with Jessie, Marvin, Ronnie, and Curt. As part of my plan to court the die-hard Spinners fans and to showcase their personalities, I wanted the men on record discussing their love and admiration for the legacy members. The interview never made it to the website owing to Heather’s dismissal of my requests for a budget allotment to pay another one of my favorite collaborators, film editor Chloe Bellande, to cut the footage.

When I run a set, I take great joy in curating an environment that supports the creative process. I saw the fruit of our collective labor when it came time for the photo shoot. The gents looked like what they were: the torchbearers, the latest iteration of an elite musical fraternity with roots reaching back to 1954 Detroit, The Spinners. They were fully loosened up, and were fully locked in to my vision that day. I had my concerns, especially since my personnel that day was all Black, which isn’t a common occurrence in the realm of classic soul and R&B where the talent tends to be Black but all of the business people behind the scenes are anything but. The gentlemen marveled at the team I’d put together, and expressed appreciation that my team reflected the culture with excellence.

To prepare for the photo shoot, I spent weeks poring over iconic promo photos from The Spinners’ many different eras. I noted that The Spinners archival promotional shots were a bit looser and more apt to convey a sense of motion, as opposed to the more static group shots of contemporaries like The Temptations, The Delfonics, The Miracles, The Four Tops, The Dells, The Originals, etc. Less posed, more fun. The goal was to emulate that same kinetic energy with this contemporary iteration, a subtle but powerful visual call-back to the group’s glory days. I had a secondary goal of giving the guys a taste of the “star treatment” their predecessors would have experienced during their remarkable 1970s run. The group had fallen off precipitously under Mathis’ watch, and the morale reflected as much. For example, in a move that wreaked of desperation and poor strategy, he’d committed the group to a month’s worth of track dates throughout retirement communities in Florida, a gig far beneath the group’s stature. There was an urgent need to reinvigorate the brand. Relying upon the wisdom of Proverbs 23:7 — as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he — I wanted to start with their mindset and make them feel like THE SPINNERS.

Naoe, a master photographer who feels music as deeply as I do, really shone that day. I left I.F.B. Studios confident that we’d gotten The Shot. I was immensely proud of the team effort that went into making the photo shoot and interview a joy-filled success. I got the gents back to the hotel with plenty of time for us all to decompress before making the trek to the Canyon Club Agoura Hills later that evening for the penultimate stop on this SoCal run. Richard, Ryan, Naoe, and Avis were all guests that night, and everyone seemed to be basking in the glow of our shared creative time together earlier that day.

I posted behind-the-scenes (BTS) content to the Spinners Instagram page during the shoot and throughout the following week, including a group photo of everyone who had contributed to the wonderful energy that day (see above). At some point, Heather sent a DM from her personal IG account (@radiant_soul73) to the Spinners IG stating “I didn’t pay for these people to have a photo shoot with The Spinners.” I rolled my eyes at her ongoing penchant for outrunning common sense well before it could prevent her from putting her foot in her mouth. Surely she wasn’t dimwitted enough to mistake the candid BTS photos I posted to the Spinners’ Instagram while the shoot was in progress for the promo photos that had been professionally shot by a real photographer with a real camera in a real studio that required real editing and processing time before they were ready. Except she was. I left this interaction stunned by what a daft and disrespectful character she was turning out to be.

October 17, 2022: I’d returned home to Vegas basking in the glow of yet another productive road trip. Naoe was in the lab working her magic with the photos while I was posting content from the SoCal shows to The Spinners social media. I kept the executive team (Heather, Toby, and Toby’s glorified assistant Will) apprised of the turnaround for the photos. I felt the pressure, especially from Heather. I was certain that the photo shoot over which I presided was the first in Spinners history to have an entirely all-Black team, which invited heightened scrutiny, much to my chagrin. I wondered if she was scrutinizing Toby as closely as she was micromanaging me (narrator: she was not).

The glow of my recent success quickly wore off when I received a text message from Heather at 11:36 AM that morning. Something about her terse request to talk suggested she wasn’t calling to congratulate me about the excellent content I’d been posting in the week following our LA road trip.

