Tuesday, August 27, 2019

An Unrepentant Wobblie At Work- The Music Of Utah Phillips

An Unrepentant Wobblie At Work- The Music Of Utah Phillips






If I Could Be The Rain I Would Be Rosalie Sorrels-The Legendary Folksinger-Songwriter Has Her Last Go-Round At 83

By Music Critic Bart Webber

Back the day, back in the emerging folk minute of the 1960s that guys like Sam Lowell, Si Lannon, Josh Breslin, the late Peter Paul Markin and others were deeply immersed in all roads seemed to lead to Harvard Square with the big names, some small too which one time I made the subject of a series, or rather two series entitled respectively Not Bob Dylan and Not Joan Baez about those who for whatever reason did not make the show over the long haul, passing through the Club 47 Mecca and later the Café Nana and Club Blue, the Village down in NYC, North Beach out in San Francisco, and maybe Old Town in Chicago. Those are the places where names like Baez, Dylan, Paxton, Ochs, Collins and a whole crew of younger folksingers, some who made it like Tom Rush and Joni Mitchell and others like Eric Saint Jean and Minnie Murphy who didn’t, like  who all sat at the feet of guys like Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger got their first taste of the fresh breeze of the folk minute, that expression courtesy of the late Markin, who was among the first around to sample the breeze.

(I should tell you here in parentheses so you will keep it to yourselves that the former three mentioned above never got over that folk minute since they will still tell a tale or two about the times, about how Dave Van Ronk came in all drunk one night at the Café Nana and still blew everybody away, about catching Paxton changing out of his Army uniform when he was stationed down at Fort Dix  right before a performance at the Gaslight, about walking down the street Cambridge with Tom Rush just after he put out No Regrets/Rockport Sunday, and about affairs with certain up and coming female folkies like the previously mentioned Minnie Murphy at the Club Nana when that was the spot of spots. Strictly aficionado stuff if you dare go anywhere within ten miles of the subject with any of them -I will take my chances here because this notice, this passing of legendary Rosalie Sorrels a decade after her dear friend Utah Phillips is important.)

Those urban locales were certainly the high white note spots but there was another important strand that hovered around Saratoga Springs in upstate New York, up around Skidmore and some of the other upstate colleges. That was Caffe Lena’s, run by the late Lena Spenser, a true folk legend and a folkie character in her own right, where some of those names played previously mentioned but also where some upstarts from the West got a chance to play the small crowds who gathered at that famed (and still existing) coffeehouse. Upstarts like the late Bruce “Utah” Phillips (although he could call several places home Utah was key to what he would sing about and rounded out his personality). And out of Idaho one Rosalie Sorrels who just joined her long-time friend Utah in that last go-round at the age of 83.

Yeah, came barreling like seven demons out there in the West, not the West Coast west that is a different proposition. The West I am talking about is where what the novelist Thomas Wolfe called the place where the states were square and you had better be as well if you didn’t want to starve or be found in some empty arroyo un-mourned and unloved. A tough life when the original pioneers drifted westward from Eastern nowhere looking for that pot of gold or at least some fresh air and a new start away from crowded cities and sweet breathe vices. A tough life worthy of song and homage. Tough going too for guys like Joe Hill who tried to organize the working people against the sweated robber barons of his day (they are still with us as we are all now very painfully and maybe more vicious than their in your face forbear). Struggles, fierce down at the bone struggles also worthy of song and homage. Tough too when your people landed in rugged beautiful two-hearted river Idaho, tried to make a go of it in Boise, maybe stopped short in Helena but you get the drift. A different place and a different type of subject matter for your themes than lost loves and longings.  

Rosalie Sorrels could write those songs as well, as well as anybody but she was as interested in the social struggles of her time (one of the links that united her with Utah) and gave no quarter when she turned the screw on a lyric. The last time I saw Rosalie perform in person was back in 2002 when she performed at the majestic Saunders Theater at Harvard University out in Cambridge America at what was billed as her last go-round, her hanging up her shoes from the dusty travel road. (That theater complex contained within the Memorial Hall dedicated to the memory of the gallants from the college who laid down their heads in that great civil war that sundered the country. The Harvards did themselves proud at collectively laying down their heads at seemingly every key battle that I am aware of when I look up at the names and places. A deep pride runs through me at those moments)


Rosalie Sorrels as one would expect on such an occasion was on fire that night except the then recent death of another folk legend, Dave Von Ronk, who was supposed to be on the bill (and who was replaced by David Bromberg who did a great job banging out the blues unto the heavens) cast a pall over the proceedings. I will always remember the crystal clarity and irony of her cover of her classic Old Devil Time that night -yeah, give me one more chance, one more breathe. But I will always think of If I Could Be The Rain and thoughts of washing herself down to the sea whenever I hear her name. RIP Rosalie Sorrels 



CD REVIEW

STARLIGHT ON THE RAILS- UTAH PHILLIPS, 2005


Although this space is mainly dedicated to reviewing political books and commenting on past and current political issues as a way to orient today’s alienated radical youth on the lessons of the past literary output is hardly the only form of political creation. Occasionally in the history of the American and international left musicians, artists and playwrights have given voice or provided visual reminders to the face of political struggle. With that thought in mind, every once in a while I will use this space to review those kinds of political expression.

My musical tastes were formed, as were many of those of the generation of 1968, by ‘Rock and Roll’ music exemplified by the Rolling Stones and Beatles and by the blues revival, both Delta and Chicago style. However, those forms as much as they gave pleasure were only marginally political at best. In short, these were entertainers performing material that spoke to us. In the most general sense that is all one should expect of a performer. Thus, for the most part that music need not be reviewed here. Those who thought that a new musical sensibility laid the foundations for a cultural or political revolution have long ago been proven wrong.

That said, in the early 1960’s there nevertheless was another form of musical sensibility that was directly tied to radical political expression- the folk revival. This entailed a search for roots and relevancy in musical expression. While not all forms of folk music lent themselves to radical politics it is hard to see the 1960’s cultural rebellion without giving a nod to such figures as Dave Van Ronk, the early Bob Dylan, Utah Phillips, Joan Baez, Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie and others. Whatever entertainment value these performers provided they also spoke to and prodded our political development. They did have a message and an agenda and we responded as such. That these musicians’ respective agendas proved inadequate and/or short-lived does not negate their affect on the times.

