Sunday, February 26, 2017

Out In The Black Liberation Night- The Black Panthers And The Struggle For The Ten-Point Program -Eleven-In the Beginning


Out In The Black Liberation Night- The Black Panthers And The Struggle For The Ten-Point Program -Eleven-In the Beginning   




…they came out of the hard okie/arkie white trash Hell’s Angels- dominated mean streets of Oakland, Oakland out in sunny California at the end of the American continental line. The place where the staccato faux -Spanish style (speaking unknowingly of earlier conquistador invasions) was to close out dreams, dreams of plenty, dreams of an ocean’s worth of good times.  They came out of the cop- infested army of occupation on those dark 1960s negro streets (the streets that they wanted to make black, proud black, devouring that old Spanish negro alien word, and deed). They came out of the mid-1960s hard reality that while their brothers and sisters in Selma, Montgomery, Lake Charles, Albany (GA), Greenwood, and all points south, south of the American slick democracy had gained something, something worth fighting (and dying) for that they, Oakland, Watts, Harlem, Cleveland, Newark, and all points North and West, north and west of American slick democracy, had been left behind. That they too had to face down their own copper nightmare, their own ghetto-imposed wanting habits nightmare, wanting some decent sweat-less non-grinding job, wanting their own cozy bungalow (white picket fence optional in the laid-back Frisco Bay night), wanting their own take a vacation out in the high Sierras, wanting above all to stop being cop looked at every time they went onto the white streets of  town, hell the black streets too, and to get rid of their own subtle damn neighborhood (and maybe not so subtle when they started to rile up the okies and arkies) Mister James Crow.

And so they, okay, okay, Huey and Bobby they, started putting together a little group, a little group of students and the young bucks from the ‘hood  (neighborhood , okay, but who else would you expect to start stuff like that, insurrection kind of stuff, out in sunny blood-stained California, even a California by that freaking fog-bound bay ), corner boys really, under a simple proposition-voting and the such might have been okay in that all point south night down in America but in land’s end that didn’t mean jack. What meant jack was to get that damn down presser man, the guys in blues, the almost totally white guys in blue off their backs, and let the brothers and sisters breath.  And so they, black proud, and black smart, decided after looking at history a little, fog-bound black history as fogged as that rusted colored golden gate bridge once Mister Whitey got through with it, that the only time that Mister Whitey paid attention was when proud black warrior-savants pressed the issue, defended themselves against that slave market and jim crow night. And so they looked to the mighty 200,000 strong of the Union black army in Civil War times, hell, even the brothers who bled arms in hand with that prophet angel-avenger Jehovah John Brown at Harpers Ferry fight, and the mighty southern struggle Robert F. Williams over across the land in Monroe, North Carolina just a few years back and said enough. So they righteously armed themselves. And said in some small recess of the brain they knew that this too was worth dying for.                      

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 New York City-3/25 & 6 National Conference for the Full Normalization of US-CUBA Relations

National Conference for the Full Normalization of US-CUBA Relations

END ALL US ECONOMIC, FINANCIAL, AND TRAVEL SANCTIONS AGAINST CUBA!
RETURN GUANTANAMO BAY TERRITORY TO CUBAN SOVEREIGNTY!
STOP US-FUNDED COVERT "REGIME CHANGE" PROGRAMS AGAINST CUBA!

Location:
FORDHAM SCHOOL OF LAW
150 W 62nd St, New York, NY 10023
Near Lincoln Center, two blocks from Central Park. Take A, B,C, D, or 1
subway train to 59th Street/Columbus Circle Station

List of about 20 workshops at the conference.
http://nationalcubaconference.org/work-shops.html

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The July 26th Committee of Boston will be organizing car pooling to
NYC for this.

US-CUBA NORMALIZATION COMMITTEE

Endorsements for the March 25-26, 2017 National Conference on US-Cuba
Normalization at Fordham Law School

Signatures-Endorsements for Invitation to March 25-26, 2017 National
Conference on US-Cuba Normalization at Fordham Law School

