Monday, September 16, 2013

From The Roy Bluff –Laura Perkins Trilogy -She Belongs To …


From The Pen Of Frank Jackman

When a writer for Rolling Stone or one of those music-oriented magazines you see flooding the newsstands and supermarket check-out counters asked Ben Freed, the longtime road manager for Roy Bluff, the famous hip-hop-infused folk rocker, off the record, on his take on the Roy Bluff-Laura Perkins flare-up he answered like this:


Sure I knew Roy Bluff on his way up, and Laura, Laura Perkins too when she came on the scene to help build his legend, but I will speak of her later. I knew that if he kept plugging away with his lyrics, his lyrics that spoke to our weird times, the late ‘90s, to the time of the seemingly end-time great plague in this world, wars, injustice, inequality, that he would break through the thickets of the music business and rise to the top, kicking ass and screaming all the way. I knew that if Roy just kept to his words, to his music, and left the other stuff alone he would be immortal. That other stuff being a huge reservoir appetite for high shelf whiskey, high-grade dope, mainly marijuana but later, cocaine and some opium, and any grade women. But that was what made him Roy, the other stuff, and it was not until later that I realized that without the other stuff, without living on edge city, without the high-wire act of his life that he could not produce those words that spoke to us. Nada, nothing.


I first met Roy one night as he was working his way up in the music world at the Café Algiers in New York City, in the Village, where he was working out the kinks for a major tour that Ducca Records, a label that had just taken a chance on him and had signed him to do an album. The album finally produced the tour was put together to gain exposure for him in small concert halls and large hotel ballrooms and to promote (sell) the records, oops, CDs. So I had been among the small group that showed up that night as he warmed up for the long haul road trip.

Now the Algiers was a smaller club than he would play on tour although frequented by serious music aficionados and some hanger-on second level celebrities, you know Village-wise artists and musicians like Manny Ray and The Kinksters and off-Broadway denizens like Mike Ester and Fiona Florin. During the break between sets Roy headed for the bar and his couple of shots of then low-shelf whiskey and a beer chaser. I, sitting at the bar, offered to buy him a drink in appreciation for what was a good performance, one that touched me at points, one that “spoke” to me in ways that mainline hip-hop artists did not at that point. He accepted and we talked further and then we talked later after the show when he again hit the bar. The long and short of it was that after a few nights of that at the Algiers I became something of a roadie for him (unpaid at first and then when he hit overpaid). So yeah I knew Roy for a while, a while before he hit it big, and before he met Laura on the way to hitting big. Roy, as everybody knows is more that capable of speaking, of defending himself and his actions, small and large, infantile and immortal.

Laura deep down was another story, and many a lonely Roy-ing night (a term we shared for the care and protection of one Roy Bluff and his frailties) we shared a bottle or a joint and commiserated over that man. One night, one night in Kansas City, after the show at the famous Hi-Hat Club, and after a particularly tough Roy-ing period for Laura when, against all good judgment, he had almost hit her when she tried to temper his furies she laid out some stuff for me about their relationship, about how it started and so I want to tell you my take on her story, on her flaming love for the Roy. And yes I had a thing for Laura, still do as little good as it does me, so let’s get that off the table right now. Here goes:

As always with Laura she was a little hesitant even after a few drinks to speak openly of her troubles, her sorrows, having been brought up in a tight-lipped Irish-Catholic household just outside of Yonkers. Tight-lipped as I knew from my own experiences with my maternal grandparents was that you did not air your dirty line in public. And so Laura hesitated although she knew, or should have known, that I had strong evidence either by not being blinded by Roy or that he told me in his more lucid (read: not drunk or stoned) of what was, and was not, happening between her and Roy.

She started out talking about a diary that she had started keeping the previous few months out of some sense of just trying to make things connect, make sense of her life, make the jumble of thoughts she had about leaving him, about leaving Roy, about pulling up stakes and going out and starting over. She pulled it out of her purse because she said she wanted to look up some stuff that she might have forgotten or had put a certain way as she wrote it out so that I would know what she felt at the time. As she read aloud to me one entry she laughed, a gorgeous Laura laugh, an infectious laugh she had when she was in high spirits and that everybody took shelter under. She laughed that she had like many a lonely schoolgirl, or many a budding literary figure, kept little nonsense diaries filled with longings and daydreams when she was young, when she came of age, when the welter of the world’s burdens fell on her shoulders and she, shy and reticent by nature, needed some way to express the confusions that made up her life about parents, boys, sex. Mostly, as she reflected now at another turning point, what to do, or what not to do about sex. She had that figured as well as any teenager had in this mega-information age, but what to do with her life was what ailed her. I blushed a little when she detailed some of her early sexual explorings, although she only made a couple of explicit references, metaphor unlike with Roy, Roy when non-lyric producing, who swore and talked obscenely almost automatically, being her forte in talking about sex.

So mainly she kept the diary because she felt she needed to keep tabs on what she was going to do about Roy Bluff and his internal, infernal, eternal needs that seemed beyond her grasp now that he had become something in the music business. Also apparently had made it his life’s ambition to drink a river of whiskey, and an acre of ganja (dope, marijuana for the unknowing), and taste every women with a skirt on (or maybe better off). She had put up with a lot, a lot of late and she knew she had to draw some line in the sand ever since that night that Roy, a head full of liquor and dope (cocaine, sister, snow you know), came within an inch of hitting her, maybe less, maybe less than an inch. Hence the diary to put those ten thousand conflicting thoughts together.

Laura made it clear, painfully clear, and drew a circle in the air as if to make sure there was no mistake about her feelings Roy Bluff, weaknesses and all, was her man, was her man ever since that first night they met at the Hi-Lo Club in Yonkers several years before. But the grind of the road, the grind of the care and protection of one Roy Bluff rising star, the grind of his excesses had taken a toll and Laura needed to get things straight in her mind, needed to take a break from Roy-ing. Laura said that as she prepared to write at length in her new found diary she began to think back to those first days when love was in full bloom, or the prospect of love was in the air. Nights then when she was not “blue,” Roy Bluff blue.

Laura spoke of how she remembered back to the night that she and Roy had had their first fight as a starting point. Their first, uh, misunderstanding he called it. She more plain spoken and forthright called it a fight. It had not been long after the night she had told Roy in no uncertain terms that he was her man and so maybe he was trying to test her that night, trying to see what hold he held over her. I thought as she mentioned it a typical guy thing that has been going on since Adam and Eve, maybe before. I had used a variation on that theme myself when younger, maybe high school younger, testing some young thing, testing just to be testing like testing the limits of outrageous behavior was the be-all and end-all of any relationship. It had been a tough night before a half-empty ballroom in Butte, Montana, half empty because even those hearty brethren would not fight five feet of snow swirling outside to hear a rising star. Catch him come spring one man quipped as he left to fight his own demon snows. That night whiskey-sated (maybe a little reefer too it was hard to avoid that mix in Roy’s head sometimes, or hers too when he introduced to her to dope) he, Roy Bluff, said he could have had his pick of whatever woman caught his fancy, caught his eye, or caught his momentary fashion interest.

Reason: Roy Bluff, a guy who had scrabbled and scrambled hard for a long time finally hit his stride, finally got the big pay-off for all those lonely half-filled rooms, all those small make-shift café stages, all those dank church basements replete with intermission homemade baked goods sold to help defray coffeehouse expenses, all those play louder than the drunks at midnight, when his brand of hip-hop-infused folk-rock became a craze. Got his big ass break when Dave Beck, the big recording producer for Ducca Records, happened to need a midnight drink, maybe two, and heard him at the El Segundo Café in Long Beach and gave him a shot.

Roy went on and on about how being a record contract singer anything, a concert artist anything women started giving him their keys, or whatever else they had to offer back then, in order to say they had been with the rising music star Roy Bluff for one night, maybe two at the most he bragged since Roy was moving fast, as fast as a man could to catch the rising wave. The she confided in me something she did not think I knew. Roy Bluff is not his real name, although out of some male vanity, or something he failed to tell her that until a mutual musician friend of theirs gave her the skinny on it one night when she kept on hearing him call Roy Ron. His real name was Ronald Smith, but the performance stage, musical performance concert artist stage, and maybe the whole world, was filled to the brim with Smiths just when he was starting out and so one night earlier in his career, one night after a drunken fight brought on by some loudmouth cursing his music in a Memphis bar, the Be-Bop Club over off Beale, he “christened” himself with that manly name despite losing that fight, losing it badly to a smaller wiry man,

[What Laura did not know which I did, and which she did not find out until later, after the night our talk was that Ronald Smith was not Roy’s real name either but Zebulon Jordan. The way I found out about it was the night, the first night he was busted he tried to use Ronald Smith when I attempted to bail him out and the hick cops in Louisville couldn’t find the name at the address given and were going to hold him over. He coped to the Jordan that night. All of which is neither here nor there since now he has had his name legally changed to Roy Bluff.]

So it wasn’t that he was agile, handsome or beautiful, if a man can be beautiful in this wicked old world that drew the women to him, as much as that he had a certain serious jut-jawed look borne from out in the prairies, a kind of cowboy look, that appealed to women, lots of women. Appealed to Laura for that matter.


