Thursday, December 27, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin 1799 - 1837
"Good for the Poet Who..."
Good for the poet who applies
His art in royal chambers' splendor.
Of tears and laughter crafty vendor,
Adding some truth to many lies,
He tickles the sated taste of lords
For more greatness and awards.
And decorates all their feasts,
Receiving clever praise as fees...
But, by the doors, so tall and stout --
On sides of stables and backyards --
The people, haunted by the guards,
Hark to this poet in a crowd.
His art in royal chambers' splendor.
Of tears and laughter crafty vendor,
Adding some truth to many lies,
He tickles the sated taste of lords
For more greatness and awards.
And decorates all their feasts,
Receiving clever praise as fees...
But, by the doors, so tall and stout --
On sides of stables and backyards --
The people, haunted by the guards,
Hark to this poet in a crowd.
The Prophet
Longing for spiritual springs,
I dragged myself through desert sands ...
An angel with three pairs of wings
Arrived to me at cross of lands;
With fingers so light and slim
He touched my eyes as in a dream:
And opened my prophetic eyes
Like eyes of eagle in surprise.
He touched my ears in movement, single,
And they were filled with noise and jingle:
I heard a shuddering of heavens,
And angels' flight on azure heights
And creatures' crawl in long sea nights,
And rustle of vines in distant valleys.
And he bent down to my chin,
And he tore off my tongue of sin,
In cheat and idle talks aroused,
And with his hand in bloody specks
He put the sting of wizard snakes
Into my deadly stoned mouth.
With his sharp sword he cleaved my breast,
And plucked my quivering heart out,
And coals flamed with God's behest,
Into my gaping breast were ground.
Like dead I lay on desert sands,
And listened to the God's commands:
'Arise, O prophet, hark and see,
Be filled with utter My demands,
And, going over Land and Sea,
Burn with your Word the humane hearts.'
I dragged myself through desert sands ...
An angel with three pairs of wings
Arrived to me at cross of lands;
With fingers so light and slim
He touched my eyes as in a dream:
And opened my prophetic eyes
Like eyes of eagle in surprise.
He touched my ears in movement, single,
And they were filled with noise and jingle:
I heard a shuddering of heavens,
And angels' flight on azure heights
And creatures' crawl in long sea nights,
And rustle of vines in distant valleys.
And he bent down to my chin,
And he tore off my tongue of sin,
In cheat and idle talks aroused,
And with his hand in bloody specks
He put the sting of wizard snakes
Into my deadly stoned mouth.
With his sharp sword he cleaved my breast,
And plucked my quivering heart out,
And coals flamed with God's behest,
Into my gaping breast were ground.
Like dead I lay on desert sands,
And listened to the God's commands:
'Arise, O prophet, hark and see,
Be filled with utter My demands,
And, going over Land and Sea,
Burn with your Word the humane hearts.'
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Fattening Frogs
FATTENING FROGS FOR SNAKES
- Exercises in futility
Example:
I got a letter from a rehabilitation center last week. It was an effusion of assinity dipped in religiosity from a bipolar crack head. His ‘graduation date’ was passed by the time the letter arrived. I decided to respond via telephone. He was not at home, and was not expected for several months. He failed to tell me his rehab stint was a segment of a sentence for possession of controlled substances and he had a jail sentence to finish. He also failed to say he blew his chance for almost certain probation by showing up at court off his legal medications and full of crack. His mother talked in deceitful circles, but those pertinent facts were easily gleaned.
For a while, she bemoaned what the 34-year-old boy’s daddy failed and yet fails to do for him, in her estimation.
Then she spewed a litany of other excuses for the boy’s bad outcomes until she remembered I saw the boy’s rearing or lack thereof and hurriedly cut to the chase.
“He needs a little something on the books. Every little bit will help.” She said.
“Looks like y’all will have to curtail the Christmas frenzy this time”, I flatly responded.
That boy has his parents, three siblings and two baby’s mamas, and GETS A CHECK.
I am not inclined to fatten those frogs.
*** Curtain falls and rises *** (times passes)
Someone else did not like my response to the beggar, was stupid enough to call behind her, and pressed the same issue.
Of course, she tried to be slick with it.
Of course, she got her rusty behind greased good. (AKA, the standard mangy dog treatment)
Imagine the teleconferences behind my refusal to be Boo-Boo the Fool.
All I have to do is write that boy in jail and tell him those people are spending his crazy check and begging other people to put something on the books for him.
That and just that alone will keep them too busy running, ducking, and dodging to worry me with that mess ever again.
- Exercises in futility
Example:
I got a letter from a rehabilitation center last week. It was an effusion of assinity dipped in religiosity from a bipolar crack head. His ‘graduation date’ was passed by the time the letter arrived. I decided to respond via telephone. He was not at home, and was not expected for several months. He failed to tell me his rehab stint was a segment of a sentence for possession of controlled substances and he had a jail sentence to finish. He also failed to say he blew his chance for almost certain probation by showing up at court off his legal medications and full of crack. His mother talked in deceitful circles, but those pertinent facts were easily gleaned.