My leftist political consciousness, painfully fought for in my youth coincided with an expansion of my musical tastes under the influence of the great blues and folk revivals of the 1960’s. Unfortunately my exposure to the blues greats was mainly on records as many of them had been forgotten, retired or were dead. Not so with the folk revival which was created mainly by those who were close contemporaries. Alas, they too are now mainly forgotten, retired or dead. It therefore is with special pleasure that I review Utah Phillips Songbook while he is very much alive.

Many of the folksingers of the 1960’s attempted to use their music to become troubadours for social change. The most famous example, the early Bob Dylan, can be fairly described as the voice of his generation at that time. However, he fairly quickly moved on to other concepts of himself and his music. Bob Dylan’s work became more informed by the influences of Rimbaud and Verlaine and the French Symbolists of the late 1800’s and thus moved away to a more urban, sophisticated vision. From the start and consistently throughout his long career Utah has acted as a medium giving voice to the troubles of ordinary people and the simpler ethos of a more rural, Western-oriented gone by day in the American experience. He evokes in song the spirit of the people Walt Whitman paid homage to in poetic form and John Dos Passos and John Steinbeck gave in prose. He sits comfortably in very fast company. Therefore, Utah Phillips can justly claim the title of a people’s troubadour.

A word about politics. Generally, one rates music without reference to politics. However, Utah has introduced the political element by the way he structured the Songbook. Each song is introduced by him as to its significance heavily weighted to his political experiences, observations and vision. Thus, political comment is fairly in play here. Utah is a long time anarchist and unrepentant supporter of the Wobblies (Industrial Workers of the World, hereafter IWW). Every militant cherishes the memory of the class battles led by the IWW like the famous Lawrence strike of 1912 and honors the heroes of those battles like Big Bill Haywood and Vincent St. John and the militants they recruited to the cause of the working class in the first part of the 20th century. They paved the way for the later successful organization drives of the 1930’s.

Nevertheless, while Utah and I would both most definitely agree that some old-fashioned class struggle by working people in today’s one-sided class war would be a very good thing we as definitely differ on the way to insure a permanent victory for working people in order to create a decent society. In short, Utah’s prescriptions of good moral character, increased self-knowledge and the creation of small intentional communities are not enough. Under modern conditions it is necessary to take and safeguard political power against those who would quite consciously deny that victory. History has been cruel in some of the bitter lessons working people have had to endure for not dealing with the question of taking state power to protect their interests. But, enough said. I am more than willing to forgive the old curmudgeon his anarchist sins if he’ll sing ‘I Remember Loving You’ the next time he tours the Boston area.

From The Veterans For Peace Archives-Slugging It Out Against The War Economy Monster In Good Times And Bad


Rosalie Sorrels Passes At 83 (2017)- The Long Labor Memory, Indeed- The Music Of Rosalie Sorrels and Utah Phillips

Rosalie Sorrels Passes At 83 (2017)- The Long Labor Memory, Indeed- The Music Of Rosalie Sorrels and Utah Phillips







If I Could Be The Rain I Would Be Rosalie Sorrels-The Legendary Folksinger-Songwriter Has Her Last Go Round At 83

By Music Critic Bart Webber

Back the day, back in the emerging folk minute of the 1960s that guys like Sam Lowell, Si Lannon, the late Peter Paul Markin and others were deeply immersed in (and the former two never got over since they will still tell a tale or two about the times if you go anywhere within ten miles of the subject-I will take my chances here because this notice is important) all roads seemed to lead to Harvard Square, the Village down in NYC, North Beach out in San Francisco, and maybe Old Town in Chicago. That is where names like Baez, Dylan, Paxton, Ochs, Collins and a whole crew of younger folksingers who sat at the feet of guys like Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger.  

But there was another important strand that hovered around Saratoga Springs in upstate New York, up around Skidmore and some other colleges. That was Caffe Lena’s where some of those names played but also where some upstarts from the West got a chance to play the small crowds who gathered at that famed (and still existing) coffeehouse. Upstarts like Bruce “Utah” Phillips (although he could call several places home Utah was key to what he would sing about). And out of Idaho one Rosalie Sorrels who just joined her long-time friend Utah in that last go-round at the age of 83.

Yeah, out there in the West, not the West Coast west that is different, where what the novelist Thomas Wolfe called the place where the states were square and you had better be as well if you didn’t want to starve or be found in some empty arroyo un-mourned and unloved. A different place and a different type of subject matter for your themes.   

The last time I saw Rosalie perform in person was back in 2002 when she performed at what was billed as her last go-round, her hanging up her shoes from the dusty travel road. She was on fire that night except the then recent death of another folk legend, Dave Von Ronk, who was supposed to be on the bill (and who was replaced by David Bromberg who did a great job) cast a pall over the proceedings. I will always remember her cover of Old Devil Time that night -yeah, give me one more chance, one more breathe. But I will always think of If I Could Be The Rain whenever I hear her name. RIP Rosalie Sorrels



CD REVIEWS

Every Month Is Labor Month

The Long Memory, Indeed

The Long Memory, Rosalie Sorrels and Utah Phillips, Red House Records, 1996

The first paragraph here has been used in reviewing other Rosalie Sorrels CDs in this space.


“My first association of the name Rosalie Sorrels with folk music came, many years ago now, from hearing the recently departed folk singer/storyteller/ songwriter and unrepentant Wobblie (IWW) Utah Phillips mention his long time friendship with her going back before he became known as a folksinger. I also recall that combination of Sorrels and Phillips as he performed his classic “Starlight On The Rails” and she his also classic “If I Could Be The Rain” on a PBS documentary honoring the Café Lena in Saratoga, New York, a place that I am also very familiar with for many personal and musical reasons. Of note here: it should be remembered that Rosalie saved, literally, many of the compositions that Utah left helter-skelter around the country in his “bumming” days.”

That said, what could be better than to have Rosalie and Utah on the same CD (although not together) singing and telling stories about the old days in the labor movement, mainly the labor movement of the American West that was instrumental in creating the Industrial Workers Of The World (IWW, Wobblies). Listen to Rosalie on the story of Aunt Molly Jackson and the National Miners’ Union (NMU) (a Stalinist ‘third period’ “red union” that took over when John L. Lewis’ UMW left the miners in the lurch-sound familiar). Or the saga of a mill closing in an earlier version of runaway factories (then mainly to the south of this country) in “Aragon Mills”.

