The Cambridge/Boston Women's March 2018
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Friday, January 19, 2018
The Cambridge/Boston Women's March 2018
CodePink on Point!
[smedleyvfp] CodePink on Point!
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Tomorrow around the world we will come together at the 2018 Women’s Marches. Again to say NO to Trump’s racist, misogynist, hate-filled agenda. Join us in bringing the messages that we want feminism not militarism and an end to those making a killing on killing who should instead divest from the War Machine.
Add these messages as you create your visuals and post a photo on social media so we can add to our stream with #FeminismNotMilitarism and#DivestFromWar @CODEPINK
Schools across the US are struggling for basic services.Baltimore schools don’t have the funds to heat their classrooms, but weapons companies, like Lockheed Martin, Boeing, Raytheon, General Dynamics and Northrop Grumman, are literally making a killing off of killing! These are the values of a war economy not the peace economy we want to be growing.
We can divest from the war machine and build a world of feminism not militarism. Check out where the 2018 Women’s March is in your city and print out our quarter page flyers to share the message.
One of the ugliest manifestations of the war machine is Israel’s 51-year-long military occupation of Palestine. On this day last month, 17-year-old Palestinian activist, Ahed Tamimi, was arrested for standing up to a soldier who tried to invade her home. For this, she is facing up to 10 years in prison and has been denied release on bail. In support of her struggle for feminism over militarism, we are sending love and solidarity to her on the day of her 17th birthday and start of her trial. Sign the birthday card to her and we will have your personal message of support hand delivered. Now get on your pink and out to the streets in the 2018 Women’s March with our quarter page flyers to divest from war and demand feminism not militarism.
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Once Again On The 1960s Folk Minute-The Cambridge Club 47 Scene
Once Again On The 1960s Folk Minute-The Cambridge Club 47 Scene
By Sam Lowell
I am not the only one who recently has taken a nose-dive back in time to that unique moment from the late 1950s to the mid-1960s when folk music had its minute as a popular genre. People may dispute the end-point of that minute like they do about the question of when the 1960s ended as a counter-cultural phenomenon but clearly with the advent of acid-etched rock by 1967-68 the searching for and reviving the folk roots had passed. As an anecdote in support of that proposition that is the period when I stopped taking dates to the formerly ubiquitous home away from home coffeehouses, cheap poor boy college student dates to the Harvard Square coffeehouses where for the price of a couple of cups of coffee, a shared pastry, and maybe a couple of dollars admission charge you could hear up and coming talent working out their kinks, and took them instead to the open-air fashion statement rock concerts that were abounding around the town. Some fifty years out in fits of nostalgia and maybe to sum up life’s work there have been two recent documentaries concerning the most famous Harvard Square coffeehouse of them all, the Club 47 (which still exists under the name Club Passim in a similar small venue near the Harvard Co-Op Bookstore).
One of the documentaries put out a few years ago (see above) traces the general evolution of that club in its prime when the likes of Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Tom Rush, Eric Von Schmidt, the members of the Jim Kweskin Jug Band (the forming of jug bands itself a part of the roots revival we were in thrall to), and many others sharpened up their acts there. The other documentary, No Regrets (title taken from one of his most famous songs) which I have reviewed elsewhere in this space is a biopic centered on the fifty plus years in folk music of Tom Rush. Both those visual references got me thinking about how that folk scene, or better, the Harvard Square coffeehouse scene kept me from going off the rails, although that was a close thing.
Like about a billion kids before and after in my coming of age in the early 1960s I went through the usual bouts of teenage angst and alienation aided and abetted by growing up “from hunger” among the very lowest rung of the working poor with all the pathologies associated with survival down at the base of society where the bonds of human solidarity are often times very attenuated. All of this “wisdom” of course figured out, told about, made many mistakes to gain, came later, much later because at the time I was just feeling rotten about my life, my place in the sun, and how I didn’t have a say in what was going on. Then through one source or another mainly by the accident of tuning my life-saver transistor radio on one Sunday night to listen to a favorite rock and roll DJ I found a folk music program that sounded interesting (it turned out to be the Dick Summer show on WBZ, a DJ who is featured in the Tom Rush documentary) and I was hooked by the different songs played, some mountain music, some jug, some country blues, some protest songs. Each week Dick Summer would announce who was playing where for the week and he kept mentioning various locations, including the Club 47, in Harvard Square. I was intrigued.