For a while, she bemoaned what the 34-year-old boy’s daddy failed and yet fails to do for him, in her estimation.
Then she spewed a litany of other excuses for the boy’s bad outcomes until she remembered I saw the boy’s rearing or lack thereof and hurriedly cut to the chase.
“He needs a little something on the books. Every little bit will help.” She said.
“Looks like y’all will have to curtail the Christmas frenzy this time”, I flatly responded.
That boy has his parents, three siblings and two baby’s mamas, and GETS A CHECK.
I am not inclined to fatten those frogs.
*** Curtain falls and rises *** (times passes)
Someone else did not like my response to the beggar, was stupid enough to call behind her, and pressed the same issue.
Of course, she tried to be slick with it.
Of course, she got her rusty behind greased good. (AKA, the standard mangy dog treatment)
Imagine the teleconferences behind my refusal to be Boo-Boo the Fool.
All I have to do is write that boy in jail and tell him those people are spending his crazy check and begging other people to put something on the books for him.
That and just that alone will keep them too busy running, ducking, and dodging to worry me with that mess ever again.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
an edict
N O T I C E
New Rule & Regulation
From this day forward, whenever the Newton Schools send children home because of dangerous weather,
Ms. P. J. T.
Is hereby authorized and required to leave work immediately.
FURTHERMORE, whenever people who think they are important leave work and require others to stay, P. J. T. shall remember that she is FAR more important than them or that job.
MOREOVER, if ANYBODY don’t like it, they better keep it to themselves.
Signed,
High John the Conqueror
And Associated Dark Knights.
New Rule & Regulation
From this day forward, whenever the Newton Schools send children home because of dangerous weather,
Ms. P. J. T.
Is hereby authorized and required to leave work immediately.
FURTHERMORE, whenever people who think they are important leave work and require others to stay, P. J. T. shall remember that she is FAR more important than them or that job.
MOREOVER, if ANYBODY don’t like it, they better keep it to themselves.
Signed,
High John the Conqueror
And Associated Dark Knights.
Cora Lee Johnson
http://www.lifechallenges.org/door/JohnsonC.html
http://www.bartleby.com/66/33/31033.html
(my own recollection of Mrs. Johnson will follow here)
http://www.bartleby.com/66/33/31033.html
(my own recollection of Mrs. Johnson will follow here)
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Booker T. Washington Quote
“There is a class of colored people who make a business keeping the troubles, the wrongs and the hardships of the Negro race before the public. Having learned that they are able to make a living out of their troubles, they have grown into the settled habit of advertising their wrongs – partly because they want sympathy and partly because it pays.”
- Booker T. Washington
- Booker T. Washington
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Friday, December 7, 2007
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Syracuse's 'Aunt Jemima'
November 03, 2002
Dick Case, Post Standard Columnist
Every once in a while, a sliver of Syracuse history pops up to surprise us.
We have one this week, thanks to John Troy McQueen of Bennettsville, S.C.
John's a retired educator who writes freelance. He's just finished a modest book about Anna Short Harrington, who died in Syracuse in 1955 at the age of 58.
She grew up in Bennettsville.
Anna was "Aunt Jemima," the real-life counterpart of the famous Quaker Oats Co. advertising image, a piece of genuine Americana, according to John.
The food company captured Anna's image and "publicized it all over America," the author writes in his book, "The Story of Aunt Jemima." He continues that "sponsors paid Mrs. Harrington good money for traveling around the nation making personal appearances as Aunt Jemima."
John traces Aunt Jemima to the 1890s, after Chris Rutt produced the first self-rising pancake flour. He says - quoting "The People's Almanac" - that the name was borrowed from a vaudeville tune, "Aunt Jemima."
When Rutt sold his flour formula to David Milling Co., one of the predecessors of Quaker Oats, the company hired a black cook, Nancy Green, to appear as Aunt Jemima at the Colombian Exposition in Chicago in 1893. Nancy, then 59, worked for a Chicago judge.
John says she died in a car crash in 1932. Three years later, Anna Harrington was cooking pancakes at the state fair "when she was discovered by the Quaker Oats Co." She played the part 14 years.
In 2001, Quaker Foods and Beverages joined the PepsiCo conglomerate. Somewhere along the line, John learned, the Quaker folks separated themselves from the Aunt Jemima biography.
"They told me they had no information about her," John said from his home in northern South Carolina last week. I heard the same reply after I called corporate headquarters in Chicago.
The writer said he got most of his information about Anna from her family in South Carolina, including her niece, Lenora Pegues. All close kin in Syracuse have either died or moved, John and I discovered.
He visited Anna's adopted hometown two years ago, located her grave in Oakwood-Morningside Cemetery and spoke to members of her church, Bethany Baptist.
The late Olivia Hunter was Anna's youngest daughter. When she died in Syracuse in 1991, Olivia's daughter, Liz Hunter, told newspaper writer Anne Roth about her grandmother:
"A white family in Nedrow brought (Anna) from South Carolina as a maid in 1927. The lady always promised her she would take her back to South Carolina for her children. In 1928, they drove south in a Model-A Ford and returned with my grandmother's five children."