A nice story told by Utah is that of the genesis of soap box oration as is his singing of his classic “All Used Up”. Utah here pays tribute to the heroic exploits of Mother Jones, one of our early real militant labor leaders (by example, I should add). And also notes what happens when there are no (or few, as today) militant unions to fight for decency and justice in “No More Reds In The Union”. I give special attention here to “Nevada Jane” a song that Utah wrote based on stories told to him in Butte, Montana about the legendary “Big Bill” Haywood , probably the best labor leader, pound for pound, produced by the American labor movement I the 20th century and his wife Nevada Jane. Whether the stories were true and the song has it right about the relationship between the pair is separate question but I still like it. While Utah and I had a very wide political gap between us we shared one thing in common- a long, long memory about the fate of the international labor movement. Adieu, Utah.

If I Could Be The Rain-"Utah Phillips"

Everybody I know sings this song their own way, and they arrive at their own understanding of it. Guy Carawan does it as a sing along. I guess he thinks it must have some kind of universal appeal. To me, it's a very personal song. It's about events in my life that have to do with being in love. I very seldom sing it myself for those reasons.



If I could be the rain, I'd wash down to the sea;
If I could be the wind, there'd be no more of me;
If I could be the sunlight, and all the days were mine,
I would find some special place to shine.

But all the rain I'll ever be is locked up in my eyes,
When I hear the wind it only whispers sad goodbyes.
If I could hide the way I feel I'd never sing again;
Sometimes I wish that I could be the rain.

If I could be the rain, I'd wash down to the sea;
If I could be the wind, there'd be no more of me;
If I could hide the way I feel I'd never sing again;
Sometimes I wish that I could be the rain.

Copyright ©1973, 2000 Bruce Phillips


THE TELLING TAKES ME HOME
(Bruce Phillips)


Let me sing to you all those songs I know
Of the wild, windy places locked in timeless snow,
And the wide, crimson deserts where the muddy rivers flow.
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.

Come along with me to some places that I've been
Where people all look back and they still remember when,
And the quicksilver legends, like sunlight, turn and bend
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.

Walk along some wagon road, down the iron rail,
Past the rusty Cadillacs that mark the boom town trail,
Where dreamers never win and doers never fail,
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.

I'll sing of my amigos, come from down below,
Whisper in their loving tongue the songs of Mexico.
They work their stolen Eden, lost so long ago.
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.

I'll tell you all some lies, just made up for fun,
And the loudest, meanest brag, it can beat the fastest gun.
I'll show you all some graves that tell where the West was won.
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.

And I'll sing about an emptiness the East has never known,
Where coyotes don't pay taxes and a man can live alone,
And you've got to walk forever just to find a telephone.
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.

Let me sing to you all those songs I know
Of the wild, windy places locked in timeless snow,
And the wide, crimson deserts where the muddy rivers flow.
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
STARLIGHT ON THE RAILS
(Bruce Phillips)

I can hear the whistle blowing
High and lonesome as can be
Outside the rain is softly falling
Tonight its falling just for me

Looking back along the road I've traveled
The miles can tell a million tales
Each year is like some rolling freight train
And cold as starlight on the rails

I think about a wife and family
My home and all the things it means
The black smoke trailing out behind me
Is like a string of broken dreams

A man who lives out on the highway
Is like a clock that can't tell time
A man who spends his life just rambling
Is like a song without a rhyme


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ALL USED UP
( U. Utah Phillips)

I spent my whole life making somebody rich
I busted my ass for that son of a bitch
He left me to die like a dog in a ditch
And told me I'm all used up

He used up my labor, he used up my time
He plundered my body and squandered my mind
Then he gave me a pension, some handouts and wine
And told me I'm all used up

My kids are in hock to a god you call Work
Slaving their lives out for some other jerk
And my youngest in 'Frisco just made shipping-clerk
He don't know I'm all used up

Some young people reach out for power and gold
And they don't have respect for anything old
For pennies they're bought, for promises sold
Someday they'll be used up

They use up the oil, they use up the trees
They use up the air and they use up the seas
But how about you, friend, and how about me
What's left, when we're all used up

I'll finish my life in this crummy hotel
It's lousy with bugs and my God, what a smell
But my plumbing still works and I'm clear as a bell
Don't tell me I'm all used up

Outside my window the world passes by
It gives me a handout, then spits in my eye
And no one can tell me, 'cause no one knows why
I'm still living, but I'm all used up

Sometimes in a dream I sit by a tree
My life is a book of how things used to be
And the kids gather 'round and they listen to me
They don't think I'm all used up

And there's songs and there's laughter and things I can do
And all that I've learned I can give back to you
And I'd give my last breath just to make it come true
And to know I'm not all used up

They use up the oil, they use up the trees
They use up the air and they use up the seas
But as long as I'm breathing they won't use up me
Don't tell me I'm all used up

@aging @work

Nevada Jane
I've been told that I'm wrong about this song. I don't know whether I am or not, since Bill Haywood, who was with the Western Federation of Miners and was the first Secretary-Treasurer of the Industrial Workers of the World, never mentioned his wife in his autobiography except very briefly, so I can't tell whether he really loved his wife or not.

I do have stories from old-timers who tell me about when Bill Haywood was working in a mine camp, basically doing a job of de-horning. His wife, Nevada Jane, had been crippled by a fall from her pony, so she couldn't walk. Bill had a house on the edge of town, and he would carry his wife down to the railroad station every morning. She would sit there and talk to the women of the town about what they could do to help organize the town, while Bill was brawling at the bars. He'd come back at the end of the day, pick Nevada Jane up, hang one of their kids off of each shoulder, and every night you'd see him carrying the wife and kids up to the house.

Most of the songs about labor struggles are full of loud shouting and arm-waving and thunder and rhetoric. It's good for me, every now and then, to try to take a look at the human side of it, right or wrong.

The tune is by one of my favorite songwriters, Stephen Foster. I first heard "Gentle Annie" from Kate McGarrigle of Canada. The tune has too many wide-apart changes in it for me to sing the way Stephen Foster wrote it, so I changed it some.


And when he stumbles in with blood upon his shirt,
Washing up alone, just to hide the hurt,
He will lie down by your side and wake you with your name,
You'll hold him in your arms, Nevada Jane. (Chorus)

Nevada Jane went riding, her pony took a fall,
The doctor said she never would walk again at all;
But Big Bill could lift her lightly, the big hands rough and plain
Would gently carry home Nevada Jane.

