Friday, February 22, 2019

Out In The Black Liberation Night- The Black Panthers And The Struggle For The Ten-Point Program -Six – A Peace Treaty Of One's Own

Out In The Black Liberation Night- The Black Panthers And The Struggle For The Ten-Point Program -Six – A Peace Treaty Of One's Own




Jamal Pratt, Boston Boy’s English High School Class of 1965 (touted as the old public high as such in the country ahead of Boston Latin in that regard), was crazy to go into the military right after high school come June, a plan that he had been mulling in the back of his mind for the previous couple of years. In addition to that intense desire to prove his manhood, his righteous black manhood, to prove that he had what it took to step off with the tough guys, the tough guys when and where it counted, he was having troubles with Ma at home (rolling stone Pa, a blur when young, was long gone, gone with some other woman in some other town as far as his mother and his paternal grandmother knew).

You know the steady drumbeat of what are you going to do with your life (he had only vaguely alluded to that service career which she might have freaked at if he explained it in too much detail), why were you hanging out with who you were hanging out with, don't you know those corner boys of yours will just get you in trouble the universal mother drill (in fact she was only about half right about that since Junior was headed for college and Roy the Boy had military ideas too, although Jesse and Preston were slated to do time, black time, for some cheap jack robberies). Moreover he had no steady girlfriend since Sheila had moved back down south with her grandmother after her parents split up and he was just keeping his head above water when it came to that corner boy midnight shifter stuff his mother kept harping on (he was under Jesse’s spell in particular just then). He was desperately in need of a change of scenery, no question.

Besides he wanted, English High proud wanted (the glass case in the front lobby exhibited many of the servicemen and others who had distinguished themselves in service to the country in the long line of campaigns this country has conducted as befitted the oldest public high school in the country, both fact drummed in the boys from day one of grade nine), to do his duty for his country against the communist menace that it was facing, besides big dog Red Russia, from a place called Vietnam, a place where, from all the reports, the citizenry was growing wild, and getting wilder and would take down the whole region with it. That, of course was part of it, part of what any red-blooded American, black or white, feared and Jamal thought rightfully so, although he was loose, pretty loose, on exactly what the hell was happening there. The big part though was that Jamal Pratt was smitten by a John Wayne Army Special Forces action film, The Green Berets, having seen it several times and having bored, bored there was no other word for it, his corner boys as they hung around nights in front of his apartment house over on the corner of Washington Street and Geneva Avenue in the high Roxbury neighborhood of Boston.

What got to Jamal was how smooth these guys were, these Special Forces guys (and how they he heard also got plenty of action from the girls around North Carolina and places like that who were ready to do just about anything to get their kicks with a Green Beret), how they were able to take on about ten gooks (yes, that was the term he used for them and a term of common usage, Charlie only came later when the deal went down in –country, and the more respectful Mr. Charlie even later) and whip their sorry asses before they knew what hit them, about how they saved little rice-growing peasant village after little rice-growing peasant village when those crummy cowardly commie bastards tried to stake out their claim, and about how cool their weapons were that made quick victories possible (especially that quick-action M-16 that every guy got to carry, later he would pray, pray to high heaven for a sweet AK-47 that Mr. Charlie had at his disposal when his goddam M-16 would jam at the wrong freaking time ).He wanted in, wanted in bad on that action, and since he had not planned to go to college anyway for lack of money and interest he figured that when he signed up down at the recruiting station on Tremont Street he would try his luck as a Green Beret recruit even though his physical aspect (thin and short) was just inside the stiff Special Forces regulations. He figured if that didn’t work out, although he was pretty sure he had the stuff that the Green Berets were made of, he would pick a skill school, maybe carpentry or plumbing like his uncle, and be all set for when after he got out.

Well Jamal’s dream, like a lot of things, and not just black things, in this wicked old world, didn’t pan out, the Green Beret part (strangely he couldn't pass the hearing test, although, strangely too it did not disqualify him from the military as a whole), although he did gain a skill school, not exactly the one he had planned on, partly any way. He was assigned to be 11-Bravo, a grunt, a foot soldier, cannon fodder (although that thought term only came later, grunt was the word his used to his friends back on the block when he came home on leave the first time). He did take advantage of an opportunity to go to jump school, paratrooper school, down at Fort Benning in Georgia and was thereafter sent to Fort Bragg (where the Special Forces units were also located) down in North Carolina to be part of the 82nd Airborne Division.