Besides Olivia, they were Laura Patterson and Delores Hoffman, and Levi and Daniel Harrington. Their father was Weldon Harrington, who apparently left the family circle after 10 years of marriage to Anna.
Liz Hunter explained that Anna for years cooked for fraternity houses at Syracuse University. She confirmed her grandmother's work for Quaker Oats.
The new book provides more details about her life as Aunt Jemima:
"In November 1935, Aunt Jemima's likeness appeared in an ad in Woman's Home Companion. The headline capitalized on her Southern accent and dialect ... 'Let ol Auntie sing in yo' kitchen...'
"During the 14 years Mrs. Harrington worked as Aunt Jemima, she made enough money to provide not only for her children, but also to buy a 22-room house with a bungalow behind it. She rented rooms to boarders."
The home was at 117 Monroe St., near Pioneer Homes. John says it was torn down when Interstate 81 came through the neighborhood after Anna's death.
John tells me he got interested in the Aunt Jemima-Anna Harrington connection because she was born near his home in Bennettsville "and I knew members of her family." He's also the author of a children's book, "A World Full of Monsters," now in a second printing.
Anna's buried on a single lot in the Morningside half of the cemetery, along Comstock Avenue on the hillside that looks toward Manley Field House. The bronze marker carries only her name and birth and death dates.
I found an additional memento in the old Morningside burial book in the cemetery office. In the column after the vital statistics is a single word in ink: "colored."
© 2002 The Post-Standard.
Jermain Wesley Loguen
Jermain Wesley Loguen was born February 5, 1813 into slavery in Tennesee. His mother was a slave, his father owned her. Loguen escaped in 1834 to St. Catherine's Ontario. After spending a few years in Canada, he moved to Rochester in 1837 before he enrolled in Beriah Green's Oneida Institute. In 1840, he married Caroline Storum of Bustin, New York. Loguen moved to Syracuse shortly afterwards, but he spent three of the next few years at Bath and two in Ithaca, as an AME Zion minister. Caroline may not have moved to Syracuse until 1847 or 1848, when Jermain Loguen bought property at the corner of East Genesee and Pine Streets.
In 1848, Loguen purchased about one-half acre of land on the north side of the Genesee Turnpike at the corner of Pine Street for $800 from Joseph and Sarah Chapman on Block 224, Lot 1, "excepting and reserving thereout a piece at the southeast corner of forty feet wide on the Turnpike road, and fifty feet wide of the same width on which the school house was built." Loguen was active as a school teacher, and he may have purchased the property next to the school house to promote his educational work. Probably, a house already existed on this property, since the price was relatively high. At some point, the Loguens added an apartment for freedom seekers. An obituary for Sarah Loguen Fraser noted that this home "was a station on the 'underground railroad,' and the basement was fitted with bunks and other equipment for care of runaway slaves." In 1860, Loguen was assessed $1500 for a lot on this corner, 108 feet x 150 feet, with house and barn, Most houses in the neighborhood at the time were assessed for $300-$400, so the Loguens' home was substantially larger than many of the surrounding houses. Jermain Loguen sold this lot in 1870 to H.W. Clarke. Jermain Loguen noted in his autobiography that he was not dependent on his work as a teacher and minister to support his family." He drew his own money from the bank," he wrote, "and bought him a house and lot, and became, and has continued, a freeholder and tax paying citizen. Real estate rose in value in his hands, and by industry and care, his early investments made him not rich, but in good credit." Perhaps he was using money brought into their family by Caroline Storum Loguen. In fact, he seems to have been a land speculator, as well, as suggested by the deeds. Between 1848 and 1870, Loguen purchased at least thirteen properties in Syracuse. He sold most of them, some of them to other African Americans. Only one of these properties may possibly be extant, the building on the northwest corner of Walnut and East Fayette. Loguen owned three lots on this corner. Is it possible that this building combines two of the buildings that stood on this corner? (See attached list of properties that Loguen acquired and map of locations.)
In 1855, the couple had six living children at home, Latiecha, aged 13; Amelia, aged 12; Garret, aged 7; Marinda, aged 5; William, aged 3; and Mary, aged 1. Corydon Williams, a forty-six-year-old African American painter from New York lived with them, as did Catharine Williams, twenty, born in New England, and Maranda Storum, Caroline's sister, thirty-six years old. Loguen became a school teacher, an AME Zion minister and later bishop, an abolitionist lecturer, and chief agent of the underground railroad in Syracuse. As Stationmaster of the Underground Railroad in Syracuse, Loguen published in the local newspapers his calls for aid to fugitives from slavery, as well as an account of how he spent the money received. In 1851 along with Unitarian minsiter Sam May, Loguen helped to arrange Jerry Henry to escape. But Loguen was indicted for his part in the Jerry rescue. He fled to Canada as well, but later returned.