She called me moments after this exchange, deploying what I can only describe as her “principal’s office voice.” Stilted. Pretentious. Prissy. Performative. She sounded like someone who mimicked what authority was supposed to sound like as opposed to actually embodying it. I whipped out my notepad to jot down contemporaneous notes. She was calling with regard to “conduct on the road,” and began to pepper me with three patently false accusations. I won’t dignify two of those three accusations with an explanation herein. However, one of her accusations was a false indictment on my stellar team and the photo shoot that I presided over, and I protect my people. She had received “feedback” from “the guys” that the photo shoot was poorly run. As she continued with her vapid diarrhea of the mouth, the accusations hit me like darts. “It ran behind schedule”: yes, it did. Nothing out of the ordinary as someone who has been working on stages and sets for nearly two decades. We wrapped well before incurring any overage fees from the Studio, and took time to accommodate the owners’ request for pictures. “There were a bunch of people there and the guys had no idea who they were and why they were there,” etc. That second one really stuck in my craw. She made it sound as if I’d invited a posse of Compton’s scariest gangstas to aimlessly loiter on set (two years later on another October run in LA, we had the pleasure of hanging out with OGs from the Crips outside our hotel, they were delightful company, but I digress).

Of their own volition each one of the gentlemen — with the exception of Marvin who isn’t a heavy social media user — had posted rave reviews about the photo shoot on their individual Facebook pages. I held the phone to my ear, stunned and hurt. A master of triangulation, Heather declined to name names, so I was left to wonder which one of these dudes was being two-faced? I had my suspicions.

As I listened to these falsehoods, and the disturbing level of credibility she ascribed to them, I felt betrayed by her and whomever decided to stab me in the back with this false report. I responded by informing her that the only feedback I’d received from The Spinners regarding that photo shoot was exceedingly positive. Glowing, actually. Thankfully, I’d neglected to delete the group text I’d created to convey real time information to The Spinners while we were on the ground in LA — I typically deleted such correspondence once the relevant event had ended. This time I didn’t — thankfully.

When we ended the call, I compiled just about every piece of correspondence I’d had with the group before, during, and after the photo shoot. I was really flummoxed by the accusation that there were a whole bunch of people at the studio who were just idling. The day before the shoot, I’d texted the gentlemen the names of the personnel that would be helping me to run the photo shoot, and what their roles would be. I forwarded her screenshots from every Spinners’ Facebook page (minus Marvin’s) each with posts raving about the time they had at I.F.B. Studios, perturbed that I was forced into defending myself and my team in this manner at all. I sent her a barrage of BTS photos I’d taken with my phone, evidencing the hard work my team had undertaken to make it a stellar experience for the group — Jay in particular shared his incredible gift for set and costume design without compensation. I wasn’t about to let this simpleton’s need to lord over picayune matters sully the names of professionals whose soigné made her look déclassé in comparison.

I shared the posts that Avis and I.F.B. Studios both shared on their respective social media pages, touting the positive impressions they had of The Spinners high-energy performance. At the time, no one in my Black Classic Hollywood/Motown circles knew much about the contemporary Spinners lineup. I saw this jaunt to LA as a way of putting the bug in their ear that the Spinners were active and still mighty. In addition to a long-awaited catch-up with one of my dearest friends and the Then Came You plan, that Black Hollywood connection was yet another reason why I was so keen on Avis being my guest that day. I’d cultivated a lot of my own personal relationships with several members within Hollywood’s cozy community of Black luminaries, and they’ve shown support to a youngblood in all my endeavors. I thought the Spinners could derive some benefit from their support as well. True to form, Avis made a beautiful post richly detailing the time she’d spent hanging out with me and The Spinners. Nevertheless, I couldn’t believe that I was being forced to explain why it was a good idea to take a picture with the proprietors of the studio at which the Spinners next promotional photo was shot — particularly since it turned out they were related to Fred Cash, a member of iconic Chicago soul group, The Impressions.