One Saturday afternoon I made connections to get to a Redline subway stop which was the quickest way for me to get to Harvard Square (which was also the last stop on that line then) and walked around the Square looking into the various clubs and coffeehouses that had been mentioned by Summer and a few more as well. You could hardly walk a block without running into one or the other. Of course during the day all people were doing was sitting around drinking coffee and reading, maybe playing chess, or as I found out later huddled in small group corners working on their music (or poetry which also had some sway as a tail end of the “beat” scene) so I didn’t that day get the full sense of what was going on. A few weeks later, having been hipped to the way things worked, meaning that as long as you had coffee or something in front of you in most places you were cool I always chronically low on funds took a date, a cheap date naturally, to the Club Blue where you did not pay admission but where Eric Von Schmidt was to play. I had heard his Joshua Gone Barbados covered by Tom Rush on Dick Summer’s show and I flipped out so I was eager to hear him. So for the price of, I think, two coffees each, a stretched-out shared brownie and two subway fares we had a good time, an excellent time (although that particular young woman and I would not go on much beyond that first date since she was looking for a guy who had more dough to spend on her, and maybe a “boss” car too.
I would go over to Harvard Square many weekend nights in those days, including sneaking out of the house a few time late at night and heading over since in those days the Redline subway ran all night. That was my home away from home not only for cheap date nights depending on the girl I was interested in but when the storms gathered at the house about my doing, or not doing, this or that, stuff like that when my mother pulled the hammer down. If I had a few dollars make by caddying for the Mayfair swells at a private club a few miles from my house I would pony up the admission, or two admissions if I was lucky, to hear Joan Baez or her sister Mimi with her husband Richard Farina, maybe Eric Von Schmidt, Tom Paxton when he was in town at the 47. If I was broke I would do my alternative, take the subway but rather than go to a club I would hang out all night at the famous Harvard Square Hayes-Bickford just up the steps from the subway stop exit. That was a crazy scene made up of winos, grifters, con men, guys and gals working off barroom drunks, crazies, and… almost every time out there would be folk-singers or poets, some known to me, others from cheap street, in little clusters, coffee mugs filled, singing or speaking low, keeping the folk tradition alive, keeping the faith that a new wind was coming across the land and they, I, wanted to catch it. Wasn’t that a time.
I Hear Mother Africa Calling-With Odetta In Mind
I Hear Mother Africa Calling-With
Odetta In Mind
They say that the blues, you know, the
quintessential black musical contribution to the American songbook along with
first cousin jazz that breaks you out of your depression about whatever ails
you or the world, was formed down in the Mississippi muds, down in some
sweat-drenched bayou, down in some woody hollow all near Mister’s plantation,
mill, or store. Well they might be right in a way about how it all started in
America as a coded response to Mister’s, Master’s, Captain’s wicked perverse
ways back in slavery times, later back in Mister James Crow times. I do believe
however they are off by several maybe more generations and off by a few
thousand miles from its origins in hell-bent Africa, hell-bent when Mister’s
forbears took what he thought was the measure of some poor grimy “natives” and
shipped them in death slave boats and brought them to the Mississippi muds,
bayous and hollows. Took peoples, proud Nubians who had created very sharp
civilizations when Mister’s forbears were wondering what the hell a spoon was
when placed in their dirty clenched fingers seemed, still wondered later how
the heck to use the damn thing, and why and uprooted them whole.
Uprooted you hear but somehow that
beat, that tah, tat, tah, tah, tat, tah played on some stretched string
tightened against some cabin post by young black boys kept Africa home alive.