While most of these people remain unidentified, a few specific examples have been recorded. On Christmas Eve, 1855, six freedom seekers left Oak Hill plantation in Loudon County, Virginia. Two of them were captured, but the remaining four (Barnabas and Mary Elizabeth Grigby, Frank Wanzer, and Emily Foster) confronted their pursuers with guns and managed to escape across the Maryland-Pennsylvania line to freedom. William Still, who kept the main underground railroad station in Pennsylvania, bought them tickets on the train to Syracuse, New York, where Rev. Loguen officiated at the wedding of Frank Wanzer and Emily Foster. All four went to Auburn, Rochester, and St. Catherine's, Ontario.
His was reported to be the most openly operated station in the state, if not the country. As Milton Sernett noted in North Star Country, Syracuse became known as "the great central depot" of the underground railroad in New York State, the "Canada of the North," and Loguen was called the "Underground Railroad King." It is estimated that about 1500 fugitive slaves passed through his home on their way to freedom. He told his amazing and inspirational story in his autobiography, The Rev. J.W. Loguen as a Slave and as a Freeman, published in Syracuse in 1859. http://docsouth.unc.edu/neh/loguen/loguen.html
Jermain W. Lougen died in 1872.
CHILDREN
In 1869, Amelia Loguen married Lewis Douglass, son of Frederick Douglass, in the Loguens' home.
Marinda S. Loguen, later called Sarah, graduated from the Syracuse University College of Medicine in 1876, one of the first African American women in the country to become a doctor. After working Philadelphia, Boston, and Washington, D.C., she went to Puerto Plata, Santo Domingo, where she married Charles A. Fraser and lived until 1897. She returned to Syracuse and bought a house on Westcott Street, where she lived for four years. She died in June 1933. (Post-Standard, June 14, 1933)
Gerrit Smith Loguen became an artist. Mary Loguen married James Cromwell, a Syracuse barber.)
reference: Gates ; Hunter narrative; Hunter - captives; Loguen;additional references: New York Daily Tribune, 1 October 1872; San Francisco Elevator, 5 October 1872; Benjamin Quarles, Allies for Freedom: Blacks and John Brown (New York, 1974), 39-44, 65-66, 73-75; idem, Black Abolitionists, 66-67, 154, 188; DAB, 11:368-69.
Back to African American History of Western New York 1830 to 1865.
In 1848, Loguen purchased about one-half acre of land on the north side of the Genesee Turnpike at the corner of Pine Street for $800 from Joseph and Sarah Chapman on Block 224, Lot 1, "excepting and reserving thereout a piece at the southeast corner of forty feet wide on the Turnpike road, and fifty feet wide of the same width on which the school house was built." Loguen was active as a school teacher, and he may have purchased the property next to the school house to promote his educational work. Probably, a house already existed on this property, since the price was relatively high. At some point, the Loguens added an apartment for freedom seekers. An obituary for Sarah Loguen Fraser noted that this home "was a station on the 'underground railroad,' and the basement was fitted with bunks and other equipment for care of runaway slaves." In 1860, Loguen was assessed $1500 for a lot on this corner, 108 feet x 150 feet, with house and barn, Most houses in the neighborhood at the time were assessed for $300-$400, so the Loguens' home was substantially larger than many of the surrounding houses. Jermain Loguen sold this lot in 1870 to H.W. Clarke. Jermain Loguen noted in his autobiography that he was not dependent on his work as a teacher and minister to support his family." He drew his own money from the bank," he wrote, "and bought him a house and lot, and became, and has continued, a freeholder and tax paying citizen. Real estate rose in value in his hands, and by industry and care, his early investments made him not rich, but in good credit." Perhaps he was using money brought into their family by Caroline Storum Loguen. In fact, he seems to have been a land speculator, as well, as suggested by the deeds. Between 1848 and 1870, Loguen purchased at least thirteen properties in Syracuse. He sold most of them, some of them to other African Americans. Only one of these properties may possibly be extant, the building on the northwest corner of Walnut and East Fayette. Loguen owned three lots on this corner. Is it possible that this building combines two of the buildings that stood on this corner? (See attached list of properties that Loguen acquired and map of locations.)
In 1855, the couple had six living children at home, Latiecha, aged 13; Amelia, aged 12; Garret, aged 7; Marinda, aged 5; William, aged 3; and Mary, aged 1. Corydon Williams, a forty-six-year-old African American painter from New York lived with them, as did Catharine Williams, twenty, born in New England, and Maranda Storum, Caroline's sister, thirty-six years old. Loguen became a school teacher, an AME Zion minister and later bishop, an abolitionist lecturer, and chief agent of the underground railroad in Syracuse. As Stationmaster of the Underground Railroad in Syracuse, Loguen published in the local newspapers his calls for aid to fugitives from slavery, as well as an account of how he spent the money received. In 1851 along with Unitarian minsiter Sam May, Loguen helped to arrange Jerry Henry to escape. But Loguen was indicted for his part in the Jerry rescue. He fled to Canada as well, but later returned.