After I sent her the dossier of evidence refuting the bold-faced lies about the photo shoot, I made it a policy to keep a record of everything. I had so many questions — who went out of their way to call Heather “ratting” me out for phantom offenses? If anyone had any criticisms regarding the photo shoot, why didn’t any of these men — all of whom were older than me — pipe up when it mattered? The incident took a lot of wind out of my sail, and forced me to lower my expectations when it came to what I had considered to be a “dream job.” To the contrary, the nightmare was just beginning.

Financial Mismanagement

From the very beginning, I’d been warned of Heather’s lax approach to payroll. During the interview process, Heather had articulated to me that she too had the heart of a “servant leader.” It took mere months for me to dismiss her assertion as utter hogwash.

I’d presumed that her penchant for late payment was owing to the fact that she had a day job (this aspect of her life was murky to me, but by all accounts she works in Human Relations at a federal agency), so I recommended that she retain a business manager to handle payroll. An acquaintance had given me the name of a business manager who, as it turned out, had grown up with the group’s wardrobe manager. When I touted the connection in a conversation with Heather, she was unmoved. In fact, she flatly stated that she would prefer that the candidate not have any ties to the “Motown family.” After selling off the Spinners royalty stream to Reservoir Media, SPA generated the bulk of its revenue from live performance dates, with a little chump change generated from merchandise sales to add to the coffers. There were no secret transactions to be held in close confidence, so I was at a loss to understand why she was being so furtive about opening up the organization’s books to someone “in the family.” What shady machinations was she afraid of disclosing?

More than a few members of the entourage speculated that Heather routinely misappropriated funds from the business to bankroll her lavish lifestyle. I didn’t have a dog in the fight, but it was difficult not to be suspicious. It wasn’t uncommon for her to keep the entourage waiting for weeks on end to be paid for performances. She had all the time in the world to bug me with false accusations, but she was a regular Houdini when it came time for me to inquire about late payments. When she finally got around to rectifying the situation, she’d always offer up her illness or some other “dog ate my homework” excuse for the chronically late pay.

Frequently, I’d receive calls from various members of the entourage asking me whether I’d heard from Heather or gotten paid yet. Such was the case on August 30, 2023. I’d gotten several calls from various members of the entourage, each man angrier than the last. They hadn’t yet been paid for their August 18 show at the Erie County Fair in Hamburg, NY, and Heather wasn’t answering any of their phone calls, texts, or emails. They were threatening not to board the flight for the next show. Mind you, I was the publicist — I had nothing to do with payroll. Nevertheless, I reached out to Heather via text message at 10:58 AM PST to make the inquiry about their late paychecks (see the screenshots below). A common lament among the men was “Heather treats us like we are nothing but n****s to her.” Her glib response — I heard — seemed to align with their perception. A far cry from “servant leadership,” I thought. But who’s keeping score?

One time, in late 2024, Heather was so egregiously late with my payment (I elected to be paid once per month instead of after every gig to streamline things for her) that I had to resort to calling her mother. Mrs. Fambrough was kind and accommodating, per usual, offering to front a portion of my fee that month and to seek reimbursement from Heather/SPA LLC later. Unfortunately for Heather, she also let it slip that Heather was mid-flight, en route to a vacation. I was once again gobsmacked by the blatant disrespect. She had time to plan a vacation but couldn’t remember to do the one job she had and pay her people on time? Meanwhile, I had to renege on my plan to purchase a sofa from an acquaintance who needed to get rid of it by a certain date. The next time I called Mrs. Fambrough in April 2025, her phone was curiously disconnected.

From a business perspective, Heather’s routine failure to make timely payroll had an impact on any number of the initiatives I had on the agenda for the group. It’s an uphill battle to induce people to go above and beyond when they aren’t responsibly paid for the work that is required of them. Her overall treatment of the men as hired help in bedazzled suits had a chilling effect on their enthusiasm — they were Spinners, men who had stood alongside her legendary father. Yet, within the organization, they were treated as minions whose livelihoods were dependent upon the whims of the petulant self-styled princess. You try getting four singers to wake up at 6:00 AM in the morning for a television appearance when they aren’t certain whether they’ll be paid on time for the scheduled performance later that night! It’s an unenviable position for all involved, not the least of which, yours truly. Within the first year, I took to asking the men whether they’d been paid yet before discussing any PR initiatives that required extra work above and beyond their live performances. My competence had unwittingly earned me another unpaid job within the Spinners organization: circumnavigating Heather’s weaponized incompetence.