As luck would have it 1966 was a year that the action was getting hot and heavy in Vietnam and so units, including his unit, of the 82nd were ordered to that hot spot as President Johnson acceded to every request from the general in charge, General Westmoreland, for more and more troops (that’s when he first heard the term cannon fodder but he did not connect it with himself then). As stories started coming back in about the actual fighting situation in Vietnam and as he gathered from the training he had received in how to kill gooks by the score (although that Mr. Charlie designation and constant rumors about how the night belonged to him was becoming more and more the term of usage among his fellow soldiers whatever  term was being used on the streets or in the barrooms) Jamal started getting more anxious, anxious for a very good reason since he had met a girl, Tonya, from Fayetteville, the town outside the fort, and they had plans to marry and all. (Apparently girls, girls around Fayetteville anyway, were just as happy to get their kicks with airborne guys as with Green Berets or any other elite military units but that attraction is a question for another time).

Jamal did his time in 'Nam, did his rotation (a year and a month’s R&R in Hawaii where Tonya met him on the quiet since she wasn’t supposed to do so), although he never did want to talk about it that much, about the killing (the constant firing part, the fields of fire part,  although he would go on and on about that damn jamming M-16 and when he complained about it being told by the sergeant that he must not have cleaned it properly, Jesus, he could clean it in his sleep), about the burning down of villages to save them (although he never asked the reason for doing so he just heard that some colonel from his brigade had said that was the reason), about having black sweats every night every single fucking night on the perimeter waiting for Mr. Charlie to come back and take his back (and some black sweat nights later in the “real world” too, for a while), and a few things he swore he would never tell anybody about what he had done there, about what he had seen done there, and about who these peasants really were anyway.


What he did want to talk about was the sea-change in his own attitude, him and some of the brothers (a few white guys too but not from the 82nd they, the white guys anyway, were still gung-ho), about how Cassius Clay turned Mohammed Ali was right-“that no Viet Cong ever called him nigger,” that he had no quarrel with those yellow-skinned people, that this red scare thing was a white man’s idea, a white man’s war, taking down poor black, brown, yellow-skinned peoples and making them like it, or trying to make them like it. He read some stuff given to him by a guy, a fellow soldier, whose brother was what he called a Black Panther, a black hell-raiser out on the streets of Oakland in California, some stuff by a guy named Fanon, a West Indian guy, a doctor who had been all wrapped up helping bring down the French in Algeria (the same French had been kicked out of Vietnam by Mr. Charlie he found out when he started looking into stuff). Some of it made sense, some just flat-out didn’t (like the hokey black nation thing, he already knew about what that looked like, just walk down Washington Street and Geneva, Jesus. 


Well, when he got back to the "real world" he and a few brothers decided, after hearing their unit might be going back to take on Mr. Charlie again , that they didn’t like it, didn’t like it enough to say something about it, say it out loud, and say it in public. At that point, that 1968 point, especially after Charlie went wild during his Tet earlier in the year, a number of guys, dog soldiers like him, were raising hell, white guys too, but mainly brothers because wouldn't you know the brothers were taking an immense amount of the burden in all those hellish fire-fights that was burning up the dreaded Vietnamese countryside. And so they wound up, fistfuls of service combat decorations and all, in that dreaded Fort Bragg stockade for a while before some publicity-conscious general decided that the best thing to do was to get him and the brothers out, give them undesirable discharges and be done with it. He didn’t like the deal but he took it (he would later fight to change it, get it upgraded when that was possible). He had had enough of Mister’s war, enough of killing, and enough of losing everything he held dear (his Fayetteville girl heeding her army father left him in the lurch too) but he had made his peace, his personal peace treaty with the world…

The original "Ten Point Program" from October, 1966 was as follows:[39][40]



1. We want freedom. We want power to determine the destiny of our black Community.

We believe that black people will not be free until we are able to determine our destiny.



2. We want full employment for our people.

We believe that the federal government is responsible and obligated to give every man employment or a guaranteed income. We believe that if the white American businessmen will not give full employment, then the means of production should be taken from the businessmen and placed in the community so that the people of the community can organize and employ all of its people and give a high standard of living.



3. We want an end to the robbery by the white man of our black Community.

We believe that this racist government has robbed us and now we are demanding the overdue debt of forty acres and two mules. Forty acres and two mules was promised 100 years ago as restitution for slave labor and mass murder of black people. We will accept the payment as currency which will be distributed to our many communities. The Germans are now aiding the Jews in Israel for the genocide of the Jewish people. The Germans murdered six million Jews. The American racist has taken part in the slaughter of over 50 million black people; therefore, we feel that this is a modest demand that we make.