Updated 2-15-2017

Pam Africa, International Concerned Family and Friends of Mumia Abu-Jamal
Akubundi Amazu, All African Peoples Revolutionary Party, San Jose, CA
Amadi Ajamu, December 12th Movement
S.E. Anderson, Black Left Unity Network, Author Black Holocaust for
Beginners
Arnold August, Author and Journalist (Canada)
Tom Balanoff, President, Service Employees International Union (SEIU)
Local 1, Chicago*
Iris Baez, Anthony Baez Foundation
Nellie Bailey, WBAI Radio, Host and Producer Behind the News
Clever Banganayi, Deputy General Secretary, Friends of Cuba Society,
South Africa
Fr. Luis Barrios, John Jay College of Criminal Justice – CUNY
Thomas Blanton, Solidaridad Exportaciones, Washington, DC
Keith Bolender, Author, Voices from the Other Side
Nancy Cabrero, Casa de las Americas
Leslie Cagan, Peace and Justice Organizer
Joe Callahan, Minnesota Cuba Committee
William Camacaro, Alberto Lovera Bolivarian Circle
Emily Coffey, Engage Cuba Colorado Council
Mariela Castro Espin, Director, Cuban National Center for Sex Education
(CENESEX)
Greg Clave, Co-Chair, National Network on Cuba
Omowale Clay, December 12th Movement
Dr. Andy Coates, Former President, Physicians for a National Healthcare Plan
Jason Corley, July 26 Coalition
Dr. John Cox, Professor of Global Studies, University of North Carolina
Charlotte, Director, Center for Holocaust, Genocide &Human Rights Studies
Tim Craine, Greater Hartford Coalition on Cuba
Jodi Dean, Professor, Hobart and William Smith Colleges
James Early, Institute for Policy Studies Board, Former Director
Cultural Heritage Policy
Smithsonian Institution Center Folklife and Cultural Heritage
Steve Early. Author and Journalist, Trade Union Organizer
Todd Eaton, NYProtest
Fritz Edler, former Local Chairman, Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers
and Trainmen Division 482, Washington, DC, Railroad Workers United
Soffiyah Elijah
Steve Eckardt, Chicago Cuba Coalition
Howard Ehrman, MD, MPH, Assistant Professor, Family Medicine and Public
Health, University of Illinois Chicago
Mark Emanation, American Federation of Musicians Local 14*
Bryan Epps, Director, Malcolm X and Dr. Betty Shabazz Memorial and
Educational Center
Malia Everette, Founder and CEO, AltruVistas
Erin Feely-Nahem, LMSW, Cuba Solidarity New York
Jim Ferlo, President Pittsburgh-Matanzas Sister Cities Partnership,
member Pennsylvania State Senate 2003-15
Jon Flanders, Former President International Association of Machinists,
Local 1145, Retired
Franklin Flores, Casa de las Americas
Ellen David Friedman, Labor Notes Policy Committee
Mark Friedman, Los Angeles, Marine Biology Instructor, Los Angeles
Maritime Institute and Redondo Beach CA United School District
Glen Ford, Executive Editor, Black Agenda Report
Albert Fox, Tampa, FL, Alliance for Responsible Cuba Policy Foundation
Jane Franklin, Author: Cuba and the U.S. Empire: A Chronological History
Pat Fry, Committees of Correspondence for Democracy and Socialism
Martin Garbus, Attorney
William Gerena-Rochet, DiaspoRicans/Disporiquenos Network, New York City*
Joan P. Gibbs, Esq
Margaret (Peggy) Gilpin, WBAI Cuba In Focus
Piero Gleijeses. Professor of United States Foreign Policy, Johns
Hopkins University
Stan Goff, Author and Anti-War Activist, US Special Forces (Retired)
Robert Grace, Former Executive Board Member, New York State Public
Employees Federation
Bob Guild, Marazul Charters
Teresa Gutierrez, International Action Center
Larry Hamm, Chairman, People’s Organization for Progress
Tamara Hansen, Author, Cuba solidarity activist, Coordinator, Vancouver
Communities in Solidarity
Tarik Haskins, Universal Zulu Nation
Doug Henwood, author Wall Street: How It Works and for Whom,
contributing editor, The Nation magazine, publisher Left Business Observer
Dr. Alberto Jones, President, Caribbean American Children Foundation
Ben Jones, Artist and Activist, Jersey City, NJ
Alicia Jrapko, Co-Chair, National Network on Cuba
Ron Kaminkow, General Secretary, Railroad Workers United
Chuck Kaufman, Alliance for Global Justice
Stephen Kimber, Professor, School of Journalism, University of King’s
College, Halifax, Canada, Author, What Lies Across the Water: The Real
Story of the Cuban Five
Margaret Kimberley, Editor and Senior Columnist, Black Agenda Report
Dequi Kioni-Sadiki, Chair, Malcolm X Commemoration Committee
Steve Kramer, Vice President 1199SEIU, 1199SEIU Caribbean and Latin
America Democracy Committee
Michael Krinsky, Attorney
Cheryl LaBash, Co-Chair, National Network on Cuba
Ray Laforest, Co-Founder Haiti Support Network
Gloria La Riva, Coordinator, Cuba and Venezuela Solidarity Committee
Dr. Eloise Linger, Professor Emerita, SUNY Old Westbury, former leader
in the section for scholarly relations with Cuba, Latin American Studies
Association (LASA)
Joe Lombardo, United National Antiwar Coalition
Jeff Mackler, National Secretary, Socialist Action
Esperanza Martell, Professor, Hunter College
Pamela Ann Martin, Philadelphia, longtime activist working to end the US
embargo, consultant on legal travel to Cuba
Chris Matlhako, General Secretary, Friends of Cuba Society, South Africa
Luis Matos, World Organization for the Rights of the People to Healthcare
Brother Shepard McDaniel, Universal Zulu Nation
Dr. Rosemari Mealy, Author: Fidel and Malcolm X – Memories of a Meeting
Bob Miller, July 26 Coalition, Sheet Metal and Rail Transportation
(SMART) Union Local 60
Peter Miller, July 26 Coalition of Boston
Rafael Cancel Miranda, Puerto Rican Independence Fighter
Anne Mitchell, Committees of Correspondence for Democracy and Socialism
Roberto Monticello, Cuban-American Filmmaker, part of US delegation with
President Obama in Cuba
Radhames Morales, Fuerza de la Revolucion
Derrick Morrison, New Orleans Social Justice Activist
Luci Murphy, Art for the People, Washington, DC
Omari Musa, DC Metro Coalition in Solidarity with the Cuban Revolution
Ike Nahem, Cuba Solidarity New York, July 26 Coalition
Estevan Nembhard, New York District Organizer, Communist Party USA
August Nimtz, Professor of Political Science and African American and
African Studies, University of Minnesota
Sally O’Brien, WBAI Cuba In Focus
Nino Pagliccia, Author, Editor Cuba Solidarity in Canada: Five Decades
of People to People Foreign Relations
Vijay Prashad, Author and Journalist, Professor of International
Studies, Chair in South Asian History, Trinity College
Luis Proyect, The Unrepentent Marxist
Benjamin Ramos Rosado, New York Cuba Solidarity Project
Merle Ratner, Co-Coordinator, Vietnam Agent Orange Relief and
Responsibility Campaign*
Carla Riehle, Minnesota Cuba Committee
Lee Robinson, African Awareness Association, Richmond, VA
Dr. Peter Roman. Professor of Political Science and Coordinator of
Social Sciences Hostos Community College/CUNY
Suzanne Ross, Free Mumia Abu-Jamal Coalition (NYC)
Pepe Rossy, Albany (New York) Cuba Solidarity
Azza Rojbi, Journalist, Coordinator, Friends of Cuba Against the
Blockade, Vancouver, Canada
Ursula Rozum, Green Party, Central New York
Larry Rubin, Solidaridad Exportaciones, Washington, DC
Malcolm Sacks, Venceremos Brigade
Angelica Salazar, AltruVistas
Cesar Sanchez, July 26 Coalition
Isaac Saney, Co-Chair, Canadian Network on Cuba, Senior Instructor,
Dalhousie University, Halifax, Canada
Brock Satter, Mass Action Against Police Brutality*
Bob Schwartz, Disarm/Global Health Partners
Joel Schwartz, Civil Service Employees Association*
Banbose Shango, Co-Chair, National Network on Cuba
Judy Sheridan-Gonzalez, President, New York State Nurses Association
Michael Steven Smith, Attorney, Law and Disorder Radio
Stansfield Smith, Chicago ALBA Solidarity
Wayne Smith, Retired US State Department official, Chief of Mission, US
Interests Section (now US Embassy) in Havana 1979-82
Johnnie Stevens, Workers World Party
Jan Strout, US Women and Cuba Collaboration
Heide Trampus, Coordinator Worker-To-Worker, Canada-Cuba Labour
Solidarity Network
Walter Turner, President, Board of Directors, Global Exchange
Joel Tyner, Dutchess County, NY Legislator, District 11, representing
Rhinebeck and Clinton
Bandele Tyehimbe, Pan African Connection, USA Revolutionary Party,
Dallas, Texas
Lisa Valanti, Pittsburgh CUBA Coalition
Estela Vazquez, Vice President, 1199SEIU
Amy Velez, New York, Coalition for District Alternatives (CODA)
Frank Velgara, ProLibertad Freedom Campaign, Frente Socialista de Puerto
Rico – Comite de Nuevo York
Nalda Vigezzi, Co-chair, National Network on Cuba
Jennifer Wager, Professor, Essex County College
Gail Walker, IFCO/Pastors for Peace
Victor Wallis, Managing Editor, Socialism and Democracy
Michael Warren, Attorney
Mary-Alice Waters, Socialist Workers Party
Aminifu Williams, People’s Organization for Progress
Louis Wolf, DC Metro Coalition in Solidarity with the Cuban Revolution,
Co-Editor Covert Action
Information Bulletin
Dr. Helen Yaffe, Fellow in Economic History, London School of Economics,
Author, Che Guevara: The Economics of Revolution
Juanita Young, Longtime fighter against police brutality and killings,
Mother of Malcolm Ferguson,murdered by NYPD
Matilde Zimmermann, Professor Emerita, Sarah Lawrence College

