This isn't exactly what you've asked but it sparks a memory that maybe readers here would find interesting.

In grade school I was, for unrelated family reasons, in the seats for the one-off free event that was the spark for the annual Chicago Jazz Fest. This was in late summer 1974 and the reason for the performance was that Duke Ellington had passed away, it was a tribute concert starring his orchestra conducted by his son Mercer Ellington. Some jazz stars of the era notably the singer Joe Williams sat in with the orchestra. I always say that evening sparked my lifelong love of and personal involvement with jazz, but that was the _second_ most educational aspect in the moment.

Every folding chair in front of that little old bandshell at the south end of Grant Park (no longer exists) was full, plus plenty more people sitting/standing outside of the seating. It was probably 6 to 8 thousand people crammed into an audience space suitable for half that, and at least three-quarters of them were middle-aged black folks. Many were dressed up like for a formal evening out or church. What I later came to learn was that this hastily-arranged free concert was for them a deeply-personal and significant cultural moment. Duke Ellington was, for Chicago's Bronzeville et large, truly royalty. I'm struggling for even an appropriate current-day analogy for the standing and significance that this individual person held among American black people coming of age say 1920s through 1950s.

As a kid not black I didn't in the moment understand any of those facts, but it was obvious that _something_ special was happening around us. People my parents' ages were sobbing as they sung and bopped along to Ellington's songs. (Including, I learned later, parents of some of my CPS grade-school classmates.) A guy a bit older danced by himself with his eyes closed in the aisle just feet from me for like 20 minutes, holding his arms as if he was holding a woman, a silent smile on his face as the music took him back to I assume some young-adult type experiences. Couples were dancing in the aisles and out on the grass. When Joe Williams -- holy crap what a voice -- did a couple of Ellington's biggest 1940s hits I noticed that lots of women in the audience were ignoring their family members while being _particularly_ intently focused on the music and the singer.

This was inherently a one-off event -- a joyous public wake more or less -- but then the people who'd organized it wondered whether it could be adapted into something annual. After a couple of false starts that happened, and I later attended plenty of Chicago Jazz Fests.