Wednesday, April 19, 2017

*****From #Un-Occupied Boston-This Is Class War-We Say No More-Defend Our Unions!

*****From #Un-Occupied Boston-This Is Class War-We Say No More-Defend Our Unions! 





Leon Trotsky -Lessons Of The Paris Commune-Listen Up
Defend The Working Class! Take The Offensive! - A Five Point Program For Discussion

Fight-Don’t Starve-We Created The Wealth, Let's Take It Back! Labor And The Oppressed Must Rule!

*******

A Five-Point Program As Talking Points

Ralph Morris and Sam Lowell a couple of old-time radicals, old-time now not being the Great Depression labor radicals who had been their models after a fashion and who helped built the now seemingly moribund unions but anti-war radicals from the hell-bent street in-your-face 1960s confrontations with the American beast during the Vietnam War reign of hell were beside themselves when the powder-puff uprising of the Occupy movement brought a fresh breeze to the tiny American left-wing landscape in the latter part of 2011.  (That term “powder puff” not expressing the heft of the movement but the fact that it disappeared almost before it got started giving up the huge long-term fight it was expected to wage to break the banks, break the corporate grip on the world and, try to seek “newer world”).

Although Ralph and Sam were not members in good standing of any labor unions, both having after their furtive anti-war street fights and the ebbing of the movement by about the mid-1970s returned to “normalcy.” Ralph having gone back to work in his father's electrical shop in Troy, New York and which he took over when Ralph, Senior retired and Sam had gone back to Carver to expand a print shop that he had started in the late 1960s after serving an apprenticeship with the main printer in town before he went out on his own. Having come from respectable working-class backgrounds in strictly working-class towns though, Carver about thirty miles from Boston and the cranberry bog capital of the world and Ralph in Troy near where General Electric ruled the roost, they had taken to heart the advice of their respective grandfathers about not forgetting those left behind, that an injury to one of their own in this wicked old world was an injury to all as the old Industrial Workers of the World (IWW, Wobblies) motto had it.

Moreover despite their backing away from the street confrontations of their youth when that proved futile after a time, especially after May Day 1971 where they first met in the bastinado at Robert F. Kennedy Stadium after being arrested  with their respective collectives and where they got a full dose what the American imperial state could when it pulled the hammer down on dissent, as the Vietnam War finally wound down and yesterday’s big name radicals left for parts unknown they had always kept an inner longing for the “newer world,” the more equitable world where the people who actually made stuff and kept the wheels of society running and their down-pressed allies ruled.    

So Ralph and Sam would during most of the fall of 2011 meet in Springfield and travel down to the Wall Street plaza which was the center of the movement on weekends, long weekends usually, to take part in the action after the long drought of such activity for them personally and for their kind of eclectic left-wing politics (they had gotten more active in the wake of Bush-led Iraq invasion of 2003 when the seemingly endless wars first took hold of day to day American foreign policy but nowhere near the 24/7 efforts back in the Vietnam days when every minute seemed to desperately count against the monster).  They were crestfallen to say the least when the movement exploded (or maybe better imploded, turned in on itself and wound up after a couple of years being just another cheap vehicle for left Democratic Party politicians on the make) after the then reigning mayor and the NYPD  pulled down the hammer and forcibly disbanded the place (and other city administrations across the country and across the world and police departments did likewise in what was determined later when it was too late that had been coordinated efforts across the board to shut everything down, shut it down tight).

Of more concern at the time since unlike the good-hearted but naïve younger people since they had already known from too many uneven battles (remember that May Day 1971 baptism of fire) about what the government could do when it decided to pull down the hammer was in the aftermath when the movement imploded from its own contradictions, caught up not wanting to step on anybody's toes in the movement no matter how hare-brained the scheme or just plain recycled ideas that had not worked in the 1960s and had even less chance now that the state had even more weapons at its disposal, to let everybody do their own thing with or without some kind of coordinated plan that would make the thing more productive,  do their own identity politics, you know gays can only speak of gay oppression straights keep out, women can only speak of women's oppression men, gay or straight keep out, blacks can only speak of black oppression, white males and females, gay or straight keep out and so on, defending their particular turf as furiously as any old-time Tammany Hall political hack, which did much to defang the old movements, refusing out of hand cohering a collective leadership that might give some direction to the damn thing but also earnestly wanting to bring the monster down.

Ralph and Sam in the aftermath, after things had settled down and they had time to think decided to put together a proposal, a program if you like, outlining some of the basic political tasks ahead to be led by somebody. Certainly not by them since radical politics, street politics is a young person’s game and they admittedly had gotten rather long in the tooth. Besides they had learned long ago, had talked about it even over drinks at Jack Higgin’s Grille more than once, how each generation will face its tasks in its own way so they would be content to be “elder” tribal leaders and provide whatever wisdom they could, if asked. Here working under the drumbeat of Bob Marley’s Get Up, Stand Up something of a “national anthem” for what went on among the better elements of Occupy are some points that any movement for social change has to address these days and fight for and about as well.       

A Five-Point Program As Talking Points

***Jobs For All Now!-“30 For 40”- A historic demand of the labor movement going back to the 1930s Great Depression the last time that unemployment, under-employment, those who have just plain quit looking for work and critically those who are working jobs beneath their skill levels was this high in the American labor force, although it is admittedly down from the Great Recession of 2008-09 highs. Thirty hours work for forty hours pay is a formula to spread the available work around to all who want and need it. This is no mere propaganda point but shows the way forward toward a more equitable distribution of available work. 

The basic scheme, as was the case with the early days of the longshoremen’s and maritime unions when the union-run hiring hall ruled supreme in manning the jobs is that the work would be divided up through local representative workers’ councils that would act, in one of its capacities, as a giant hiring hall where the jobs would be parceled out. This would be a simpler task now than when it was first proposed in the 1930s with the vast increase in modern technology that could fairly accurately, via computers, target jobs that need filling, where, and at what skill level,  and equitably divide up current work. 

Here is the beauty of the scheme, what makes it such a powerful propaganda tool-without the key capitalist necessity of keeping up the rate of profit the social surplus created by that work could be used to redistribute the available work at the same agreed upon rate rather than go into the capitalists’ pockets. The only catch, a big catch one must admit, is that no capitalist, and no capitalist system, is going to do any such thing as to implement “30 for 40” –with the no reduction in pay proviso, although many low –end employers are even now under the “cover” of the flawed Obamacare reducing hours WITH loss of pay-so that to establish this work system as a norm it will, in the end, be necessary to fight for and win a workers government to implement this demand.