* Organization Listed for Identification Purposes Fordham Law School
Student Organizations Latin American Law Students Association
National Lawyers Guild Chapter
Universal Justice

Additional Endorsing Organizations All African Peoples Revolutionary
Party ANSWER
2017 NYC Voter Campaign For Community Control Of The Police
Capital District Socialist Party of New York State
City College of New York Guillermo Morales-Assata Shakur Community and
Student Center
Engage Cuba Colorado Council
Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), James Connolly Upstate New York
Regional General Membership Branch
International Committee for Peace, Justice, and Dignity
Jericho Movement, DC
National Jericho Movement
National Network on Cuba
Party for Socialism and Liberation
Pittsburgh-Matanzas Sister Cities Partnership
Railroad Workers United
Solidarity Committee of the Capital District of New York
The Jericho Movement, DC
Universal Zulu Nation
Safiya Bukhari-Albert Nuh Foundation

National and Local Cuba Solidarity Organizations Albany Cuba Solidarity
July 26 Coalition of Boston
Chicago Cuba Coalition
Cuba Si!, New York-New Jersey
DC Metro Coalition in Solidarity with the Cuban Revolution
Greater Hartford Coalition on Cuba
Minnesota Cuba Committee
Pittsburgh CUBA Coalition
Pittsburgh-Matanzas Sister Cities Partnership

For more information: 917-887-8710
Email: info@nationalcubaconference.org
National Conference Committee for CUBA AND US Normalizaton.
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In Honor Of The 75th Anniversary Of The Film “Casablanca”- Humphrey Bogart and Ida Lupino’s “High Sierra”- A Film Review

In Honor Of The 75th Anniversary Of The Film “Casablanca”- Humphrey Bogart and Ida Lupino’s “High Sierra”- A Film Review




DVD Review

High Sierra, starring Humphrey Bogart, Ida Lupino, directed by Raoul Walsh, Warner Brothers, 1941


Okay, okay one more time- and this is for you, Roy “Mad Dog” Earle the “hero” of the film under review, High Sierra, crime does not pay. Some guys, some guys like brother Earle wind up learning that “hard knocks” lesson the hard way- lying face down at the bottom of some foreboding sierra canyon and no one , well, not no one, but hardly anyone to weep over their bones. And that, my friends, is the rough sketch lesson behind this classic Bogie gangster portrayal (and classic down-at-the heels dime-a-dance portrayal as faithful Marie, played by, well, an amazingly fetching Ida Lupino).