The storms of Colorado rained for ten long years,
The mines of old Montana were filled with blood and tears,
Utah, Arizona, California heard the name
Of the man who always loved Nevada Jane. (Chorus)

Although the ranks are scattered like leaves upon the breeze,
And with them go the memory of harder times than these,
Some things never change, but always stay the same,
Just like the way Bill loved Nevada Jane. (Chorus)

Copyright ©1973, 2000 Bruce Phillips

On The 80th Anniversary Of The Founding Of The Fourth International-The100thAnniversaryYearOfTheBolshevik-LedOctoberRevolution-Lessons-From The Pen Of Leon Trotsky- On The Anniversary Of His Death- Once Again On The Crisis Of Marxism (1939)

The100thAnniversaryYearOfTheBolshevik-LedOctoberRevolution-Lessons-From The Pen Of Leon Trotsky- On The  Anniversary Of His Death- Once Again On The Crisis Of Marxism (1939)





Google the Leon Trotsky Internet Archives for an online copy of the article mentioned in the headline.

Markin comment:

The name Leon Trotsky hardly needs added comment from this writer. After Marx, Engels and Lenin, and in his case it is just slightly after, Trotsky is our heroic leader of the international communist movement. I would argue, and have in the past, that if one were looking for a model of what a human being would be like in our communist future Leon Trotsky, warts and all, is the closest approximation that the bourgeois age has produced. No bad, right?

Note: For this 70th anniversary memorial I have decided to post articles written by Trotsky in the 1930s, the period of great defeats for the international working class with the rise of fascism and the disorientations of Stalinism beating down on it. This was a time when political clarity, above all, was necessary. Trotsky, as a simple review of his biographical sketch will demonstrate, wore many hats in his forty years of conscious political life: political propagandist and theoretician; revolutionary working class parliamentary leader; razor-sharp journalist (I, for one, would not have wanted to cross swords with him. I would still be bleeding.); organizer of the great October Bolshevik revolution of 1917; organizer of the heroic and victorious Red Army in the civil war against the Whites in the aftermath of that revolution; seemingly tireless Soviet official; literary and culture critic: leader of the Russian Left Opposition in the 1920s; and, hounded and exiled leader of the International Left Opposition in the 1930s.

I have decided to concentrate on some of his writings from the 1930s for another reason as well. Why, with such a resume to choose from? Because, when the deal went down Leon Trotsky’s work in the 1930s, when he could have taken a political dive, I believe was the most important of his long career. He, virtually alone of the original Bolshevik leadership (at least of that part that still wanted to fight for international revolution), had the capacity to think and lead. He harnessed himself to the hard, uphill work of that period (step back, step way back, if you think we are “tilting at windmills” now). In that sense the vile Stalinist assassination in 1940, when Trotsky could still project years of political work ahead, is not among the least of Stalin’s crimes against the international working class. Had Trotsky lived another ten years or so, while he could not have “sucked” revolutions out of the ground, he could have stabilized a disoriented post-World War communist movement and we would probably have a far greater living communist movement today. Thanks for what you did do though, Comrade Trotsky.

The Bolshevik Revolution and Women’s Liberation

The Bolshevik Revolution and Women’s Liberation

Workers Vanguard No. 1107
10 March 2017

TROTSKY

LENIN
The Bolshevik Revolution and Women’s Liberation
(Quote of the Week)
On International Women’s Day in Petrograd in March 1917, a mass outpouring of working women sparked the revolutionary upheaval that culminated in the Russian October Revolution. The smashing of capitalist class rule brought unheard-of gains for women in all areas of public and private life. Despite economic backwardness and poverty, the young Soviet workers government sought to undermine the material foundations of women’s oppression, which is rooted in the institution of the family. The Bolsheviks understood that complete social equality could only be attained with the abolition of classes in a world socialist society. In a 1920 commemoration of International Working Women’s Day, Bolshevik leader V.I. Lenin underscored the fact that the fight for women’s liberation is inseparable from the fight for international socialist revolution.
Capitalism combines formal equality with economic and, consequently, social inequality. That is one of the principal features of capitalism, one that is deliberately obscured by the supporters of the bourgeoisie, the liberals, and is not understood by petty-bourgeois democrats. This feature of capitalism, incidentally, renders it necessary for us in our resolute fight for economic equality openly to admit capitalist inequality, and even, under certain conditions, to make this open admission of inequality the basis of the proletarian statehood (the Soviet Constitution).
But even in the matter of formal equality (equality before the law, the “equality” of the well-fed and the hungry, of the man of property and the propertyless), capitalism cannot be consistent. And one of the most glaring manifestations of this inconsistency is the inequality of women. Complete equality has not been granted even by the most progressive republican, and democratic bourgeois states.
The Soviet Republic of Russia, on the other hand, at once swept away all legislative traces of the inequality of women without exception, and immediately ensured their complete equality before the law.
It is said that the best criterion of the cultural level is the legal status of women. This aphorism contains a grain of profound truth. From this standpoint only the dictatorship of the proletariat, only the socialist state could attain, as it has attained, the highest cultural level. The new, mighty and unparalleled stimulus given to the working women’s movement is therefore inevitably associated with the foundation (and consolidation) of the first Soviet Republic—and, in addition to and in connection with this, with the Communist International.
Since mention has been made of those who were oppressed by capitalism, directly or indirectly, in whole or in part, it must be said that the Soviet system, and only the Soviet system, guarantees democracy. This is clearly shown by the position of the working class and the poor peasants. It is clearly shown by the position of women.
But the Soviet system is the last decisive struggle for the abolition of classes, for economic and social equality. Democracy, even democracy for those who were oppressed by capitalism, including the oppressed sex, is not enough for us.
It is the chief task of the working women’s movement to fight for economic and social equality, and not only formal equality, for women. The chief thing is to get women to take part in socially productive labour, to liberate them from “domestic slavery,” to free them from their stupefying and humiliating subjugation to the eternal drudgery of the kitchen and the nursery.
This struggle will be a long one, and it demands a radical reconstruction both of social technique and of morals. But it will end in the complete triumph of communism.
—V.I. Lenin, “International Working Women’s Day” (4 March 1920)

The100thAnniversaryYearOfTheBolshevik-LedOctoberRevolution-Lessons-From The Pen Of Leon Trotsky- On The Anniversary Of His Death- Once Again On The Crisis Of Marxism (1939)

The100thAnniversaryYearOfTheBolshevik-LedOctoberRevolution-Lessons-From The Pen Of Leon Trotsky- On The  Anniversary Of His Death- Once Again On The Crisis Of Marxism (1939)




Google the Leon Trotsky Internet Archives for an online copy of the article mentioned in the headline.

Markin comment:

The name Leon Trotsky hardly needs added comment from this writer. After Marx, Engels and Lenin, and in his case it is just slightly after, Trotsky is our heroic leader of the international communist movement. I would argue, and have in the past, that if one were looking for a model of what a human being would be like in our communist future Leon Trotsky, warts and all, is the closest approximation that the bourgeois age has produced. No bad, right?

