Labor’s Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-"Our Lady Of The Mountains-The Music Of Hazel Dickens"

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Hazel Dickens performing the evocative, haunting Hills Of Home.

CD Review

It’s Hard To Tell The Singer From The Song, Hazel Dickens and other artists, Rounder Records, 1987

A few years ago I spent some time "running the table" on the mountain music genre. From the pioneer work of the venerable Carter Family, who leader A. P. Carter scoured the hills and patches of Appalachia, black tenet farmer, and hard-bitten coal miner, searching for material once RCA gave his trio their big break in 1927, or so through to Ralph Stanley, Doc Watson and other legendary figures and on to the “revival” brought forth in the early part of this decade by such movies as Brother, Where Art Thou? and Songcatcher I have paid more than passing tribute to this quintessential American musical form, complete with fiddle, mandolin and lonely Saturday nights gathering in the folk in some hardly built, or half- abandoned barn out in the hills and hollows of Appalachia and other rural environs. And, moreover, in the process ‘discovered’ that yankee boy I that I am, my roots are firmly steeped through my father down in the wind-swept hills and hollows. That said I have, thus, pretty much exhausted the milieu, right? Wrong. No homage to the modern mountain music scene can be complete without paying tribute to the work of singer/songwriter Hazel Dickens (and, at times, musical companion Alice Gerrard, among others).

There was time when, if one was given a choice, the name Hazel Dickens would be the first to come up when naming the most well known voice of the modern mountain music tradition. Her voice spoke of the hardships of the rural life and of ticky-tack, no window, hell, no door tar-paper cabins; the trials and tribulations of trying to eke out an existence on some hard- scrabble rocky farmland probably played out generations ago in the first treks west; or, more likely, sweated, underpaid labor in the coals mines or textiles factories that dominated that landscape for much of the second half of the 20th century. Hers was the pure, almost primordial voice that spoke of the sorrows of hill life, but also the joys of coming to terms with a very personal (and, apparently) angry god by way of singing away those working women blues, and you can add in a few tunes for those hard-bitten farmers and coals miners as well.

So, needless to say, this little Rounder CD from 1987 is filled with original work and covers on just those subjects mentioned above. From a cover of Bob Dylan's Only A Hobo to the classic haunting Hills Of Home that evokes, passionately, the roots in those hard life hills and on to the necessary religious- themed Will Jesus Wash The Bloodstains From Your Hands that has formed the underpinning for the mountain ethos for eons this is what mountain music is like when it is done right. Listen and see if you agree.
******
Hazel Dickens - A Few Old Memories lyrics

Lyrics to A Few Old Memories :
Just a few old memories
Slipped in through my door
Though I thought I had closed it
So tightly before
I can't understand it
Why it should bother my mind
For it all belongs to another place and time

Just a few old keep-sakes
Way back on the shelf
No, they don't mean nothin'
Well I'm surprised they're still left
Just a few old love letters
With the edges all brown
And an old faded picture
I keep turned upside-down

Just a few old memories
Going way back in time
Well I can hardly remember
I don't know why I'm cryin'
I can't understand it
Well I'm surprised myself
First thing tomorrow morning
I'll clean off that shelf

Just a few old keep-sakes
Way back on the shelf
No, they don't mean nothin'
Well I'm surprised that they're left
Just a few old love letters
With their edges all brown
And an old faded picture
I keep turned upside-down

Hazel Dickens, West Virginia My Home Tabs/Chords
Hazel Dickens is one of my favorite singers, and one of my favorite people. I
have had the pleasure of meeting and singing with her several times at
Augusta, and she is as genuine a person as you're likely to encounter. Her
testimonial to her home state is my all-time favorite song, one that I sing
every day. I learned it from her album entitled "Hard-Hitting Songs for Hard-
Hit People," and I am constantly amazed that a lifelong Illinoisan like myself
can identify so strongly with the bittersweet reverence with which she packs
this powerful ballad. Just as the Everly Brothers, Louvin Brothers, and Blue
Sky Boys did with "Kentucky," Hazel evokes a universal sentiment with this
geographically specific song.

John (a.k.a. "West Virginia Slim")
Chicago

WEST VIRGINIA MY HOME by Hazel Dickens

Chorus:
D G
West Virginia, oh my home.
D A
West Virginia, where I belong.
D
G
In the dead of the night, in the still and the quiet I slip away like a bird
in flight
D A D
Back to those hills, the place that I call home.

It's been years now since I left there
And this city life's about got the best of me.
I can't remember why I left so free what I wanted to do, what I wanted to see,
But I can sure remember where I come from.

Chorus-----

Well I paid the price for the leavin'
And this life I have is not one I thought I'd find.
Just let me live, love, let my cry, but when I go just let me die
Among the friends who'll remember when I'm gone.

Chorus-----

Bridge:
G A D A
Home, home, home. I can see it so clear in my mind.
G A D
A
Home, home, home. I can almost smell the honeysuckle vines.

[Repeat last two lines of chorus.]

***Our Ladies Of The Mountain- The Music Of Hazel Dickens And Alice Gerrard

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Hazel Dickens And Alice Gerrard.

CD Review

Hazel And Alice, Hazel Dickens And Alice Gerrard, Rounder , 1991

Recently I have been "running the table" on the mountain music genre. From the pioneer work of the venerable Carter Family through to Ralph Stanley and on to the `revival' brought forth in the early part of this decade by such movies as "Brother, Where Art Thou?" and "Songcatcher" I have paid more than passing tribute to this quintessential American musical form, complete with fiddle, mandolin and lonely Saturday nights out in the hills and hollows of Appalachia and other rural environs. I have, thus, pretty much exhausted the milieu, right? Wrong. No homage to the modern mountain music scene can be complete with out paying tribute to the work of singer/songwriter Hazel Dickens (and at times musical companion Alice Gerrard, among others).