A little plot line is in order to show why, why, naw, skip that, we already have had our noses rubbed since childhood in the whys and why nots of crime doesn’t pay but why Brother Earle in the end took a bullet rather than be captured alive (even with his doll moll, Marie, ready to visit him every Sunday at some off the road prison locale).

See Earle is a three-time loser (or at least more than once) having been sprung from a full-book (okay, okay life) prison sentence (via an Indiana pardon) by an old-time gangster boss on his last legs. Apparently the talent pool of hard boys has dried up and an old pro that is not afraid to take heat and give some (without losing his head) is required for the caper the old don has in mind. A big jewelry heist in the Sierras (that’s in non-seaside California for the geography-challenged) at a watering hole for the well off. Easy stuff for Earle, as long as he keeps his head and the hired help don’t panic.

Now strictly as filler Roy, having had enough of the inside, and is planning to retire after he gets his cut from the heist. And for a while the film moves along with a little off-hand, oddball romance (no not Ida, not Ida yet). He befriends, on his road west, an old has-been farmer down on his uppers with a pretty crippled (oops, disabled) young granddaughter who he has ideas of marrying. Ya, I know, old Roy had been away for a while so maybe he is secretly skirt crazy, but this combination is strictly no go, no go on about seven counts, including that said granddaughter has enough sense to brush Roy the Boy off. Although not before Roy had sprung for a leg fixing operation. Roy, believe me, it never would have worked out. She would have run off with some Hollywood soda jerk or fast-talking garage mechanic and then where would you have been?

What works, and works like magic, is drop dead foxy, been around the block, been knocked around but is still taking the eight count, Marie. She had blew into town with a couple of what passed for hard boys in the hills of California night ( as boss man Big Mac said the talent ain’t like it used to be) and while they waste their time fighting over her favors she lights on our boy Roy. And after the granddaughter flame-out and some soft-soap sparring Marie wins the prize.

Naturally, yawn, the heist goes awry when some well-heeled dame screams and the bullets start to fly. And as the cops bear down through of series of narrower and narrower possibilities Roy is headed to that high sierra canyon, and death. No, Marie had it right. Like she had a lot of things right. He crashed out and was free, free as a three-time loser was ever going be.

Out In The Be-Bop Drive-In Theater Night-Circa 2015-With Laura Perkins In Mind

Out In The Be-Bop Drive-In Theater Night-Circa 2015-With Laura Perkins In Mind






From The Pen Of Bart Webber

Josh Breslin was a man, is a man of institutionalized memories. Part of that came, comes from his long ago minute career as a budding journalist in the alternative media world of the late 1960s and early 1970s when anyone with access to pen and press could, and did, print plenty of interesting material before the hammer fell down and that whole universe fell under the ebb tide of the big bad movement, the counter-revolution as one political wag called it, when the other side, symbolized by the master criminal Richard Milhous Nixon who also happened to be President of the United States, let the whirlwinds of reaction have a field day on our heads. (A couple of the journals that had weathered the storm that he had written for like Rolling Stone which is today just a glossy reprint of Vogue or Vanity Fair for the quasi-hip audience it appeals to in its articles and the consumer-driven advertisements it displays which pay the bill, hence the tiller’s placid reward, and the local Boston Phoenix which went belly up a few years ago after subsisting as a “hook-up” venue do not undermine that ebb tide understanding on the media front.)

Part of Josh’s respect for memory also came from his association with the long gone, long moaned over Pete Markin whom he had met out in San Francisco in the high tide summer of love, 1967 and who came to a bad end in the mid-1970s down in Sonora, Mexico after a high-end drug deal went down the wrong way and he wound up face down in a dusty back alley with a couple of slugs in the back of his head who always, always lived to have about two thousand juicy memory references handy on the off chance that, for example, somebody might quickly need to know Millard Fillmore’s standing among  American Presidents (just above Richard Nixon at last check) and the practice had rubbed off on him.

On a recent night that memory business got a full workout as Josh went back deep into his youth (and the youth of his lady friend, Laura Perkins, who is key to this particular memory flash) returning to the scene of many a youthful misadventure-the still functioning Olde Saco Drive-In up in Maine.              