 

Organize the unorganized is a demand that cries out for solution today now that the organized sectors of the labor movement, both public and private, in America are at historic lows, just over ten percent of the workforce and less in the formerly pivotal private industries like auto production.  Part of the task is to reorganize some of the old industries like the automobile industry, now mainly unorganized as new plants come on line and others are abandoned, which used to provide a massive amount of decent jobs with decent benefits but which now have fallen to globalization and the “race to the bottom” bad times. (Strangely, or maybe not so strangely, the North American auto industry employed almost a million workers but only a third or less are unionized whereas in the old days the industry was union tight.)

The other sector that desperately need to be organized is to ratchet up the efforts to organize the service industries, hospitals, hotels, hi-tech, restaurants and the like, that have become a dominant aspect of the American service-oriented  economy. Everyone should support the recent militant efforts, including the old tactic of civil disobedience, by service unions and groups of fast-food workers to increase the minimum socially acceptable wage in their Fight For $15.

Organize the South-this low wage area, this consciously low-wage area, where many industries land before heading off-shore to even lower wage places cries out for organizing, especially among black and Hispanic workers who form the bulk of this industrial workforce. A corollary to organizing the South is obviously to organize internationally to keep the “race to the bottom” from continually occurring short of being resolved in favor of an international commonwealth of workers’ governments. Hey, nobody said it was going to be easy.

 

Organize Wal-Mart- millions of workers, thousands of company-owned trucks, hundreds of distribution centers. A victory here would be the springboard to a revitalized organized labor movement just as auto and steel lead the industrial union movements of the 1930s. The key here is to organize the truckers and distribution center workers, the place where the whole thing comes together. We have seen mostly unsuccessful organizing of individual retail stores and victimizations of local union organizers. To give an idea of how hard this task might be though someone, probably Bart Webber in his more thoughtful moments,  once argued that it would be easier to organize a workers’ revolution that organize this giant mainstay of the run to the bottom capitalist ethos. Well, as to the latter point that’s a thought. 

 

Defend the right of public and private workers to unionize. Simple-No more defeats like in Wisconsin in 2011, no more attacks on collective bargaining the hallmark of a union contract. No reliance on labor boards, arbitration, courts or bourgeois recall elections either. Defeat all “right to work” legislation. Unions must keep their independent from government interference. Period.

*** Defend the independence of the working classes! No union dues for Democratic (or the stray, the very stray   Republican) candidates. In 2008 and 2012 labor, organized labor, spent over 450 million dollars respectively trying to elect Barack Obama and other Democrats (mainly). The “no show, no go” results speak for themselves as the gap between the rich, make that the very rich but don’t forgot to include them on the fringes of the one percent and poor has risen even more in this period. For those bogus fruitless efforts the labor skates should have been sent packing long ago. The idea presented, an old idea going back to the initial formation of the working class in America, in those elections was that the Democrats (mainly) were “friends of labor” and the Republicans are the 666 beasts but the Obama administration does not take a back seat to the elephants on this one. The past period of cuts-backs, cut-in-the-back give backs should put paid to that notion. Although anyone who is politically savvy at all knows that is not true, not true for the labor skates at the top of the movement. They always have their hands out. 

The hard reality is that the labor skates, not used to any form of class struggle or any kind of struggle, know no other way than class-collaboration, arbitration, courts, and every other way to avoid the appearance of strife, strife in defense of the bosses’ profits. One egregious example from the recent past from around the time of the Occupy movement where some of tried to link up the labor movement with the political uprising- the return of the Verizon workers to work after two weeks in the summer of 2011 when they had the company on the run and the subsequent announcement by the company of record profits. That sellout strategy may have worked for the bureaucrats, or rather their “fathers” for a time back in the 1950s “golden age” of labor, but now we are in a very hard and open class war. The rank and file must demand an end to using their precious dues payments for bourgeois candidates all of whom have turned out to be sworn enemies of labor from Obama on down when the deal goes down.

This does not mean not using union dues for political purposes though. On the contrary we need to use them now more than ever in the class battles ahead. Spent the dough on organizing the unorganized, organizing the South, organizing Wal-Mart, and other pro-labor causes. Think, for example, of the dough spent on the successful November, 2011 anti-union recall referendum in Ohio. That type of activity is where labor’s money and other resources should go. And not on recall elections against individual reactionaries, like Governor Scott Walker in Wisconsin, as substitutes for class struggle when some form of general strike was required to break the anti-union backs (and which was overwhelmingly unsuccessful to boot-while the number of unionized public workers has dwindled to a precious few).  

 

***End the endless wars!- As the so-called draw-down of American and Allied troops in Iraq reached its final stages back in 2011, the draw- down of non-mercenary forces anyway, we argued, Sam more than I did since he had been closer to the initial stage if the opposition that we must recognize that we anti-warriors had failed, and failed rather spectacularly, to affect that withdrawal after a promising start to our opposition in late 2002 and early 2003 (and a little in 2006).As the endless American-led wars (even if behind the scenes, as in Libya, Yemen, Somalia, and other proxy wars) continue now with a new stage against ISIS (common moniker for the Islamic State) in Iraq we had better straighten out our anti-war, anti-imperialist front quickly if we are to have any effect on the U.S. troop escalation we know is coming before that fight is over. Not Another War In Iraq! Stop The Bombings In Syria, Iraq, Yemen! Stop The Arms Shipments To The Middle East Especially To Israel and Saudi Arabia! Defend The Palestinian People-End The Blockade of Gaza-Israel Out Of The Occupied Territories. And as always since 2001 Immediate, Unconditional Withdrawal Of Every Single U.S./Allied Troops (And The Mercenaries) From Afghanistan!  