Skinfolk Ain’t Kinfolk

“All my skinfolk ain’t kinfolk”

―Zora Neale Hurston

As I previously mentioned, working with a vocal group that was still family-held and Black-owned deeply aligned with my values. Promoting generational Black wealth, especially when it comes to our cultural riches, is central to my purpose work. Heather was well aware of where I stood in this regard, and in hindsight I believe she took advantage of my zeal for her own corrupt wealth- and legacy-hoarding purposes. In early 2023, she reached out to ask if I would consider taking on her stepdaughter as an intern. Heather explained that while her stepdaughter (who I will refer to as “Anne”) was interested in a career in entertainment, she and her husband observed that Anne was still lacking the confidence and assertiveness to be viable as a Black woman in such a cutthroat environment. Heather believed I possessed both the skill and the temperament to teach Anne the rudiments of the entertainment business.

Admittedly, I was shocked by the request — ever since taking the position, Heather’s temperament was schizophrenic and borderline abusive toward me between her stochastic microaggressions against me (the ones she committed and the ones she permitted), the disrespectful habit of paying me late, and the ongoing evisceration of my job. I was open to taking on Anne as my summer intern in hopes that doing this favor for Heather would result in her treating me in a less abusive way. I began to give some thought to what a summer internship curriculum would look like until Heather reached out to inform me that Anne might have to spend the summer taking classes. I suspended my curriculum development efforts and heard nothing further from Heather until she text messaged me out of the blue on April 13, 2023 to inform that Anne wouldn’t be enrolling in summer classes after all, so she’d like to proceed with Anne spending a portion of that summer with me in Las Vegas.

By that time, I was balancing both the Spinners Rock & Roll Hall of Fame For Your Consideration Campaign as well as the group’s planned donation of its uniforms to the Motown Museum. On top of that, I was simultaneously coordinating the many facets of the group’s participation in the Museum’s Founders Day weekend festivities with its programming team. As strongly as I felt about mentoring young Black women entering this business, my bandwidth was stretched to capacity. However, I was hopeful that mentoring Anne would translate into improved treatment from Heather. Despite finding it odd and mildly inconsiderate that she assumed I’d gone to the lengths of drafting out a curriculum for an internship I didn’t believe would come to fruition, I opted to find the time and capacity to mentor her stepdaughter that summer — one of the few bright spots to come out of my time working in this chaotic clown show Heather presided over.

After several failed attempts for us to link up on the West Coast so I could meet Anne, Heather sent for me, booking travel for me to fly out to Virginia June 3-5, 2023 for a chemistry check. This young lady was going to be under my aegis on the other side of the country for six weeks, naturally it was important for us to build a rapport and for her father to be comfortable with me as her guardian for that time.

Heather sent over an itinerary for the weekend that left me pleasantly shocked by her attention to detail. So this is how she comports herself when dealing with things she cares about. I wished she could have dedicated even half of this kind of productive energy to The Spinners. She and her husband were gracious hosts, and we enjoyed wide ranging conversations over dinner on consecutive nights. The chemistry with Anne was instant. She came off as bright, intelligent, and reserved. I saw exactly what Heather had described to me: she had the raw materials to succeed, but she was going to need to develop discernment and sharp elbows to make it in the competitive and hostile environs of entertainment.

Anne was more interested in the film industry, but my plans to seek out shadowing opportunities from some of my friends who worked on set as directors and camera operators were sullied by the Writer’s Guild’s labor strike that commenced on May 2 that year. My sources closer to the matter were not at all optimistic that the strike would break by the time her internship was scheduled to begin. Nevertheless, Anne was excited to spend some of the summer under my tutelage, so we proceeded in earnest with the plans for her internship.