Drive-In? Well, yes, for those who have only heard about this institution of the high golden age 1950s and 1960s automobile and have no personal knowledge that they really still exist in spots except in “generation of ’68’’ nostalgia movies like American Graffiti  the drive-in. Here’s the skinny (or if you are still in disbelief then go to Wikipedia and check the information out). Back when everybody was dying to have a car from old grand-pappies to barely sixteen year old boys (and it was mainly boys, girls were usually okay grabbing the family car for a night out with the girls, a night “cruising’ the boulevards looking for the heart of Saturday, looking for boys just as Josh and his crowd were “cruising” looking for girls or sitting, sitting in the front close to some hunk with a “boss” car and glad to be the subject of some salacious  Monday morning girls’ lav gossip) the whole axis of night-life changed once everybody realized that you were no longer tied to the house (or at most the neighborhood), were not tied to constantly eating at home, sleeping at home or watching the new-fangled television or go to the local box movie house. In a car-fixated time you could travel and stay in a motel overnight, you could eat, if you dared, at a drive-in restaurant or while away the evening in the snugness of your automobile at the drive-in theater. Hail god car.   

Of course while anybody, child or adult, could do all those things the drive-in movies became along with the drive-in restaurant one of the moments of the teen ritual, although we were all back then brought up on parents taking their children to the drive-in as an easy way to get out of the house what with a double-feature, a snack bar and a playground to entertain the kiddies. That kids’ stuff is just that. The teen drive-in movie scene is the stuff of nostalgia. Josh wasn’t sure when he stopped going to the drive-in except sometime in the 1970s, wasn’t sure when drive-ins kind of folded up and died away of hubris or indifference at some point that he did not remember (after in some cases serving up some soft-core porn to keep an audience) and wasn’t sure if they even existed anymore. Wasn’t sure that is until he was heading to Portland, Maine for a conference and decided to take Route One instead of U.S. 95 up from his home in Boston.

Now that was no random decision since  Josh had grown up in Olde Saco a few miles south of Portland and had been for a lot of reasons of late in an Olde Saco frame of mind after the passing of Rene Dubois his old high school classmate and runaround corner boy back then. As he worked his way up Route One when he got to Olde Saco he happened to look to the right and there kind of hidden from view was an ancient dilapidated crude handmade sign for the Olde Saco Drive-In and moreover that the place was still open for business. He did not have time to stop but that sign, that memory kind of festered in his mind for a few weeks until he decided to go spent a few days (along with Laura) up at an old friend’s house in Wells (an old friend of Markin’s really from North Adamsville down in Massachusetts where they had grown up which is how he had met Jimmy Jenkins the owner of the place back after the summer of love, 1967). One day Josh fervently asked Laura to “take the ticket, take the ride,” an expression that he used when he wanted them to do something out of the ordinary. And going to a drive-in, the Olde Saco Drive-In was not something that he had done in about forty years so he was really doing a memory stretch. Laura at first didn’t want to go, said she had no history and hence no memory for drive-ins since between her shoulder-to-the-wheel no-nonsense parents not being the drive-in movie types and living out in Podunk in upstate New York where she could not remember if there were drive-ins in the area Josh’s big deal was a deflated balloon to her. But she eventually relented after he promised her to do about fourteen different things from taking her to dinner, cleaning up a laundry list (her laundry list) of stuff, to cooking in return which he took as a fair bargain under the circumstances, so they were off.

Now this drive-in thing back in the day had a certain ritual to it, a Josh and his gang ritual anyway. He had already thought after seeing the old place about the travails of childhood when after a long shift at the MacAdams Textile Mill where his father, Prescott,  worked as a machinist before the mills that sustained the town headed south (first to American South then the world South to places like Indonesia and Singapore in search of that greedy increased profit wrought by cheaper wage packets), and Delores (nee LeBlanc and hence her hometown of Olde Saco one of the work stopping points heading south from native Quebec a generation or two before her own), his mother, both work weary would bundle up he and his four sisters and head to the “Olde Saco” for the night’s double feature, some illicit snacks (you were not supposed to bring your own foods in but what was to stop you and it would not be, despite five Breslin children howls, until he went there with his gang that he would learn of the delights at the snack bar-the buttered drenched slightly stale, maybe popped from the night before, popcorn, the fizz-less sodas sickenly sweetly syrup and caffeine clogged, the desiccated cardboard-like pizza light on cheese, sauce and flavor, the greasy grimy hamburgers only saved by slathered ketchups and mustard, no onions, no, onions if you wanted to go in to that good night with a certain she but more of that later, and the food-free, calorie free hot dogs in their grave-like mushy white flour enriched buns that would become his staple on drive-in nights, his sisters too from what they said, from what they said on their date nights if the guy wanted to get anywhere, anywhere at all with them, no cheapskates need apply their motto), and the playground conveniently located at the  end just below the movie screen where he and his sisters would climb the jungle jim, slide the slide, mangle the see-saw and seek heaven on the swings. Kindly childhood thoughts as almost all children would think (and later measured, nicely measured in his parents favor since they really did not have the surplus dough to spent on such “frills” when the rent was always behind and his mother made something of a secular rosary out of her weekly white envelopes on the kitchen table bill-paying chores always short, always damn short although that remembrance too late to do him, or them, any good since they had been estranged so long).

No, what drove Josh these days were the teenage drive-in movies where he had come of age in the Olde Saco night. Of course it started with larcenous intent (nice legal term courtesy of Sam Lowell, the lawyer friend of Markin also met after they headed back East together in the summer of love year 1967) when the late Rene Dubois, a year older than the rest of the guys since he had just come down from Quebec and was in a special language immersion class (although they didn’t call it that then but something like special needs, or for dumb kids or something) for a year before joining the regular class who got his driver’s license first and more importantly since he worked at La Croix’s Garage over on Main Street after school and on weekends his first car an old beat up ‘53 Chevy that he worked on to bring back to life (as he would do with a succession of cars up to a “boss” ’57 two-toned white and cherry red naturally Chevy that was nothing but a “babe” magnet and not just for teeny-bopper girls either). But before the girls started cluttering up Rene’s life (as they would through four freaking marriages, a bushel of kids, and a bevy of grandkids) he was the “max daddy” of the road taking his corner boys like Josh to the Olde Saco Drive-In.