4. We want decent housing, fit for shelter of human beings.

We believe that if the white landlords will not give decent housing to our black community, then the housing and the land should be made into cooperatives so that our community, with government aid, can build and make decent housing for its people.



5. We want education for our people that exposes the true nature of this decadent American society. We want education that teaches us our true history and our role in the present-day society.



We believe in an educational system that will give to our people a knowledge of self. If a man does not have knowledge of himself and his position in society and the world, then he has little chance to relate to anything else.



6. We want all black men to be exempt from military service.



We believe that black people should not be forced to fight in the military service to defend a racist government that does not protect us. We will not fight and kill other people of color in the world who, like black people, are being victimized by the white racist government of America. We will protect ourselves from the force and violence of the racist police and the racist military, by whatever means necessary.



7. We want an immediate end to POLICE BRUTALITY and MURDER of black people.

We believe we can end police brutality in our black community by organizing black self-defense groups that are dedicated to defending our black community from racist police oppression and brutality. The Second Amendment to the Constitution of the United States gives a right to bear arms. We therefore believe that all black people should arm themselves for self defense.



8. We want freedom for all black men held in federal, state, county and city prisons and jails.

We believe that all black people should be released from the many jails and prisons because they have not received a fair and impartial trial.



9. We want all black people when brought to trial to be tried in court by a jury of their peer group or people from their black communities, as defined by the Constitution of the United States.



We believe that the courts should follow the United States Constitution so that black people will receive fair trials. The 14th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution gives a man a right to be tried by his peer group. A peer is a person from a similar economic, social, religious, geographical, environmental, historical and racial background. To do this the court will be forced to select a jury from the black community from which the black defendant came. We have been, and are being tried by all-white juries that have no understanding of the "average reasoning man" of the black community.



10. We want land, bread, housing, education, clothing, justice and peace. And as our major political objective, a United Nations-supervised plebiscite to be held throughout the black colony in which only black colonial subjects will be allowed to participate for the purpose of determining the will of black people as to their national destiny.



When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume, among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.



We hold these truths to be self- evident, that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That, to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed; that, whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute a new government, laying its foundation on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly, all experience hath shown, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But, when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariable the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security.

In Honor Of John Brown Late Of Harpers Ferry-1859 Heroes Of The Ant-Slavery Struggle-Frederick Douglass And John Brown

Heroes Of The Ant-Slavery Struggle-Frederick Douglass And John Brown



*Poet's Corner-Langston Hughes' Tribute To John Brown- "October 16"

*Poet's Corner-Langston Hughes' Tribute To John Brown- "October 16"

http://www.uncp.edu/home/canada/work/canam/hughes.htm

Click on the title to link to an online biographic sketch of the life of the great Afro-American poet and militant Langston Hughes.

February Is Black History Month


October 16-Langston Hughes

Perhaps
You will remember
John Brown.

John Brown
Who took his gun,
Took twenty-one companions
White and black,
Went to shoot your way to freedom
Where two rivers meet
And the hills of the
North
And the hills of the
South
Look slow at one another-
And died
For your sake.

Now that you are
Many years free,
And the echo of the Civil War
Has passed away,
And Brown himself
Has long been tried at law,
Hanged by the neck,
And buried in the ground-
Since Harpers Ferry
Is alive with ghost today,
Immortal raiders
Come again to town-

Perhaps
You will recall
John Brown.

In Honor Of John Brown Late Of Harpers Ferry-1859- *Honor The Anniversary of John Brown's Anti-Slavery Struggle At Harper's Ferry- A Union Anthem -"John Brown's Body"

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Paul Robeson (who else should do it when you think about it)performing "John Brown's Body".

Lyrics- Section from From Wikipedia's Entry For "John Brown's Body"

The lyrics generally show an increase in complexity and syllable count as they move from simple, orally-transmitted camp meeting song, to an orally composed marching song, to more consciously literary versions.

The increasing syllable count led to an ever-increasing number of dotted rhythms in the melody to accommodate the increased number of syllables. The result is that the verse and chorus, which were musically identical in the "Say, Brothers", became quite distinct rhythmically in "John Brown's Body", and even more so in the more elaborate versions of the "John Brown Song" and in the "Battle Hymn of the Republic".