There was time when, if one was given a choice, the name Hazel Dickens would be the first to come up when naming the most well known voice of the modern mountain music tradition. Her voice spoke of the hardships of the rural life, the trials and tribulations of trying to eke out an existence on some hard scrabble rocky farmland or, more likely, in the coals mines or textiles factories that dominated that landscape for much of the second half of the 20th century. That was the pure, almost primordial voice that spoke of the sorrows of hill life, but also the joys of coming to terms with a very personal (and, apparently) angry god by way of singing away those working women blues, and you can add in a few tunes for those hard-bitten farmers and coals miners as well.

So, needless to say, this little CD is filled with original work and covers on just those subjects mentioned above. From a cover of Utah Phillip's "Rolling Hills Of West Virginia" to the Carter Family's "Hello Stranger' and Sweetest Gift" this is what mountain music is like at the top. Listen and see if you agree.

*Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By-Merle Travis' "Dark As A Dungeon"

Click on the title to link a "YouTube" film clip of Johnny Csh performing Merle Travis' "Dark As A Dungeon."

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.

ORIGINAL MERLE TRAVIS LYRICS, transcribed from Capitol 48001:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's as dark as a dungeon way down in the mine...

SPOKEN:

I never will forget one time when I was on a little visit down home in Ebenezer, Kentucky. I was a-talkin' to an old man that had known me ever since the day I was born, and an old friend of the family. He says, "Son, you don't know how lucky you are to have a nice job like you've got and don't have to dig out a livin' from under these old hills and hollers like me and your pappy used to." When I asked him why he never had left and tried some other kind of work, he says, "Nawsir, you just won't do that. If ever you get this old coal dust in your blood, you're just gonna be a plain old coal miner as long as you live." He went on to say, "It's a habit [CHUCKLE] sorta like chewin' tobaccer."

Come and listen you fellows, so young and so fine,
And seek not your fortune in the dark, dreary mines.
It will form as a habit and seep in your soul,
'Till the stream of your blood is as black as the coal.
CHORUS:
It's dark as a dungeon and damp as the dew,
Where danger is double and pleasures are few,
Where the rain never falls and the sun never shines
It's dark as a dungeon way down in the mine.
It's a-many a man I have seen in my day,
Who lived just to labor his whole life away.
Like a fiend with his dope and a drunkard his wine,
A man will have lust for the lure of the mines.

I hope when I'm gone and the ages shall roll,
My body will blacken and turn into coal.
Then I'll look from the door of my heavenly home,
And pity the miner a-diggin' my bones.

ADDITIONAL STANZA RARELY PERFORMED BY MERLE TRAVIS:

The midnight, the morning, or the middle of day,
Is the same to the miner who labors away.
Where the demons of death often come by surprise,
One fall of the slate and you're buried alive.

*Labor's Untold Story- The Documentary "Harlan County, USA"- A Guest Review

Click on title to link to a guest review of the 1977 film documenatry "Harlan County, USA". The class struggle in the mines continues.

*Our Lady Of The Mountain-The Music Of Hazel Dickens

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Hazel Dickens Doing "A Few Old Memories".

CD Review

It’s Hard To Tell The Singer From The Song, Hazel Dickens and other artists, Rounder Records, 1987

Recently I have been "running the table" on the mountain music genre. From the pioneer work of the venerable Carter Family through to Ralph Stanley and on to the `revival' brought forth in the early part of this decade by such movies as "Brother, Where Art Thou?" and "Songcatcher" I have paid more than passing tribute to this quintessential American musical form, complete with fiddle, mandolin and lonely Saturday nights out in the hills and hollows of Appalachia and other rural environs. I have, thus, pretty much exhausted the milieu, right? Wrong. No homage to the modern mountain music scene can be complete with out paying tribute to the work of singer/songwriter Hazel Dickens (and at times musical companion Alice Gerrard, among others).

There was time when, if one was given a choice, the name Hazel Dickens would be the first to come up when naming the most well known voice of the modern mountain music tradition. Her voice spoke of the hardships of the rural life, the trials and tribulations of trying to eke out an existence on some hard scrabble rocky farmland or, more likely, in the coals mines or textiles factories that dominated that landscape for much of the second half of the 20th century. That was the pure, almost primordial voice that spoke of the sorrows of hill life, but also the joys of coming to terms with a very personal (and, apparently) angry god by way of singing away those working women blues, and you can add in a few tunes for those hard-bitten farmers and coals miners as well.

So, needless to say, this little Rounder CD from 1987 is filled with original work and covers on just those subjects mentioned above. From a cover of Bob Dylan's "Only A Hobo" to the classic "Hills Of Home" and on to the necessary religious- themed "Will Jesus Wash The Bloodstains From Your Hands" this is what mountain music is like when it is done right. Listen and see if you agree.


Hazel Dickens - A Few Old Memories lyrics

Lyrics to A Few Old Memories :

Just a few old memories
Slipped in through my door
Though I thought I had closed it
So tightly before
I can't understand it
Why it should bother my mind
For it all belongs to another place and time

Just a few old keep-sakes
Way back on the shelf
No, they don't mean nothin'
Well I'm surprised they're still left
Just a few old love letters
With the edges all brown
And an old faded picture
I keep turned upside-down

Just a few old memories
Going way back in time
Well I can hardly remember
I don't know why I'm cryin'
I can't understand it
Well I'm surprised myself
First thing tomorrow morning
I'll clean off that shelf

Just a few old keep-sakes
Way back on the shelf
No, they don't mean nothin'
Well I'm surprised that they're left
Just a few old love letters
With their edges all brown
And an old faded picture
I keep turned upside-down



Hazel Dickens, West Virginia My Home Tabs/Chords

Hazel Dickens is one of my favorite singers, and one of my favorite people. I
have had the pleasure of meeting and singing with her several times at
Augusta, and she is as genuine a person as you're likely to encounter. Her
testimonial to her home state is my all-time favorite song, one that I sing
every day. I learned it from her album entitled "Hard-Hitting Songs for Hard-
Hit People," and I am constantly amazed that a lifelong Illinoisan like myself
can identify so strongly with the bittersweet reverence with which she packs
this powerful ballad. Just as the Everly Brothers, Louvin Brothers, and Blue
Sky Boys did with "Kentucky," Hazel evokes a universal sentiment with this
geographically specific song.