Roy continued on that line about the women as he stated that he had run through the alphabet with such catches, blondes, brunettes, red-heads, especially a couple of wild red-headed sisters, college students, young professionals, slender, not so slender, yeah, the whole alphabet to fill his dance card and share booze, dope and whatever was at hand, sometimes, as to be expected, getting out of hand. Hell, he liked it, loved it for the while he was on edge city. And so it went as he puffed himself up in his own mind as least. That was not a good night as he ranted on unto exhaustion.


Later full of bad booze and sorrows Roy, trying to make up, said that was his act until she came along. Until she, Laura Perkins she, whom he called his “sweet angel,” called her sweet angel when he was having one of his better moments, had gotten under his skin, gotten the best out of him. And waxing a little poetic he said wherever the winds would take them, or not take them, she would always get under his skin, that was just the way it was almost from the first, and he said he accepted that sometimes with a sly grin and sometimes with daggers in his eyes. She merely waved him off having heard that line of defense (and contrition) before, by him and others. They did, to keep the Butte snows at bay, Laura laughed as she said this, make love that night.

She said Roy used to drive her crazy when he got into his “maybes” mood, something that had been happening a lot more of late Usually he would bring it up to settle himself down at some pre-performance moment as he prepared his play-list in his head, and he was in a sly grin mood. As he set himself up for the day’s work, actually night’s work since he would be giving a concert later that evening, he would start. The maybes, as I knew because more than once he had used me as a sounding board, being a little game that he, previously nothing but a love‘em and leave ‘em guy, played with himself trying to figure out just how, and the ways, that she, one Laura Perkins, got under his skin.

The first maybe was that Laura was not judgmental, not in a public sense anyway, and not in any way that would let him know that she was. She had given him a lot of rope, had accepted his excuses, his frailties, and his rages against the night (as she tried like hell to temper them and made a point, a strong point to me of not wanting to discuss those efforts since this was about leaving him and she wanted to interject some sunnier days into what she had to say). She said Roy had told her he would laugh to himself as he thought about the circumstances under which they had met and he knew deep down that, publicly or privately, judgmental was just not the way she was built. She said she had let a little grin form on her face in recognition of that trait, a trait that she told me she was particularly proud of.

Then Roy would describe to her his thoughts on that first night, he had just got into one of the ten thousand beefs that he got into when he was drinking back then. He was working his first major tour, major in those days being working steady and working in small concert halls and large ballrooms throughout the country (no more dank basements and crowded cafes, not for Ducca recording artist Roy Bluff). Some customer at the famous Hi-Lo Club in Yonkers who didn’t like his song selections told him about it, told him loudly.

Roy, having been drinking (and smoking a little reefer) all day, responded with a brawl, getting, as usual the worst of it, when Laura walked in with a girlfriend. Laura told him later that she did not really know who Roy was but her girlfriend, Patty Lyons, dear Patty, had heard his first album and was crazy to see him in person and so she had persuaded Laura to tag along. The truth was that Laura had heard about him from a musician friend who had heard him at the Café Algiers in the Village a few weeks before and so had not so much tagged along as was intrigued by what she had heard about him. That musician friend, a woman, a woman whom Roy had slept with at it turned out, was the one who drew her attention to that jut-jawed cowboy aura and thus the intrigue.

She had given Roy a look, an honest look, a look that said yeah I might take ride with that cowboy (laugh, cowboy from Portland up in Maine, Maine born and bred), an instant attraction look, and Roy, bloodied and all, gave one back, ditto on the attraction look. Later, just before he started his second set he asked the waitress what Laura was drinking, he then had a drink sent to her table, and she had refused it, saying that if he wanted to buy her a drink then he had better bring it to the table himself. Funny she said since she was a struggling student over at Pace University in Tarrytown at the time she would normally accept when a guy, almost any guy who looked like he might not be a crack head or crackpot, offered to buy her a drink, or two.

Yeah, yeah that was the start. After Roy had finished the set he did bring that drink over. She never asked him about the fight, about the cause of it, or even about how his wounds were feeling but rather stuff about his profession and the ordinary data of a first meeting. All she knew was as close as he had come a few times afterward that was the last time he fought anybody for any reason, fought physically anyway. He would always bring that up when they were in fight mode as some virtue that would not have occurred except for her and by implication that if she left him he would fall back on his wicked ways.

Then Roy would move on to a blow by blow description of what happened after that. He would start with maybe it was that at the beginning, not the beginning beginning, not that first night when after his set was finished he brought that drink over to her table (and to be sociable one for her girlfriend too) but after he had gotten used to her, had been to bed with her and she had said one night out of the blue, that he was her man (she said he said she had put it more elegantly than that but that was what she meant, and she agreed, agreed she put it more elegantly than that ) and that she would pack her suitcase if she was ever untrue to him. Those were the days when he was still grabbing whatever caught his eye (including that female musician friend), and reasoned what guy who was starting to get a little positive reputation in the music business wouldn’t grab what was grab-worthy. But after that he said he too silently and almost unconsciously took what they later called the “suitcase” pledge although he never told her that, never told her he took the pledge, it just kind of happened. A patent lie, no question.

Then he went on to speak of a maybe that totally befuddled him. It was that Laura would refuse the little trinkets that men give women, hell, she wouldn’t even accept roses on her birthday. She only wanted a quiet moment alone with him away from the helter-skelter of his public life. One night when he and she had been smoking a little dope and she was“mellow” and ready to shed a little of her private thoughts she had told him about a man, an older man (older then being twenty-five she being eighteen at the time, but more that she was unworldly or really not ready to accept the wicked old world on harsher terms and so malleable) who had lavished her with gifts, money, some jewelry (later found to be some reject stuff) only to confess one night that he was married and as part of that package had beaten her up as he walked out the door after she had called the whole thing off. She said if what she and Roy had wasn’t good enough without trinkets then they were doomed anyway and she would not want reminders of that failure around.

Roy would then give the full-court press. Maybe it was as they grew closer, as they got a sense of each other without hollering and as his star started rising in the business after his first big album hits, that she tried to protect him from the jugglers and the clowns (her words), the grafters, grifters, drifters and con men (his words) who congregate around money as long as it is around. Better, she protected him against the night crawler critics and up- town intellectuals who gathered around him as they saw him as their evocation of the new wordsmith messiah and who were constantly waiting, maybe praying too if such types prayed, for him to branch out beyond the perimeters that they, yes they, had set for his work, for his words. Waiting to say“sell-out.” Yes, she had protected him from the scavengers as I had, maybe better since she did not have to deal with them like I had to.

Which led to maybe it was the soothing feeling he got when after raging against the blizzard monster night of the early years, those bleak years right after the turn of the new century, on stage, in his written down words, after hours in some forsaken hotel room town, nameless, nameless except its commonality with every other hotel room, east or west, she softly spoke and made sense of all the things that he raged against, the damn wars, the damn economy, hell, even his own struggling attempts to break-out of the music business mold and bring out stuff on his own label.

Maybe too it was the tough years, the years when he was still drinking high hard sweet dreams whiskey by the gallon, still smoking way to much reefer (and whatever else was available, everybody wanted to lay stuff from their own personal stash on him, some good, some bad, very bad) when she took more than her fair share of abuse, mental not physical, although one night, a night not long before he finally crashed big time and had to be hospitalized (and not long before she started keeping that diary), he almost did so out of some hubristic rage. She waved him off when he tried to explain himself. She said “let by-gones be by-gones” and that ended the discussion.

Then out of the blue one Roy Bluff a bundle of walking contradictions, all tongue-tied and timid floored her with this- and she quoted it from memory-“And maybe, just maybe, it was that out in the awestruck thundering night, out in the hurling windstorms of human existence, out in the slashing muck-filled rains, out, he, didn’t know what out in, but out, she was, she just was… “ And as the tears slowly formed as she finished the quote she floored me with this. She thought, thought hard and fast that maybe, just maybe, she would give her walking daddy, her jut-jawed cowboy walking daddy just one more try.

Damn.

***In The 101st Anniversary Year Of The Great IWW-led Lawrence Textile Strike Of 1912-Reflections In A Wobblie Wind




From The Pen Of Frank Jackman


Every kid who has had wanderlust, even just a starry little, little bit on his or her way to the big, bad world. Meaning every half-starved, ill-clothed, hard-scrabble kid reduced to life in walking paces, footsore, time-lost sore, endless bus waiting sore, and not the speed, the “boss” hi-blown ’57 gilded cherry red Chevy speed of the 20th century go-go (and, hell, not even close in the 21st century speedo Audi super go-go) itching, itching like crazy, like feverish night sweats crazy, to bust out of the small, no, tiny, four-square wall project existence and have a room, a big room, of his or her own.

Meaning also every day-dream kid doodling his or her small-sized dream away looking out at forlorn white foam-flecked, grey-granite ocean expanses, flat brown-yellow, hell, beyond brown-yellow to some evil muck prairie home expanses, up ice cold, ice blue, beyond blue rocky mountain high expanses and stuck. Just plain, ordinary, vanilla stuck in the 1950s (or name your very own generational signifier) red scare, cold war, maybe we won’t be here tomorrow, one size fits all, death to be-bop non-be-bop night. Yeah, just plain, ordinary, vanilla stuck. What other way is there to say it.

And every kid who dreamed the dream of the great jail break-out of dark, dank, deathic bourgeois family around the square, very square, table life and unnamed, maybe un-namable, teen hormonal craziness itching, just itching that’s all. Waiting, waiting infinity waiting, kid infinity waiting, for the echo rebound be-bop middle of the night sound of mad monk rock daddies from far away radio planets, and an occasional momma too, to ease the pain, to show the way, hell, to dance the way away. To break out of the large four-square wall suburban existence, complete with Spot dog, and have some breathe, some asphalt highway not traveled, some Jersey turnpike of the mind not traveled, of his or her own.