Say, Brothers

(1st verse)
Say, brothers, will you meet us (3x)
On Canaan's happy shore.
(Refrain)
Glory, glory, hallelujah (3x)
For ever, evermore!
(2nd verse)
By the grace of God we'll meet you (3x)
Where parting is no more.
(3rd verse)
Jesus lives and reigns forever (3x)
On Canaan's happy shore.
John Brown's Body

John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave; (3X)
His soul's marching on!
(Chorus)
Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah! his soul's marching on!
He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord! (3X)
His soul's marching on!
(Chorus)
John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back! (3X)
His soul's marching on!
(Chorus)
His pet lambs will meet him on the way; (3X)
They go marching on!
(Chorus)
They will hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree! (3X)
As they march along!
(Chorus)
Now, three rousing cheers for the Union; (3X)
As we are marching on!
(From the Library of Congress:[32])

The version by William Weston Patton:[24]:

Old John Brown’s body lies moldering in the grave,
While weep the sons of bondage whom he ventured all to save;
But tho he lost his life while struggling for the slave,
His soul is marching on.

John Brown was a hero, undaunted, true and brave,
And Kansas knows his valor when he fought her rights to save;
Now, tho the grass grows green above his grave,
His soul is marching on.

He captured Harper’s Ferry, with his nineteen men so few,
And frightened "Old Virginny" till she trembled thru and thru;
They hung him for a traitor, they themselves the traitor crew,
But his soul is marching on.

John Brown was John the Baptist of the Christ we are to see,
Christ who of the bondmen shall the Liberator be,
And soon thruout the Sunny South the slaves shall all be free,
For his soul is marching on.

The conflict that he heralded he looks from heaven to view,
On the army of the Union with its flag red, white and blue.
And heaven shall ring with anthems o’er the deed they mean to do,
For his soul is marching on.

Ye soldiers of Freedom, then strike, while strike ye may,
The death blow of oppression in a better time and way,
For the dawn of old John Brown has brightened into day,
And his soul is marching on

You Are Invited: The Right to Choose in Ireland, How Socialists Built a Movement Meeting!

We Demand An End to Legislative Attacks on the Poor! Massachusetts Poor People's Campaign

Massachusetts Poor People's Campaign<massachusetts@poorpeoplescampaign.org>
To   
Dear Supporters:
We refuse to be silent as our elected leaders undermine access to the ballot box, destroy healthcare and the social safety net, and deny living wages—all while cutting taxes for the wealthy.
Together we’ve been organizing and building the movement from the ground up in Massachusetts since we last took action at our state house in June. We have a number of newly elected legislators and they must hear from us! They must know that we are not a movement that doesn’t shrink back in the face of injustice.
Will you join us at 1:00 pm-3:45 pm. Gather on the steps of the MASSACHUSETTS State House 24 Beacon Street, Boston, MA. 02133, as we deliver the Moral Agenda Based on Fundamental Rights to our legislative leadership.
As the moral agents of our time, we’re building a movement to ensure political leaders take action to end the enmeshed evils of systemic racism, poverty and inequality, the war economy and militarism, ecological devastation and the distorted moral narrative.  
There are 140 million poor and low-income people in America—we can't wait another 50 years for change to come—the time to act is now
In solidarity,
The MASSACHUSETTS Poor People’s Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival


From the Massachusetts Poor Peoples Campaign Coordinating Committee 

In Honor Of John Brown Late Of Harpers Ferry-1859- *Those Who Fought For Our Communist Future Are Kindred Spirits- Honor Revolutionary Abolitionist John Brown On The 151st Anniversary Of Harpers Ferry

Click on the title to link to a "Wikipedia" entry for revolutionary abolitionist and black liberation fighter, John Brown. As always with this source in connection with controversial political figures check the information independently.

Every January, as readers of this blog are now, hopefully, familiar with the international communist movement honors the 3 Ls-Lenin, Luxemburg and Leibknecht, fallen leaders of the early 20th century communist movement who died in this month (and whose untimely deaths left a huge, irreplaceable gap in the international leadership of that time). January is thus a time for us to reflect on the roots of our movement and those who brought us along this far. In order to give a fuller measure of honor to our fallen forbears this January, and in future Januarys, this space will honor others who have contributed in some way to the struggle for our communist future. That future classless society, however, will be the true memorial to their sacrifices.