U.S. Hands Off Iran! Hands Off Syria!- Despite a certain respite recently during the Iran nuclear arms talks  American (and world) imperialists have periodically ratcheted up their propaganda war (right now) and increased economic sanctions that are a prelude to war well before the dust has settled on the now unsettled situation in Iraq and well before they have even sniffed at an Afghan withdrawal of any import. We will hold our noses, as we did with the Saddam leadership in Iraq and on other occasions, and call for the defense of Iran against the American imperial monster. A victory for the Americans (and their junior partner on this issue, Israel) in Iran and Syria is not in the interests of the international working class. Especially here in the “belly of the beast” we are duty-bound to call not just for non-intervention but for defense of Iran. We will, believe us we will, deal with the mullahs, the Revolutionary Guards, and the Islamic fundamentalists in Iran in our own way in our own time.

U.S. Hands Off The World! And Keep Them Off!- With the number of “hot spots” that the American imperialists, or one or another of their junior allies, like Saudi Arabia and France over the recent period have their hands on in this wicked old world this generic slogan would seem to fill the bill.

 

Down With The War Budget! Not One Penny, Not One Person For The Wars! Honor World War I German Social-Democratic Party MP, Karl Liebknecht, who did just that in 1915 in the heat of war and paid the price unlike other party leaders who were pledged to stop the war budgets by going to prison. The only play for an honest representative of the working class under those conditions. The litmus test for every political candidate must be first opposition to the war budgets (let’s see, right now no new funding in Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran preparations, China preparations, etc. you get the drift). Then that big leap. The whole damn imperialist military budget. Again, no one said it would be simple. Revolution may be easier that depriving the imperialists of their military money. Well….okay.

***Fight for a social agenda for working people! Free Quality Healthcare For All! This would be a no-brainer in any rationally based society. The health and welfare of any society’s citizenry is the simple glue that holds that society together. It is no accident that one of the prime concerns of workers states whatever political disagreements we may have with the Cuban leadership like Cuba, and whatever their other internal political problems caused in no small part the fifty plus year U.S. blockade, has been to place health care and education front and center and to provide to the best of their capacity for free, quality healthcare and education for all. Even the hide-bound social-democratic-run capitalist governments of Europe have, until recently anyway, placed the “welfare state” protections central to their programs. Be clear Obamacare is not our program and has already been shown to be totally inadequate and wasteful however we will defend that program against those who wish to dismantle it and leave millions once again uninsured and denied basic health benefits.  

Free, quality higher education for all! Nationalize the colleges and universities under student-teacher-campus worker control! One Hundred, Two Hundred, Many Harvards!

This would again be a no-brainer in any rationally based society. The struggle to increase the educational level of a society’s citizenry is another part of the simple glue that holds that society together. Today higher education is being placed out of reach for many working-class and minority families. Hell, it is getting tough for the middle-class as well.

Moreover the whole higher educational system is increasing skewed toward those who have better formal preparation and family lives leaving many deserving students from broken homes and minority homes in the wilderness. Take the resources of the private institutions and spread them around, throw in hundreds of billions from the government (take a big chuck from the bloated military budget and the bank bail-out money, things like that, if you want to find the money quickly to do the job right), get rid of the top heavy and useless college administration apparatuses, mix it up, and let students, teachers, and campus workers run the thing through councils on a democratic basis.

Forgive student debt! The latest reports indicate that college student debt is something like a trillion dollars, give or take a few billion but who is counting. The price of tuition and expenses has gone up dramatically while low-cost aid has not kept pace. What has happened is that the future highly educated workforce that a modern society, and certainly a socialist society, desperately needs is going to be cast into some form of indentured servitude to the banks or other lending agencies for much of their young working lives. Let the banks take a “hit” for a change!

Stop housing foreclosures and aid underwater mortgages now! Although the worst of the crunch has abated there are still plenty of problems and so this demand is still timely if not desperately timely like in the recent past. Hey, everybody, everywhere in the world not just in America should have a safe, clean roof over their heads. Hell, even a single family home that is part of the “American dream,” if that is what they want. We didn’t make the housing crisis in America (or elsewhere, like in Ireland, where the bubble has also burst). The banks did. Their predatory lending practices and slip-shot application processes were out of control. Let them take the “hit” here as well.

***We created the wealth, let’s take it back. Karl Marx was right way back in the 19th century on his labor theory of value, the workers do produce the social surplus appropriated by the capitalists. Capitalism tends to beat down, beat down hard in all kinds of ways the mass of society for the benefit of the few. Most importantly capitalism, a system that at one time was historically progressive in the fight against feudalism and other ancient forms of production, has turned into its opposite and now is a fetter on production. The current multiple crises spawned by this system show there is no way forward, except that unless we push them out, push them out fast, they will muddle through, again.

Take the struggle for our daily bread off the historic agenda. Socialism is the only serious answer to the human crisis we face economically, socially, culturally and politically. This socialist system is the only one calculated to take one of the great tragedies of life, the struggle for daily survival in a world that we did not create, and replace it with more co-operative human endeavors.

Build a workers’ party that fights for a workers government to unite all the oppressed. None of the nice things mentioned above can be accomplished without as serious struggle for political power. We need to struggle for an independent working-class-centered political party that we can call our own and where our leaders act as “tribunes of the people” not hacks. The creation of that workers party, however, will get us nowhere unless it fights for a workers government to begin the transition to the next level of human progress on a world-wide scale.

As Isaac Deutscher said in his speech “On Socialist Man” (1966): 

“We do not maintain that socialism is going to solve all predicaments of the human race. We are struggling in the first instance with the predicaments that are of man’s making and that man can resolve. May I remind you that Trotsky, for instance, speaks of three basic tragedies—hunger, sex and death—besetting man. Hunger is the enemy that Marxism and the modern labour movement have taken on.... Yes, socialist man will still be pursued by sex and death; but we are convinced that he will be better equipped than we are to cope even with these.” 

Emblazon on our red banner-Labor and the oppressed must rule!

Take A Side In The Cold Civil War In America-Build The Resistance

Take A Side In The Cold Civil War In America-Build The Resistance 




An Encore -The Son Of Dharma-With Jack Kerouac’s On The Road In Mind

An Encore -The Son Of Dharma-With Jack Kerouac’s On The Road In Mind




Jack Callahan thought he was going crazy when he thought about the matter after he had awoken from his fitful dream. Thought he was crazy for “channeling” Jack Kerouac, or rather more specifically channeling Jack’s definitive book On The Road, definite in giving him and a goodly portion of his generation that last push to go, well, go search a new world, or at least get the dust of your old town growing up off of your shoes, that had much to do with his wanderings. Got him going in search of what his late corner boy, “the Scribe,” Peter Paul Markin called the search for the Great Blue-Pink American West Night (Markin always capitalized that concept so since I too was influenced by the mad man’s dreams I will do so here). Any way you cut it seeking that new world that gave Jack his fitful dream. That  “driving him crazy” stemmed from the fact that those wanderings, that search had begun, and finished shortly thereafter, about fifty years before when he left the road after a few months for the hand of Chrissie McNamara and a settled life. Decided that like many others who went that same route he was not build for the long haul road after all.  