Meaning also, just in case it was not mentioned before, every day-dream kid, small roomed or large, doodling, silly doodling to tell the truth, his or her dream away looking out at fetid seashores next to ocean expanses, corn-fed fields next to prairie home expanses, blasted human-handed rocks up rocky mountain high expanses and stuck. Just plain, ordinary, vanilla stuck in the 1950s (oh, yeah, just name your generational signifier, okay) red scare, cold war, maybe we won’t be here tomorrow, one size fits all, death to be-bop non-be-bop night. Yeah, just plain, ordinary, vanilla stuck. What other way is there to say it.

And every guy or gal who has been down on their luck a little. Like maybe he or she just couldn’t jump out of that project rut, couldn’t jump that hoop when somebody just a little higher up in the food chain laughed at those ill-fitted clothes, those stripped cuffed pants one size too large when black chinos, uncuffed, were called for. Or when stuffed bologna sandwiches, no mustard, had to serve to still some hunger, some ever present hunger. Or just got caught holding some wrong thing, some non-descript bauble really, or just had to sell their thing for their daily bread and got tired, no, weary, weary-tired weary, of looking at those next to ocean, prairie, rocky mountain expanses. Or, maybe, came across some wrong gee, some bad-ass drifter, grifter or midnight sifter and had to flee. Yeah, crap like that happens, happens all the time in project time. And split, split in two, maybe more, split west I hope.

And every guy or gal who has slept, newspaper, crushed hat, or folded hands for a pillow, all worldly possessions in some ground found Safeway shopping bag along some torrent running river, under some hide-away bridge, off some arroyo spill, hell, anywhere not noticed and safe, minute safe, from prying, greedy evil hands. Worst, the law. Or, half-dazed smelling of public toilet soap and urinals, half-dozing on some hard shell plastic seat avoiding maddened human this way and that traffic noises and law prodding keep movings and you can’t stay heres in some wayward Winnemucca, Roseburg, Gilroy, Paseo, El Paso, Neola, the names are legion, Greyhound, Continental, Trailways bus station. Or sitting by campfires, chicken scratch firewood, flame-flecked, shadow canyon boomer, eating slop stews, olio really, in some track-side hobo jungle waiting, day and day waiting, bindle ready, for some Southern Pacific or Denver and Rio Grande bull-free freight train smoke to move on.

Hell, everybody, not just lonely hard- luck project boys, wrong, dead wrong girls, wronged, badly wronged, girls, wise guy guys who got catch short, wrong gees on the run, right gees on the run from some shadow past, drifters, grifters and midnight sifters, society boys on a spree, debutantes out for a thrill, and just plain ordinary vanilla day-dreamers who just wanted to be free from the chains of the nine to five white picket fence work forty years and get your gold watch (if that) retirement capitalist system was (and, maybe, secretly is) an old Wobblie at heart. Yeah, just like Big Bill (Haywood), Jim Cannon, the Rebel Girl (Elizabeth Gurley Flynn), Joe Hill, Frank Little, Vincent Saint John (and me). Yeah, all the one big union boys and girls from way back, just to name a few.

Except when you need to take on the big issues, the life and death struggle to keep our unions against the capitalist onslaught to reduce us to chattel, the anti-war wars giving the self-same imperialists not one penny nor one person for their infernal wars as they deface the world, the class wars where they take no prisoners, none, then you need something more. Something more that kiddish child’s dreams, hobo camp freedom fireside smoke, or Rio Grande train white flume smoke. That is when day- dreaming gets you cut up. That is when you need to stay in one place and fight. That is when you need more than what our beloved old free-wheeling wobblie dream could provide. And that is a fact, a hard fact, sisters and brothers.
***Out In The 1960s Be-Bop Night-Doin’ His Midnight Creep

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman


Benny Brady, a freshly-minted teenager out in the 1960s be-bop night, 1960 to be exact, mercifully no more tween-dom for him, no more kid’s stuff and wait until you are older stuff, was sick, sick unto death of the music he was hearing on his transistor radio, on American Bandstand on the television, at school dances, and on the jukebox down at Doc’s Drugstore too. Squaresville. Enough of Connie Francis finding somebody to love without lipstick on his collar, Patsy Cline falling to pieces everybody she heard some no good guy who left her probably for some other twist, Brenda Lee being sorry, sorry practically for being born because she offended some guy, some mechanic or grease monkey and his macho sensibilities, and Sandra Dee flipping out on some ever so ever beach. Enough of the Bobbies, Rydell, Vinton Darin, and throw in the Everley Brothers telling some little Susie to wake up. Enough of Mark Dinning and the two hundredth time that Teen Angel came over the airwaves, as well as earth angels, paradise angels, Johnny Angel and every angel from here to L.A. Enough, more than enough too of emaciated, although he would not have known that word’s meaning exactly then, of raggedy doo-wop since the heyday with the Teen Queens, the Chiffons and the Shirelles had passed by. But enough of railing against the fouled-up airwaves around his native Hullsville. Benny needed, desperately needed, if you asked him directly, a new sound, a sound to go with his new found interests.

By the way that transistor radio, a tiny radio, battery- run which could be concealed at will, for the unknowing was his life-line, his and about twelve billion other tweens and teens dragged up in the cold war red scare night by, well, overprotective parents. Said parents the number one cause as far as Benny was concerned with the demise of rock ‘n’ rock as he knew it when he was just nothing but a wet behind the ears tween kid a few years back listening to his brother Prescott’s records into the wee hours down in the family room when those said parents were in dreamland. Listening to Elvis and his swivel hips that made all the girls go crazy (he would not know the why of why the girls, and women too, went crazy until later in his teen years); listening to Jerry Lee who was accused of every kind of unclean thing (again he would learn only later what that meant); listening to Chuck Berry ding-a-linging (ditto on the learning later thing) But enough too of railing against parent-dom.

If you haven’t figured out yet Benny’s new found interest was in, ah, girls, girls who when he was a tween were nothing but nuisances and a pain in the you know where. Person to be avoided at all costs except when absolutely necessary like copying homework from or borrowing money for ice cream, stuff like that, especially if they “liked” you and you were privy to that information. But after careful re-evaluation once he became a freshly-minted teen he saw that they might be, well, interesting. At least that is the way he figured, figured he had the whole boy-girl thing scoped out. What he was looking for in that vanilla music night was an edge, something he could talk to girls about and of which they were clueless. Not some prattle about Bobby slick-backed hair this, or Fabian smooth that which filled all the girl magazines. He needed something too that might, in light of his reevaluation of girls, give him a leg up with them as well, especially Lucinda, Lucinda Mott, the one girl he knew who might be interested in something new in music. Something not parentally approved. And who he had heard through that junior high school grapevine that was more effective that the whole telecommunications industry put together “liked” him.

The times were hard though just then, nothing looked like it was going to break-out of the cookie cutter ever since Elvis died, or went in the service or something, Jerry Lee got caught doing something wrong (although he couldn’t figure out what that wrong was), and guys Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and the Big Bopper crashed and burned. Then one Sunday night, it had to be a Sunday because he had gone up into his room early to try and see if he could get Murray the K, the big be-bop DJ on some New York station. See something in the air, something about radio waves and transmitters, on Sunday night allowed Benny to occasionally get faraway stations on his transistor. That night Benny got heaven, got the Brother Bopper Blues Blast out of WJDA in Chicago. He could hardly believe his ears.

Benny heard stuff that sounded like old time rock ‘n’ roll but not exactly like Elvis and Jerry Lee. He heard some stuff he couldn’t quite figure out but that Brother Bopper (real name found out later Milton Jones) said was from down in the Delta, wherever that was. Stuff done on acoustic guitar accompanied by raspy-voiced guys who kind of slurred their words, maybe didn’t know proper English for some reason. Stuff like that. And then Brother Bopper played a whole segment of the show, about one half hour devoted to one performer.

That night Benny Brady fell in love with Howlin’ Wolf, fell in love with that raspy, graspy voice, fell in love with the harmonica sound Brother Bopper between songs would describe as giving the Wolf (Brother’s term) his power (and which Benny would later see the Wolf almost ate when he was in rare form, when he was reaching for the high white note). Wolf spoke of smoke-stack lightning, big-hipped women, of little red rooster running amuck in barnyards, of pining away for women, and a lot of stuff that sounded like it might be interesting to know about; juke joints, knife-wielding guys protecting their women from other guys; hard work on weekdays and hell-raising on Saturday night.

That night too Benny Brady, freshly-minted teen knew, knew to a certainty that this was stuff that Lucinda Mott, once he definitely found out (via an older sister), that she “liked” him would flip out over, would want to endlessly discuss with him. And she did.