Kept it alive while women, mothers, grandmothers and once in a while despite
the hard conditions some great-grandmother who nursed and taught the little
ones the old home beat, made them keep the thing alive. Kept alive too Mister’s
forced on them religion strange as it was, kept the low branch spirituals that
mixed with blues alive in plain wood churches but kept it alive. So a few
generations back black men took all that sweat, anger, angst, humiliation, and
among themselves “spoke” blues on juke joint no electricity Saturday nights and
sang high collar blues come Sunday morning plain wood church time. Son
House, Charley Patton, Skip James, Sleepy John Estes, Mississippi John Hurt and
a lot of guy who went to their graves undiscovered in the sweat sultry Delta
night carried on, and some sisters too, some younger sisters who heard the beat
and heard the high collar Sunday spirituals. Some sisters like Odetta, big-voiced,
who made lots of funny duck searching for roots white college students mainly
marvel that they had heard some ancient Nubian Queen, some deep-voiced Mother
Africa calling them back to the cradle of civilization.
Smokestack Lightning, Indeed- With Bluesman Howlin’ Wolf Coming Up The Mississippi From The Mister James Crow South And Blowing High White Notes In Mind
Smokestack Lightning, Indeed- With Bluesman Howlin’ Wolf Coming Up The Mississippi From The Mister James Crow South And Blowing High White Notes In Mind
Sometimes a picture really can be worth a thousand words, a thousand words and more as in the case Howlin’ Wolf doing his Midnight creep in the photograph above taken from an album of his work but nowadays with the advances in computer technology and someone’s desire to share also to be seen on sites such as YouTube where you can get a real flavor of what that mad man was about when he got his blues wanting habits on. In fact I am a little hesitate to use a bunch of words describing Howlin’ Wolf in high gear since maybe I would leave out that drop of perspiration dripping from his overworked forehead and that salted drop might be the very thing that drove him that night or describing his oneness with his harmonica because that might cause some karmic funk. So, no, I am not really going to go on and on about his midnight creep but when the big man got into high gear, when he went to a place where he sweaty profusely, a little ragged in voice and eyes all shot to hell he roared for his version of the high white note. Funny, a lot of people, myself for a while included, used to think that the high white note business was strictly a jazz thing, maybe somebody like the “Prez” Lester Young or Duke’s Johnny Hodges after hours, after the paying customers had had their fill, or what they thought was all those men had in them, shutting the doors tight, putting up the tables leaving the chairs for whoever came by around dawn, grabbing a few guys from around the town as they finished their gigs and make the search, make a serious bid to blow the world to kingdom come.
Some nights they were on fire at blew that big note out in to some heavy air and who knows where it landed, most nights though it was just “nice try.” One night I was out in Frisco when “Saps” McCoy blew a big sexy sax right out the door of Chez Benny’s over in North Beach when North Beach was just turning away from be-bop “beat” and that high white, I swear, blew out to the bay and who knows maybe all the way to the Japan seas. But see if I had, or anybody had, thought about it for a minute jazz and the blues are cousins, cousins no question so of course Howlin’ Wolf blew out that high white note more than once, plenty including a couple of shows I caught him at when he was not in his prime.
The photograph (and now video) that I was thinking of is one where he is practically eating the harmonica as he performs How Many More Years (and now like I say thanks to some thoughtful archivist you can go on to YouTube and see him doing his devouring act in real time and in motion, wow, and also berating father Son House for showing up drunk). Yes, the Wolf could blast out the blues and on this one you get a real appreciation for how serious he was as a performer and as blues representative of the highest order.
Howlin’ Wolf like his near contemporary and rival Muddy Waters, like a whole generation of black bluesmen who learned their trade at the feet of old-time country blues masters like Charley Patton, the aforementioned Son House who had his own personal fight with the devil, Robert Johnson who allegedly sold his soul to the devil out on Highway 61 so he could get his own version of that high white note, and the like down in Mississippi or other southern places in the first half of the twentieth century. They as part and parcel of that great black migration (even as exceptional musicians they would do stints in the sweated Northern factories before hitting Maxwell Street) took the road north, or rather the river north, an amazing number from the Delta and an even more amazing number from around Clarksville in Mississippi right by that Highway 61 and headed first maybe to Memphis and then on to sweet home Chicago.