Note: For this 70th anniversary memorial I have decided to post articles written by Trotsky in the 1930s, the period of great defeats for the international working class with the rise of fascism and the disorientations of Stalinism beating down on it. This was a time when political clarity, above all, was necessary. Trotsky, as a simple review of his biographical sketch will demonstrate, wore many hats in his forty years of conscious political life: political propagandist and theoretician; revolutionary working class parliamentary leader; razor-sharp journalist (I, for one, would not have wanted to cross swords with him. I would still be bleeding.); organizer of the great October Bolshevik revolution of 1917; organizer of the heroic and victorious Red Army in the civil war against the Whites in the aftermath of that revolution; seemingly tireless Soviet official; literary and culture critic: leader of the Russian Left Opposition in the 1920s; and, hounded and exiled leader of the International Left Opposition in the 1930s.

I have decided to concentrate on some of his writings from the 1930s for another reason as well. Why, with such a resume to choose from? Because, when the deal went down Leon Trotsky’s work in the 1930s, when he could have taken a political dive, I believe was the most important of his long career. He, virtually alone of the original Bolshevik leadership (at least of that part that still wanted to fight for international revolution), had the capacity to think and lead. He harnessed himself to the hard, uphill work of that period (step back, step way back, if you think we are “tilting at windmills” now). In that sense the vile Stalinist assassination in 1940, when Trotsky could still project years of political work ahead, is not among the least of Stalin’s crimes against the international working class. Had Trotsky lived another ten years or so, while he could not have “sucked” revolutions out of the ground, he could have stabilized a disoriented post-World War communist movement and we would probably have a far greater living communist movement today. Thanks for what you did do though, Comrade Trotsky.

The Decline Of The Old West-With Yul Brynner’s “The Magnificent Seven” (1960) In Mind

The Decline Of The Old West-With Yul Brynner’s “The Magnificent Seven” (1960) In Mind   




DVD Review

By Film Critic Sandy Salmon

The Magnificent Seven, starring Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen, Eli Wallach, 1960   

I have always been a sucker for a good Western ever since I was a kid back in the 1950s. I would either watch maybe Jimmy Rodgers, The Lone Ranger, John Law or some such combination go through their paces on the small screen family black and white images television set or on Saturday afternoons head with Bunky Roberts and Slim Devine, two fellow youthful aficionados to the now long gone Majestic Theater in downtown    
Riverdale and see the double feature one at least of which was inevitably a Western. That is the place where I first viewed the film under review, The Magnificent Seven, the original version not the well-done remake based on a different twist in the story line starring Denzel Washington a couple of years ago. And although I watched the re-run in the comfort of my home I still think that this film must be watched on the big screen to get the full beauty of the thing and of the then rather new technologies bringing those old 1940s and early 1950s black and white images to color.     

As a kid I was most struck by the fact that a good guy, a good gunslinger, Yul Brynner’s role, was dressed in black the traditional color of the bad guy in the old movies and on 1950s television. It threw me at first until his first good deed seeing to it that a Native American (then Indian or ‘injun’) got buried in a local cemetery. This time out almost sixty years later now being a fair film critic I was taken in by the sub-text beyond the good deeds-the taming of the West (the non-California Coast West, you know the places where the states are square) epitomized by the decline in services of the gunslinger. The guys who for good or evil, depending usually on who paid for the job whether there was more justice on one side or not. You know the profession had taken a precipitous drop when Yul could round up five other hombres for a six week caper down south of the border for twenty bucks each-total. (The seventh guy, a young buck, a Mexican peasant with something to prove came along of his own volition). Hardly expense money even in those days. 


You know the story though. A bunch of poor south of the border Mexican farmers periodically besieged by one or another roving gangs, this one in particular, led by mal hombre bandito Eli Wallach have had enough. Are ready to fight, or pay for guys who would fight and rid their village of this scourge. Enter cool as a cumber dressed in black Yul who hears out the story and brings in the cadre. Of course even seven bravos, seven harden gunslingers cannot be expected to take on a serious gang of maybe thirty or forty hunger, thirsty and broke banditos so much of the center of the film is readying those peasant farmers to help out to defend home and hearth. It was a struggle though getting brave but inexperienced farmers ready enough to face the onslaught of Eli Wallach and friends. In the end though you knew, just as I knew when I was a kid that the good guys despite grievous losses would prevail. I wonder what Yul and his remaining sidekick after the big scene shoot-out played by Steve McQueen will do for their next job as they leave the pacified village to go about its usual business. A landmark film of the new Western that got a workout in 1960s when a more serious look at the West was undertaken.        

*The People Speak, Kinda- Howard Zinn’s “The People Speak”- A Film Review

On The Anniversary Of The Russian Revolution Of 1905-

By Frank Jackman

For the attentive reader of this unabashedly left-wing publication which moreover not only takes history seriously but commemorates some historical nodal points worthy of attention today I have drawn attention this month of January to the 100th anniversary of the assassinations of key nascent German Communist Party leaders Rosa Luxemburg, the rose of the revolution, and Karl Liebknecht the heart of the left-wing German workers movement. In that commentary I noted that history in the conditional, especially when things turned out badly as they did in Germany with the failure of the Communists to take power within a few years of the Armistice and aid the struggling isolated and devastated Russian revolution, is tricky business. There were certainly opportunities closed off by the decimation of the heads of the early German Communist Party that were never made up. That failure helps in its own way to pave the road to the Nazi takeover and all that meant for Europe and the world later. I also cautioned against stretching such conditionals out too far without retreating to an idea that the rise of the Nazis was inevitable. Give it some thought though.
History in the conditional applies as well to events that would in the future turn out well, well at the beginning in any case, and that leads to the role played by what many parties including Vladimir Lenin and Leon Trotsky referred to as the “dress rehearsal” for the October Revolution in Russia in 1917. That was the Revolution of 1905 which although it was shattered and many of the leading participants either killed, exiled or banished still provided some hope that things would turn on that proverbial historical dime in the end. The key organization structure set up in 1905, the Workers Soviets, councils, which in embryo provided the outline for the workers government everybody from Marx and to his left argued for to bring socialist order to each country, to the world in the end almost automatically was reestablished in the early days of 1917. Who knows in conditions of war and governmental turmoil what would have happened if that organizational form had not already been tested in an earlier revolutionary episode. Again, let’s not get too wide afield on history in the conditional on this end either. Think about those episodes though as we commemorate that 1905 revolution. 


   

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for the late Professor Howard Zinn's A People's History Of The United States.