Here is where the larceny comes in though. In those days admission was something like three dollars a head for the nightly double-feature (Josh urged that he not be quoted on that price for like lots of things these days that number seems to have come out of the mist of time and may be totally wrong but the price cheap anyway although not cheap enough for “from hunger” working class projects kids like him) so what they would do is pig-pile three or four guys in the big ass trunk (occasional sightings of 1950s automobile models still on the road and a recent visit to an automobile museum out in San Diego only confirmed to Josh what he remembered about how big the trunks were then, and how big bad ass the engines were too, and although today’s are quite a bit more efficient there was some psychological lift then in being seen in those big ass cars, certainly the girls would turn their heads something he had not seen anybody with today’s zip cars and minis), maybe depending on size a couple of guys in the rear seat wells so for about  six bucks (remember the guess-aspect please), the admission Rene and whoever was riding shot-gun paid (later correctly split up among the total number admitted since that was the whole point) half the freaking neighborhood got into the show for less than a dollar.

Now one might ask, aside from the silly question of the morality if not the legality of such moves whether the admission booth attendant would not get wise to the whole scene. What are you kidding this poor cluck probably got about a dollar an hour for his or her work and was not worried about playing “copper,” not when that person probably was running the same scam when he or she was going to the drive-in. The important thing is that later, later when it wasn’t about “from hunger” guys but meeting carloads of girls from the neighborhoods who were using the same “technique” sometimes Josh and the boys would con some poor girls into the trunk and since it was tight quarters “cop” a quick feel wherever that stray hand landed (the only really acceptable kind of “copping” when you thought about it) a quick feel and maybe get them “in the mood” for the fogged up window scene every guy dream of.  (Later Josh would tell one and all out in California he blushed more than the girls when he pulled that maneuver although he caught more than his fair share of “in the mood” girls, he was not known by the moniker the “Prince of Love” in the great summer of love night, circa 1967, for nothing).  

Josh laughed when he thought about that silly larceny and that “copping” kids’ stuff but later, come junior and senior years of high school the ritual became much more serious when three was a crowd time, when it was important to be able to separate out a bit and go to what was named the “sweat box” by the local guys, the place where the single guy with a single girl placed their automobile away from the prying carload of younger teen guys or girls and better still from prying eyes of young parents, grown suddenly old and responsible once the kids started coming, shielding their kids from the fogged bound cars at the back of the lot. The “sweat box” was the section where if one asked a quick question about the plot of the film one would get some strange answers while the parties were straightening out their clothes. Josh said if you really thought about it no parent would go within fifty yards of that “passion pit.”

Not all of Josh’s memories of the Olde Saco Drive-In were great big cream puff dreams. Later after the big “cultural revolution” that was the 1960s lost steam guys like Josh (and more dramatically the moaned for late Pete Markin) were left stranded for a while, lost their moorings. Like the time Josh was down on his own luck and forced to sneak back to Olde Saco and stay low for reasons that best not detain us here. Here’s how he told the story:

“Mimi Murphy knew two things, she needed to keep moving, and she was tired, tired as hell of moving, of the need, of the self-imposed need, to keep moving ever since that incident five years ago with her seems like an eternity ago sweet long gone motorcycle boy, Pretty James Preston. Poor Pretty James and his needs, no, his obsessions with that silly motorcycle, that English devil’s machine, that Vincent Black Lightning that caused him more anguish than she did. And she gave him plenty to think about as well before the end. How she tried to get him to settle down a little, just a little, but what was a sixteen old girl, pretty new to the love game, totally new, but not complaining to the sex game, and his little tricks to get her in the mood for that, and forget the settle down thing. Until the next time.

Maybe, if you were from around North Adamsville way, or maybe just Boston, you had heard about Pretty James, Pretty James Preston and his daring exploits back in about 1967 and 1968. Those got a lot of play in the newspapers for months before the end. Before that bank job, the one where as Pretty James used to say all the time, he cashed his check. Yes, the big Granite City National Bank branch in Braintree heist that he tried to pull all by himself, with Mimi as stooge look-out. She had set him up for that heist, or so she thought. No, she didn’t ask him to do it but she got him thinking, thinking about settling down just a little and he needed a big score, not the penny ante gas station and mom and pop variety store robberies that kept them in, as he also said, coffee and cakes but a big payday and then off to Mexico, maybe Sonora, and a buy into the respectable and growing drug trade.

And he almost, almost, got away clean that fatal day, that day when she stood across the street, a forty-five in her purse just in case he needed it for a final getaway. But he never made it out the door. Some rum brave security guard tried to uphold the honor of his profession and started shooting nicking Pretty James in the shoulder. Pretty James responded with a few quick blasts and felled the copper. That action though slowed down the escape enough for the real coppers to respond and blow Pretty James away. Dead, DOA, done. Her sweet boy Pretty James.