****
Note on inclusion: As in other series on this site (“Labor’s Untold Story”, “Leaders Of The Bolshevik Revolution”, etc.) this year’s honorees do not exhaust the list of every possible communist worthy of the name. Nor, in fact, is the list limited to Bolshevik-style communists. There will be names included from other traditions (like anarchism, social democracy, the Diggers, Levellers, Jacobins, etc.) whose efforts contributed to the international struggle. Also, as was true of previous series this year’s efforts are no more than an introduction to these heroes of the class struggle. Future years will see more detailed information on each entry, particularly about many of the lesser known figures. Better yet, the reader can pick up the ball and run with it if he or she has more knowledge about the particular exploits of some communist militant, or to include a missing one.

Markin comment:
Honor Revolutionary Abolitionist John Brown On The 151st Anniversary Of Harpers Ferry

Happy Birthday Frederick Douglass- A New BiographyIn Honor Of John Brown Late Of Harpers Ferry-1859 For Frederick Douglass On His 200th Birthday- On The Anniversary Of Harpers Ferry-Once Again On John Brown-Revolutionary Abolitionist-"Why they sang about John Brown-How a violent revolutionary inspired the Union’s great marching song – right here in Boston"


Happy Birthday Frederick Douglass- A New Biography

Click on link to hear a serious biographer of Frederick Douglass the revolutionary abolitionist who broke with the William Lloyd Garrison-wing of the movement when the times called for remorseless military fighting against the entrenched slave-holders and their allies. This from Christopher Lydon’s Open Source program on NPR.
https://player.fm/series/open-source-with-christopher-lydon/behind-the-leonine-gaze-of-frederick-douglass

This is what you need to know about Frederick Douglass and the anti-slavery, the revolutionary abolitionist fight. He was the man, the shining q star black man who led the fight for black men to join the Union Army and not just either be treated as freaking contraband or worse, as projected in early in the war by the Lincoln administration the return of fugitive slaves to “loyal” slave-owners. Led the fight to not only seek an emancipation proclamation as part of the struggle but a remorseless and probably long struggle to crush slavery and slaver-owners and their hanger-on militarily. Had been ticketed at a desperate moment in 1864 to recreate a John Brown scenario if they logjam between North and South in Virginia had not been broken. Yes, a bright shining northern star black man.    




Click on the headline to link to a Sunday Boston Globe article, dated August 14, 2011, concerning the links between the revolutionary abolitionist John Brown and Boston.






Markin comment:

I will post almost anything about John Brown in this space. He was one of our, unfortunately, few serious revolutionary forbears. Honor his memory-always.
*******
From the American Left History blog-

Saturday, October 16, 2010

*Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By-"John Brown's Body"


In this series, presented under the headline “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”, I will post some songs that I think will help us get through the “dog days” of the struggle for our communist future. I do not vouch for the political thrust of the songs; for the most part they are done by pacifists, social democrats, hell, even just plain old ordinary democrats. And, occasionally, a communist, although hard communist musicians have historically been scarce on the ground. Thus, here we have a regular "popular front" on the music scene. While this would not be acceptable for our political prospects, it will suffice for our purposes here.

Markin comment:

The Union armies as they headed South, especially the Massachusetts regiments, used this as their marching song. So a man who a little more than a year earlier was the subject of widespread scorn, North and South, except among hardened abolitionists and their supporters "led" the great climatic struggle against American slavery after all.

John Brown's Body
Information Lyrics

The tune was originally a camp-meeting hymn Oh brothers, will you meet us on Canaan's happy shore? It evolved into this tune. In 1861 Julia Ward Howe wife of a government official, wrote a poem for Atlantic Monthly for five dollars. The magazine called it, Battle Hymn of the Republic. The music may be by William Steffe. John Brown's body lies a-mold'ring in the grave
John Brown's body lies a-mold'ring in the grave
John Brown's body lies a-mold'ring in the grave
His soul goes marching on

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
His soul is marching on

He captured Harper's Ferry with his nineteen men so true
He frightened old Virginia till she trembled
through and through
They hung him for a traitor, themselves the traitor crew
His soul is marching on


Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

His soul is marching on
John Brown died that the slave might be free,
John Brown died that the slave might be free,
John Brown died that the slave might be free,
But his soul is marching on!


Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
His soul is marching on

The stars above in Heaven are looking kindly down
The stars above in Heaven are looking kindly down
The stars above in Heaven are looking kindly down
On the grave of old John Brown

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
His soul is marching on

Information and lyrics from
Best Loved Songs of the American People
See Bibliography for full information.