While most of these people remain unidentified, a few specific examples have been recorded. On Christmas Eve, 1855, six freedom seekers left Oak Hill plantation in Loudon County, Virginia. Two of them were captured, but the remaining four (Barnabas and Mary Elizabeth Grigby, Frank Wanzer, and Emily Foster) confronted their pursuers with guns and managed to escape across the Maryland-Pennsylvania line to freedom. William Still, who kept the main underground railroad station in Pennsylvania, bought them tickets on the train to Syracuse, New York, where Rev. Loguen officiated at the wedding of Frank Wanzer and Emily Foster. All four went to Auburn, Rochester, and St. Catherine's, Ontario.
His was reported to be the most openly operated station in the state, if not the country. As Milton Sernett noted in North Star Country, Syracuse became known as "the great central depot" of the underground railroad in New York State, the "Canada of the North," and Loguen was called the "Underground Railroad King." It is estimated that about 1500 fugitive slaves passed through his home on their way to freedom. He told his amazing and inspirational story in his autobiography, The Rev. J.W. Loguen as a Slave and as a Freeman, published in Syracuse in 1859. http://docsouth.unc.edu/neh/loguen/loguen.html
Jermain W. Lougen died in 1872.
CHILDREN
In 1869, Amelia Loguen married Lewis Douglass, son of Frederick Douglass, in the Loguens' home.
Marinda S. Loguen, later called Sarah, graduated from the Syracuse University College of Medicine in 1876, one of the first African American women in the country to become a doctor. After working Philadelphia, Boston, and Washington, D.C., she went to Puerto Plata, Santo Domingo, where she married Charles A. Fraser and lived until 1897. She returned to Syracuse and bought a house on Westcott Street, where she lived for four years. She died in June 1933. (Post-Standard, June 14, 1933)
Gerrit Smith Loguen became an artist. Mary Loguen married James Cromwell, a Syracuse barber.)
reference: Gates ; Hunter narrative; Hunter - captives; Loguen;additional references: New York Daily Tribune, 1 October 1872; San Francisco Elevator, 5 October 1872; Benjamin Quarles, Allies for Freedom: Blacks and John Brown (New York, 1974), 39-44, 65-66, 73-75; idem, Black Abolitionists, 66-67, 154, 188; DAB, 11:368-69.
Back to African American History of Western New York 1830 to 1865.
Gruff Goats - Erie Blvd - Syracuse NY
The Billy Goats Gruff
Once upon a time there were three billy goats called Gruff. In the winter they lived in a barn in the valley, but when thespring came they longed to travel up to the mountains to eat the lush sweet grass.
On their way to the mountains the three Billy Goats Gruff had to cross a rushing river. But there was only one bridge across it, made of wooden planks. And underneath the bridge there lived a terrible, ugly, one-eyed troll.
Nobody was allowed to cross the bridge without the troll’s permission - and nobody ever got permission. He always ate them up.
The smallest Billy Goat Gruff was first to reach the bridge. Trippity-trop, trippity-trop went his little hooves as he trotted over the wooden planks. Ting-tang, ting-tang went the little bell round his neck.
"Who’s that trotting over my bridge?" growled the troll from under the planks.
"Billy Goat Gruff," squeaked the smallest goat in his little voice. "I’m only going up to the mountain to eat the sweet spring grass."
"Oh no, you’re not!" said the troll. "I’m going to eat you for breakfast!"
"Oh no, please Mr Troll," pleaded the goat. "I’m only the smallest Billy Goat Gruff. I’m much too tiny for you to eat, and I wouldn’t taste very good. Why don’t you wait for my brother, the second Billy Goat Gruff? He’s much bigger than me and would be much more tasty."
The troll did not want to waste his time on a little goat if there was a bigger and better one to eat. "All right, you can cross my bridge," he grunted. "Go and get fatter on the mountain and I’ll eat you on your way back!"
So the smallest Billy Goat Gruff skipped across to the other side.
The troll did not have to wait long for the second Billy Goat Gruff. Clip-clop, clip-clop went his hooves as he clattered over the wooden planks. Ding-dong, ding-dong went the bell around his neck.
"Who’s that clattering across my bridge?" screamed the troll, suddenly appearing from under the planks.
"Billy Goat Gruff," said the second goat in his middle-sized voice. "I’m going up to the mountain to eat the lovely spring grass."
"Oh no you’re not!" said the troll. "I’m going to eat you for breakfast."
"Oh, no, please," said the second goat. "I may be bigger than the first Billy Goat Gruff, but I’m much smaller than my brother, the third Billy Goat Gruff. Why don’t you wait for him? He would be much more of a meal than me."
The troll was getting very hungry, but he did not want to waste his appetite on a middle-sized goat if there was an even bigger one to come. "All right, you can cross my bridge," he rumbled. "Go and get fatter on the mountain and I’ll eat you on your way back!"
So the middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff scampered across to the other side.
The troll did not have to wait long for the third Billy Goat Gruff. Tromp-tramp, tromp-tramp went his hooves as he stomped across the wooden planks. Bong-bang, bong-bang went the big bell round his neck.