But maybe it is best to go back to the beginning, not the fifty years beginning, Jesus, who could remember, maybe want to remember incidents that far back, but to the night several weeks before when Jack, Frankie Riley, who had been our acknowledged corner boy leader out in front of Jack Slack’s bowling alleys from about senior year in high school in 1966 and a couple of years after when for a whole assortment of reasons, including the wanderings, the crowd went its separate ways, Jimmy Jenkins, Allan Johnson, Bart Webber, Josh Breslin, Rich Rizzo, Sam Eaton and me got together for one of our periodic “remember back in the day” get-togethers over at “Jack’s” in Cambridge a few block down Massachusetts Avenue from where Jimmy lives. We have probably done this a dozen time over the past decade or so, more recently as most of us have more time to spent at a hard night’s drinking (drinking high-shelf liquors as we always laugh about since in the old days we collectively could not have afforded one high-shelf drink and were reduced to drinking rotgut wines and seemingly just mashed whiskeys, and draino Southern Comfort, and that draino designation no lie, especially the first time you took a slug, the only way to take it, before you acquired the taste for it).


The night I am talking about though as the liquor began to take effect someone, Bart I think, mentioned that he had read in the Globe that up in Lowell they were exhibiting the teletype roll of paper that Jack Kerouac had typed the most definitive draft of his classic youth nation travel book, On The Road in honor of the fiftieth anniversary of its publication in 1957. That information stopped everybody in the group’s tracks for a moment. Partly because everybody at the table, except Rich Rizzo, had taken some version of Kerouac’s book to heart as did thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of certified members of the generation of ’68 who went wandering in that good 1960s night. But most of all because etched in everybody’s memory were thoughts of the mad monk monster bastard saint who turned us all on to the book, and to the wanderings, the late Peter Paul Markin.


Yeah, we still moan for that sainted bastard all these years later whenever something from our youths come up. It might be an anniversary, it might be all too often the passing of some iconic figure from those times, or it might be passing some place that was associated with our crowd, and with Markin. See Markin was something like a “prophet” to us, not the old time biblical long-beard and ranting guys although maybe he did think he was in that line of work, but as the herald of what he called “a fresh breeze coming across the land” early in the 1960s. Something of a nomadic “hippie” slightly before his time (including wearing his hair-pre moppet Beatles too long for working class North Adamsville tastes, especially his mother’s, who insisted on boys’ regulars and so another round was fought out to something like a stand-still then in the Markin household saga). The time of Markin’s “prophesies,” the hard-bitten Friday or Saturday night times when nothing to do and nothing to do it with he would hold forth, was however a time when we could have given a rat’s ass about some new wave forming in Markin’s mind (and that “rat’s ass” was the term of art we used on such occasions).


We would change our collective tunes later in the decade but then, and on Markin’s more sober days he would be clamoring over the same things, all we cared about was girls (or rather “getting into their pants”), getting dough for dates and walking around money (and planning small larcenies to obtain the filthy lucre), and getting a “boss” car, like a ’57 Chevy or at least a friend that had one in order to “do the do” with said girls and spend some dough at places like drive-in theaters and drive-in restaurants (mandatory if you wanted to get past square one with girls, the girls we knew, or were attracted to, in those days).           


Markin was whistling in the dark for a long time, past high school and maybe a couple of years after. He wore us down though pushing us to go up to Harvard Square in Cambridge to see guys with long hair and faded clothes and girls with long hair which looked like they had used an iron to iron it out sing, read poetry, and just hang-out. Hang out waiting for that same “fresh breeze” that Markin spent many a girl-less, dough-less, car-less Friday or Saturday night serenading us heathens about. I don’t know how many times he dragged me, and usually Bart Webber, in his trail on the late night subway to hear some latest thing in the early 1960s folk minute which I could barely stand then, and which I still grind my teeth over when I hear some associates going on and on about guys like Bob Dylan, Tom Rush and Dave Von Ronk and gals like Joan Baez, the one I heard later started the whole iron your long hair craze among seemingly rationale girls. Of course I did tolerate the music better once a couple of Cambridge girls asked me if I liked folk music one time in a coffeehouse and I said of course I did and took Markin aside to give me some names to throw at them. One girl, Lorna, I actually dated off and on for several months.


But enough of me and my youthful antics, and enough too of Markin and his wiggy ideas because this screed is about Jack Kerouac, about the effect of his major book, and why Jack Callahan of all people who among those of us corner boys from Jack Slack’s who followed Markin on the roads west left it the earliest. Left to go back to Chrissie, and eventually a car dealership, Toyota, that had him Mr. Toyota around Eastern Massachusetts (and of course Chrissie as Mrs. Toyota).


In a lot of ways Markin was only the messenger, the prodder, because when he eventually convinced us all to read the damn book at different points when we were all, all in our own ways getting wrapped up in the 1960s counter-cultural movement (and some of us the alternative political part too) we were in thrall to what adventures Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty were up to. That is why I think Jack had his dreams after the all-night discussions we had. Of course Markin came in for his fair share of comment, good and bad. But what we talked about mostly was how improbable on the face of it a poor working-class kid from the textile mill town of Lowell, Massachusetts, from a staunch Roman Catholic French-Canadian heritage of those who came south to “see if the streets of America really were paved with gold” would seem an unlikely person to be involved in a movement that in many ways was the opposite of what his generation, the parents of our generation of ’68 to put the matter in perspective, born in the 1920s, coming of age in the Great Depression and slogging through World War II was searching for in the post-World War II “golden age of America.”  Add in that he also was a “jock” (no slur intended as we spent more than our fair share of time talking about sports on those girl-less, dough-less, car-less weekend nights, including Markin who had this complicated way that he figured out the top ten college football teams since they didn’t a play-off system to figure it out. Of course he was like the rest of us a Notre Dame “subway” fan), a guy who played hooky to go read books and who hung out with a bunch of corner boys just like us would be-bop part of his own generation and influence our generation enough to get some of us on the roads too. Go figure.       