***Songs To While The Time By- The Roots Is The Toots-The Memphis Jug Band- She Stays Out All Night Long


Over the past several years I have been running an occasional series in this space of songs, mainly political protest songs, you know The Internationale, Union Maid, Which Side Are You On, Viva La Quince Brigada, Universal Soldier, and such entitled Songs To While The Class Struggle By. This series which could include some protest songs as well is centered on roots music as it has come down the ages and formed the core of the American songbook. You will find the odd, the eccentric, the forebears of later musical trends, and the just plain amusing here. Listen up-Peter Paul Markin

Songs To While The Time By- The Roots Is The Toots-The Memphis Jug Band- K.C. Moan




Over the past several years I have been running an occasional series in this space of songs, mainly political protest songs, you know The Internationale, Union Maid, Which Side Are You On, Viva La Quince Brigada, Universal Soldier, and such entitled Songs To While The Class Struggle By. This series which could include some protest songs as well is centered on roots music as it has come down the ages and formed the core of the American songbook. You will find the odd, the eccentric, the forebears of later musical trends, and the just plain amusing here. Listen up-Peter Paul Markin
Memphis Jug Band

Well, I thought I had heard that K C when she moan
Thought I heard that K C when she moan
Thought I heard that K C when she moan
Well, she sound like she got a heavy load

Yes and when I get back on the K C road
When I get back on the K C road
When I get back on the K C road
Gonna love my woman like I never loved before

Well I thought I heard that K C whistle moan
Well I thought I heard that K C whistle moan
Well I thought I heard that K C whistle moan
Well she blow like my woman's on board

When I get back on that K C road
When I get back on that K C road
When I get back on that K C road
Gonna love my baby like I never loved before

From The Marxist Archives -In Honor Of The 75th Anniversary Of The Founding Of The Leon Trotsky-Led Fourth International-

Workers Vanguard No. 950
15 January 2010
TROTSKY
LENIN
In Defense of Science
(Quote of the Week)

The reactionary climate of the post-Soviet world has provided a breeding ground for mysticism, superstition, political and social backwardness and all manner of anti-scientific quackery. In a 1925 speech before the Mendeleyev Congress, which took place amid celebrations of the 200th anniversary of the founding of the Russian Academy of Sciences, Bolshevik leader Leon Trotsky underlined the significance of scientific knowledge for mastering nature, differentiating between natural and social science in bourgeois society. Against those who claimed that the “essence” of reality cannot be learned, Trotsky reasserted the basic materialist concept that the objective world is knowable.
Socialist society, in its relation to scientific and cultural inheritance in general, holds to a far lesser degree an attitude of indifference, or passive acceptance. It can be said that the greater the trust of socialism in sciences devoted to direct study of nature, the greater is its critical distrust in approaching those sciences and pseudo-sciences which are linked closely to the structure of human society, its economic institutions, its state, laws, ethics, etc. Of course, these two spheres are not separated by an impenetrable wall. But at the same time, it is an indisputable fact that the heritage embodied in those sciences which deal not with human society but with “matter”—in natural sciences in the broad sense of the term, and consequently of course in chemistry—is of incomparably greater weight.
The need to know nature is imposed upon men by their need to subordinate nature to themselves. Any digressions in this sphere from objective relationships, which are determined by the properties of matter itself, are corrected by practical experience. This alone seriously guarantees natural sciences, chemical research in particular, from intentional, unintentional, or semideliberate distortions, misinterpretations, and falsifications. Social research primarily devoted its efforts toward justifying historically arisen society, so as to preserve it against the attacks of “destructive theories,” etc. Herein is rooted the apologetic role of the official social sciences of bourgeois society; and this is the reason why their accomplishments are of little value.
So long as science as a whole remained a “handmaiden of theology,” it could produce valuable results only surreptitiously. This was the case in the Middle Ages. It was during the bourgeois regime, as already pointed out, that the natural sciences gained the possibility of wide development. But social science remained the servant of capitalism….
It is self-evident that if there are no limits to knowledge and mastery of matter, then there is no unknowable “essence.”
Knowledge that arms us with the ability to forecast all possible changes in matter, and endows us with the necessary power of producing these changes—such knowledge does in fact exhaust the essence of matter. The so-called unknowable “essence” is only a generalization of our inadequate knowledge about matter. It is a pseudonym for our ignorance. Dualistic demarcation of unknown matter from its known properties reminds me of the jocular definition of a gold ring as a hole surrounded by precious metal. It is obvious that if we gain knowledge of the precious metal of phenomena and are able to shape it, then we can remain completely indifferent to the “hole” of the substance; and we gladly make a present of it to the archaic philosophers and theologians.
—Leon Trotsky, “Dialectical Materialism and Science” (1925)
************

Leon Trotsky

Dialectical Materialism and Science

(17 September 1925)


Source: New International, Vol.6 No.1, February 1940, pp.24-31.
Transcription/HTML Markup: Einde O’Callaghan for the Trotsky Internet Archive.
Copyleft: Creative Commons (Attribute & Share-alike) Leon Trotsky Internet Archive (www.marxists.org) 2006.

A Necessary Explanation: In 1925 Trotsky, as chairman Of the technical and scientific board of industry, was head of all scientific institutions, and in that capacity delivered the speech, published below, before the Mendeleyev Congress on September 17, 1925. On April 18, 1938, Trotsky wrote the following foreword to the English translation of his speech:
“This speech was delivered in 1925, at a time when the author still firmly hoped that Soviet democracy would overcome the tendencies towards bureaucratism, and create exceptionally favorable conditions for the development of scientific thought. Because of a combination of historical causes this hope has not yet materialized. On the contrary, the Soviet state in the intervening thirteen years has fallen victim to complete bureaucratic ossification and has assumed a totalitarian character equally baneful to the development of science and art. Through the cruel irony of history, genuine Marxism has now become the most proscribed of all doctrines in the Soviet Union. In the field of social science, shackled Soviet thought has not only failed to utter a single new word but, on the contrary, has sunk to the depths of pathetic scholasticism. The totalitarian regime likewise exercises a disastrous influence upon the development of the natural sciences. Nevertheless the views developed in this speech retain their validity, in the section too, which deals with the inter-relations between the social regime and scientific thought. However, they should be placed not against the background of the present Soviet state, a product of degeneration and disintegration, but rather taken in the light of that socialist state which will arise from the future victorious struggle of the international working class.”

The Continuity of Cultural Heritage

YOUR CONGRESS convenes amid the celebrations of the 200th anniversary of the founding of the Academy of Sciences. The connection between your Congress and the Academy is made all the firmer by the fact that Russian chemistry occupies by no means the last place in the achievements that have brought fame to the Academy. Here it is perhaps proper to pose the question: What is the inner historical significance of the elaborate academic celebrations? They have a significance far beyond mere visits to museums, theatres and banquets. How can we estimate this significance? Not merely by the fact that foreign scientists, kind enough to come here as our guests, have had the opportunity of ascertaining that the revolution far from destroying scientific institutions has on the contrary developed them. This evidence acquired by the foreign scientists possesses a meaning of its own. But the significance of the academic celebrations is far greater and deeper. I would formulate it as follows: The new state, a new society based on the laws of the October Revolution takes possession triumphantly – before the eyes of the whole world – of the cultural heritage of the past.
Since I have inadvertently referred to heritage, I must make clear the sense in which I use this term so as to avoid any possible misunderstandings. We would be guilty of disrespect to the future, dearer to all of us than the past, and we would be disrespectful of the past, which in many of its aspects merits profound respect – if we were to talk loosely about heritage. Not everything in the past is of value for the future. Furthermore, the development of human culture is not determined by simple concretion. There have been periods of organic growth as well as periods of rigorous criticism, sifting and selection. It would be difficult to say which of these periods has proved more fruitful for the general development of culture. At all events, we are living in an epoch of sifting and selection.
Roman jurisprudence had, from the time of Justinian, established the law of inventorial inheritance. In contrast to pre-Justinian legislation which established the right of an heir to accept inheritance provided only he likewise assumed responsibility for all obligations and debts, inventorial inheritance gave the inheritor a certain degree of choice. The revolutionary state, representing a new class, is a kind of inventorial inheritor in relation to the accumulated store of culture. Let me state frankly that not all of the 15,000 volumes published by the Academy during its two centuries of existence will enter into the inventory of Socialism! There are two aspects of by no means equal merit to the scientific contributions of the past which are now ours and upon which we pride ourselves. Science as a whole has been directed toward acquiring knowledge of reality, research into the laws of evolution, and discovery of the properties and qualities of matter, in order to gain greater mastery over it. But knowledge did not develop within the four walls of a laboratory or a lecture hall. No, it remained a function of human society and reflected the structure of human society. For its needs, society requires knowledge of nature. But at the same time, society demands an affirmation of its right to be what it is; a justification of its particular institutions; first and foremost, the institutions of class domination, just as in the past it demanded the justification of serfdom, class privileges, monarchical prerogatives, national exceptionalism, etc. Socialist society accepts with utmost gratitude the heritage of the positive sciences, discarding, as is the right of inventorial choice, everything which is useless in acquiring knowledge of nature but only useful in justifying class inequality and all other kinds of historical untruth.
Every new social order appropriates the cultural heritage of the past not in its totality but only in accordance with its own structure. Thus, medieval society embodied in Christianity many elements of ancient philosophy, subordinating them, however, to the needs of the feudal regime and transforming them into scholasticism, the “handmaiden of theology.” Similarly, bourgeois society inherited among other things from the Middle Ages, Christianity, but subjected it either to the Reformation, that is, revolt in the shape of Protestantism, or pacification in the shape of adaptation of Catholicism to the new regime. In any case, Christianity of the bourgeois epoch was brushed aside to the degree that the road had to be cleared for scientific research, at least, within those limits which were required for the development of the productive forces.
Socialist society in its relation to scientific and cultural inheritance in general holds to a far lesser degree an attitude of indifference, or passive acceptance. It can be said: The greater the trust of socialism in sciences devoted to direct study of nature, all the greater is its critical distrust in approaching those sciences and pseudo-sciences which are linked closely to the structure of human society, its economic institutions, its state, laws, ethics, etc. Of course these two spheres are not separated by an impenetrable wall. But at the same time, it is an indisputable fact that the heritage embodied in those sciences which deal not with human society but with “matter” – in natural sciences in the broad sense of the term, and consequently of course in chemistry – is of incomparably greater weight.
The need to know nature is imposed upon men by their need to subordinate nature to themselves. Any digressions in this sphere from objective relationships, which are determined by the properties of matter itself, are corrected by practical experience. This alone seriously guarantees natural sciences, chemical research, in particular, from intentional, unintentional, semi-deliberate distortions, misinterpretations and falsifications. Social research primarily devoted its efforts toward justifying historically-arisen society, so as to preserve it against the attacks of “destructive theories,” etc. Herein is rooted the apologetic role of the official social sciences of bourgeois society; and this is the reason why their accomplishments are of little value.
So long as science as a whole remained a “handmaiden of theology,” it could produce valuable results only surreptitiously. This was the case in the Middle Ages. It was during the bourgeois regime, as already pointed out, that the natural sciences gained the possibility of wide development. But social science remained the servant of capitalism. This is also true, to a large extent, of psychology which links the social and natural sciences; and philosophy which systematizes the generalized conclusions of all sciences.
I said that official social science has produced little of value. This is best revealed by the inability of bourgeois science to foresee tomorrow. We have observed this in relation to the first imperialist World War and its consequences. We have seen it again in relation to the October revolution. We now see it in the complete helplessness of official social science in the evaluation of the European situation, the inter-relations with America and with the Soviet Union; in its inability to draw any conclusions regarding tomorrow. Yet the significance of science lies precisely in this: To know in order to foresee.
Natural science – and chemistry occupies a most important place in that field – indisputably constitutes the most valuable portion of our inheritance. Your Congress stands under the banner of Mendeleyev who was and remains the pride of Russian science.