On June 25, Heather reached out to confirm that Anne and her Dad were on the plane to Vegas. She would be celebrating her 21st birthday in Vegas under my care soon after her arrival. By this point, especially having been thoroughly impressed by Anne’s comportment, my concerns about my limited bandwidth had fallen by the wayside. I was genuinely excited about becoming this young lady’s first positive experience on the path to success within this industry. I was stoked to have an opportunity to pull out all the stops to properly ring in this most significant rite of passage in a young woman’s life.

Those six weeks with Anne were transformative and gratifying. I was grateful to walk my talk — I am serious when it comes to reaching back and setting up young Black women for success. My mentorship of Anne gave me the privilege of living out my values. I witnessed her transform before my eyes into a woman that I believed could confidently step into any room and command authority and I stated as much in the six-page Internship Summary, Assessment, and Debrief I sent to Heather and Ron on October 5, 2023.

I began by recapitulating the primary reason why Heather and her husband wanted Anne to work with me in the first place. Reading it back today is painfully ironic:

A major factor in the decision to place her with me was to help her to build confidence as a Black woman in a business that is notoriously hostile to Black women. This is a task of grave importance to me, but simple in its execution: simply introducing her to Black women of many different varieties, all of whom are confident and accomplished, starting with me. As an elder to her, it is my ongoing duty to give her confidence in her own voice and aesthetic - in more vernacular terms, I wanted to train her to “trust her gut” to the point that she can drown out counterproductive messages that give rise to self doubt.

I continued on by setting forth the rationale for my soft and exploratory pedagogy, explaining: My pedagogical approach was not to be a harsh disciplinarian - she’ll have that experience soon enough and I’d rather be her first cheerleader than first bully. Instead, I took her time with me as an opportunity for her to be in a loving cocoon where she could feel free to fail, build a support system and network, and to gain a clearer picture of where her professional focus should lie in the early stages of her career. My pedagogy was reaping dividends — Anne’s confidence was growing by leaps and bounds, and she was beginning to trust her own discernment more. Clearly I had done something right.

As I revisit this document today, my own words hit me as uncomfortably poignant: I wanted nothing more than for Anne to feel supported in a way that stood in sharp relief to the hostile work environment I was contemporaneously experiencing at Heather’s hands. Notably, Heather was making imperious demands of me while simultaneously failing to pay me on time. I was experiencing the very hostile environment that I was preparing Anne to overcome, at the hands of the woman who had the power to address the abuses and microaggressions I was experiencing from Toby, Paul, Will, and others within the Spinners organization. The irony was damning.

Haughty Heather showed up to mar my last few moments with Anne. The morning I saw the youngblood off to San Francisco International Airport (she accompanied me for the group’s three-day Yoshi’s residency that year), I checked my bank account to discover that Heather had not yet paid me for July. So when I received Heather’s text incredulously asking whether I accompanied Anne on the trip to the airport (she was scheduled to fly out of the Bay Area the morning of the last show), it was my turn to be incredulous. I found it audacious that she would have the temerity to ask me to go over and above in a situation where I’d already been more than accommodating without ensuring that I’d been paid for services rendered in the last month. It bothered me that the tone and tenor of her communication that morning seemed to suggest a confusion as to my role. I was the publicist for the Spinners, not her personal assistant or lackey. The goal of the internship was to prepare Anne for life as a working adult, and I was on the job. I did in fact lose my card in a freakish incident evidencing my reputation as a cute klutz, but I had no plans on accompanying her to SFO.

Apropos of nothing, I found it hypocritical that prior to the road trip to Oakland, Heather made a fervent request for me to protect Anne from the men in the group. With the exception of Curt, whose Instagram activity often included “liking” photos of high school-aged girls clad in revealing bikinis — shortly after Spinners performances in their respective cities (gleaned from the Instagram feature that shows you posts that have been liked by people you follow — meaning every so often while I was logged into the Spinners account), I took offense to the idea that any of these men would behave inappropriately toward Anne or any young lady on the cusp of adulthood. In fact, if I knew this crew, they were going to be encouraging, although she was not going to get out of that weekend without them busting her chops like good music business uncles are wont to do. If Heather really felt like Curt was capable of such predation, keeping him in a group known for its family-friendly appeal while seeking specific protection from him for her own loved one wreaked of elitism, as if only those connected to her were entitled to such protection.