So we, even Markin when he was in high flower, did not “invent” the era whole, especially in the cultural, personal ethos part, the part about skipping for a while anyway the nine to five work routine, the white house and picket fence family routine, the hold your breath nose to the grindstone routine and discovering the lure of the road and of discovering ourselves, and of the limits of our capacity to wonder. No question that elements of the generation before us, Jack Kerouac’s, the sullen West Coast hot-rodders, the perfect wave surfers, the teen-alienated rebel James Dean and wild one Marlon Brando we saw on Saturday afternoon matinee Strand Theater movie screens and above all his “beats” helped push the can down the road, especially the “beats” who along with Jack wrote to the high heavens about what they did, how they did it and what the hell it was they were running from. Yeah, gave us a road map to seek that “newer world” Markin got some of us wrapped up in later in the decade and the early part of the next.


Now the truth of the matter is that most generation of ‘68ers, us, only caught the tail-end of the “beat” scene, the end where mainstream culture and commerce made it into just another “bummer” like they have done with any movement that threatened to get out of hand. So most of us who were affected by the be-bop sound and feel of the “beats” got what we knew from reading about them. And above all, above even Allen Ginsberg’s seminal poem, Howl which was a clarion call for rebellion, was Jack Kerouac who thrilled even those who did not go out in the search the great blue-pink American West night.              


Here the odd thing, Kerouac except for that short burst in the late 1940s and a couple of vagrant road trips in the 1950s before fame struck him down was almost the antithesis of what we of the generation of ’68 were striving to accomplish. As is fairly well known, or was by those who lived through the 1960s, he would eventually disown his “step-children.” Be that as it may his role, earned or not, wanted or not, as media-anointed “king of the beats” was decisive.           


But enough of the quasi-literary treatment that I have drifted into when I really wanted to tell you about what Bart Webber told me about his dream. He dreamed that he, after about sixty-five kinds of hell with his mother who wanted him to stay home and start that printing business that he had dreamed of since about third grade when he read about how his hero Benjamin Franklin had started in the business, get married to Betsy Binstock, buy a white picket fence house (a step up from the triple decker tenement where he grew up) have children, really grandchildren and have a happy if stilted life. But his mother advise fell off him like a dripping rain, hell, after-all he was caught in that 1960s moment when everything kind of got off-center and so he under the constant prodding of Markin decided to hit the road. Of course the Kerouac part came in from reading the book after about seven million drum-fire assaults by Markin pressing him to read the thing.


So there he was by himself. Markin and I were already in San Francisco so that was the story he gave his mother for going and also did not tell her that he was going  to hitchhike to save money and hell just to do it. It sounded easy in the book. So he went south little to hit Route 6 (a more easterly part of that road in upstate New York which Sal unsuccessfully started his trip on). There he met a young guy, kind of short, black hair, built like a football player who called himself Ti Jean, claimed he was French- Canadian and hailed from Nashua up in New Hampshire but had been living in Barnstable for the summer and was now heading west to see what that summer of love was all about.


Bart was ecstatic to have somebody to kind of show him the ropes, what to do and don’t do on the road to keep moving along. So they travelled together for a while, a long while first hitting New York City where Ti Jean knew a bunch of older guys, gypsy poets, sullen hipsters, con men, drifters and grifters, guys who looked like they had just come out some “beat” movie. Guys who knew what was what about Times Square, about dope, about saying adieu to the American dream of their parents to be free to do as they pleased. Good guys though who taught him a few things about the road since they said they had been on that road since the 1940s.


Ti Jean whose did not look that old said he was there with them, had blown out of Brockton after graduating high school where he had been an outstanding sprinter who could have had a scholarship if his grades had been better. Had gone to prep school in Providence to up his marks, had then been given a track scholarship to Brown, kind of blew that off when Providence seemed too provincial to him, had fled to New York one fine day where he sailed out for a while in the merchant marines to do his bit for the war effort. Hanging around New York in between sailings he met guys who were serious about reading, serious about talking about what they read, and serious about not being caught in anything but what pleased them for the moment. Some of this was self-taught, some picked up from the hipsters and hustlers.


After the war was over, still off-center about what to do about this writing bug that kept gnawing at him despite everybody, his minute wife, his love mother, his carping father telling him to get a profession writing wasn’t where any dough was, any dough for him he met this guy, a hard knocks guys who was something like a plebeian philosopher king, Ned Connelly, who was crazy to fix up cars and drive them, drive them anyway. Which was great since Ti Jean didn’t have a license, didn’t know step one about how to shift gears and hated driving although he loved riding shot-gun getting all blasted on the dope in the glove compartment and the be-bop jazz on the radio. So they tagged along together for a couple of years, zigged and zagged across the continent, hell, went to Mexico too to get that primo dope that he/they craved, got drunk as skunks more times than you could shake a stick, got laid more times than you would think by girls who you would not suspect were horny but were, worked a few short jobs picking produce in the California fields, stole when there was no work, pimped a couple of girls for a while to get a stake and had a hell of time while the “squares” were doing whatever squares do. And then he wrote some book about it, a book that was never published because there were too many squares who could not relate to what he and Ned were about. He was hoping that the kids he saw on the road, kids like Bart would keep the thing moving along as he left Bart at the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge on their last ride together.


Then Bart woke up, woke up to the fact that he stayed on the road too short a time now looking back on it. That guy Ti Jean had it right though, live fast, drink hard and let the rest of it take care of itself. Thanks Markin.              