They went where the jobs were, went where the ugliness of Mister James Crow telling them sit here not there, walk here but not there, drink the water here not there, don’t look at our women under any conditions and on and on did not haunt their every move (although they would find not racial Garden of Eden in the North, last hired, first fired, squeezed in cold water flats too many to a room, harassed, but they at least has some breathing space, some room to create a little something they could call their won and not Mister’s), went where the big black migration was heading after World War I. Went also to explore a new way of presenting the blues to an urban audience in need of a faster beat, in need of getting away from the Saturday juke joint acoustic country sound with some old timey guys ripping up three chord ditties to go with that jug of Jack Flash’s homemade whiskey (or so he called it).
So they, guys like Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, Magic Slim, Johnny Shines, and James Cotton prospered by doing what Elvis did for rock and rock and Bob Dylan did for folk and pulled the hammer down on the old electric guitar and made big, big sounds that reached all the way back of the room to the Red Hat and Tip Top clubs and made the max daddies and max mamas jump, make some moves. And here is where all kinds of thing got intersected, as part of all the trends in post-World War II music up to the 1960s anyway from R&B, rock and roll, electric blues and folk the edges of the music hit all the way to then small white audiences too and they howled for the blues, which spoke to some sense of their own alienation. Hell, the Beatles and more particularly lived to hear Muddy and the Wolf. The Stones even went to Mecca, to Chess Records to be at one with Muddy. And they also took lessons from Howlin’ Wolf himself on the right way to play Little Red Rooster which they had covered and made famous in the early 1960s (or infamous depending on your point of view since many radio stations including some Boston stations had banned it from the air originally).Yes, Howlin’ Wolf and that big bad harmonica and that big bad voice that howled in the night did that for a new generation, pretty good right.
As The 2018 Elections Raise There Under Heads- From "The Nation"-On The U.S. Constitutional Convention Process-Article V
As The 2018 Elections Raise There Under Heads- From "The Nation"-On The U.S. Constitutional Convention Process-Article V
The New Breed Of Sci-Fi Adventure-“Star Wars: The Force Awakens” (2015)-A Film Review
The New
Breed Of Sci-Fi Adventure-“Star Wars: The Force Awakens” (2015)-A Film Review
DVD Review
By Laura Perkins
Star Wars:
The Force Awakens (VII), starring Daisy Ridley, Adam Driver, John Boyega, Oscar
Isaac, Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher, 2015
Science
Fiction movies sure aren’t what they used to be. Although I was, am not a great
fan of the genre and have taken this assignment to review one of the seemingly
never-ending Star Wars sagas (number 7 if you can believe it) that
ripple through the cinematic universe every few years to give flagging studio
tickets sales a boost as our boss Greg Green said when he assigned this beast
to “broaden my horizons” I sat through my fair share of them growing up.
Growing up just outside of Albany, New York my older brother would in the
interest making his “baby-sitting” of me woes lighter take us in his car to the
Majestic Theater in downtown Albany on Saturday afternoon’s to the matinees.
Of course
since the average film was much shorter then usually around an hour and one
half there would be a double-feature, sometimes a horror movie and a sci fi or
sometimes two sci fi’s for the afternoon. What has struck me as amazing
according to my recollections (and some “cheap sheet” research via invaluable
for movie summaries if not for everything Wikipedia) after viewing this
chapter of Star Wars was how differently these films have tracked
society in their respective times. Then,
the late 1950s maybe early 1960s these sci fi films had “aliens” (not earthly
aliens seeking shelter from earth’s storms in places like America to work and
raise families without fear of death and disaster from the forces controlling
their home societies) who were inevitably scary and ready to wreak havoc on an
unsuspecting earth. Were in those deep freeze Cold War days foreboding when we were
not quite sure we would make it from one day to the next if the “big one,” the
nuclear bombs we rightly feared would blow us away. And the storylines and bad
guy monsters and weird forces from outer space left no room for compromise-it
was earthly civilization, us, such as it was or them.
Naturally
the earthly civilization won out over the mutants and creeps who tried to do us
in (read in newspeak the Soviets). Naturally as well in those days the leaders,
usually one leader, who figured out how to tame the alien menace was an All-American,
uh, guy who as Si Lannon loves to say went mano a mano with these unearthly forces.