To Know So That We May Foresee and Act

There is a difference in the degree of foresight and precision achieved in the various sciences. But it is through foresight – passive, in some instances as in astronomy, active as in chemistry and chemical engineering – that science is able to verify itself and justify its social purpose. An individual scientist may not at all be concerned with the practical application of his research. The wider his scope, the bolder his flight, the greater his freedom from practical daily necessity in his mental operations, all the better. But science is not a function of individual scientists; it is a public function. The social evaluation of science, its historical evaluation is determined by its capacity to increase man’s power and arm him with the power to foresee and master nature. Science is knowledge that endows us with power. When Leverrier on the basis of the “eccentricities” in the orbit of Uranus concluded that there must exist an unknown celestial body “disturbing” the movement of Uranus; when Leverrier on the basis of his purely mathematical calculations requested the German astronomer Galle to locate a body wandering without a passport in the skies at such and such an address; when Galle focussed his telescope in that direction and discovered the planet called Neptune – at that moment the celestial mechanics of Newton celebrated a great victory.
This occurred in the autumn of 1846. In the year 1848 revolution swept like a whirlwind through Europe, demonstrating its “disturbing” influence on the movement of peoples and states. In the intervening period, between the discovery of Neptune and the revolution of 1848, two young scholars, Marx and Engels, wrote The Communist Manifesto, in which they not only predicted the inevitability of revolutionary events in the near future, but also analyzed in advance their component forces, the logic of their movement – up to the inevitable victory of the proletariat and the establishment of the dictatorship of the proletariat. It would not at all be superfluous to juxtapose this prognosis with the prophecies of the official social science of the Hohenzollerns, the Romanovs, Louis Philippe and others in 1848.
In 1869, Mendeleyev on the basis of his researches and reflection upon atomic weight established his Periodic Law of the Elements. To the atomic weight, as a more stable criterion, Mendeleyev linked a series of other properties and traits, arranged the elements in a definite order and then through this order revealed the existence of a certain disorder, namely, the absence of certain elements. These unknown elements or chemical units, as Menedeleyev once called them, should in accordance with the logic of this “Law” occupy specific vacant places in that order. Here, with the authoritative gesture of a research worker confident in himself, Mendeleyev knocked at one of nature’s hitherto closed doors, and from within a voice answered: “Present!” Actually, three voices responded simultaneously, for in the places indicated by Mendeleyev there were discovered three new elements, later called gallium, scandium, and germanium.
A marvellous triumph for thought, analytical and synthesizing! In his Principles of Chemistry Mendeleyev vividly characterizes scientific creative effort, comparing it with the projection of a bridge across a ravine: For this it is unnecessary to descend into the ravine and to fix supports at the bottom; it is only necessary to erect a foundation on one side and then project an accurately designed arc which will then find support on the opposite side. Similarly with scientific thought. It can base itself only on the granite foundation of experience but its generalizations like the arc of a bridge can rise above the world of facts in order later, at another point calculated in advance, to meet the latter. At that moment of scientific thought when a generalization turns into prediction – and prediction is triumphantly verified through experience – at that moment, human thought is invariably supplied with its proudest and most justified satisfaction! Thus it was in chemistry with the discovery of new elements on the basis of the Periodic Law.
Mendeleyev’s prediction, which later produced a profound impression upon Frederick Engels, was made in the year 1871, the year, that is, of the great tragedy of the Paris Commune in France. The attitude of our great chemist to this event can be gathered from his general hostility towards “Latinism,” its violence and revolutions. Like all official thinkers of the ruling classes not only in Russia and in Europe but throughout the world, Mendeleyev did not ask himself: What is the real driving force behind the Paris Commune? He did not see that the new class growing from the womb of old society was here exercising in its movement as “disturbing” an influence upon the orbit of old society as the unknown planet did upon the orbit of Uranus. But a German exile, Karl Marx, did at that time analyze the causes and inner mechanics of the Paris Commune and the rays of his scientific torch penetrated to the events of our own October and shed light upon them.
We have long found it unnecessary to resort to a more mysterious substance, called phlogiston, to explain chemical reactions. As a matter of fact, phlogiston served merely as a generalization for the ignorance of alchemists. In the sphere of physiology, the time has long since passed when a need was felt for a special mystical substance, called the vital force and which was the phlogiston of living matter. In principle we now possess sufficient knowledge of physics and chemistry to explain physiological phenomena. In the sphere of the phenomena of consciousness we are no longer in need of a substance labelled the soul which in reactionary philosophy performs the role of the phlogiston of psycho-physical phenomena. Psychology is for us in the final analysis reducible to physiology, and the latter – to chemistry, mechanics and physics. This is far more viable than the theory of phlogiston in the sphere of social science where this phlogiston appears in different costumes; now disguised as “historical mission,” now disguised as changeless “national character,” now as the disembodied idea of “progress,” now as the so-called “critical thought,” and so on ad infinitum. In all these cases, an attempt has been made to discover some super-social substance to explain social phenomena. It is hardly necessary to repeat that these ideal substances are only ingenious disguises for sociological ignorance. Marxism rejected super-historical essences, just as physiology has renounced the vital force, or chemistry – phlogiston.
The essence of Marxism consists in this, that it approaches society concretely, as a subject for objective research, and analyzes human history as one would a colossal laboratory record. Marxism appraises ideology as a subordinate integral element of the material social structure. Marxism examines the class structure of society as a historically conditioned form of the development of the productive forces; Marxism deduces from the productive forces of society the inter-relations between human society and surrounding nature, and these, in turn are determined at each historical stage by man’s technology, his instruments and weapons, his capacities and methods for struggle with nature. Precisely this objective approach arms Marxism with the insuperable power of historical foresight.
Consider the history of Marxism even if only on the national scale of Russia, and follow it not from the standpoint of your own political sympathies or antipathies but from the standpoint of Mendeleyev’s definition of science:
To know so that we may foresee and act. The initial period of the history of Marxism on Russian soil is the history of a struggle for correct socio-historical prognosis (foresight) as against the official governmental, and official opposi-tional viewpoints. In the early Eighties, that is, at a time when official ideology existed as the trinity of absolutism, orthodoxy and nationalism; liberalism day-dreamed about a Zemstvo Assembly, i. e., a semi-constitutional monarchy, while the Narodniki combined feeble socialistic fantasies with economic reaction. At that time Marxist thought predicted not only the inevitable and progressive work of capitalism but also the appearance of the proletariat in an independent historical role – the proletariat taking hegemony in the struggle of the popular masses; the proletarian dictatorship leading the peasantry behind it.
There is no less a difference between the Marxist method of social analysis and the theories against which it fought than there is between Mendeleyev’s Periodic Law with all its latest modifications on the one side and the mumbo-jumbo of the alchemists on the other.