I volunteered to mentor Anne because I believe in the value of mentorship, especially where younger Black women are concerned. My values happened to align with the kindness of my heart along with the foolish hope for better treatment that I was hoping to derive by my largesse. However, any illusions that my mentorship of Anne would lead to improved standing were shattered before Anne’s plane had a chance to take off. The hostile work environment would go from annoying to painfully unbearable.

Heather Fambrough: The Treacherous Triangulation Queen

Initially, the plan was to submit a memorandum to Heather each month apprising her of my progress on any number of initiatives I was undertaking on behalf of the group. By January 2025, the progress reports had long since fallen by the wayside. She never bothered to read them, much less act upon the action items I’d often include within these reports (such as approving funds to have my film editor cut that interview I shot back in 2022 at I.F.B. Studios). I wasn’t going to waste time with recaps if they were going to languish unread in her inbox.

My twin successes of 2023, coupled with my consistent execution when it came to the “blocking” and “tackling” day-to-day work of handling PR and Social Media for Team Spinners, bolstered by my successful mentorship of her stepdaughter failed to translate in more respect or increased leadership within the organization. I found Heather to be a fascinating psychological study along the lines of “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” She could be incredibly warm and then without warning, she’d go into Haughty Heather mode — imperious, impudent, evasive, entitled, and icy. I chalked up her Haughty Heather demeanor to being an only child struggling with the weight of continuing a legacy she never seemed to fully appreciate.

My success and relative high profile within the Spinners organization garnered both admirers and detractors, including that rabid hanger-on and T-shirt table volunteer that had successfully connived to commandeer the logistical planning of the group’s ill-advised Portia Show appearance in November 2023. Each time one of these detractors (none of whom had even a fraction of my credibility) approached Heather with a specious grievance about me, she never hesitated to call me to either “scold” me or investigate the claims. In hindsight, I came to realize that her admiration toward me was laced with a bit of resentment. Her latent resentment led her to want to believe the worst about me, as if she wanted to find something to “tarnish” the Golden Child. She wanted to dress me down and keep me beneath her. Perhaps there’s a such thing as being too good at your job.

By the beginning of 2025, her pattern of late payment was also well-established to the point that I’d implemented the practice of sending courtesy emails reminding her of forthcoming payment due dates. Coupled with the hostile working environment she cultivated and allowed to flourish on her watch, tensions were at an all time high between us. Such was the case on January 26, 2025, when I sent her correspondence: Good morning, Heather - I hope all is well with you. This is just a reminder that, since all gigs for January have concluded, January’s pay is payable as soon as final settlement of yesterday’s performance. Thank you, Tanisha.

She responded two days later — not with confirmation or assent, but a rather unusual request:

Again, I couldn’t believe this simple heffa had the nerve to give me a deadline when she couldn’t be bothered to pay me on time and blew off any number of deliverables I requested of her that remained outstanding at the time of this ballsy request. I recognized her non-response of a response for what it was — her ham-fisted attempted to regain some semblance of authority over me after her mother had shared the embarrassing truth that Heather’s most recent delay in paying me was not because she was sick or busy with work, but because she had instead skipped town for vacation. Once more, I was dumbfounded by her seemingly endless reservoir of audacity. My outgoing emails were full of unanswered correspondences to Heather that she and I both knew she had neglected. Moreover, the nature of my work with the group served as its own record of achievement — my work was reflected in the fact that lacking any social media management expertise I’d organically grown the Instagram follower count from a paltry 735 to over 10,000, the compelling social media content it took hours at a time to create, the successful production and rollout of the “After Hours” video, squashing several unflattering stories caused by Curt’s antics, and much more. Except for the damage control aspect, my work wasn’t siloed or hidden — if she’d bothered to pay attention, my achievements were clearly laid out for her to observe.