Saved civilization and grabbed the good-looking young woman in the fall-out (some
things haven’t changed witness the younger versions of Hans Solo and Princess
now General Leia and their courting ritual in the first three Star War
sagas from about a million years ago it seems). Alternatively beat down the mad
scientist who created some kid scary stuff, usually grossly radioactive and had
to take the fall.
That was
then though. Maybe it is the intervening years where the Soviet menace has turned
to dust and those “alien” enemies, the “them” have gone from outer space to
around the corner and the world having explored the skies and found nothing unfriendly
or otherwise (the cynic would say thus far) that has changed things. Add in a little
what I would call sarcastically “universal multi-culturalism” and you have a
very different mix. Now those scary monsters who populate the Star Wars
alternative planets are just regular guys and gals who hang around bars mixing
in with humans and whatnot.
Gruesome
monsters that still scare me who I wouldn’t want to run into in daylight much
less a dark alley at night but who we can’t offend because they might be
allies, and besides “body-shaming” is socially taboo these days. More hopefully
real live earthling minorities as in this film actually do good in the struggle
against what is now not just earthly evil but universal. But perhaps the biggest
difference, surprise is that those delicate passive young women of the 1950s
have been transformed into righteous warriors in their own right kicking ass
and taking numbers just like the good guys of yore. Here the warrior Rey played
by Daisy Ridley showing her metal to good effect and throwing down bad guys
left and right.
All of those
changes are basically pluses but that does not stop the story line from being
the same old same old-here the latest incarnation of the bad guys, the First Order,
looking for universal dominance against the gnat-like Resistance (a very appropriate
term these days in America). Here the line-up is a young woman, a young black
man, a gung-ho pilot, Hans Solo, General Leia against that mass of incompetent
soldiers in that silly white armor aided by massive firepower which would make
the Pentagon generals green with envy, led by General Huk, directed by ugly Supreme
leader Snoke with the ringer being an imitation Darth Vader dressed in Johnny
Cash black Kylo.
The ringer part-this
Kylo aka Ben is none other than the progeny of Hans and Leia when they were
doing their own version of mano a mano. Get this though Kylo aka Ben is so
enamored of the dark side that he kills his Oedipal father Hans. Nothing but
mourning all around. Except the Resistance is able to crush the First Order
(for now) and that young woman, that Rey, gets to Luke Skywalker which is what
this whole trip was all about. Stay tuned for the next one (2017 already filmed
and shown) and the next one for 2019 just in time once again to boost flagging
studio ticket sales. Nothing here made me want to grab onto the genre for dear
life.
The Cambridge/Boston Women’s March 2018: The People Persist January 20 @ 1:00 pm - 4:00 pm
The Cambridge/Boston Women’s March 2018: The People Persist
January 20 @ 1:00 pm - 4:00 pm
n January 20th, 2018, We the People of New England will take to the streets again to show that Women’s Rights are Human Rights and Human Rights are Women’s Rights. Rain or shine, we welcome everyone to our event, including families and people with disabilities.
Speakers
The January Coalition is thrilled to announce our roster of confirmed speakers for the Cambridge/Boston Women’s March 2018. Our speakers are all amazing women from a broad range of experiences, and they reflect the many identities and issues that intersect with women’s rights.
Don’t recognize some of the names? We’ll be profiling our speakers and their accomplishments individually in the days to come, so keep checking back!