John (a.k.a. "West Virginia Slim")
Chicago

WEST VIRGINIA MY HOME by Hazel Dickens

Chorus:
D G
West Virginia, oh my home.
D A
West Virginia, where I belong.
D
G
In the dead of the night, in the still and the quiet I slip away like a bird
in flight
D A D
Back to those hills, the place that I call home.

It's been years now since I left there
And this city life's about got the best of me.
I can't remember why I left so free what I wanted to do, what I wanted to see,
But I can sure remember where I come from.

Chorus-----

Well I paid the price for the leavin'
And this life I have is not one I thought I'd find.
Just let me live, love, let my cry, but when I go just let me die
Among the friends who'll remember when I'm gone.

Chorus-----

Bridge:
G A D A
Home, home, home. I can see it so clear in my mind.
G A D
A
Home, home, home. I can almost smell the honeysuckle vines.

[Repeat last two lines of chorus.]

Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By-Doc Watson- The Max Daddy Of Appalachian Mountain Music Passes On- "Black Mountain Rag"

Click on the title to link a "YouTube" film clip from Doc Watson on Black
Mountain Rag

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.

On The 50th Anniversary Of Publication Of Michael Harrington's "The Other America"- Another Personal Note On The Class Struggle

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Iris Dement performing "Pretty Saro" in the film "Song Catcher".

DVD Review

The Appalachians, 3 DVD set, various commentators and mountain musicians, PBS Productions, 2005

I have spend no little time over the past several months putting roots music, the historical roots of mountain music in the hills and hollows of the Appalachians, especially Kentucky and my own personal connection with the place as a son of a coal mining son of the region together. This film documentary takes two of those strands, roots music and the history of the region and tries to explain the values behind the music and behind the pioneer spirit that drove some of our forbears to those lonely hill and hollows to eke out a an existence and create a cultural gradient that is not always understandable to those of us not immersed in that milieu. Except those virtues of hard work, hard religion, hard times and hard liquor are not all that far from the mainstream experiences, at least of earlier generations. In a sense this film is a tribute to a vanishing breed, a breed the mined the coal in the eastern mines, and farmed those hard rock acres. I like to think that some of those virtues and, of course, the music would not die.

Along the way this documentary traces the roots of the original Northern European settlers as they fled, or were pushed , from the East Coast and sought the new virgin lands of the then ‘west’ in the 17th and 18th centuries. Their uneasy relationship, finally untenable, with the various indigenous Native American tribes in the 19th century. The film also points out the gathering storm over the slavery issue that would literally become the “brothers’ war” in much of the region in the mid-19th century civil war. In the post- Civil War period the outlines of a distinctive Appalachian cultural gradient became recognizable through an exploitation of the natural resources of the area generated by the needs of the emerging industrial age, especially mining of the abundant coal fields. The struggle between labor and capital takes center place as the driving force from then until the near present. This includes the titanic struggles for mine workers union recognition, the demise of labor intensive coal mining and the rise of mass high tech mining that has ravished the land.

But, mainly this film is an exposition on the music. Without straining credulity "mountain music" is the music of the simple folk of Appalachia, those who worked hard in the coal mines, on the hard scrabble farms and in the isolated mills of the region. This was their Saturday night entertainment and with the advent of radio was a unifying cultural experience. The songs "speak" of hard and lonely lives, the beauty of the then pristine countryside, the usual vagaries of love and lost and the mysterious ways of a very personal, if arbitrary, god. Throw in a few upbeat tunes reflecting the love of "corn" liquor, women and the sometimes funny side of coping with life's trials and tribulations and you have the mountain version of the folk experience. Sound familiar? Sure it does, except, it is done with simple guitar, a blazing fiddle and, hopefully, a full-bodied mandolin.

John Prine, Paradise Lyrics

When I was a child my family would travel
Down to Western Kentucky where my parents were born
And there's a backwards old town that's often remembered
So many times that my memories are worn.

Chorus:
And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking
Mister Peabody's coal train has hauled it away

Well, sometimes we'd travel right down the Green River
To the abandoned old prison down by Adrie Hill
Where the air smelled like snakes and we'd shoot with our pistols
But empty pop bottles was all we would kill.

Repeat Chorus:

Then the coal company came with the world's largest shovel
And they tortured the timber and stripped all the land
Well, they dug for their coal till the land was forsaken
Then they wrote it all down as the progress of man.

Repeat Chorus:

When I die let my ashes float down the Green River
Let my soul roll on up to the Rochester dam
I'll be halfway to Heaven with Paradise waitin'
Just five miles away from wherever I am.

Repeat Chorus:


Soggy Bottom Boys - I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow Lyrics

I am the man of constant sorrow
I've seen trouble all my days
I bid farewell to ol' Kentucky
The place where I was born and raised.

The place where he was born and raised

For six long years I've been in trouble,
no pleasure here on earth I've found
For in this world, I'm bound to ramble,
I have no friends to help me now.

He has no friends to help him now

It's fair thee well, my old true lover,
I never expect to see you again.
For I'm bound to ride that Northern Railroad,
perhaps I'll die upon this train

Perhaps he'll die upon this train

You can bury me in some deep valley,
For many years where I may lay.
And you may learn to love another
while I am sleeping in my grave.