Natural Science and Marxism

“The cause of chemical reaction lies in the physical and mechanical properties of compounds.” This formula of Mendeleyev is completely materialist in character. Chemistry instead of resorting to some new super-mechanical and super-physical force to explain its phenomena, reduces chemical processes to the mechanical and physical properties of its compounds.
Biology and physiology stand in a similar relationship to chemistry. Scientific, that is, materialist physiology does not require a special super-chemical vital force (as is the claim of Vitalists and neo-Vitalists) to explain phenomena in its field. Physiological processes are reducible in the last analysis to chemical ones, just as the latter – to mechanics and physics.
Psychology is similarly related to physiology. It is not for nothing that physiology is called the applied chemistry of living organisms. Just as there exists no special physiological force, so it is equally true that scientific, i.e., materialist psychology has no need of a mystic force – soul – to explain phenomena in its field, but finds them reducible in the final analysis to physiological phenomena. This is the school of the academician Pavlov; it views the so-called soul as a complex system of conditioned reflexes, completely rooted in the elementary physiological reflexes which in their turn find, through the potent stratum of chemistry, their root in the subsoil of mechanics and physics.
The same can be said of sociology also. To explain social phenomena it is not necessary to adduce some kind of eternal source, or to search for origin in another world. Society is a product of the development of primary matter, like the earth’s crust or the amoeba. In this manner, scientific thought with its methods cuts like a diamond drill through the complex phenomena of social ideology to the bed-rock of matter, its component elements, its atoms with their physical and mechanical properties.
Naturally, this does not mean to say that every phenomenon of chemistry can be reduced directly to mechanics; and even less so, that every social phenomenon is directly reducible to physiology and then – to laws of chemistry and mechanics. It may be said that this is the uppermost aim of science. But the method of gradual and continuous approach toward this aim is entirely different. Chemistry has its special approach to matter; its own methods of research, its own laws. If without the knowledge that chemical reactions are reducible in the final analysis to mechanical properties of elementary particles of matter, there is not and cannot be a finished philosophy linking all phenomena into a single system, so, on the other hand, the mere knowledge that chemical phenomena are themselves rooted in mechanics and physics does not provide in itself the key to even one chemical reaction. Chemistry has its own keys. One can choose among them only from experience and generalization, through the chemical laboratory, chemical hypothesis and chemical theory.
This applies to all sciences. Chemistry is a powerful pillar of physiology with which it is directly connected through the channels of organic and physiological chemistry. But chemistry is no substitute for physiology. Each science rests on the laws of other sciences only in the so-called final instance. But at the same time, the separation of the sciences from one another is determined precisely by the fact that each science covers a particular field of phenomena, i.e. a field of such complex combinations of elementary phenomena and laws as require a special approach, special research technique, special hypotheses and methods.
This idea seems so indisputable in relation to the sciences of mathematics and natural history that to harp on it would be like forcing an open door. It is otherwise with social science. Outstanding trained naturalists who in the field, say, of physiology would not proceed a step without taking into account rigidly tested experiments, verification, hypothetical generalization, latest verification and so forth; approach social phenomena far more boldly, with the boldness of ignorance, as if tacitly acknowledging that in this extremely complex sphere of phenomena it is sufficient merely to have vague propensities, day-to-day observations, family traditions, and even a stock of current social prejudices.
Human society has not developed in accordance with a pre-arranged plan or system, but empirically, in the course of a long, complicated and contradictory struggle of the human species for existence, and, later, for greater and greater mastery over nature itself. The ideology of human society took shape as a reflection of and an instrument in this process – belated, desultory, piecemeal, in the form, so to speak, of conditioned social reflexes which are in the final analysis reducible to the necessities of the struggle of collective man against nature. To arrive at judgments upon laws governing the development of human society on the basis of their ideological reflection, on the basis of so-called public opinion etc. is almost equivalent to forming a judgment upon the anatomical and physiological structure of a lizard on the basis of its sensations as it lies basking in the sun or crawls out of a damp crevice. True enough, there is a very direct bond between the sensations of a lizard and the latter’s organic structure. But this bond is a subject for research by means of objective methods. There is, however, a tendency to become most subjective in judging the structure and laws that govern the development of human society in terms of the so-called consciousness of society, that is, its contradictory, disjointed, conservative, unverified ideology. Of course, one can became insulted and raise the objection that social ideology is, after all, at a higher elevation than the sensation of a lizard. It all depends on one’s approach to the question. In my opinion there is nothing paradoxical in the statement that from the sensations of a lizard one could, if it were possible to bring them into proper focus, draw much more direct conclusions concerning the structure and function of its organs than concerning the structure of society and its dynamics from such ideological reflections as, for example, religious creeds which once occupied and still continue to occupy so prominent a place in the life of human society; or from the contradictory and hypocritical codexes of official morality; or, finally, the idealistic philosophic conceptions which in order to explain complex organic processes occurring in man, seek to place responsibility upon a nebulous, subtle essence called the soul and endowed with the qualities of impenetrability and eternity.
Mendeleyev’s reaction to problems of social reorganization was one of hostility and even scorn. He maintained that from time immemorial nothing had yet come from the attempt. Mendeleyev instead expected a happier future to arise through the positive sciences and above all chemistry which would reveal all of nature’s secrets.
It is of interest to juxtapose this point of view to that of our remarkable physiologist Pavlov who is of the opinion that wars and revolutions are something accidental, arising from people’s ignorance; and who conjectures that only a profound knowledge of “human nature” will eliminate both wars and revolutions.
Darwin can be placed in the same category. This highly gifted biologist demonstrated how an accumulation of small quantitative variations produces an entirely new biologic “quality” and by that token he explained the origin of species. Without being aware of it, he thus applied the method of dialectic materialism to the sphere of organic life. Darwin although unenlightened in philosophy, brilliantly applied Hegel’s law of transition from quantity into quality. At the same time we very often discover in this same Darwin, not to mention the Darwinians, utterly naive and unscientific attempts at applying the conclusions of biology to society. To interpret competition as a “variety” of the biological struggle for existence is like seeing only mechanics in the physiology of mating.
In each of these cases we observe one and the same fundamental mistake: the methods and achievements of chemistry or physiology, in violation of all scientific boundaries, are transplanted into human society. A naturalist would hardly carry over without modification the laws governing the movement of atoms into the movement of molecules which are governed by other laws. But many naturalists have an entirely different attitude upon the question of sociology. The historically conditioned structure of society is very often disregarded by them in favor of the anatomical structure of things, the physiological structure of reflexes, the biological struggle for existence. Of course, the life of human society, interlaced with material conditions, surrounded on all sides by chemical processes, itself represents in the final analysis a combination of chemical processes. On the other hand, society is constituted of human beings whose psychological mechanism is resolvable into a system of reflexes. But public life is neither a chemical nor a physiological process but a social process which is shaped according to its own laws, and these in turn are subject to an objective sociological analysis whose aims should be: To acquire the ability to foresee and to master the fate of society.

Mendeleyev’s Philosophy

In his commentaries to the Principles of Chemistry, Mendeleyev states:
“There are two basic or positive aims to the scientific study of objects: that of forecast and that of utility ... The triumph of scientific forecasts would be of very little significance, if they did not in the end lead to direct and general usefulness. Scientific foresight, based on knowledge, endows human mastery with concepts by means of which it is possible to direct the substance of things into a desired channel.”
And further Mendeleyev adds cautiously:
“Religious and philosophical ideas have thrived and developed for many thousands of years, but those ideas which govern the exact sciences capable of forecasting have been regenerated for only a few centuries and have thus far encompassed only a limited sphere. Scarcely two hundred years have passed since chemistry became part of these sciences. Truly, there lies ahead of us a great deal both in respect to prediction and usefulness to be derived from these sciences.”
These cautions, “insinuating” words are very noteworthy on the lips of Mendeleyev. Their half-concealed meaning is clearly directed against religion and speculative philosophy. Mendeleyev contrasts them to science. Religious ideas – he says in effect – have ruled for thousands of years and the benefits derived from these ideas are not very many; but you can see for yourselves what science has contributed in a short period of time and from this you can judge what its future benefits will be. This is the unquestionable meaning of the foregoing passage included by Mendeleyev in one of his commentaries and printed in the finest type on page 405 of his Principles of Chemistry. Dimitry Ivanovich was a very cautious man and did not intend to quarrel with official public opinion!
Chemistry is a school of revolutionary thought not because of the existence of a chemistry of explosives. Explosives are far from always being revolutionary. But because chemistry is, above all, the science of the transmutation of elements; it is hostile to every kind of absolute or conservative thinking cast in immobile categories.
It is very instructive that Mendeleyev, obviously under the pressure of conservative public opinion, defended the principle of stability and immutability in the great processes of chemical transformation. This great scientist insisted with remarkable stubborness on the immutability of chemical elements and their non-transmutation into one another. He felt the need for firm pillars of support. He said:
“I am Dimitry Ivanovich, and you are Ivan Petrovich. Each of us possesses his own individuality even as the elements.”
Mendeleyev more than once scornfully denounced dialectics. By this he understood not the dialectic of Hegel or Marx but the superficial art of toying with ideas, half sophistry, half scholasticism. Scientific dialectic embraces general methods of thought which reflect the laws of development. One of these laws is the change of quantity into quality. Chemistry is thoroughly permeated with this law. Mendeleyev’s whole Periodic Law is built entirely on it, deducing qualitative difference in the elements from quantitative differences in atomic weights. Engels evaluated the discovery of new elements by Mendeleyev precisely from this viewpoint. In his sketch, The General Character of Dialectics as a Science, Engels wrote:
“Mendeleyev showed that in a series of related elements arranged according to their atomic weights there are several gaps which indicated the existence of other hitherto undiscovered elements. He described in advance the general chemical properties of each of these unknown elements and foretold approximately their relative and atomic weights, and their atomic place. Mendeleyev, unconsciously applying Hegel’s law of change of quantity into quality, accomplished a scientific feat which in its audaciousness can be placed alongside Leverrier’s discovery of the yet unknown planet Neptune by computing its orbit.”
The logic of the Periodic Law, although later modified, proved stronger than the conservative limits which its creator tried to place upon it. The kinship of elements and their mutual metamorphoses can be considered as proved empirically from the hour when with the help of radioactive elements it became possible to resolve the atom into its components. In Mendeleyev’s Periodic Law, in the chemistry of radioactive elements, the dialectic celebrates its own most outstanding victory!
Mendeleyev did not have a finished philosophical system. Perhaps he lacked even a desire for one, because it would have brought him into inevitable conflict with his own conservative habits and sympathies.
A dualism upon basic questions of knowledge is to be observed in Mendeleyev. Thus it would seem that he tended toward agnosticism, declaring that the “essence” of matter must forever remain beyond our cognition because it is “alien to our knowledge and spirit” (!). But almost immediately he offers us a remarkable formula for knowledge which at a single stroke brushes agnosticism aside. In the very same note, Mendeleyev says:
“By accumulating gradually their knowledge of matter, men gain mastery over it, and to the degree in which they do so they make ever more precise predictions, verifiable factually and there is no way of seeing how there can be a limit to man’s knowledge and mastery of matter.”
It is self-evident that if there are no limits to knowledge and mastery of matter, then there is no unknowable “essence.” Knowledge which arms us with the ability to forecast all possible changes in matter, and endows us with the necessary power of producing these changes – such knowledge does in fact exhaust the essence of matter. The so-called unknowable “essence” is only a generalization of our inadequate knowledge about matter. It is a pseudonym for our ignorance. Dualistic demarcation of unknown matter from its known properties reminds me of the jocular definition of a gold ring as a hole surrounded by precious metal. It is obvious that if we gain knowledge of the precious metal of phenomena and are able to shape it, then we can remain completely indifferent to the “hole” of the substance; and we gladly make a present of it to the archaic philosophers and theologians.