Before The Fall Of Saigon- The Film Adaptation Of Graham Greene’s “The Quiet American” (2002)- A Film Review

Before The Fall- The Film Adaptation Of Graham Greene’s “The Quiet American” (2002)- A Film Review   



DVD Review

By Sandy Salmon

The Quiet American, starring Michael Caine, Brendan Fraser, Do Thi Hai Yen, 2002,  based on the novel by Graham Greene , 2002   

Before the fall of Saigon in Vietnam (now Ho Chi Minh City) in 1975 graphically and forever etched in the historical mind by the famous photograph of a helicopter trying to evacuate fleeing Americans and their Vietnamese cronies from atop the American Embassy and before the first inklings in the Western mind that something big was happening after the French defeat at Dien Bien Phu Indo-China (the generic name for the whole are controlled by the French) there was an unquiet little civil war, a guerrilla insurgency playing out in that benighted region. Enter the quiet American, the CIA operative, here the fictional Alden Pyle, who represented American interests even at that early date to attempt to stem the tide. That is the central theme of the film under review, The Quiet American. (This film is the second coming of the adaptation of Graham Greene’s insightful book. The other version in 1958 during high tide Cold War red scare times played down the anti-war aspects of his piece and the futility of the third force strategy which reportedly, and rightly, enraged Greene.)           

Of course with any political thriller there has to be a romantic piece to keep the plot moving between action scenes and in this case it is the “competition” between an English newspaperman, Thomas Fowler, a very married English newspaperman, played by Michael Caine and that quiet American, Alden Pyle, played by Brendon Fraser, for the hand of that Englishman’s beautiful Vietnamese mistress Phuong , played by Do Thi Hai Yen once he lands on the ground. But the central plot is about the doing of the CIA operative in trying to create a “third force,” a strategy which in every subsequent manifestation was doomed to failure since there in the end, the fall of Saigon end, there was no such force that could do anything against the two major forces contending for control of Indo-China, of Vietnam.

It is the intrigue involved in that futile action which eventually does our quiet American in. Finds him face down in the Pearl River with a couple of deep fatal knife wounds in him for his ill-disposed efforts. Alden posing as an aid worker (as in AID a known CIA conduit for all kinds of nefarious activities and still is) gets friendly with Fowler and even friendlier with his mistress and until his unquiet death and river dump was her lover. Along the way Alden tried to under cover of that aid worker ruse get a militia leader to be that “third force” leader to step in between the French colonials and the Communists. Of course that tin pot general was as corrupt as any subsequent “third force” general the Americans were able to rustle up and moreover had his own agenda of grabbing every dollar and every weapon old Uncle Sam would throw his way.       
Sound familiar?


The really beautiful part, the part that seems prescient, this Alden and his kept general decided to stir things up a little, create a little more chaos, by trying to discredit the commies. So they plant bombs in the marketplace in Saigon and let the commies take the blame for the atrocities committed by the action. Fowler though gets a chance to kill two birds with one stone by letting his pro-Communist assistant know what was what about Alden’s involvement in the action. Alden gone to the shades Phuong comes back to Fowler. Was Fowler an accessory in the Pyle murder? I’ll never tell but a friend of mine who served in Vietnam told me the intrigue level at every level except covering for the guys in your squad was so fierce that anything could happen, happen to make ordinarily rational people snap.  Watch this one if you want to get a flavor of up close and personal about why Vietnam was a quagmire the memory of which is still with us today.    

Rock And Roll Will Never Die, Part Two- Jack Black’s “School Of Rock” (2003)-A Film Review

Rock And Roll Will Never Die, Part Two- Jack Black’s “School Of Rock” (2003)-A Film Review




DVD Review    

By Film Critic Emeritus Sam Lowell

[Recently in reviewing another rock and tribute film, Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s Pirate Radio I mentioned that I would be reviewing the film discussed below. I had noted in that previous review that although I am now retired I had done so with the caveat that I would on occasion dredge up my tired brain and write a little something if it interested me. I also noted that I had been compelled to review that film and now this one because the current film critic in this space, my old friend and adversary from American Film Gazette days, Sandy Salmon, has mentioned to me on many occasions that he had not been washed clean (my expression not his) by the high tide of rock and roll that was the common lynchpin of our generation. Moreover, if you can believe this about anybody who was young and breathing in the early 1960s, Sandy did not “give a damn” (his expression) about rock and roll reflecting in my view that stiff upper lip upbringing that he went through in New York City which included huge doses of classic music. You know Beethoven, Brahms, Mozart and the crew. The guys that the late rock and roll legend Chuck Berry gave notice to in his classic statement of the case for rock-Roll Over Beethoven- giving noteice that some new sheriffs were in town.

The long and short of it had been that I noticed one of the films up for review was Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s Pirate Radio which is nothing but a rather recent slice of life homage to the genre. Sandy was not going to review the film and so I entered the lists to save this beauty of a tribute from statutory neglect. Here is the other one I am trying to save from oblivion. Sam Lowell] 

School of Rock, starring Jack Black, Joan Cusack, 2003   

 
No question artists, poets, writers and musicians in order to follow their bitch muses who are hard taskmasters have to be willing to give up a lot, have to spend some sleepless nights worrying about what they can create-and worry, deep worry about where the rent and food dough will come from. That premise, that last part-the food and rent part, goes double for guys and gals who only have so-so talents but who struggle nevertheless with that damn taskmaster muse. All of this angst drives the film under review Jack Black’s School Of Rock as it pays homage to the third wave of the rock revolution (first classic 1950s with Elvis, Jerry Lee, Chuck and the like, second stepchildren in the 1960s British invasion led by the Beatles and the Stones, and the third led by, well, Led Zeppelin, AC/CD, Lou Reed, the Ramones, etc.)       

Here’s the way to the stairway to heaven. Average rocker Dewey Finn, Jack Black’s role, was in a bad slump. He had been dumped by his band for being a goof just before the big day Battle of the Bands was to take place, was being dunned by his roommate, a former rocker Ned, for the rent money when he had no dough, and nowhere to get any and worse, absolutely worse of all had to listen to nine to five, white picket fence, get a job Ned’s girlfriend who even I wanted to straggle if I could get my hands on her. Despite all this Dewey had the big dream wanting habits that drive every wannabe rock and roll star.   

But Dewey had a plan to get well on all fronts or rather he dropped into a few things that helped get him on his feet by a little, okay, okay, a lot of deception. See Ned was trying to break into bourgeois society as a teacher but just then like a lot of wannabe teachers he was “subbing” to make ends meet. One day he got a call from a high end private prep school. Except the guy who answered the phone call was our boy Dewey. Bingo, go sub and get the rent money-that was the hook-that was his short term way to get well. Now given the best of it to him Dewey was strictly grunge band and his style and affect reflected the culture. He showed up for his new class assignment looking like hell.