While he is sleeping in his grave

Maybe your friends think I'm just a stranger
My face you never will see no more
But there is one promise that is given,
I'll meet you on Gods golden shore

He'll meet you on God's golden shore

Big Rock Candy Mountain

One evening as the sun went down and the jungle fire was burning
Down the track came a hobo hiking and he said boys I'm not turning
I'm headin for a land that's far away beside the crystal fountains
So come with me we'll go and see the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains there's a land that's fair and bright
Where the handouts grow on bushes and you sleep out every night
Where the boxcars are all empty and the sun shines every day
On the birds and the bees and the cigarette trees
Where the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains all the cops have wooden legs
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth and the hens lay soft boiled eggs
The farmer's trees are full of fruit and the barns are full of hay
Oh, I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall and the wind don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains you never change your socks
And the little streams of alcohol come a-trickling down the rocks
The brakemen have to tip their hats and the railroad bulls are blind
There's a lake of stew and of whiskey too
You can paddle all around 'em in a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains the jails are made of tin
And you can walk right out again as soon as you are in
There ain't no short handled shovels, no axes saws or picks
I'm a goin to stay where you sleep all day
Where they hung the jerk that invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

I'll see you all this coming fall in the Big Rock Candy Mountains


Ralph Stanley - O Death Lyrics

O, Death
O, Death
Won't you spare me over til another year
Well what is this that I can't see
With ice cold hands takin' hold of me
Well I am death, none can excel
I'll open the door to heaven or hell
Whoa, death someone would pray
Could you wait to call me another day
The children prayed, the preacher preached
Time and mercy is out of your reach
I'll fix your feet til you cant walk
I'll lock your jaw til you cant talk
I'll close your eyes so you can't see
This very air, come and go with me
I'm death I come to take the soul
Leave the body and leave it cold
To draw up the flesh off of the frame
Dirt and worm both have a claim

O, Death
O, Death
Won't you spare me over til another year
My mother came to my bed
Placed a cold towel upon my head
My head is warm my feet are cold
Death is a-movin upon my soul
Oh, death how you're treatin' me
You've close my eyes so I can't see
Well you're hurtin' my body
You make me cold
You run my life right outta my soul
Oh death please consider my age
Please don't take me at this stage
My wealth is all at your command
If you will move your icy hand
Oh the young, the rich or poor
Hunger like me you know
No wealth, no ruin, no silver no gold
Nothing satisfies me but your soul

O, death
O, death
Wont you spare me over til another year
Wont you spare me over til another year
Wont you spare me over til another year

The Stanley Brothers - Angel Band Lyrics

The latest sun is sinking fast, my race is nearly run
My strongest trials now are past, my triumph is begun
O come Angel Band, come & around me stand
O bear me away on your snowy wings to my immortal home
O bear me away on your snowy wings to my immortal home
I know I'm near the holy ranks of friends & kindred dear
I've brushed the dew on Jordan's banks, the crossing must be near
I've almost gained my Heavenly home, my spirit loudly sings
The Holy ones, behold they come, I hear the noise of wings
O bear my longing heart to Him who bled & died for me
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin & gives me victory

On The 50th Anniversary Of Publication Of Michael Harrington's "The Other America"- A Personal Note On The Class Struggle

Reposted from the American Left History blog

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

*Labor's Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-At One Remove

Click on title to link to a YouTube film clip of Iris Dement performing Pretty Saro in the film Songcatcher. This song is presented just an example of her singing style as I could not find a film clip of her doing These Hills which, as will be explained below, was the song I was thinking of as background for what I am writing about in today's commentary. (I have placed the lyrics to These Hills below but the written words hardly do justice to her performance and mood of the song.)

As I end, for this year, the over month long series entitled Labor's Untold Story in celebration of our common labor struggles I am in something of a reflective and pensive mood. Well you know that every once in a while that happens even to the most hardened politico, right? I have heard that even President Obama had such a moment about four years ago although it literally was just one moment, sixty-six seconds according to one inside source, an anonymous source because he, or she, is not authorized to give such classified information in the interest of national security, the bourgeoisie’s national security to be exact. Rumor also has it that leading Republican presidential contender, former Massachusetts governor, Mitt Romney, thought about having a pensive moment for a moment and then changed his mind when some Tea Party-ers declared that pensive moments were against god’s will. I, on the other hand, as an intrepid communist propagandist can freely admit to such moments in politics, and as here reflecting on my roots.

What has gotten me into this reflective state is thinking about my father's background of coming from the hard-scrabble hills of Kentucky. That, my friends, means coal country, or it did in his time. The names Hazard, near Harlan County (the next county over to be exact) but, more appropriately "bloody Harlan" have, I hope, echoed across this series as a symbol for the hard life of many generations of workers and hard-scrabble tenant farmers who came out of those hills-some place. Some place in Appalachia, that is.

I have mentioned my father and his trials and tribulations, previously, when I did a series on the evolution of my youthful political trajectory from liberalism to communism. His hard-bitten, no breaks, no luck life was not a direct influence on that evolution, that is for sure. He was a strong anti-communist, if only of the reflexive kind coming out of that so-called “greatest generation” who survived the Great Depression of the 1930s and then, rifle over one shoulder, fought World War II. But something in the genes and in his character left an imprint. Let me sum up his life's experience this way- the tidbit that he imparted to me early on in life I will always remember and is probably why I am still struggling for our communist future to this day.

My father was certainly no stranger to hard times as a youth thrown into the coal mines early (or, as it turned out, in his work travails as an adult). My father, perhaps like yours, was a child of the Great Depression of the 1930's, scratching and clawing his way from pillar to post and entered into his manhood as a Marine in combat in World War II. Hard combat in the Pacific, and as anyone who has studied the period will know, where no quarter was given, or taken. Those two facts are important. Why? As a very young kid I asked him why he became a soldier, excuse me, a Marine. Well, the short answer was this- between the two alternatives, starve or fight, he was glad, no more than glad he was ecstatic, to quickly sign up at the Marine recruiting station in order to get out of the hills of Kentucky. And he, moreover, whatever happened later, never looked back.