Happy Birthday Frederick Douglass- A New BiographyIn Honor Of John Brown Late Of Harpers Ferry-1859 For Frederick Douglass On His 200th Birthday- Once Again On John Brown-Revolutionary Abolitionist-"Why they sang about John Brown-How a violent revolutionary inspired the Union’s great marching song – right here in Boston"



Happy Birthday Frederick Douglass- A New Biography

Click on link to hear a serious biographer of Frederick Douglass the revolutionary abolitionist who broke with the William Lloyd Garrison-wing of the movement when the times called for remorseless military fighting against the entrenched slave-holders and their allies. This from Christopher Lydon’s Open Source program on NPR.
https://player.fm/series/open-source-with-christopher-lydon/behind-the-leonine-gaze-of-frederick-douglass

This is what you need to know about Frederick Douglass and the anti-slavery, the revolutionary abolitionist fight. He was the man, the shining q star black man who led the fight for black men to join the Union Army and not just either be treated as freaking contraband or worse, as projected in early in the war by the Lincoln administration the return of fugitive slaves to “loyal” slave-owners. Led the fight to not only seek an emancipation proclamation as part of the struggle but a remorseless and probably long struggle to crush slavery and slaver-owners and their hanger-on militarily. Had been ticketed at a desperate moment in 1864 to recreate a John Brown scenario if they logjam between North and South in Virginia had not been broken. Yes, a bright shining northern star black man.    



Click on the headline to link to a Sunday Boston Globe article, dated August 14, 2011, concerning the links between the revolutionary abolitionist John Brown and Boston.





Markin comment:



I will post almost anything about John Brown in this space. He was one of our, unfortunately, few serious revolutionary forbears. Honor his memory-always.

*******
From the American Left History blog-

Saturday, October 16, 2010

*Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By-"John Brown's Body"


In this series, presented under the headline “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”, I will post some songs that I think will help us get through the “dog days” of the struggle for our communist future. I do not vouch for the political thrust of the songs; for the most part they are done by pacifists, social democrats, hell, even just plain old ordinary democrats. And, occasionally, a communist, although hard communist musicians have historically been scarce on the ground. Thus, here we have a regular "popular front" on the music scene. While this would not be acceptable for our political prospects, it will suffice for our purposes here.

Markin comment:

The Union armies as they headed South, especially the Massachusetts regiments, used this as their marching song. So a man who a little more than a year earlier was the subject of widespread scorn, North and South, except among hardened abolitionists and their supporters "led" the great climatic struggle against American slavery after all.

John Brown's Body
Information Lyrics

The tune was originally a camp-meeting hymn Oh brothers, will you meet us on Canaan's happy shore? It evolved into this tune. In 1861 Julia Ward Howe wife of a government official, wrote a poem for Atlantic Monthly for five dollars. The magazine called it, Battle Hymn of the Republic. The music may be by William Steffe. John Brown's body lies a-mold'ring in the grave
John Brown's body lies a-mold'ring in the grave
John Brown's body lies a-mold'ring in the grave
His soul goes marching on

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
His soul is marching on

He captured Harper's Ferry with his nineteen men so true
He frightened old Virginia till she trembled
through and through
They hung him for a traitor, themselves the traitor crew
His soul is marching on


Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!

His soul is marching on
John Brown died that the slave might be free,
John Brown died that the slave might be free,
John Brown died that the slave might be free,
But his soul is marching on!


Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
His soul is marching on

The stars above in Heaven are looking kindly down
The stars above in Heaven are looking kindly down
The stars above in Heaven are looking kindly down
On the grave of old John Brown

Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, Glory! Hallelujah!
His soul is marching on

Information and lyrics from
Best Loved Songs of the American People
See Bibliography for full information.

Thursday, February 21, 2019

Former pitcher Don Newcombe passes away at 92-Breaking The Color Barrier

Nina Simone - I Shall Be ReleasedIn Honor Of Nina Simone During Black History-Just For Being Nina

Nina Simone - Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood-In Honor Of Nina Simone During Black History-Just For Being Nina

Nina Simone - I Want A Little Sugar In My Bowl-In Honor Of Nina Simone During Black History-Just For Being Nina

Nina Simone: Mississippi Goddam-In Honor Of Nina Simone During Black History-Just For Being Nina