According to the newspapers a tall, slender red-headed girl about sixteen had been seen across the street from the bank just waiting, waiting according to the witness, nervously. The witness had turned her head when she heard the shots from the bank and when she looked back the red-headed girl was gone. And Mimi was gone, and long gone before the day was out. She grabbed the first bus out of Braintree headed to Boston where eventually she wound up holed up in a high-end whorehouse doing tricks to make some moving dough. And she had been moving ever since, moving and eternally hate moving. Now, for the past few months, she had been working nights as a cashier in the refreshment stand at the Olde Saco Drive-In Theater to get another stake to keep moving. She had been tempted, a couple of times, to do a little moon-lighting in a Portland whorehouse that a woman she had worked with at her last job, Fenner’s Department Store where she modeled clothes for the rich ladies, had told her about to get a quick stake but she was almost as eternally tired at that prospect as in moving once again.

Then one night Josh came in. Came in for popcorn and a Sprite she remembered, although she did not remember on that busy summer night what the charge was. He kind of looked her over quickly, very quickly but she was aware that he looked her over and, moreover, he was aware that she knew that he had looked her over. The look though was not the usual baby, baby come on look, but a thoughtful look like he could see that she had seen some woes and, well, what of it. Like maybe he specialized in fixing busted-up red-heads, or wanted to. She knew she wasn’t beautiful but she had a certain way about her that certain guys, guys from motorcycle wild boy Pretty James Boy to kind of bookish college guys like this one, wanted to get next to. If she let them. And she hadn’t, hadn’t not since Pretty James. But she confessed to herself, not without a girlish blush, that she had in the universe of looks and peeks that make up human experience looked him over too. And then passed to the next customer and his family of four burgeoning tray-full order of hot dogs, candy, popcorn and about six zillion drinks.

A couple of nights later, a slow night for it was misting out keeping away the summer vacation families that kept the drive-in hopping before each show and at intermission, a Thursday night usually slow anyway before the Friday change of the double-feature, Josh came in again at intermission. This time out of nowhere, without a second’s hesitation, she gave him a big smile when he came to the register with his now familiar popcorn and Sprite. He didn’t respond, or rather he did not respond right away because right behind him there were a couple of high school couples who could hardly wait to get their provisions and get back to their fogged-up car and keep it fogged up. They passed by him and hurried out the door.
Just then over the refreshment stand loudspeaker that played records as background music to keep the unruly crowds a little quiet while they waited for their hamburgers and hot dogs came the voice of Doris Troy singing her greatest hit, Just One Look. Then he broke into a smile, a big smile like he was thinking just that thought that very minute, looked up at the clock, looked again, and looked a third time without saying a word, She gave him a slight flirty smile and said eleven o’clock and at exactly eleven o’clock he was there to meet her. Maybe she thought as they went out the refreshment stand door she would not have to keep moving, eternally moving after all.
A couple of fretful months later one nigh Mimi slipped out the back door of her rooming house over on Atlantic Avenue and Josh never heard from her again. Josh figured that after telling him about Pretty James one lonesome whiskey-drinking night she had to move, keep moving tired or not.”


So not all the old time Olde Saco Drive-In dreams worked out. And in the big scheme of things in Josh’s life, some ups, some downs stirred memories, good or bad, of drive-in movie times would usually rate pretty far down on the list. But these semi-retired days Josh has had time to think about old time things. Like a lot of guys, gals too but he wouldn’t speak for them since he had only talked to his guys about those old days he wished to have a re-run on such things knowing full well that you “can’t go home again,” the past is dead and gone. Hell, didn’t he know that when he tried to rekindle some old high school friendships and wound up giving it up after he realized that time had swept whatever they all had in common away. Know too when he tried that last reconciliation with his family that it was too late. Hell even a simple thing like planning to go to class reunion got all balled up when some old flame, or kind of old flame, wanted to start something up again now that she was “single” (after three divorces) and Josh too (ditto on the divorces, the number as well). So he had had to nix that plan.     

And that is where Laura came in, Laura who had “saved” him from some tiresome lonely old age when they finally got together, finally figured they were “soulmates” as she called it (and he agreed).  See Josh figured some things maybe can’t be worked out from the past but something simple like a trip down memory lane at the Olde Saco Drive-In might be a kick. Like was mentioned before Laura was very cool to the idea but since they were staying nearby, the weather was warm and the double-bill (yeah, they kept the double-bill tradition alive) while not her usual arty films were probably passable flicks she finally agreed. So on a Wednesday night they drove the twenty miles or so up to Olde Saco from Wells with a certain amount of excitement now that they had decided to do the thing (Laura with her drive-in-less youth was now curious about the whole ritual).

When Josh drove up to the admissions booth he noticed that the old standard per carload idea was also still in effect, verifying what he had already told Laura about the old time larcenies. (By the way he can confirm that times had changed, that inflation had worked its ways in the forty or fifty years that have passed since now a carload was twenty dollars and that is a number that he had no trouble remembering since it was his treat.) As he passed his money along he kiddingly mentioned to the attendant that he had twelve people in the trunk but instead of some incomprehension on his part the kid told Josh that he had a few nights before had to check a couple of trunks and found them filled with teenagers. The tradition lives! (Although Josh felt some chagrin later over the kid playing “copper” on the deal).         