I was further troubled by the fact that her request for a progress report was coming on the heels of my request to be paid on time. Was the implication that she wasn’t going to pay me unless I submitted this bogus progress report? That wasn’t a game I was willing to play with this deeply unserious and erratic woman, so I held firm. I responded by suggesting a phone conversation and bringing her attention back to my initial inquiry: that she confirm her intention to pay me on time for January.

I sent another email asking whether she was making the same request of Toby and/or Will. After all, 21st Century Plantation Management had fallen demonstrably short of many benchmarks. During his interview for the management position, when the Spinners asked him “can you get us work,” Toby infamously responded with a question of his own: how much work can you handle?” Apparently they must have responded “as little as possible,” because his blasé approach still hadn’t gotten them much work during the summer festival season, December, January, or February — all points during the touring season where the work should have been plentiful for an act of the Spinners’ caliber. Should she not be auditing his performance? Everything I promised to that point I had overdelivered on. Toby had a whole company and infrastructure behind him and was still falling horribly short. Predictably, she never responded to this query.

The tension between Heather and I mirrored the overall discontent in the air within SPA, LLC in the early-going of 2025. Marvin Taylor had suddenly been pulled from the road in late 2024. Curt’s toxicity was affecting the morale of the entourage. Having spent the latter part of 2024 in a lone effort to mitigate the damage caused by Paul Mathis’ rogue pet project, I was at my wit’s end and eager to shift focus onto more productive endeavors. My impulse in early 2025 was to restore some semblance of order by sharpening the focus on the group’s masterful legacy. The Full Circle album, coupled with the group’s ongoing disrespect toward G.C. Cameron combined to create a chilling effect on the momentum generated by the group’s 2023 Motown reunion and Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction. I was scouting opportunities for The Spinners to meaningfully engage with the group’s mighty legacy, especially since the focus on Paul’s desperate bid for relevance laid waste to my large-scale activations I had hoped to roll out in celebration of the 70th anniversary year of the group’s founding (1954). So much for Heather’s previous reassurance that Paul’s input was limited to legal matters.

By early 2025, Heather, Toby, and Will had eviscerated my role to the point of meaninglessness with a steady flow of microaggressions aimed at my diminution. Things came to a head on March 4 after some troubling information I’d received on a phone call one day prior with Toby’s assistant, Will. I can’t recall the reason why I was calling Will — it wasn’t my favorite thing to do once I realized that both Toby and Heather often dispatched him to “handle” me when they were each engaged in whatever machinations they were dreaming up to undermine my work. Whatever the occasion for the call, Will divulged that Toby was in serious talks with Heather to acquire the group. I couldn’t tell whether he was sharing this information with me to be smug or to genuinely give me a heads up. Whatever the reason, I was livid. I read between the lines — in the event of Toby’s acquisition, his first order of business would have been to give me the axe. Heather was also well aware of his unwarranted disdain for me, and yet clearly had no conscience when it came to my fate in all of this. I had gone above and beyond the call of duty just a year prior to ensure that her father’s homegoing was handled with the utmost care and consideration. I’d even written Henry’s obituary for the funeral program.

I was incredulous and irate. Suddenly, her distasteful response to my courtesy payment due date reminder back in January took on a more malevolent tone. She was asking for a list of accomplishments in hopes of ascertaining my process to then train someone of Toby’s choosing to replace me. I sat with this information and made a beeline for my altar, praying and mulling it over for the remainder of the day. I had outperformed Toby by every possible metric. I’d defended his authority as a manager on many occasions (more on Toby Ludwig next week) and tried in vain to build a working relationship with him. In return from him, I got disrespect, usurpation, antagonism, and a not-so-subtle attempt to replace me by hiring another young Black woman to handle “PR” (I shut down that noise, more on that next week). He seemed to take issue with the fact that I was a Black woman who spoke in declarative sentences. After going out of my way to prepare Anne for encounters with the likes of Toby, I was in utter disbelief that Heather was moving in such a cutthroat way against me. I genuinely loved and valued the work I was doing for The Spinners legacy — at the risk of beating a dead horse, this was a dream job for me. I ate a lot of crow since taking the position for the sake of keeping the peace. If I just continued to do exemplary work, maybe things would get better. Instead, I had to face the fact that despite all of her fake sistagirl posturing, Heather Fambrough Williams was clearly not above throwing me under the bus.