Major Miscalculations

Despite his verbal concessions to agnosticism (“unknowable essence”) Mendeleyev is unconsciously a dialectic materialist in his methods and his higher achievements in the sphere of natural science, especially, chemistry. But his materialism appears as though encased in a conservative shell, shielding its scientific thought from too sharp conflicts with official ideology. This does not imply that Mendeleyev artificially created a conservative covering for his methods; he was himself sufficiently bound to the official ideology, and therefore undoubtedly felt an inner compulsion to blunt the razor edge of dialectical materialism.
It is otherwise in the sphere of sociological relationships: The warp of Mendeleyev’s social philosophy was conservative, but from time to time remarkable surmises, materialist in their essence and revolutionary in their tendency, are woven into this warp. But alongside of these surmises there are miscalculations and what miscalculations!
I shall confine myself to only two. Rejecting all plans for social reorganization as Utopian and “Latinist,” Mendeleyev envisaged a better future only in connection with the development of scientific technology. But he had his own Utopia. According to Mendeleyev, better days would come when the governments of the major powers of the world realized the need of being strong and arrived at sufficient unanimity among themselves about the need of eliminating all wars, revolutions, and the Utopian principles of all Anarchists, Communists, and other “mailed fists,” incapable of understanding the progressive evolution occurring in all mankind. The dawn of this universal concord was already to be perceived in the Hague, Portsmouth, and Morocco Conferences. These instances represent major miscalculations on the part of a great man. History subjected Mendeleyev’s social Utopia to a rigorous test. From the Hague and Portsmouth Conferences blossomed the Russo-Japanese war, the war in the Balkans, the great imperialist slaughter of nations, and a sharp decline in European economy; while from the Moroccan Conference, in particular, there arose the revolting carnage in Morocco which is now being completed under the flag of defense of European civilization. Mendeleyev did not see the inner logic of social phenomena, or, more precisely, the inner dialectic of social processes and was therefore unable to foresee the consequences of the Hague Conference. But, as we know, the significance of science lies, first and foremost, in foresight. If you turn to what the Marxists wrote about the Hague Conference in the days when it was arranged and convoked, then you will easily convince yourselves that the Marxists correctly foresaw the consequences. That is why in the most critical moment of history they proved to be armed with the “mailed fist.” And there is really nothing lamentable in the fact that the historically-rising class, armed with a correct theory of social knowledge and foresight, finally proved to be likewise armed with a fist sufficientily mailed to open a new epoch of human development.
Permit me to cite another miscalculation. Not long before his death, Mendeleyev wrote:
“I especially fear for the quality of science and of all enlightenment, and general ethics under ‘State Socialism’.”
Were his fears well-founded? Even today, the more far-sighted students of Mendeleyev have begun to see clearly the vast possibilities for the development of scientific and technico-scientific thought thanks to the fact that this thought is, so to speak, nationalized, emancipated from the internecine wars of private property, no longer required to lend itself to bribery of individual proprietors but intended to serve the economic development of the nation as a whole. The network of technico-scientific institutes now being established by the State is only a tiny and so-to-speak material symptom of the limitless possibilities that have been disclosed.
I do not cite these miscalculations in order to cast a slur on the great renown of Dimitry Ivanovich. History has passed its verdict on the main controversial issues, and there is no basis for resuming the dispute. But permit me to state that the major miscalculations of this great man contain an important lesson for students. From the field of chemistry itself there are no direct and immediate outlets to social perspectives. The objective method of social science is necessary. Marxism is such a method.
Whenever any Marxist attempted to transmute the theory of Marx into a universal master-key and ignore all other spheres of learning, Vladimir Ilyich (Lenin) would rebuke him with the expressive phrase: “Komchvanstvo” (“Communist swagger”). This would mean in this particular case – Communism is not a substitute for chemistry. But the converse theorem is also true. An attempt to dismiss Marxism with the supposition that chemistry (or the natural sciences in general) is able to decide all questions is a peculiar “Chemist swagger” (Khimchvanstvo) which in point of theory is no less erroneous and in point of fact no less pretentious than Communist swagger.

Great Surmises

Mendeleyev did not apply a scientific method to the study of society and its development. A very careful investigator who repeatedly checked himself before permitting his creative imagination to make a great leap forward in the sphere of generalization, Mendeleyev remained an empiricist in socio-political problems, combining conjectures with an outlook inherited from the past. I need only say that the surmise was truly Mendeleyevian especially where it touched directly upon the scientific industrial interests of the great scientist.
The very gist of Mendeleyev’s philosophy might be defined as technico-scientific optimism. This optimism, coinciding with the line of development of capitalism, Mendeleyev directed against the Narodniks, liberals and radicals, against the followers of Tolstoy and, in general, against every kind of economic retrogression. Mendeleyev believed in the victory of man over all of nature’s forces. From this arises his hatred of Malthusianism. This is a remarkable trait in Mendeleyev. It passes through all his writings, purely scientific, socio-publicistic, as well as his writings on questions of applied chemistry. Mendeleyev greeted with pleasure the fact that the annual increase in Russia’s population (1½%) was higher than the average growth in the whole world. Computing that the population of the world would in 150-200 years reach 10 billion, Mendeleyev saw no cause for any alarm. He wrote:
“Not only 10 billion but a population many times that size will find nourishment in this world not only through the application of labor but also through the persistent inventiveness which governs knowledge. It is in my opinion sheer nonsense to fear lack of nourishment, provided the peaceful and active communion of the masses of the people is guaranteed.”
Our great chemist and industrial optimist would have hardly listened with sympathy to the recent advice of Professor Keynes of England who told us during the academic celebrations that we must busy ourselves with limiting the increase in population. Dimitry Ivanovich would have only repeated his old remark: “Or do the new Malthuses wish to arrest this growth? In my opinion, the more, the merrier.” Mendeleyev’s sententious shrewdness very often expressed itself in such deliberately over-simplified formulas.
From the same viewpoint – industrial optimism – Mendeleyev approached the great fetish of conservative idealism, the so-called national character. He wrote:
“Where-ever agriculture in its primitive forms predominates, a nation is incapable of permanent regular and continuous labor but is able to work only fitfully and in a harvest-time manner. This reflects itself clearly in the customs in the sense that there is a lack of equanimity, calmness and thriftiness; fidgetiness is to be observed in everything, a happy-go-lucky attitude prevails, along with it extravagance – there is either miserliness or squandering ... Wherever side by side with agriculture, factory industry has developed on a large scale, where one can see before one’s eyes, in addition to sporadic agriculture, the regulated, continuous, uninterrupted labor in the factories, there obtains a correct appraisal of labor, and so on.”
Of especial value in these lines is the outlook on national character not as some primordial fixed element created for all time, but as a product of historical conditions and, more precisely, social forms of production. This is an indubitable, even if only a partial approach to the historical philosophy of Marxism.
In the development of industry Mendeleyev sees the instrumentalities of national re-education, the elaboration of a new, more balanced, more disciplined and self-controlled national character. If we actually contrast the character of the peasant revolutionary movements with the movement of the proletariat and especially the role of the proletariat in October and today, then the materialist prediction of Mendeleyev will be illumined with sufficient clarity.
Our industrial optimist expressed himself with remarkable lucidity on the elimination of the contradictions between city and country, and every Communist will accept his formulation on this subject. Mendeleyev wrote:
“Russian people have begun to migrate to cities in large numbers ... My view is that it is sheer nonsense to fight against this development; this process will terminate only when the city, on the one side, will spread out to include more parks, gardens, etc., i.e. the aim in the cities will be not only to render life as healthy as possible for all but also to provide sufficient open spaces not only for childrens’ playgrounds and for sport but for every form of recreation; and, on the other hand, in the villages and farms, etc., the non-urban population will so multiply as to require the building of many-storied houses; and there will arise the need for water-works, street lighting and other city comforts. In the course of time all this will lead to the whole countryside (sufficiently densely populated), becoming inhabited, with dwellings being separated by the so-to-speak kitchen gardens and orchards necessary for the production of foodstuffs and with factories and plants for manufacturing and altering these products.” (D.I. Mendeleyev, Towards an Understanding of Russia, 1906).
Here Mendeleyev testifies convincingly in favor of the old thesis of Socialism: the elimination of the contradiction between city and country, Mendeleyev, however, does not here pose the question of changes in social forms of economy. He believes that capitalism will automatically lead to the levelling out of urban and rural conditions through the introduction of higher, more hygienic and cultural forms of human habitation. Herein lies Mendeleyev’s mistake. It appears most clearly in the case of England to which Mendeleyev referred with such hope. Long before England could eliminate the contradictions between city and country, her economic development had already landed in a blind alley. Unemployment corrodes her economy. The leaders of English industry see the salvation of society in emigration, in forcing out the surplus population. Even the more “progressive” economist, Mr. Keynes told us only the other day that the salvaging of English economy lies in Malthusianism! ... For England, too, the road of overcoming the contradictions between city and country leads through Socialism.
There is another surmise made by our industrial optimist. In his last book, Mendeleyev wrote:
“After the industrial epoch, there will probably follow in the future a most complex epoch, which, according to my view, would denote a facilitation, or an extreme simplification of the methods of obtaining food, clothing and shelter. Established science should am at this extreme simplification towards which it has already been partly directed in recent decades.” (idem).
These are remarkable words. Although Dimitry Ivanovich elsewhere makes reservations – against the realization, god forbid, of the Utopia of Socialists and Communists – in these words he nevertheless outlines the technico-scientific perspectives of Communism. A development of the productive forces that would lead us to attain extreme simplification of the methods of obtaining food, clothing and shelter would also clearly lead us to reduce to a minimum the element of coercion in the social structure. With the elimination of the completely useless greediness from social relations, the forms of labor and distribution will assume a Communist character. In the transition from Socialism to Communism no revolution will be necessary since the transition wholly depends upon the technical progress of society.