As Josh and Laura found a spot, a little out of the way since they had passed a number of carloads of families with kids not sitting in the cars like the old days but spread out in front of their spots with lawn chairs so they could have a little quiet. Josh remarked that except for some overgrown grass the place looked pretty much the same as in the old days with a few exceptions. First off there were no speakers, you know, the ones on the posts that you clipped to your slightly opened front door window (and half the time in your rush to get out of the place in less than an hour as the traffic jam began at the exit you forgot the damn thing and not a few would be down on the ground after a night’s work). Nowadays, as Laura noticed on the screen, you tuned into a numbered station on your car radio. Okay, progress can’t be stopped and those silly speakers were really a nuisance. Another thing was that the old time playground that he and his sisters played in as kids were gone, replaced by a couple more rows of car spots. The most striking thing though was, probably as a matter of saving dough, the refreshment stand area looked almost exactly as it had, except maybe a new coat of paint about ten years ago, when he spied Mimi behind the counter back in the 1970s with the same “menu.” (Don’t tell Laura, please don’t tell Laura that Josh had some pangs about Mimi on seeing that stand, okay).

Actually the most striking thing about the evening though was not the same old stand but that there was not a speck of an indication that the old “sweat box” section was still around. And it made sense when he and Laura were talking about the subject during intermission. Kids have about twenty other ways of entertaining themselves, are more committed to mall-rat-dom and other locales these days so things do move on. Josh had not expected any such replication although it would have heartened him if it had. It was okay and they had a nice evening.

Hey, what about the double-feature, what about the movies. Well, Josh said he was not sure but he thought one was a spy movie, something out of the Cold War, and the other was a flipped out romance. And he said Laura agreed. When he named the two titles though when I checked they had nothing to do with spies or romances, one was a star-wars type movie, the other a gangster movie. Yeah, some things never change at the drive-in, well almost never except Josh complained about how hard it was to maneuver these days with these damn bucket car seats and the console in the middle, and about how they forgot to bring paper towels to wipe off the fog from the windshields.           


Chelsea Manning Welcome Home Fund, and Final Reflections



Chelsea Manning Support Network
Chelsea Manning Welcome Home Fund
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Chelsea Manning's
Welcome Home Fund

gofundme.com/welcomehomechelsea

From Chelsea Manning's attorney Chase Strangio: This is the official campaign raising funds for Chelsea Manning. This campaign is being organized by her friends and family. I have known Chelsea as her attorney, advocate and friend for several years. The money will be deposited directly into her bank account, which is being managed by her current power of attorney. Upon her release on May 17th, she will have full control over all funds donated.

Final Reflections

support network logoThis will likely be the final email from the former Chelsea Manning Support Network. We hope that you'll help Chelsea restart her life by contributing to the Welcome Home Fund, and helping exceed the $100,000 goal. It’s still hard to believe that we won Chelsea’s freedom (only 80 days to go!).
Chelsea inspired me, and her actions forever changed my life. I remember watching the Apache helicopter video of American soldiers gunning down unarmed people in Iraq, including a Reuters journalist and two children. It fundamentally changed how I saw America’s overseas wars. ... It boggles the mind…

From Courage to Resist

courage to resist logoWe are extremely proud to have served as fiscal manager for the Chelsea Manning Defense Fund for nearly seven years. Those funds provided Chelsea a legal defense team at trial, funded most of her appeals, supported hundreds of events worldwide, and in the end, was immensely important to winning Chelsea’s freedom.
Chelsea Manning Defense Fund fiscal reports available include our summary of the first 18 months of the appeals phase (Jan. 2014 – Jun. 2015) [PDF LINK], as well as the pretrial and trial history (Jul. 2010-Dec. 2013) [PDF LINK]. The final report covering the most recent (and last) 18 months is forthcoming. That, along with other news and updates about Chelsea, will be available at couragetoresist.org.
In a nutshell, the Defense Fund as a positive balance of approximately $10,000, and we'll be disbursing that money soon, in consultation with Chelsea. Courage to Resist has provided significant material support to about 50 military objectors since our founding over ten years ago; however, our efforts in support of Chelsea easily eclipse all of our other campaigns.

Continue to stand with Chelsea!

Together, we did it! Wow.

Songs For Our Times-Build The Resistance-The Rolling Stones’ “Street-Fighting Man (or Woman)”

Songs For Our Times-Build The Resistance-The Rolling Stones’ “Street-Fighting Man (or Woman)”    


During, let’s say the Obama administration or, hell, even the Bush era, for example  we could be gentle angry people over this or that notorious war policy and a few others matters and songs like Give Peace A Chance, We Shall Overcome, or hell, even that Kumbaya which offended the politically insensitive. From Day One of the Trump administration though the gloves have come off-we are in deep trouble. So we too need to take off our gloves-and fast as the cold civil war that has started in the American dark night heads to some place we don’t want to be. And the above song from the 1960s, another tumultuous time, makes more sense to be marching to. Build the resistance!      

Street Fightin' Man
Ev'rywhere I hear the sound
Of marching charging feet, boy
'Cause summer's here and the time is right
For fighting in the street, boy
Well now, what can a poor boy do
Except to sing for a rock n' roll band?
'Cause in sleepy London town
There's just no place for a street fighting man, no
Hey think the time is right
For a palace revolution
But where I live the game
To play is compromise solution
Well now, what can a poor boy do
Except to sing for a rock n' roll band?
'Cause in sleepy London town
There's just no place for a street fighting man, no. Get down.
Hey so my name
Is