"Who’s that stomping over my bridge?" roared the troll, resting his chin on his hands.
"Billy Goat Gruff," said the third goat in a deep voice. "I’m going up to the mountain to eat the lush spring grass."
"Oh no you’re not," said the troll as he clambered up on to the bridge. "I’m going to eat you for breakfast!"
"That’s what you think," said the biggest Billy Goat Gruff. Then he lowered his horns, galloped along the bridge and butted the ugly troll. Up, up, up went the troll into the air... then down, down, down into the rushing river below. He disappeared below the swirling waters, and was drowned.
"So much for his breakfast," thought the biggest Billy Goat Gruff. "Now what about mine!" And he walked in triumph over the bridge to join his two brothers on the mountain pastures. From then on anyone could cross the bridge whenever they liked - thanks to the three Billy Goats Gruff.
He who knows...
He who knows and knows he knows, is wise - follow him;He who knows and knows not he knows, is asleep - awaken him;
He who knows not, and knows he knows not, is a child - teach him;
He who knows not, and knows not he knows not, is a fool - shun him.
A. A. Allen
When you can turn people on their head and shake them and no money falls out, then you know God's saying, "Move on, son."
-- A A Allen, to Marjoe Gortner, quoted in James A Haught, "Covering the Bible Belt II: A Freethinker’s Testimony"
-- A A Allen, to Marjoe Gortner, quoted in James A Haught, "Covering the Bible Belt II: A Freethinker’s Testimony"
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
“Your People Live Only Upon Cod”: An Algonquian Response to European Claims of Cultural Superiority
From the start of colonization, Indians and Europeans viewed each other across a wide cultural gulf. Sure about the superiority of their civilization, European missionaries and teachers tried to convert Indians to Christianity and the European way of life. Some Indians did adopt new ways after disease and violence had decimated their communities; others rejected the European entreaties and pointed out the arrogance of these claims of cultural superiority. French priest Chrestian LeClerq traveled among the eastern Algonquian people who lived in what are now the Maritime Provinces of Canada. He recorded a Micmac leader’s eloquent response to these attempts at “reform” that pointed out how difficult Europeans found it to live in Indian country. If France was such a terrestrial paradise, he asked, why were colonists making their way across the Atlantic to live in the forests of North America?
http://historymatters.gmu.edu/d/5828
http://historymatters.gmu.edu/d/5828
“Let Us Reason Together”: W. E. B. Du Bois Defends Black Resistance
“Let Us Reason Together”: W. E. B. Du Bois Defends Black Resistance
In the years immediately following World War I, tens of thousands of southern blacks and returning black soldiers flocked to the nation’s Northern cities looking for good jobs and a measure of respect and security. Many white Americans, fearful of competition for scarce jobs and housing, responded by attacking black citizens in a spate of urban race riots. In urban African-American enclaves, the 1920s were marked by a flowering of cultural expressions and a proliferation of black self-help organizations that accompanied the era of the “New Negro.” Debates raged over the best political and organizational path for black Americans, and the Crisis, the national magazine of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), offered one of the earliest and most powerful endorsements of the “New Negro.” In an editorial immediately following the Chicago race riot of 1919, Crisis editor W. E. B. Du Bois argued in favor of acts of self-defense and armed resistance, despite the editorial’s conciliatory title, "Let Us Reason Together."
Brothers we are on the Great Deep. We have cast off on the vast voyage which will lead to Freedom or Death.
For three centuries we have suffered and cowered. No race ever gave Passive Resistance and Submission to Evil longer, more piteous trial. Today we raise the terrible weapon of Self-Defense. When the murderer comes, he shall not longer strike us in the back. When the armed lynchers gather, we too must gather armed. When the mob moves, we propose to meet it with bricks and clubs and guns.
But we must tread here with solemn caution. We must never let justifiable self-defense against individuals become blind and lawless offense against all white folk. We must not seek reform by violence. We must not seek Vengeance. Vengeance is Mine," saith the Lord; or to put it otherwise, only Infinite Justice and Knowledge can assign blame in this poor world, and we ourselves are sinful men, struggling desperately with our own crime and ignorance. We must defend ourselves, our homes, our wives and children against the lawless without stint or hesitation: but we must carefully and scrupulously avoid on our own part bitter and unjustifiable aggression against anybody.
This line is difficult to draw. In the South the Police and Public Opinion back the mob and the least resistance on the part of the innocent black victim is nearly always construed as a lawless attack on society and government. In the North the Police and the Public will dodge and falter, but in the end they will back the Right when the Truth is made clear to them.
But whether the line between just resistance and angry retaliation is hard or easy, we must draw it carefully, not in wild resentment, but in grim and sober consideration: and then back of the impregnable fortress of the Divine Right of Self-Defense, which is sanctioned by every law of God and man, in every land, civilized and uncivilized, we must take our unfaltering stand.
Honor, endless and undying Honor, to every man, black or white, who in Houston, East St. Louis, Washington and Chicago gave his life for Civilization and Order.