That, my friends, is why I entitled part of the headline to today's entry- "at one remove". Those hills are in my blood, no question, no question now as much as I might have resisted such feelings before, but also the notion that those terrible choices had to be made by an honest working-class stiff. And that is why today I am in this mood thinking about how desperately we need to get down that socialist road. Pronto. And why I hear Iris Dement's voice singing of her own longings in These Hills, my father’s hills, as I write this, down deep in my own being.
*****
I have put together and reposted separately all the related entries around this many generational struggle to get away from the "coal"

"These Hills"-Iris Dement

Far away I've traveled,
To stand once more alone.
And hear my memories echo,
Through these hills that I call home.

As a child I roamed this valley.
I watched the seasons come and go.
I spent many hours dreaming,
On these hills that I call home.

The wind is rushing through the valley,
And I don't feel so all alone,
When I see the dandelions blowing,
Across the hills that I call home.

Instrumental Break.

Like the flowers I am fading,
Into my setting sun.
Brother and sister passed before me:
Mama and Daddy, they've long since gone.

The wind is rushing through the valley,
And I don't feel so all alone,
When I see the dandelions blowing,
Across the hills that I call home.

These are the hills that I call home.

Labor’s Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-"Our Mother, The Mountain- The Music Of Jean Ritchie"

Our Mother, The Mountain- The Traditional Mountain Music Of Jean Ritchie

CD REVIEW

Mountain Hearth And Home, Jean Ritchie, Rhino Handmade, 2004

The last time that the name of traditional mountain folk singer Jean Ritchie was mentioned in this space was as part of the lineup in Rosalie Sorrel’s last concert at Harvard University that spawned a CD, The Last Go-Round. At that concert she, as usual, she performed, accompanied by her sweet dulcimer, the mountain music particularly the music that she learned in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky and that she has been associated with going back at least to the early 1960’s. Here, in the CD under review, Mountain Hearth and Home, we get a wide range of those traditional mountain songs from those parts that provide something for every palate.

The songs, simple songs of the mountains that befit a simple folk with simple lyrics, chords and instrumentation representing what was at hand, many of which have their genesis back in the hills of Scotland and Ireland, never fail to evoke a primordial response in this listener. The songs speak of the longings created by those isolated spaces; and, occasionally of those almost eternal thoughts of love, love thwarted, love gone wrong or love disappearing without a trace. Or songs of the hard life of the mountains whether it is the hard scrabble to make a life from the rocky farmland that will not give forth without great struggle or of the mines, the coal mines that in an earlier time (and that are making a comeback now out west) represented a key energy source for a growing industrial society. Many a tale here centers on the trails and tribulations of the weary, worked-out mines and miners. Add in some country lullabies, some religiously-oriented songs representing the fundamental Protestant ethic that drove these people and some Saturday dancing and drinking songs and you have a pretty good feel for the range of experience out there in the hills, hollows and ravines of Eastern Kentucky.

Several time over the past year or so I have mentioned, as part of my remembrances of my youth and of my political and familial background, that my father was a coal miner and the son of a coal miner in the hills of Hazard, Kentucky (a town mentioned in a couple of the songs here) in the heart of Appalachia. I have also mentioned that he was a child of the Great Depression and of World War II. He often joked that in a choice between digging the coal and taking his chances in war he much preferred the latter. Thus, it was no accident that when war came he volunteered for the Marines and, as fate would have it, despite a hard, hard life after the war, he never looked back to the mines or the hills. Still this music flowed in his veins, and, I guess, flows in mine.

My Boy Willie

Traditional

Notes: This song has the exact same tunes as the song "The Butcher Boy" and is of a similar theme.

It was early, early in the spring
my boy Willie went to serve the king
And all that vexed him and grieved his mind
was the leaving of his dear girl behind.

Oh father dear build me a boat
that on the ocean I might float
And hail the ships as they pass by
for to inquire of my sailor boy.

She had not sailed long in the deep
when a fine ship's crew she chanced to meet
And of the captain she inquired to
"Does my boy Willie sail on board with you?"

"What sort of a lad is your Willie fair?
What sort of clothes does your Willie wear?"
"He wears a coat of royal blue,
and you'll surely know him for his heart is true".

"If that's your Willie he is not here.
Your Willie's drowned as you did fear.
'Twas at yonder green island as we passed by,
it was there we lost a fine sailor boy".

Go dig my grave long wide and deep,
put a marble stone at my head and feet.
And in the middle, a turtle dove.
So the whole world knows that I died of love.

"The L & N Don't Stop Here Anymore"

When I was a curly headed baby
My daddy sat me down on his knee
He said, "son, go to school and get your letters,
Don't you be a dusty coal miner, boy, like me."

[Chorus:]
I was born and raised at the mouth of hazard hollow
The coal cars rolled and rumbled past my door
But now they stand in a rusty row all empty
Because the l & n don't stop here anymore

I used to think my daddy was a black man
With script enough to buy the company store
But now he goes to town with empty pockets
And his face is white as a February snow

[Chorus]

I never thought I'd learn to love the coal dust
I never thought I'd pray to hear that whistle roar
Oh, god, I wish the grass would turn to money
And those green backs would fill my pockets once more

[Chorus]

Last night I dreamed I went down to the office
To get my pay like a had done before
But them ol' kudzu vines were coverin' the door
And there were leaves and grass growin' right up through the floor

[Chorus]


Come All Ye Fair And Tender Ladies

Come all ye fair and tender ladies
Take warning how you court your men
They're like a star on a summer morning
They first appear and then they're gone

They'll tell to you some loving story
And they'll make you think that they love you well
And away they'll go and court some other
And leave you there in grief to dwell

I wish I was on some tall mountain
Where the ivy rocks were black as ink
I'd write a letter to my false true lover
Whose cheeks are like the morning pink

I wish I was a little sparrow
And I had wings to fly so high
I'd fly to the arms of my false true lover
And when he'd ask, I would deny

Oh love is handsome, love is charming
And love is pretty while it's new
But love grows cold as love grows older
And fades away like morning dew

"BLACK IS THE COLOUR"

Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground wheron she stands

I love my love and well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes
But some times I whish the day will come
That she and I will be as one

Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground wheron she stands

I walk to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
But satisfied I never can sleep
I'll write her a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death ten thousand times

Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She's the sweetest face and the gentlest hands
I love the ground wheron she stands

Blue Diamond Mines

I remember the ways in the bygone days
when we was all in our prime
When us and John L. we give the old man hell
down in the Blue Diamond Mine

Well the whistle would blow 'for the rooster crow
full two hours before daylight
When a man done his best and earned his good rest
at seven dollars a night

In the mines in the mines
in the Blue Diamond Mines
I worked my life away
In the mines in the mines
In the Blue Diamond Mines
I fall on my knees and pray.