Worse for a high-toned (and expensive prep school) Dewey figured to slum his way through the assignment. Let the kids, fourth graders if you can believe this strategy if you know anything about nine and ten year olds, just hang out while he collected his dough and maybe worked on some new lyrics since he still had it bad to get that gig at the Battle of the Bands. Then he had an epiphany after hearing the kids go through their paces in music class. Here is the beautiful conversion that made every kid like me who grew up clutching every straw rock and roll had to offer beam with pride as he tells Mister Beethoven and his classical music brethren to move on over just like the late Chuck Berry prophesied. Dewey figured to take these “square” musical talents and create his own rock band of this clay. Nice touch, nice idea.


Naturally there have to be a bazillion roadblocks in the way from the totally justifiable skepticism of the kids who after all are straight-shooters to an uptight headmistress, played by Joan Cusack, to irate and upset parents. Naturally as well there have to be many snafus, many examples of the kids overcoming various adversities from poor self-esteem to being overweight to be left out by the other kids whose capacity for cruelty among their peers is well known and hardly a secret these days. Despite all the pitfalls they eventually get to the Battle of the Band auditions. They wow the audience but guess what.  Dewey’s old band wins the competition leaving the kids behind a little older but wiser. Get this though Dewey and Ned (after dumping his bitch nine to five world girlfriend) opened up a school of rock after school. And guess who some of the students were? Yeah, rock and roll will never die as the soundtrack filled with third wave rockers testifies to. Jack Black by the way is a true mad man in this one.         

*In Honor Of The Late Rocker Chuck Berry Who Helped Make It All Possible-Coming Of Age, Period-The Rock Music Of The 1950s

In Honor Of The Late Rocker Chuck Berry Who Helped Make It All Possible-Coming Of Age, Period-The Rock Music Of The 1950s





CD Review

Oldies But Goodies, Volume One, Original Sound Record Co., 1987



I have been doing a series of commentaries elsewhere on another site on my coming of political age in the early 1960s, but now when I am writing about musical influences I am just speaking of my coming of age, period, which was not necessarily the same thing. No question those of us who came of age in the 1950s are truly children of rock and roll. We were there, whether we appreciated it or not at the time, when the first, sputtering, moves away from ballady show tunes, rhymey Tin Pan Alley tunes and, most importantly, any and all music that your parents might have approved of, even liked, or at least left you alone to play in peace up in your room hit post World War II America like, well, like an atomic bomb.

Now, not all of the material was good, nor was all of it destined to be playable fifty or sixty years later on some “greatest hits” compilation but some of them had enough chordal energy, lyrical sense, and sheer danceability to make any Jack or Jill jump then, or now. And, here is the good part, especially for painfully shy guys like me, or those who had two left feet on the dance floor. You didn’t need to dance toe to toe with that certain she (or he for shes). Ah, to be very young then was very heaven.

So what still sounds good on this CD compilation to a current AARPer and some of his fellows who comprise the demographic that such 1950s compilations “speak” to. “Earth Angel”, no question. Also, of course, Chuck Berry’s “Maybellene” but other things of his like “Roll Over Beethoven” and “Back In The U.S.A. are more rock anthem-worthy. Etta James still rocks. And the under-appreciated Lloyd Price on his version of the old standard, “Stagger Lee”. But for my money the best here musically are the great harmonics on “Eddy My Love” by the Teen Queens and the smooth sound of Sonny Knight on “Confidential”. Yes, I know, these are slow ones that you had to dance close on. And just hope, hope to high heaven that you didn’t destroy your partner's shoes and feet. But there you are.

Sonny Knight
Confidential lyrics


Confidential as a church at twilight
Sentimental as a rose in the moonlight
My love for you will always be
Confidential to me

Confidential as a mothers prayer
Too beautiful for other hearts to share
My love for you will always be
Confidential to me

CHORUS
Our loves our precious secret
A beautiful thing apart
There's no need for prying eyes
To look into my heart

Confidential as a babys cry
Sacred and holy as a lovers sigh
My love for you will always be
Confidential to me

Confidential as a babys cry
Sacred and holy as a lovers sigh
My love for you will always be
Confidential to me

UPDATED: Boston Socialist Unity Conference 2017 When: Friday, April 21, 2017, 7:00 pm to Saturday, April 22, 2017,

UPDATED: Boston Socialist Unity Conference 2017

When: Friday, April 21, 2017, 7:00 pm to Saturday, April 22, 2017, 5:00 pm
Where: MIT Room 34-101 • 50 Vassar St. • Cambridge

Boston Socialist Unity Project Annual Conference 2017
Friday Evening & Saturday, April 21 & 22 @ MIT Building 34-10150 Vassar Street
The 2nd annual Boston Socialist Unity Project Conference (BSUP2) is a powerhouse of ideas and organizing!
Friday, April 21, 7:00 PM 
The opening night event features Barbara Madeloni (Union President, Massachusetts Teachers Association) and Eugene Puryear (Millions for Prisoners). Boston’s own Foundation Movement, conscious hip hop artists, open the evening and Swiss-based Mat Callahan and Yvonne Moore bring Irish revolutionary songs to the closing. (Registration opens at 6:00 p.m. / program begins at 7:00 p.m.)
Saturday, April 22, 9:00 AM
On Saturday (registration opens 9:00 a.m. / program begins 10:00 a.m.), Sherri Mitchell (Land Peace Foundation) and Fred Magdoff (University of Vermont) connect indigenous organizing and environmental movements with the struggles to get beyond capitalism and build socialist movements. Our lunchtime plenary presents political strategies for challenging the system: it features Socialist Alternative, the Green-Rainbow Party, the Socialist Party of Boston, Our Revolution, the Communist Party USA of Greater Boston, and the Party for Socialism and Liberation.
With recent expanded armed actions by the US in Syria, Vijay Prashad’s closing plenary speech on Imperialism could not be more important and timely!
Two sessions of five to six participatory workshops will showcase movement-building work and feature many of our plenary speakers (Mitchell, Magdoff, Prashad, Callahan, and Puryear). It will also draw in some of the most important and exemplary movement work being performed by the Freedom Road Socialist Organization, the Boston Institute for Non-Profit Journalism, MIT’s Student Activist Coalition, and Socialists on Single-Payer. Their topics include indigenous organizing and solidarity, housing and the city, education, media organizing, building movements for racial justice, the peace movement, and imperialism. Additional workshops address music and revolution, and community control of the police.
Breakfast and lunch options available with MIT vendors and Food Not Bombs.
Everyone is welcome, $10 suggested donation; nobody turned away for lack of funds
Upcoming Events: 

4/23 Combating Islamophobia by Boston Mobilization (Sun)

Join Boston Mobilization for a Muslim youth-led teach in on combatting
Islamophobia! Together we will unpack Islamophobia, break down policy, and
share action steps. All are welcome.