I decided that I would call her the following day, Tuesday, March 4. I set an alarm for 3:00 AM Pacific, hoping to catch her during her “Spinners hours” (although she was barely available during those hours, naturally). She answered and I unloaded. Heather was stunned — I’d never spoken to her in such a confrontational way before, but she’d crossed a Rubicon. Her disrespect was loud. I couldn’t fathom her selling the group to a manager who had shown time and time again that he lacked the ability to lead the group, much less keep them working consistently (as evidenced by the fact that their next gig, this Saturday, will be their first since January 9). And while that was her right, the fact that she was going about it in such a backstabbing kind of way was troublingly exploitative. Moreover, I had many valid critiques concerning Toby’s leadership. He was actively colluding with the group’s then-least tenured member to create divisions within the group. He completely ignored the group’s long-established majority rule and hierarchy based on tenure, instead bending over for anything Curt desired. Before his passing, Henry decreed that Curt Jefferson needed to be replaced by the beginning of the year, which Toby and Heather totally ignored. I’d been previously warned that Toby has a tendency to quietly foment divisions within groups, which enabled him to consolidate power. I was witnessing the fissures within the group and his unwillingness to curb Curt’s unsavory behaviors that were harmful to the group’s image (like stealing computers in the course of his duties as a Spinner). He seemed more interested in muscling me out, and Heather was all too happy to oblige. I could see that Toby didn’t care about preserving the Spinners legacy, he was far more interested in exploiting the group for his own pecuniary interests.

During that phone call, Haughty Heather was back on her heels. I witnessed her resort to gaslighting tactics. We agreed that my tenure would end in January 2026, and that we would have a conversation before then to negotiate my fee for the ongoing use of the social media content I curated as well as the increased follower counts that the organization would continue to benefit from after my departure. Today, I remain unpaid for SPA’s/21st Century Plantation Management’s continued use of the social media content, which was never contemplated as a work-for-hire. I strongly suspect that part of Heather’s decision to terminate me under false pretenses was to get out of paying me per our previously agreed upon conversation back in March of last year.

Opting to react rather than respond, I waited two days to cool off before sending her a follow-up email documenting that tense phone call. I laid everything bare, even disclosing to her for the first time that I was aware of the Production Agreements Paul had induced Henry Fambrough to sign while he clearly lacked the capacity to do so.

After my “Important Clarification” email, Haughty Heather piped all the way down. Her sudden about-face alarmed me inasmuch as it seemed to point toward her complicity in Paul Mathis’ scheme to exploit her father’s diminished capacity. I began to strongly suspect that at best she looked the other way, and at worst, she was his accomplice (allegedly). For the next few months, her tone was more docile and agreeable, which solidified my suspicion that she had something to do with the alleged elder financial abuse her cousin committed against her father. For the remainder of the year, I knew my job was on the chopping block. The constant attacks and gangstalking from Toby, Curt, Will, Paul, the rabid Philadelphia Zionist T-shirt lady, and now Heather, made it clear that my days with this corrupt organization were numbered.

Writing this particular entry in the “Spinnin’ Out of Control” series took a lot out of me, and it shows. Revisiting the hostile work environment Heather fomented and the constant attacks I was forced to endure by the motley crew of rogue characters, emboldened and enabled by her inaction, reawakened my trauma, forcing me to take frequent breaks during this particularly torturous writing process. It’s still difficult for me to fathom the why and wherefore that informed her perfidious behavior toward me, so I’ll end this piece with the conclusion my mother would have drawn upon telling her of this dastardly woman’s antics: Somethin’ ain’t right with that heffa, Nish. I know that now, Mommy.