You old black gold you've taken my lung
your dust has darkened my home
And now I am old and you've turned your back
where else can an old miner go


Well it's Algomer Block and Big Leather Woods
now its Blue Diamond too
The bits are all closed get another job
what else can an old miner do?


Now the union is dead and they shake their heads
well mining has had it's day
But they're stripping off my mountain top
and they pay me eight dollars a day


Now you might get a little poke of welfare meal
get a little poke of welfare flour
But I tell you right now your won't qualify
'till you work for a quarter an hour.

Labor’s Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-"Our Mother, The Mountain- The Music Of Jean Ritchie"

Click on title to link to my American Left History entry for Our Mother, The Mountain-The Traditional Kentucky Music Of Jean Ritchie

*Labor’s Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-"Bloody Harlan" In Song

Click on title to link to my entry for "Bloody Harlan In Song".

This commentary is part of a series under the following general title: Labor’s Untold Story- Reclaiming Our Labor History In Order To Fight Another Day-And Win!

As a first run through, and in some cases until I can get enough other sources in order to make a decent presentation, I will start with short entries on each topic that I will eventually go into greater detail about. Or, better yet, take my suggested topic and run with it yourself.

***Labor's Untold Story- A Personal View Of The Class Wars In The Kentucky Hills And Hollows-At One Remove

Click on title to link to a YouTube film clip of Iris Dement performing Pretty Saro in the film Songcatcher. This song is presented just an example of her singing style as I could not find a film clip of her doing These Hills which, as will be explained below, was the song I was thinking of as background for what I am writing about in today's commentary. (I have placed the lyrics to These Hills below but the written words hardly do justice to her performance and mood of the song.)

As I end, for this year, the over month long series entitled Labor's Untold Story in celebration of our common labor struggles I am in something of a reflective and pensive mood. Well you know that every once in a while that happens even to the most hardened politico, right? I have heard that even President Obama had such a moment about four years ago although it literally was just one moment, sixty-six seconds according to one inside source, an anonymous source because he, or she, is not authorized to give such classified information in the interest of national security, the bourgeoisie’s national security to be exact. Rumor also has it that leading Republican presidential contender, former Massachusetts governor, Mitt Romney, thought about having a pensive moment for a moment and then changed his mind when some Tea Party-ers declared that pensive moments were against god’s will. I, on the other hand, as an intrepid communist propagandist can freely admit to such moments in politics, and as here reflecting on my roots.

What has gotten me into this reflective state is thinking about my father's background of coming from the hard-scrabble hills of Kentucky. That, my friends, means coal country, or it did in his time. The names Hazard, near Harlan County (the next county over to be exact) but, more appropriately "bloody Harlan" have, I hope, echoed across this series as a symbol for the hard life of many generations of workers and hard-scrabble tenant farmers who came out of those hills-some place. Some place in Appalachia, that is.

I have mentioned my father and his trials and tribulations, previously, when I did a series on the evolution of my youthful political trajectory from liberalism to communism. His hard-bitten, no breaks, no luck life was not a direct influence on that evolution, that is for sure. He was a strong anti-communist, if only of the reflexive kind coming out of that so-called “greatest generation” who survived the Great Depression of the 1930s and then, rifle over one shoulder, fought World War II. But something in the genes and in his character left an imprint. Let me sum up his life's experience this way- the tidbit that he imparted to me early on in life I will always remember and is probably why I am still struggling for our communist future to this day.

My father was certainly no stranger to hard times as a youth thrown into the coal mines early (or, as it turned out, in his work travails as an adult). My father, perhaps like yours, was a child of the Great Depression of the 1930's, scratching and clawing his way from pillar to post and entered into his manhood as a Marine in combat in World War II. Hard combat in the Pacific, and as anyone who has studied the period will know, where no quarter was given, or taken. Those two facts are important. Why? As a very young kid I asked him why he became a soldier, excuse me, a Marine. Well, the short answer was this- between the two alternatives, starve or fight, he was glad, no more than glad he was ecstatic, to quickly sign up at the Marine recruiting station in order to get out of the hills of Kentucky. And he, moreover, whatever happened later, never looked back.

That, my friends, is why I entitled part of the headline to today's entry- "at one remove". Those hills are in my blood, no question, no question now as much as I might have resisted such feelings before, but also the notion that those terrible choices had to be made by an honest working-class stiff. And that is why today I am in this mood thinking about how desperately we need to get down that socialist road. Pronto. And why I hear Iris Dement's voice singing of her own longings in These Hills, my father’s hills, as I write this, down deep in my own being.
*****
I have put together and reposted separately all the related entries around this many generational struggle to get away from the "coal"

"These Hills"-Iris Dement

Far away I've traveled,
To stand once more alone.
And hear my memories echo,
Through these hills that I call home.

As a child I roamed this valley.
I watched the seasons come and go.
I spent many hours dreaming,
On these hills that I call home.

The wind is rushing through the valley,
And I don't feel so all alone,
When I see the dandelions blowing,
Across the hills that I call home.

Instrumental Break.

Like the flowers I am fading,
Into my setting sun.
Brother and sister passed before me:
Mama and Daddy, they've long since gone.

The wind is rushing through the valley,
And I don't feel so all alone,
When I see the dandelions blowing,
Across the hills that I call home.

These are the hills that I call home.

*Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By- Kathy Mattea's"Black Lung"

Click on the title to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Kathy Mattea performing about the classic coal country health issue that never goes away, "Black Lung".

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:

I can add nothing here to the song, except that the struggle portrayed in the accompanying film review on this date, "Harlan County, U.S.A.", brings that safety issue home in a very big way.


Black Lung Lyrics

Sign a petition under working condition
Union is in bed with the coal operators
Carry our freedom, looking for something
To get your family a better life for every single day

Some things keep me going
Well I got no one to blame
Five o'clock is comin'
Do you feel the same?
When a lonely whistle
Calls out your name?

All the men look the same
When they come out the mine
No prejudice for the mighty black lung
Rank and file workers, rank and file minds
Take off the gloves and sock it to 'em

Some things keep me going
Well I got no one to blame
Five o'clock is comin'
Do you feel the same?
When a lonely whistle
Calls out your name?

Hey unbeliever (Hey)
Black lung fever (Hey)
Transmit receiver (Hey)
Stand up deceiver (Hey)
Well I don't like it either (Hey)
No predjucide for the Black lung fever(no)

Some things keep me going
Well I got no one to blame
Five o'clock is comin'
Do you feel the same?
When a lonely whistle
Calls out your name

*Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By-Phil Och's "Hazard,Kentucky"

Click on the title to link to a site to hear Phil Och's Hazard, Kentucky.

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.

*******

Markin comment:

Of course this one has special meaning as my father was born and raised down in that country, coal country.


Hazard, Kentucky Lyrics
Artist(Band):Phil Ochs

Well, some people think that Unions are too strong,
Union leaders should go back where they belong;
But I wish that they could see a little more of poverty
And they might start to sing a different song.

Well, minin' is a hazard in Hazard, Kentucky,
And if you ain't minin' there,
Well, my friends, you're awful lucky,
'Cause if you don't get silicosis or pay that's just atrocious
You'll be screamin' for a Union that will care.

Well, let's look at old Kentucky for a while.
It's hard to find a miner who will smile.
Well, the Constitution's fine, but it's hard reading in the mines,
and when welfare stops, the trouble starts to pile.

Well, minin' is a hazard in Hazard, Kentucky,
And if you ain't minin' there,
Well, my friends, you're awful lucky,
'Cause if you don't get silicosis or pay that's just atrocious
You'll be screamin' for a Union that will care.

Well, the Depression was ended with the war,
But nobody told Kentucky, that is sure.
Some are living in a sewer while the jobs are getting fewer
But more coal is mined than ever was before.

Well, minin' is a hazard in Hazard, Kentucky,
And if you ain't minin' there,
Well, my friends, you're awful lucky,
'Cause if you don't get silicosis or pay that's just atrocious
You'll be screamin' for a Union that will care.

Well, the badge of Sheriff Combs always shines
And when duty calls he seldom ever whines.
Well, I don't like raisin' thunder, but it sort of makes you wonder
When he runs the law and also runs the mines.

Well, minin' is a hazard in Hazard, Kentucky,
And if you ain't minin' there,
Well, my friends, you're awful lucky,
'Cause if you don't get silicosis or pay that's just atrocious
You'll be screamin for a Union that will care.

Well, our standard of living is highest all around,
But our standard of giving is the lowest when you're down,
So give a yell and a whistle when they light that Union missile
And we'll lift our feet up off the ground.

Well, minin' is a hazard in Hazard, Kentucky,
And if you ain't minin' there,
Well, my friends, you're awful lucky,
'Cause if you don't get silicosis or pay that's just atrocious
You'll be screamin for a Union that will care.

From The Pages Of "Workers Vanguard" -On The West Virginia Coal Mine Diaster - A Guest Commentary

Click on the headline to link to a "Workers Vanguard" article, dated April 23, 2010 concerning the recent West Virginia coal mine disaster.

Markin comment:

The headline of the "Workers Vanguard" article said it all. And I say, mourn, then organize like hell.

*From "The Rag Blog"-Coal Mining : Union-Busting and the Massey Disaster

Click on the headline to link to a "The Rag Blog" entry concerning the Massey mining company and the desperate need to organize the mines, all mines.

Markin comment:

Mourn, then organize, and organize like hell.

*For The Nationalization Of The U.S. Coal Mines Under Workers Control- For A Workers Party That Fights For A Workers Government

Click on the headline to link to a National Public Radio (NPR)broadcast of "On Point" with host Tom Ashbrook for April 8, 2010 dealing with the question of the West Virginia killer coal mine disaster.

Markin comment:

This latest, tragic killer coal mine disaster down in West Virginia brings up for the nth time the question of who controls those dangerous sites, and whose rules should govern the way that the mines are worked. Clearly, the continued domination of the mines by greedy, profit hungry private energy conglomerations, abetted by slack governmental oversight has, to any rationale mind, had its day. But here I am preaching to the choir. I hope. However, with that thought in mind here is a chance at a ‘teachable’ moment, for our side.

I am, as I have mentioned in a number of previous posts, the son of a coal miner, one in a family line of Hazard, Kentucky coal miners. Or at least I am a son of a coal miner who, as I have also mentioned before, when having a choice between continuing in the mines and volunteering for the Marines at the start of World War II grabbed the latter with both hands. And despite what ever sorrows and privations loomed ahead for him never looked back. Yes, it is that kind of dirty, dangerous work that no one really willingly wants to do. But if you are from small town Appalachia, let’s say, the mines are the only game in town, at least for those who want to get ahead. And that is the point I want to emphasize here.

For now we fight, or rather our brothers and sisters in the miners unions and those greater numbers who remain unorganized, especially in the Western mines, for greater safety measures and control over working conditions, especially health issues. Things like black lung, other respiratory problems and the like. Those have been, and continue to be, historic fights in this industry. That battle will go on unevenly for our side until working people have their own government.