If the United States is to be a Land of Law, we would live humbly and peaceably in it—working, singing, learning and dreaming to make it and ourselves nobler and better: if it is to be a Land of Mobs and Lynchers, we might as well die today as tomorrow.
"And how can man die better
"Than facing fearful odds
"For the ashes of his fathers
“And the temples of his gods?”
Source: "Let Us Reason Together," The Crisis 18 (September 1919): 231.
In the years immediately following World War I, tens of thousands of southern blacks and returning black soldiers flocked to the nation’s Northern cities looking for good jobs and a measure of respect and security. Many white Americans, fearful of competition for scarce jobs and housing, responded by attacking black citizens in a spate of urban race riots. In urban African-American enclaves, the 1920s were marked by a flowering of cultural expressions and a proliferation of black self-help organizations that accompanied the era of the “New Negro.” Debates raged over the best political and organizational path for black Americans, and the Crisis, the national magazine of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), offered one of the earliest and most powerful endorsements of the “New Negro.” In an editorial immediately following the Chicago race riot of 1919, Crisis editor W. E. B. Du Bois argued in favor of acts of self-defense and armed resistance, despite the editorial’s conciliatory title, "Let Us Reason Together."
Brothers we are on the Great Deep. We have cast off on the vast voyage which will lead to Freedom or Death.
For three centuries we have suffered and cowered. No race ever gave Passive Resistance and Submission to Evil longer, more piteous trial. Today we raise the terrible weapon of Self-Defense. When the murderer comes, he shall not longer strike us in the back. When the armed lynchers gather, we too must gather armed. When the mob moves, we propose to meet it with bricks and clubs and guns.
But we must tread here with solemn caution. We must never let justifiable self-defense against individuals become blind and lawless offense against all white folk. We must not seek reform by violence. We must not seek Vengeance. Vengeance is Mine," saith the Lord; or to put it otherwise, only Infinite Justice and Knowledge can assign blame in this poor world, and we ourselves are sinful men, struggling desperately with our own crime and ignorance. We must defend ourselves, our homes, our wives and children against the lawless without stint or hesitation: but we must carefully and scrupulously avoid on our own part bitter and unjustifiable aggression against anybody.
This line is difficult to draw. In the South the Police and Public Opinion back the mob and the least resistance on the part of the innocent black victim is nearly always construed as a lawless attack on society and government. In the North the Police and the Public will dodge and falter, but in the end they will back the Right when the Truth is made clear to them.
But whether the line between just resistance and angry retaliation is hard or easy, we must draw it carefully, not in wild resentment, but in grim and sober consideration: and then back of the impregnable fortress of the Divine Right of Self-Defense, which is sanctioned by every law of God and man, in every land, civilized and uncivilized, we must take our unfaltering stand.
Honor, endless and undying Honor, to every man, black or white, who in Houston, East St. Louis, Washington and Chicago gave his life for Civilization and Order.
If the United States is to be a Land of Law, we would live humbly and peaceably in it—working, singing, learning and dreaming to make it and ourselves nobler and better: if it is to be a Land of Mobs and Lynchers, we might as well die today as tomorrow.
"And how can man die better
"Than facing fearful odds
"For the ashes of his fathers
“And the temples of his gods?”
Source: "Let Us Reason Together," The Crisis 18 (September 1919): 231.
The Madness of Marcus Garvey - Bagnell
Robert Bagnall on “The Madness of Marcus Garvey”
After fighting World War I, ostensibly to defend democracy and the right of self-determination, thousands of African-American soldiers returned home to face intensified discrimination, segregation, and racial violence. Drawing on this frustration, Marcus Garvey attracted thousands of disillusioned black working-class and lower middle-class followers to his Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA). The UNIA, committed to notions of racial purity and separatism, insisted that salvation for African Americans meant building an autonomous, black-led nation in Africa. As Garvey’s influence in the black community grew, so too did the voices of his many critics. Integrationists such as W. E. B. Du Bois and Robert Bagnall, both of the NAACP, worried that the UNIA leader was exploiting black disillusionment for personal gain. Moreover, they objected to the UNIA’s call for racial separatism, and in this 1923 article Bagnall accused Garvey of “madness.”
http://historymatters.gmu.edu/d/5120
After fighting World War I, ostensibly to defend democracy and the right of self-determination, thousands of African-American soldiers returned home to face intensified discrimination, segregation, and racial violence. Drawing on this frustration, Marcus Garvey attracted thousands of disillusioned black working-class and lower middle-class followers to his Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA). The UNIA, committed to notions of racial purity and separatism, insisted that salvation for African Americans meant building an autonomous, black-led nation in Africa. As Garvey’s influence in the black community grew, so too did the voices of his many critics. Integrationists such as W. E. B. Du Bois and Robert Bagnall, both of the NAACP, worried that the UNIA leader was exploiting black disillusionment for personal gain. Moreover, they objected to the UNIA’s call for racial separatism, and in this 1923 article Bagnall accused Garvey of “madness.”
http://historymatters.gmu.edu/d/5120
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Wallace Thurman 1902 - 1934
Autobiographical Statement
1928
My parents and grandparents were pioneer Westerners who settled finally in Salt Lake City, Utah, thus enabling me to be born, twenty-six years ago, within the protective shadows of the Mormon Temple and the Wasatch Mountains.