Utilitarian and “Pure” Science

Mendeleyev’s industrial optimism constantly directed his thought towards practical industrial questions and problems. In his purely theoretical works, we find his thought directed through the same channels to the problems of economy. There is a dissertation by Mendeleyev devoted to the question of diluting alcohol with water, a question. which is of economic significance even today. (An ironic reference to the resumption of the State-sale of vodka. – Ed.) Mendeleyev invented a smokeless powder for the needs of state defense. He occupied himself with a careful study of petroleum, and that in two directions – one, purely theoretical, the origin of petroleum; and the. other, technico-industrial uses. Here we should always bear in mind Mendeleyev’s protest against using petroleum simply as a fuel: “Heating can be done with banknotes!” exclaimed our chemist. A confirmed protectionist, Mendeleyev took leading part in elaborating tariff policies and wrote his Sensible Tariff Policy from which not a few valuable directives can be quoted even from the standpoint of socialist protectionism.
Problems of northern sea routes stirred his interest shortly before his death. He recommended to young investigators and navigators that they solve the problem of opening up the North Pole. He held that commercial routes must necessarily follow.
“Near that ice there is not a little gold and other minerals, our own America. I should be happy to die at the Pole, for there at least no one ‘putrefies’.”
These words have a very modern ring. When the old chemist reflected upon death, he thought about it from the standpoint of putrefaction and dreamt incidentally of dying in an atmosphere of eternal cold.
Mendeleyev never tired of repeating that the goal of knowledge was “usefulness.” In other words, he approached science from the standpoint of utilitarianism. At the same time, as we know, he insisted on the creative role of disinterested pursuit of knowledge. Why should anyone in particular seek for commercial routes by round-about ways to reach the North Pole? Because reaching the Pole is a problem of disinterested research capable of arousing scientific research-sport passions. Is there not a contradiction between this and the affirmation that science’s goal is usefulness? Not at all. Science is a function of society and not of an individual. From the socio-historic standpoint, science is utilitarian. But this does not at all mean that each scientist approaches problems of research from a utilitarian point of view. No! Most often scholars are motivated by their passion for knowledge and the more significant a man’s discovery the less is he able as a general rule to foresee in advance its possible practical applications. Thus the disinterested passion of a research worker does not contradict the utilitarian meaning of each science any more than the personal self-sacrifice of a revolutionary fighter contradicts the utilitarian aim of those class needs which he serves.
Mendeleyev was able to combine perfectly his passion for knowledge for its own sake with incessant preoccupation about raising the technical power of mankind. That is why the two wings of this Congress – the representatives of theoretical and of applied branches of chemistry – stand with equal right under the banner of Mendeleyev. We must educate the new generation of scientists in the spirit of this harmonious coordination of pure scientific research with industrial tasks. Mendeleyev’s faith in the unlimited possibilities for knowledge, prediction and mastery of matter must become the scientific credo for the chemists of the socialist fatherland. The German physiologist, Du Bois Reymond once envisaged philosophic thought as departing from the scene of the class struggle and crying out: “Ignorabimus!” That is, we shall never know, we shall never understand! And scientific thought, linking its fate with the fate of the rising class, replies,
“You lie! The impenetrable does not exist for conscious thought! We will reach everything! We will master everything! We will rebuild everything!”

Sunday, September 15, 2013

***Rumblings From The 1960's Heartland- S.E. Hinton's "The Outsiders"- A Film Review



A YouTube film clip of Francis Ford Coppola's screen adaption of S.E. Hinton's classic tale of teenage alienation, "The Outsiders".

DVD Review

The Outsiders, Rob Lowe, Tom Cruise and every other rising young male star of the 1980s worth his salt, Dian Lane, directed by Francis Ford Coppola, Paramount Pictures, 1983


Recently I reviewed another film adaptation by the director Francis Ford of one of S.E. Hinton’s classic tales of American teenage working class alienation during the 1950s-1960s, “Rumblefish”. There the plot centered on the seemingly inescapable nihilism following the footsteps of a leader, and his ex-leader brother, of a by then passé white teenage gang. That film presented the anguish of youthful working class alienation in a very different and much less glamorous light than the teenage angst films of my youth, like Marlon Brando’s “The Wild Ones” and James Dean’s “Rebel Without A Cause”. I also mentioned in that review that I had been momentarily attracted, very attracted, to that ‘lifestyle’, coming as I did from that stratum of the working class that lived with few hopes and fewer dreams. It was a very near thing that shifted me away from that life, mainly the allure of books and less dangerous exploits.

I did not feel that same kind of identification here in this otherwise outstanding tale of youthful working class alienation out in the heartland in the hills of Oklahoma, “The Outsiders”. That, notwithstanding the fact that the main character and narrator, “Pony Boy”, is also very attracted to books (although “Gone With The Wind” and the poetry of Robert Frost seem odd choices to go ga-ga over). The difference. In “Rumblefish”, seemingly a much more experimental film on Coppola’s part and a more searing look at working class youth on Hinton’s part, the plot is is filled with examples of that unspoken danger, that unspoken destructive pathology and dead end nihilism that meant doom for at least some of the characters, and not just the easy to foresee one of early and untimely death that stalks those down at the edges of society.

Superficially, the plot of “The Outsiders” would have assumed that same fate for its characters. A small town out in the hill of Oklahoma where the class divisions are obvious has the working class “Greasers” lined up in combat against the middle class “Socs” with every cliché of the class struggle, except the political, thrown in for good measure. (Obviously portrayed, as well, note the sideburns long hair on the Greaser side and the chino pants on the frat guys side. You don’t need a scorecard on this one.) In summary: the two sides clash over nothing in particular except “turf”: hold grudges; seek revenge taking causalities, one fatally; and ending with a rumble where the Greasers have their momentary Pyrrhic victory.

Along the way there is plenty of time for youthful reflection by the narrator and his fellows about the ways of the class-ridden world, a few bouts of heroism and a little off-hand (very off-hand) romance. As much as we know about the nature of modern class society this thing rings false. The moral here-even the most alienated Greaser, played to a tee by Matt Dillon, is really only searching for meaning to his life and a little society, only to get waylaid by that life in the end. Thus, this thing turns into something more like a cautionary tale than a slice of live down at the bottom edges of society. The more circumspect and existential “Rumblefish” gets my vote any day.

Note: Part of the problem with this film cinematically is that the leading male actors here, the likes of Rob Lowe, the late Patrick Swayze, Tom Cruise and Matt Dillon are all too ‘pretty’ to be Greasers. Although one can appreciate the talent pool that came out of this film I know from real life that, while the "greasers" of this world may have some raw sexually attractions they would hardly grace the pages of “Gentleman’s Quarterly”, or some such magazine. These guys could. That is what rings false here, as well as the assurances, hammered home to us throughout the story, that in democratic America even the down-trodden can lift themselves up and succeed. If they wash up a little.