However, even under the early stages of a workers government, assuming that fossil fuel extraction is still a source of energy, coal miners will still face the natural hazards associated with going deep down in the earth. It will still be a dirty, dangerous job that will require extra incentives, including huge wage increases, to make the work attractive to stout-hearted workers. The difference, however, will be that workers will control the flow of work under conditions of their own choosing in coordination with the outlines dictated by a central plan for the industry and for society as a whole. And there is the rub. The nationalizations mentioned in the headlines are under workers control to be sure. This is not, however, some scheme like in Great Britain after World War II when the bankrupt coal industry was nationalized under capitalist control. And as we know since the mid-1980s that is no longer even the case as former Prime Minister Thatcher broke the British miners union and effectively closed the mines. So the teachable moment is that the two ideas presented here have to be linked- nationalizations under workers control created in the wake of the victory of a workers party (or, perhaps, parties) that has fought for and won a workers government. Let’s get going on that dirty, dangerous task.

*Films To While Away The Class Struggle By- The Class Struggle is….”hot running water and a big old bathtub”- "Harlan County, U.S.A."- A Review

Click on the title to link to a "YouTube" film clip of the movie trailer for "Harlan County, U.S.A."

Recently I have begun to post entries under the headline- “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”-that will include progressive and labor-oriented songs that might be of general interest to the radical public. I have decided to do the same for some films that may perk that same interest under the title in this entry’s headline. In the future I expect to do the same for books under a similar heading.-Markin

DVD Review

Harlan County, U.S.A., starring the workers of the United Mine Workers of America (UMWA) and the women of the Brookside (Kentucky) Women’s Club, directed by Barbara Kopple, 1976

This excellent documentary directed by Barbara Kopple focuses on the long, somewhat isolated, strike 1973 by the new United Mine Workers of America (UMWA) local of Harlan County, Kentucky coal miners fighting for a union contract against the Eastover Mining Company (a subsidiary of the massive Duke Power Company, the modern equivalent of the old villainous Peabody Mining Company well known in labor circles and in coal country songs). That long strike, the ups and downs of the battles for recognition, the changing tactics on both sides over time, the frustrations of the strikers and their wives and other supporters and the lessons to be learned for labor militants today are what make this such a compelling and rewarding documentary to view.

That “hot running water and a big old bathtub” caption in the title may need some explaining in post-industrial America, although perhaps not to as many people as one would think. One of the virtues of this documentary is that the participants in the strike and their wives and loved ones get plenty of air time. Thus, we get to hear and see, up close and personal, them express their views, their frustrations during the strike and their hopes for a successful strike and a new contract that will provide enhanced safety standards (notoriously poor throughout the inherently dangerous history of coal mining underground and a central goal of coal miner unions up to the present day), produce more benefits and place the Eastern Kentucky miners on a equal footing with other UMWA miners.

The most poignant expression of that hope was provided by a poor miner’s wife living in a ramshackle old cabin (company-provided, I believe, which is not unusual in coal country) without hot running water or a proper bathtub to her daughter while the daughter was being bathed in a washtub. That, my friends, is what the class struggle meant down at the base then, and, I daresay, now. We politically-oriented labor militants may express that proposition a little more theoretically concise and in an analytically profuse manner but I dare anyone who fights for a more just society to say they can express the sense of the struggle down at the base better than that.

And what of the lessons to be learned by today’s labor militants, including today’s coal miners who have lost a great deal of the spirit of their militant history in the last almost forty years since the events depicted in this film occurred? Well, as always, the question posed by the sub-theme that drives the spirit of the struggle in this documentary and as eloquently expressed by the writer of the song in the 1930s when there was also a huge wave of class struggle in the coal fields, Florence Reece -“Which Side Are You On?”. After a few minutes of viewing here one should be very clear about that point. Further as the strike drags on that, “picket lines mean don’t cross”, a chronic problem during the strike with scabs being sent into the mines by the company daily- a question that repeatedly comes up these days when labor disputes come up as well. And another lesson is, not surprisingly, do not trust bourgeois politicians, judges, cop, the pro-capitalist union bureaucracy or anyone else that gets in your way. Those will do, for starters.

Moreover, as shown here, a strike committee has to be tactically supple, as the heroic work of the Brookside Women’s Club proved when the miners were enjoined from keeping effective picket lines to keep the scabs out. And… well I could go on and on but the best bet is to actually watch this film, and re-watch it because there is plenty to pick up on there. And plenty to make you glad, glad as hell that you are a labor militant. A retrospective hats off to the 1973 Brookside Women's Club and the Harlan County, Kentucky coal miners, a place very close to this reviewer’s heart.

*Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By- Jean Ritchie's "The L&N Don't Stop Here Anymore"

Click on the title to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Jean Ritchie performing the classic coal country song "The L&N Don't Stop Here Anymore".


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:

I can add nothing here to the song, except that the struggle portrayed in the accompanying film review on this date, "Harlan County, U.S.A.", brings the tale told here home in a very big way.




The L & N Don't Stop Here Anymore
(Jean Ritchie)

When I was a curly headed baby
My daddy sat me down on his knee
He said, "son, go to school and get your letters,
Don't you be a dusty coal miner, boy, like me."

[Chorus:]
I was born and raised at the mouth of hazard hollow
The coal cars rolled and rumbled past my door
But now they stand in a rusty row all empty
Because the l & n don't stop here anymore

I used to think my daddy was a black man
With script enough to buy the company store
But now he goes to town with empty pockets
And his face is white as a February snow

[Chorus]

I never thought I'd learn to love the coal dust
I never thought I'd pray to hear that whistle roar
Oh, god, I wish the grass would turn to money
And those green backs would fill my pockets once more

[Chorus]

Last night I dreamed I went down to the office
To get my pay like a had done before
But them ol' kudzu vines were coverin' the door
And there were leaves and grass growin' right up through the floor

[Chorus]

*Those Who Fought For Our Communist Future Are Kindred Spirits- Honor Aunt Molly Jackson

Click on the title to link to the "Aunt Molly Jackson" Web site.

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.