DVD Review

The People Speak, narrated by Howard Zinn, parts and songs spoken and sung by various actors and singers, etc., 2009


Let’s be clear from the outset, the late Boston University Professor Howard Zinn, narrator and “guiding light” of the film documentary under review, The People Speak, and I were leftist political opponents. I, from the Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky-influenced, anti-Stalinist branch of modern Marxism, and he, well, I am not altogether sure what branch but, mainly, something from the moralistic stand of anarchism. (Although that did not stop him from calling for votes for the bourgeois presidential candidate , Barack Obama in 2008. Oh, well.) Although we could share common fights, and did, around anti-war, anti-racist, anti-imperialist and other such perspectives, at the end of the day, we parted company on the strategic, and more importantly, the organizational means to create and order that alternative society that we both, desperately, sought and found passionately necessary to replace the madness of the American imperial state.

That said, I nevertheless wrote, around the time of his death earlier this year, an appreciation of his work, especially of his written history work, A People’s History Of The United States, which forms the basis for this visual and oral companion to that effort. I am reposting that appreciation below for it contains the main positive points about that important work. I will make additional comments below:

Howard Zinn’s A People's History Of The United States

”I have remarked elsewhere on the poverty of information about the ‘making and doing’ of the non-ruling classes, their social concerns, and their hopes and aspirations in America in my own high school history classes in the early 1960s. Such locally important events as the creation of the all-black 54th Massachusetts Volunteer Regiment (led by Robert Gould Shaw) during the American Civil War and the case of the executed anarchist martyrs, Sacco and Vanzetti, never got onto the radar. This despite the fact that I passed, at one point, the Saint-Gaudens memorial plague to the 54th in front of the State House 54th almost every day and grew up within a stone’s throw of where the major events in the Sacco and Vanzetti case took place. All that I know, or almost all that I know, about the micro-history of the American experience (and internationally, as well) came from painfully digging out the information from many scattered sources during my younger political days.

A lot of good things happened as a result of the social struggles in the 1960s, or at least well-intended things that we can proudly stand on, and the dramatically increased interest in getting the “people’s” story out was one of them. And that is where one of the best examples, the late Boston University Professor Howard Zinn, and his book under review, A People's History Of The United States comes in. In addition to his up-front radical political activist perspective on the political issues of the day Professor Zinn wrote a number of books, and many articles, about various aspects of the American experience that had been ignored or neglected by those earlier historians who concentrated on the movements of ruling elites, their predilections and their follies or on great events, minus the under classes that bore the brunt of, or carried out, those policies. The most important, of course, is "A People's History".

Under one roof, and in one place Professor Zinn’s “A People’s History" can act as a primer for those who are interested in the underside of history, and, like Zinn, doing something about it. Of course there is more investigation to do, but that is why I used that word primer. Professor Zinn and I were mainly political opponents within the left. However every young reader, every young searcher for the meaning of the American experience, and every just plain thoughtful budding historian owe the professor a debt of gratitude. Hats off to Professor Zinn. “

This documentary takes the same tack, as various artists and musicians from Danny Glover to Bruce Springsteen, re-enact important speeches, memoir passages, songs and poems from the works of the “voiceless” in previous histories: slavery and Jim Crow Blacks, anti-imperialist fighters, old and new, women’s suffragettes and modern women’s liberation fighters, Native Americans of all conditions and tribes, Japanese internment victims, Hispanics, and generation after generation of workers of every color and nationality. And, at least passing glances at various political movements like the early socialists and IWW- style anarchists.

But this is where the “kinda” in the headline to this entry comes in. In almost two hours the word communist, American Communist Party, Stalinist, Trotskyist, Maoist, New Left communist (an important component as the 1960s drifted on) or anything associated with those words were never uttered. Oh, as in the real American protest experience that communists participated in (and, more often than not led) for a good part of the 20th century they are there, camouflaged. For example, Dalton Trumbo and his excellent anti-war novel Johnny Got His Gun. One would never know that he was a leading Communist Party literary supporter and one of the Hollywood Ten victims of the post World War II, Cold War, “night of the long knives" red scare. Or that Genora Dollinger, who was one of the leading figures in the Flint auto sit-down strikes and whose memoir was given heavy play here, was a supporter of the Trotskyist branch of communism. Or that many of those anti-eviction parties in the 1930s highlighted here were organized by reds. Or that the unemployed were organized by reds. Or that those great workers strikes of the 1930s that created the modern American organized labor movement had reds under every bed. And so on.

Professor Zinn and the producers of this effort are under no obligation to identify known communists in what is after all their own amorphous propaganda production Get out an organize) , worthy as the overall project is as an educational if not organizational tool. But this is where we come back to political differences. No, more than political differences, political honesty. And that is where the name Leon Trotsky and those who have tried to learn sometime from his struggles comes into the picture. There was a blood line drawn between him and the Stalinists who hunted him down wherever he was and tried to obliterate him from the history of the Russian revolution. He wrote an important book, among other such writings, entitled The Stalinist School Of Falsification in an effort to write himself and others back into that history. Now I have had no truck for a long time with Stalinists, and their distortions in the Marxist movement. But those Stalinists, organized as the American Communist Party (and in other organizations) formed a part, and important part, of the “people’s history”, warts an all, in the 20th century. They should be written back into that history. So you see the ghost of Professor Zinn and I still have our political differences.

An Anniversary- Of Sorts-With Anti-Fascist Activist Fritz Taylor’s Worldview In Mind

An Anniversary- Of Sorts-With Anti-Fascist Activist Fritz Taylor’s Worldview In Mind




By Frank Jackman

My old late lamented growing up friend Peter Markin (not the moderator of this site and of others as well who also had been a growing up friend and who had taken the moniker Peter Paul Markin in honor of our still lamented lost brother but the real mad man Markin known to one and all in the old neighborhood as “the Scribe”) would have said the then equivalent of WTF if he had seen this little screed about my publicly announcing the forty-fifth anniversary of Fritz Taylor’s introduction and adherence the Marxist worldview, the view that the centrality of the class struggle is the prime mover, although let’s be clear given the over one century and a half obfuscation on the matter not the sole mover, of the human historical drama. (The ghost of the departed Markin is still so strong among the surviving brethren of the working poor Acre section of North Adamsville the place where Markin and I grew up that I dare not put my above-stated intention in the headline to this piece.) 