I first entered school at the age of six in the city of Boise, Idaho. Within two months, I was taken ill and for the next two years was a pampered invalid. Meanwhile I had returned to the city of my nativity only to leave there after another two years to move to Chicago where I remained from 1910 until 1914. Omaha, Nebraska was my next stopping off place. It was there that I finished grammar school and was a high school freshman. This done I once more went back to Salt Lake. Persistent heart attacks made a lower altitude necessary so off I went to spend a winter in Pasadena, California. Came the “flu” epidemic of 1918, I succumbed and on convalescing returned to my hometown. Somehow or other by this time I had finished high school and had matriculated at the University of Utah. Two years there, a pre med student, then a nervous breakdown, a summer trip to Omaha, a “hobo” trip back to Salt Lake. Then Los Angeles again, three years a postal clerk, two simultaneous years a student at the University of Southern California, sudden inspiration, decision to be a writer, and in 1925 a hectic hegira to Harlem.
Thus is my checkerboard past. Three years in Harlem have seen me before a New Negro (for no reason at all and without my consent), a post (having had two poems published by generous editors), an editor (with a penchant for financially unsound publications), a critic (see articles on Negro life and literature in The Bookman, New Republic, Independent, World Tomorrow, etc.), an actor (I was a denizen of Cat Fish Row in Porgy), a husband (having been married all of six months), a novelist (e.g., The Blacker the Berry, Macaulay’s, February 1, 1929; $2.50), a playwright (being co author of Black Belt). Now what more could one do?
http://www.amazon.com/Collected-Writings-Wallace-Thurman-Renaissance/dp/0813533015/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1196801109&sr=1-1
1928
My parents and grandparents were pioneer Westerners who settled finally in Salt Lake City, Utah, thus enabling me to be born, twenty-six years ago, within the protective shadows of the Mormon Temple and the Wasatch Mountains.
I first entered school at the age of six in the city of Boise, Idaho. Within two months, I was taken ill and for the next two years was a pampered invalid. Meanwhile I had returned to the city of my nativity only to leave there after another two years to move to Chicago where I remained from 1910 until 1914. Omaha, Nebraska was my next stopping off place. It was there that I finished grammar school and was a high school freshman. This done I once more went back to Salt Lake. Persistent heart attacks made a lower altitude necessary so off I went to spend a winter in Pasadena, California. Came the “flu” epidemic of 1918, I succumbed and on convalescing returned to my hometown. Somehow or other by this time I had finished high school and had matriculated at the University of Utah. Two years there, a pre med student, then a nervous breakdown, a summer trip to Omaha, a “hobo” trip back to Salt Lake. Then Los Angeles again, three years a postal clerk, two simultaneous years a student at the University of Southern California, sudden inspiration, decision to be a writer, and in 1925 a hectic hegira to Harlem.
Thus is my checkerboard past. Three years in Harlem have seen me before a New Negro (for no reason at all and without my consent), a post (having had two poems published by generous editors), an editor (with a penchant for financially unsound publications), a critic (see articles on Negro life and literature in The Bookman, New Republic, Independent, World Tomorrow, etc.), an actor (I was a denizen of Cat Fish Row in Porgy), a husband (having been married all of six months), a novelist (e.g., The Blacker the Berry, Macaulay’s, February 1, 1929; $2.50), a playwright (being co author of Black Belt). Now what more could one do?
http://www.amazon.com/Collected-Writings-Wallace-Thurman-Renaissance/dp/0813533015/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1196801109&sr=1-1
Monday, December 3, 2007
Sunday, December 2, 2007
BENJAMIN BANNEKER
From a letter to Thomas Jefferson...
"How pitiable it is that although you are so fully convinced of the goodness of the Father of mankind you should go against His will by detaining, by fraud and violence, so many of my brothers under groaning captivity and oppression; that you should at the same time be guilty of the most criminal act which you detest in others."
http://www.biography.com/search/article.do?id=9198038
Phillis Wheatley
Phillis Wheatley was born in Senegal in about 1753. She was captured by slave traders and brought to America in 1761. Purchased by John Wheatley, a tailor from Boston, Phillis was taught to read by one of Wheatley's daughters. Phillis studied English, Latin and Greek and in 1767 began writing poetry. Her first poem, on the death of George Whitefield, was published in 1770. When Phillis was eighteen she travelled to London and while there the Countess of Huntingdon, helped her publish a collection of her work, Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral (1773). After the death of John Wheatley and his wife, Phillis married John Peters, a free black man, who ran a small grocery store in Boston. The business was unsuccessful and Phillis was forced to find work as a servant. Phillis Wheatley died in poverty in Boston on 5th December, 1784.
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A Hollow Inheritance: The Legacies of the Tuskegee Civic Association and the Crusade for Civic Democracy in Alabama by Gabriel Antoine Smi...