One Righteous Man-Gary Cooper’s “High Noon” (1952 )-A Film Review

One Righteous Man-Gary Cooper’s “High Noon” (1952 )-A Film Review




DVD Review

By Sam Lowell

No question the western trek back in the 19th was filled with plenty of people who for one reason or another had cashed their checks in the East and headed out to some kind of new beginning, out to the frontier (and you didn’t have to be a high-flying Harvard professor back then to figure out that once you hit the Pacific Ocean the frontier spirt was done for-unless you wanted to swim the Japan seas looking for your place in the sun). The drift trek west drew plenty of weary sod farmers, budding capitalists especially with the coming of the railroads across the great expanse and, important for the film under review, High Noon, a big fistful of desperadoes, bandits and other preying sorts. So you had a mix of free spirits and free-loaders to contend with on an average day.      

No question the West, here we are talking about what was called the Wild West of legend, book and film, drew those who were individualistic sorts, you don’t leave where you are if you have some things going for you as a rule if you haven’t cashed your check but at the same time between the dramatic climate shifts, the wrath of the Native American who took umbrage at whites settling on their sacred lands and the shoot ‘em up bandits you also needed some sense of social cohesion-needed when the deal went down to stick together.   

Now I have heard and read a lot about this film produced deep in the red scare Cold War film being a metaphor for people in those days like those settlers in the film keeping their heads down. Probably so for like Arthur Miller’s The Crucible you needed to use metaphor to get some work if you didn’t want to get blacklisted need the services of a “front.” But this film also stands for the proposition good any time that one righteous unafraid man is good to have around anytime.   

Here’s the way this shoot-out played. The Sheriff, played by Oscar-winner Gary Cooper, got married to a Quaker lady, played by fetching even in a bonnet Grace Kelly, and was ready to leave his old law enforcement life behind. Problem was though that a desperado that he had sent to state prison five years before had gotten a pardon and with his gang of men looking to get even with the good sheriff. The new sheriff was not expected until the next day but our desperado was coming in at high noon that day. So the sheriff stayed, stayed and tried to recruit the townspeople to help back him up in the coming shoot-out. For many reasons, some good, some bad, he got no takers but he was just the type to go it alone if he had to. And he did, except that Quaker lady he married when they deal went down and they were going to gun down her man became very un-Quakerly. The sheriff and the Misses saved the town as he dropped his badge on the ground after the fight and headed out of town. Yeah, I can appreciate a righteous man anytime-especially when the times make the masses keep their heads down. A classic neo-Western.   

Searching For The High White Note-With The 20th Century Artist Stuart Davis In Mind

Searching For The High White Note-With The 20th Century Artist Stuart Davis In Mind




By Lance Lawrence

…..dazzled by the shapes, the colors, the angles and the combinations at the big retrospective of Stuart Davis’ work featured at the National Gallery of  Art in Washington, D.C. in January, 2017