Let me be clear Pete Markin and no other was the pivotal character in Fritz’s life who drew him to the study of some Marxist literature and attending study group classes in Marxist doctrine so it is not a question of the subject matter which he did, and still would I believe, object to but his hatred for what was even then a skyrocketing increase in the number of anniversaries of various events. Worse, worst of all, was the commemoration of odd-ball events in say their fortieth or sixtieth anniversary years instead of the reasonable tenth, twenty-fifth and fiftieth which we grew up with and made a certain amount of sense. Who knows what ballistic missiles, verbal or written, he would have launched if he could see some of the events and some of the year designations today. You know the thirtieth anniversary of Janis Joplin’s premier album with Big Brother and the Holding Company or the 65th anniversary of the landing of man on the moon. Odd years like that drove him crazy. Make him want to retch from what he told me one night when we were in our cups.

It wasn’t like Markin had always gone off the deep end about the commemoration of all odd-ball events. He drew a distinction though between certain world-historic events and run-of-the-mill stuff like an album’s anniversary and events important to the lives of the people he was trying to reach out to think about a radical restructuring of society. Events like the Paris Commune, the Russian Revolution (before the demise of the Soviet Union which would have shocked him to his core), the commemoration of the execution of Sacco and Vanzetti by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts (the recent commemoration of which noted the 90th anniversary which Markin would have been happy to have seen organized-an earlier one he had dragged me to in high school). But the others would have him in a rage, no doubt.

When I started out thinking about honoring Fritz Taylor’s commitment to the Marxist doctrine, his underlying worldview,  although really to forty-five years of left-wing political activism under that activist imperative which is much more important than merely noting his ideological underpinnings, important as those are, I had intended to just tell his story, how he came to his views. That idea, once I actually started writing a first draft, soon proved to be short-sighted. It is impossible to chart how Fritz “got religion” without explaining how Markin came to his, for the short time that he actually actively adhered to the doctrine before the demons in his head led him down a different path, down a still mysterious drug-strewn death down in the dusty back streets of Sonora, Mexico after what was apparently a busted drug deal. Like I said before Markin, forever the Scribe,  was a growing up friend so I can fill in some of that seemingly inevitable trajectory before he ever met Fritz after they had both gotten out of the Army and found that they had both hated with a passion their blood on their hands involvements in the then-raging Vietnam War.          

Of all the North Adamsville corner boys (guys who due to lack of dough, serious lack of dough, successively hung out at Harry Variety Store, Doc’s Drugstore and Tonio’s Pizza Parlor as we grew up and took our time-honored, age-appropriate designated corner spots) Pete was the quirkiest of us all. While the rest of us were  mainly, make that solely, interested in girls, cars, money, money for dates, so girls again, and actually the car thing played into the girl quest as well Markin was always into some new idea or trend he would read about. Bored us to tears reading some fucking Allen Ginsburg’s “faggot” (term used by us at the time) poem Howl or Jack Kerouac’s On The Road when he was crazy for the beatniks. Later too when the whole hippie-world turned upside down Summer of Love, 1967 he got everybody looking at different stuff. Or fucking folk music when that was big and he would try to drag us, me, over to Harvard Square to again be bored to tears (until we found out that some very foxy “chicks” were into the damn thing and we faked an interest for that sole reason. I still hate to hear folk music to this day, especially Bob Dylan). That stuff was bad enough but then he had his freaking political causes, stuff that made us all think he was some kind of pinko commie and which would have gotten him more than one fucking beating if he had not been our best friend, and a guy who also figured out a lot of very illegal ways for us to get dough for those girl-related necessities. Quirky yeah. I remember he went to some nuclear disarmament with the freaking Quakers when we were in the ninth grade after he made some probably ill-advised bet with our leader, Frankie Riley, who claimed that he would not go through with it. Later the black civil rights movement down South which was very touchy in our lily-white neighborhood and caused some bad blood even with his corner boys when he went off on a tangent about it. (Yes we used the “n” word then in referring to black people, worse than that sometimes).

Frankly though as Markin was growing up, as he developed his style in high school he could have given a “rat’s ass” (a term of art used in the old neighborhood genesis unknown) about Marxism, hated, despite our pinko commie comments, Communists almost as much as the rest of us did except he was not for jailing every last one of the them or shipping them all to Moscow. He had dreams of being a serious politician, serious let’s say social democratic politician on the right side of the angels in public anyway. Not a candidate type like his hero Robert Kennedy but a guy right beside some aspiring candidate guiding him along the way.

What changed him? What drove him over the edge away from that dream and maybe some normal day success? One word: Vietnam. Even that crooked path could have been different if he wasn’t so quirky and curious. In the spring of 1967 he had caught a sense that things were changing, that maybe that new world he was always yakking to us about, something about a new wave coming over the land and we had better be ready, might come to something. He made a fateful, and wrong, decision to drop out of his sophomore year in college in Boston and head out to San Francisco to grab onto the tailwinds of the Summer of Love. He was right at home, even got some of us out there for a while. Of course not being a male student with a student deferment in 1967 when the major escalations of the war in Vietnam were still piling up requiring more troops, more “cannon fodder” he would call it even then long before he ever though he would be caught in its web meant he was a prime candidate for the draft. He was rather casual about the matter whenever I mentioned it always assuming that the damn war would end before he number came up.      
           
Like I said wrong move. I guess now I would say that I would have thought that certainly of all the old crowd Pete would have been the first one to have refused, or even thought about refusing, induction given his past history and his strong views about being in Vietnam, a place and a people whom he said he had no cause to hate since they had never done anything to him but maybe that was later after he got back from that hellhole. But no when he got his draft notice and passed the physical he said he had no strong reasons not to go unlike some of the increasing number of students and other young men who were refusing induction (or heading to Canada or figuring some other way to avoid military service at a time when that only meant Vietnam was beckoning). So he went when called like every other corner boy we knew who was eligible if they hadn’t already enlisted beforehand. I got out of military service by having had a crippling knee injury as a kid and thereafter had walked with a pronounced limp especially on rainy days. 

That acceptance of induction another mistake. Pete never talked about it all that much but he went through the wringer in Vietnam. Had been an 11 Bravo Army speak for an infantryman, a grunt, that cannon fodder always he was always yelling about. The only place that needed 11Bravos just then, and lots of them, was in Vietnam so it was inevitable he would wind up there. Said he did and was made to do stuff that would forever haunt him the few times he did let on that the whole experience had screwed up his life. (How deeply it did so to him we would not know for several years and even then we could only surmise what demons had driven him to dope deals and dirty back streets to an early grave down in Mexico once we lost contact with him).     