Registration is required. RSVP your free ticket here: https://
www.eventbrite.com/e/combating-islamophobia-a-youth-led-teach-in-tickets-3
3196757395

Learn more about our youth-powered social justice work at
www.bostonmobilization.org

If you have any further questions, feel free to email
mariko@bostonmobilization.org.
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*Ya, Let’s Hang Around Mama And Put A Good Buzz On- The Music Of Jonathan Edwards

*Ya, Let’s Hang Around Mama And Put A Good Buzz On- The Music Of Jonathan Edwards



CD Review

Jonathan Edwards, Atlantic Records, 1971



Over the past several years I have spent some time working around the idea of why certain folk revival performers of the early 1960s, or later folk rock artists either never made it big and stayed big (relatively) as with the obvious case of the staying power of Bob Dylan, or were more one-hit wonders who faded from the scene quickly, if not quietly. I have mentioned names like Tom Paxton, Dave Van Ronk, Tom Rush and Jesse Winchester who made their names in that era. Singer/songwriters of immense talent yet except among the ever dwindling core of aficionados have faded from any spotlight. With the artist under review, Jonathan Edwards, who came a little later and can be more rightly classified under the folk rock genre, I find myself asking the same question.

Now in this case I am not asking merely an academic question. I recently attended a performance of the very much alive Mr. Edwards at a local folk club in Cambridge, Ma. and came away from the very up tempo performance of his, mainly, older work scratching my head. The man and his band (including a couple of his old band members on this CD, Bill Elliot and Stuart Schulman) have, if anything, more energy that in the old days and certainly more stage presence. The versions of the tunes played were perhaps more clearly done in bluegrass/country tempo which always helps. But that does not solve the question. Of course sometimes one's personal life, for good or evil, sets you on a different path. Or one gets tired of the road. Or one runs out of musical energy and thoughts but I am still, nevertheless, scratching my head on this one.

That said, in his prime Jonathan Edwards had a number of minor classics of the folk rock genre, all of which he played at that local club. The highlight, as to be expected, is the song, some of whose lyrics form part of the headline of this entry, “Shanty”. Others include a tribute song going back to his roots in Ohio, “Athens County”, “Everybody Knows Her”, “Don’t Cry Blue”, “Sunshine”, and one of my favorites, “Emma”. Not bad for a “minor” light in the folk firmament.

JONATHAN EDWARDS EMMA LYRICS

The first time I saw Emma
She was above me in a dream
And she throwed her arms around me
And off we flew, it seemed
Like an airplane
Moving up and down
Through the country town
Passing oe'r the cities so slow
Slowly...

But Emma comes to see me
About 8 o'clock each night
And she throws her arms around me
And off we go in flight
Like an airplane
Moving up and down
Through the country town
Passing over the cites so slow
Slowly...

But Emma's late
Emma's late
Oooh and I
I can't wait
My dinners served by half past eight and
I can't wait
Can't wait 'til 9

The last time I saw my Emma
She made me love her 'til I died
And we walked through clouds together
Searching open skies
fFr airplane
Moving up and down though the country town
Passing over the cites so slow
Slowly

But Emma's late, Emma's late, Emma's late
and I
I can't wait
My dinner's served by half past 8 and
I can't wait
I can't wait 'til 9 oooh no no noooo

One Last Story from Huntsville-Join And Build The Resistance


One Last Story from Huntsville

GuamB-2

 
During our last day in Huntsville, Alabama (Sunday, April 9) we had a brief membership meeting of the Global Network to review some organizational issues such as an evaluation of the conference, a new board appointment and where we would hold our annual space conference in 2018.  We met just outside the hotel around a fire pit and when we were going around doing introductions a man introduced himself as a US Air Force officer who was staying at the hotel and wanted to see what our group of "interesting people" were talking about.  (Many in our group were wearing Veterans For Peace shirts/hats.) So he sat and listened to some of our meeting.

After the meeting was over John Schuchardt from Ipswich, Massachusetts went up to the officer to talk with him.  John himself had been a Marine Corp Reserve Officer during the Vietnam War and quit the military because of his opposition to the war.  I asked John to share his conversation with the officer on April 9 and here is what he wrote.
 
My conversation with the Air Force Reserve Officer who listened in on part of our meeting:  
He said that he was an Administrative Liaison for B-1, B-2, and B-52's bombers in the Reserves.  His job was to manage "assets" and coordinate, advise, and plan the deployment of Reserve assets with regular Air Force command structures.  His position was increasingly being called upon be…

 
I think it was interesting that the officer wanted to stick his head into our circle and we were glad he did.  It was good that John spoke with him afterward to make the human connection.  And their parting words were important as well as they reaffirmed for me that not everyone inside the military  is anxious to blow up our planet.

Reflecting on this chance encounter I thought about all the US military personnel stationed around the world and, just from my own experiences in the Air Force during the Vietnam War, I am certain that many heartfelt discussions are currently happening on US bases between those who are eager for war and those who are not.

We know from past history that signals from military personnel who are doubting US aggressive moves, risking WW III, can in fact help slow down the grinding wheels of the Pentagon's war machine.  I don't know if the officer who sat in our meeting is one such doubter or not - but the fact that he was drawn to our peaceful spirit speaks for itself.

We can only hope that the legions of US military personnel who do in fact doubt the current mission will speak up often and loudly and help bring some sanity to the out-of-control US imperial war machine.  Everyone has a role in protecting our Mother Earth from a devastating global nuclear war.
 
 
Bruce K. Gagnon
Coordinator
Global Network Against Weapons & Nuclear Power in Space
PO Box 652
Brunswick, ME 04011
(207) 443-9502
http://www.space4peace.org 
http://space4peace.blogspot.com  (blog)

Thank God men cannot fly, and lay waste the sky as well as the earth. - Henry David Thoreau