Elected Officials:
Marc McGovern, Mayor of Cambridge
Maura Healey, Attorney General of Massachusetts
Marjorie Decker, State Representative
Sumbul Siddiqui, Cambridge City Council
Marc McGovern, Mayor of Cambridge
Maura Healey, Attorney General of Massachusetts
Marjorie Decker, State Representative
Sumbul Siddiqui, Cambridge City Council
Community Speakers:
Rhoda Gibson, MassADAPT
Valentine Moghadam, Northeastern University
Laura Rotolo, ACLU Massachusetts
Nichole Mossalam, CAIR Massachusetts
Andrea James, Families for Justice As Healing
Tina Chéry, Louis D. Brown Peace Institute
Michelle Cunha, Massachusetts Peace Action
Savina Martin, Poor People’s Campaign
Eva Martin Blythe, YWCA Cambridge
Tray Johns, #Fedfam4life
Aleksandra Burger-Roy, NEIC
Freedom for All Massachusetts (speaker TBA)
Rhoda Gibson, MassADAPT
Valentine Moghadam, Northeastern University
Laura Rotolo, ACLU Massachusetts
Nichole Mossalam, CAIR Massachusetts
Andrea James, Families for Justice As Healing
Tina Chéry, Louis D. Brown Peace Institute
Michelle Cunha, Massachusetts Peace Action
Savina Martin, Poor People’s Campaign
Eva Martin Blythe, YWCA Cambridge
Tray Johns, #Fedfam4life
Aleksandra Burger-Roy, NEIC
Freedom for All Massachusetts (speaker TBA)
MC: Zayda Ortiz, Indivisible Mystic Valley
More logistical information is coming soon! Accessibility information will be posted here: https://www.facebook.com/events/862995990536253/permalink/884560728379779/
STATEMENT OF VALUES:
1) We are a coalition of diverse social justice, human rights, disability rights, women’s rights, and peace organizations that are coming together on the first anniversary of Donald Trump’s inauguration to voice our opposition to an administration that is systematically eroding the rights of women and other marginalized people, dismantling and destroying our democracy, and putting the entire world at risk.
2) We have come together to affirm our common values, and we seek to ensure the rights of all people to liberty, dignity, and equal protection under the law.
3) We are dedicated to the guarantee of these basic human rights for all individuals, regardless of gender, gender expression, sexual orientation, race, age, religion, nationality, immigration status, disability, economic status, geographical residence, health status, culture, and political affiliation, not just in the United States but across the planet.
4) We believe that we are strengthened as a society by our diversity, and we are committed to protecting and passing laws that protect and sustain the rights of all people in our multicultural and multiethnic society.
5) We are united to resist the harmful consequences of President Trump’s administration on women, other marginalized groups, and the planet itself.
6) We envision this event as an occasion to recognize the resistance efforts undertaken thus far, and to further mobilize our collective energies for the year ahead.
Co-Hosts and Endorsers
List of groups co-hosting the event, in alphabetical order:
Boston Persists—Events for the Resistance
Cambridge Area Stronger Together
Cambridge-Somerville for Change
Harvard-Epworth United Methodist Church
Human Rights Festival
Indivisible Mystic Valley
Indivisible Somerville
March Forward Massachusetts
Massachusetts Peace Action
Massachusetts People’s Budget Campaign
New England Independence Campaign
Not One Penny — Tax March
We Unite Organizations
… more coming soon!
Boston Persists—Events for the Resistance
Cambridge Area Stronger Together
Cambridge-Somerville for Change
Harvard-Epworth United Methodist Church
Human Rights Festival
Indivisible Mystic Valley
Indivisible Somerville
March Forward Massachusetts
Massachusetts Peace Action
Massachusetts People’s Budget Campaign
New England Independence Campaign
Not One Penny — Tax March
We Unite Organizations
… more coming soon!
List of groups endorsing the event:
American Civil Liberties Union of Massachusetts
MassADAPT
PowerMASS
Watertown Citizens for Peace, Justice, and the Environment
… more coming soon!
American Civil Liberties Union of Massachusetts
MassADAPT
PowerMASS
Watertown Citizens for Peace, Justice, and the Environment
… more coming soon!
If you would like to volunteer or join us as a cosponsor, please contact us at januarycoalition@gmail.com.
We need your help (including your money) to put on a great event! We need $10,000 to cover the costs of a stage, sound equipment, portable restrooms, a generator, etc. and have raised $3,550 as of January 15. Every grassroots penny comes from YOU. Donate on Paypal or on Eventbrite.
Make checks payable to Massachusetts Peace Action Education Fund, write “Women’s March 2018” on the memo line, and mail to MAPA EF, 11 Garden St, Cambridge, MA 02138
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From The Partisan Defense Committee-32nd Holiday Appeal Fundraiser For Political Prisoners In New York City January 27, 2018
From The Partisan Defense Committee-32nd Holiday Appeal Fundraiser For Political Prisoners In New York City January 27, 2018
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