The end of the American frontier formed by the splash of the Pacific Ocean kiddie-cornered his dream of catching that high white note that Johnny blowing that big sax to heaven, the Prez blowing a bigger sax to that same destination, Louie when he cared about such matters, the Duke always, always tweaking his mood poems in sound to eke out the thing he saw coming through Cotton Club jungle nights up in kingdom Harlem with all those Mayfair swells sucking the life out of whatever the touched and he/they had to wait until after hours, after the clubs closed, the tables washed down, the chairs stacked and the fucking front door shut against the swell night and blow among themselves tethered by a little Johnny Walker, the best friend an artist ever had if you believed the advertisements, tethered too by a little weed, watch out for your precious club license, letting it all hang out, letting the notes blow out the door, no, the window that fucking door is locked against all perdition, blow out to the China sea once it crossed to the frontier’s end in Frisco town and you could just see the thing float around the rust colored golden gate and in the mist then back again making another world of tobaccos, bull durham, fis it man papers to roll your own and dream of tall-masted ships sitting in the harbor after a day’s haul on in the high seas, out in the Banks, bringing in food for thought and hungers that those Mayfair swells would never know and then he had an idea, had an idea like a million other Americans with ideas and with no desire to trespass against the borders of the burgeoning American scene he started to blow his own white note, decided, no, was impelled by those Art League dreams to put speed, put the fast pony express, telegraph, telephone, television, telepathy, speed, the rust to the subway, to the highway ,the freeway, the railroad track the runway, the fast up and down of daily existence, the hurly-burly of Ritz cracker existences, of milk cow sorrows, of pretty cities with funny names and funnier storefronts with even funnier names and you could feel the restless energy behind the placard placid scene, and turn the bell into buoy into bell tower in light house into all kinds of exotic lines and angel angles for effect, for the visions of the gone world that he tried to address, address through clipped scissors like some modern day Matisse dancing figures superimposed on crescent moons, triangular prisms, squares squared before anybody even knew what square was in a candid world, threw a pentagon, no, not that Pentagon which was only a military thought back then, hexed a hexagon, didn’t touch heptagon how could he and axed an octagon just for effect while finally, finally putting those forms together on a big placard proclaiming to one and all, maybe to the candid world again that “artists must not starve” and other such idealistic ideas and you know what he was right except nobody told him that not starving did not mean drinking up an ocean of gin, an ocean of Johnny Walker Red, and ocean of, oh well you get the picture and if you don’t picture, picture a guy who if you met him on the street might have thought that he had come out of the nearest pool hall after successfully hustling Fast Eddie out of cigar and booze money, and maybe a few bucks for art supplies, yeah a character out of a Bogie movie except he could those shapes, those triangles, those squares, those pentagons and you know which one I don’t mean, those hexed hexagons, forget the hepts and curlicue the octagons and blow pretty blues, stark blacks, ruby red lipped reds, ocean, no, China seas, blues, that blue-green before the big blow and maybe just maybe capture that damn elusive high white note-hell he tried.                          
….and, and then he started to do the whole thing over again, and again and again each time haunted by the search for that high white note that Duke, Johnny, the Prez, Charlie and even Louie when he cared about such thing spent restless after hour nights behind fucking closed doors full of bad whiskey and seedy herb blowing out to the great big mist-filled night without rest. Thanks, brother, thanks.

The Front Pages From The Distaff Side-Rosalind Russell And Cary Grant’s “His Girl Friday”-(1940)-A Short Film Review

The Front Pages From The Distaff Side-Rosalind Russell And Cary Grant’s “His Girl Friday”-(1940)-A Short Film Review     





DVD Review

By Sam Lowell

His Girl Friday, starring Rosalind Russell, Cary Grant, Ralph Bellamy, directed by Howard Hawks, from a play by Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur, 1940  

Recently in reviewing another later (1960) Cary Grant vehicle, The Grass Is Greener, where he plays a cuckolded English Earl whose wife’s affections were stolen by an arriviste American oil man (played by also hunk Robert Mitchum) I noted that as a rule Cary Grant, the epitome of maleness, handsomeness, suaveness and whatever else matters to the majority females that made up the 1940s and 1950s audiences did not lose the woman (and in that vehicle he didn’t either but it was a close call when the deal went down). In the film under review Howard Hawk’s adaptation of Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur’s screwball comedy, The Front Page, he almost let another dame get away, let his ex-wife Hildy beat it to upstate New York. So maybe I was a little wrong about Cary’s ability to swoop women off their feet-and keep them swooped (is that the right past tense, oh well).                 
Here’s the play and it may be familiar to those who saw the play or the later screen version with Jack Lemon and Walter Matthau except, a very big except the ‘‘ace” reporter is a woman, a female Hildy, played by rough and tumble, give as well as he received, Rosalind Russell, which allows the male-female tussle that drives the film to go forward. Tussle because one, Hildy had given Walter, Walter Burns, the mad monk editor-in-chief/owner of a New York City newspaper, his walking papers, no go, done, and two, she is now engaged and ready to let the rough and tumble life of an ace reporter fall by the wayside. Engaged to Bruce Baldwin, a nice safe middle of the road insurance man, played by Ralph Bellamy.      


But see Walter, since the nasty divorce had gotten “religion,” well maybe had gotten religion, since he is remorseful about the bad way he treated Hildy and wants her back. The hook: the hook for any good and resourceful journalist- a big career-making or enhancing front page story. The bait for the hook- covering the execution of a small time grafter whose upcoming date with death is being played by the political establishment for the impending elections as the final nail in the coffin for the anarchist plague that had descended upon the city. The felon nothing but a snook and so Walter lures Hildy into looking into what the whole plan is all about. Gets her in so deep she can’t even think about poor ordinary nice guy Bruce and his very average life plans. In the end the snook gets a reprieve and the local politicos have egg all over their faces for their cover-ups. And Hildy and Walter go about their merry way. As for Bruce, well, he is on his way back to Albany-alone. You know Cary had this one in the bag from the beginning when you think about it. Just don’t let your good woman loose around him-okay.