The minute he got out of the Army Pete began a political trajectory through his associations with the then growing Vietnam Veterans Against The War (VVAW) that would lead him to a study of Marxism and a short whirling dervish period of left-wing activity before he descended into hell. (I have heard from old corner boy leader Frankie Riley, a Vietnam veteran himself that Pete had been politically active even before he got out of the Army so let’s just say when he got back to what he called the “real world”). Through the VVAW link he had, after a whirlwind run around the country attending probably every anti-war demonstration that drew more than five people, landed back in Cambridge in the early spring of 1971 where he had run into a group of radicals who were heading to Washington to try to shut down the government (the Nixon government at that time) if it did not end the fucking war (“fucking” my term at that point and now too when I think about how it fucked up one of the best of our whole generation long before his time was up). All Pete, they and their cohorts got for their efforts was massive police and military repression, tear gas and a huge number of arrests. The war would linger on in one form or another for the next few years (and dominate the psyche of the best part of the generation for many years).        

As a result of that Mau Day experience Pete, and others back in Cambridge as well, took note that a few brave but marginal students, radicals, do-gooders had no shot at effective governmental change based on some ill-advised if heroic individual acts of political bravery. Who or what force could do so. He, they thought through lots of scenarios but came up empty based on who had enough power to switch things around. I don’t remember all the details but I do remember for a time Markin was very excited after he had found a copy of Karl Marx’s tribute and defense of the fallen at the Paris Commune. He had read, and discarded, Marx’s Communist Manifesto as so much old time bullshit in high school when he would rail against the commies with a lot more knowledge than our knee-jerk 1950s red scare Cold War attitudes. Now he took what was said there on a re-reading in a whole new light. That document helped, he once told me, explain a little, not all, of what growing up poor had done to him, his family, to us his friends and fellow poor proletarians (his new found word). Naturally Markin being Markin once he got hot on the trail of an idea, maybe anything that interested him, went into overdrive and hunkered down in the Cambridge library and read everything he could by Marx or his co-thinker Friedrich Engels. Classic Markin.            

I have not said much about Fritz yet who after all is the center of this anniversary business. Like I said just after his discharge from the Army Markin went all over attending anti-war rallies and events. One time down in Washington Pete was marching with VVAW in a silent procession through the streets (it may have been the time a whole slew of Vietnam veterans threw their medals back over the fence at the Supreme Court building and if not that then around that time) when after the event was over he introduced himself to Fritz who had been marching beside him. Fritz had been in the Army too, had been a mortar man, 11 C, 11 Charlie I think was the designation meaning he was just as much in the thick of things as Pete. Fritz was from down South, down in Georgia, Fulton County, and had volunteered like a million guys from Georgia had done, and as their grandfathers and fathers had done without thinking a thing about it. Fritz, not nearly as well educated as Pete, but a true son of the working class, the Southern poor working class just as the Acre meant Northern poor working class had something about him that was attractive to Pete. Maybe the shared Army connection, maybe the class part or maybe because Fritz was like the corner boys of his youth a stand-up guy. They became good friends in Washington and a couple of weeks later Pete, back in Cambridge, invited Fritz up to stay at a commune where he had been living with a few post-graduate student radical activist.     

Fritz came up and while it took him a while to figure out how to deal with communal life having been pretty straight before Vietnam once he got a girlfriend (Leslie, whom he would eventually marry and is still married to) he was as inquisitive as Pete about what the hell they could do to stop the fucking wars (that “fucking” Fritz’s who to this day can seldom complete a sentence without that expletive). That Cambridge commune is where I first met Fritz and that girlfriend. Once Pete “got religion” on the Marxist stuff Fritz got carried along. It was an infinitely harder task for Fritz to slog through the readings, has always said that he never did really figure out what dialectical materialism was all about and a few other things too but he got the main drift, got that without a revolutionary overturn of society that same old, same old would rise to the top again. Pete and Fritz had a million conversations before Pete left for his last hurrah in California. (Fritz wouldn’t go because Leslie was still in school and he was even then smitten by her charms to not leave her behind). You know the long lamented Pete Markin’s fate so you know that even the strong ideological of Marxism then could not conquer the demons in his head (what I began calling several years ago when I was having my own demon problems of a different sort “putting out the fire in your head”)


Fritz though despite all the ups and downs of leftwing political life in America and the shattering and in some ways decisive shattering of the old Soviet Union has stayed the course. Had no illusions about that place but also knew that a bad wind had drifted over the planet once that experiment had run its course and created a serious defeat for his beloved international working class. That wind still very much in play some quarter of a century later. Said that old curmudgeon Marx had lots of things right and still had something to say today, maybe especially today when everybody and their sister knows that the scales are tipped against working people almost everywhere. Told me when I showed him the second draft of this piece that although much has been apparently mistaken in the Marxist worldview the idea that if you don’t “turn the world upside down” (a favored Markin expression), change what class is in charge doing the stuff to benefit the whole world then you are stuck with what we have today or the old stuff just rises to the top again. Get this though Fritz who knew Markin only as an adult and with some of the shine worn off and not like us when he would charge into a room and dazzle you with some new idea that just had to work said old Pete Markin in his time had something to say too. Yeah, Fritz, yeah.     

In Honor Of The Anniversary Of The Paris Commune-From The Archives-The Struggle For The Labor Party In The United States- 1930s American Socialist Workers Party Leader Max Shachtman-The Problem of the Labor Party (1935)

The Struggle For The Labor Party In The United States- 1930s American Socialist Workers Party Leader Max Shachtman-The Problem of the Labor Party (1935)

A link to the Max Shachtman Internet Archives online copy of The Problem of the Labor Party


http://www.marxists.org/archive/shachtma/1935/03/labparty.htm


Markin comment on this series:

Obviously, for a Marxist, the question of working class political power is central to the possibilities for the main thrust of his or her politics- the quest for that socialist revolution that initiates the socialist reconstruction of society. But working class politics, no less than any other kinds of political expressions has to take an organization form, a disciplined organizational form in the end, but organization nevertheless. In that sense every Marxist worth his or her salt, from individual labor militants to leagues, tendencies, and whatever other formations are out there these days on the left, struggles to built a revolutionary labor party, a Bolshevik-style party.

Glaringly, in the United States there is no such party, nor even a politically independent reformist labor party, as exists in Great Britain. And no, the Democratic Party, imperialist commander-in-chief Obama's Democratic Party is not a labor party. Although plenty of people believe it is an adequate substitute, including some avowed socialists. But they are just flat-out wrong. This series is thus predicated on providing information about, analysis of, and acting as a spur to a close look at the history of the labor party question in America by those who have actually attempted to create one, or at to propagandize for one.

As usual, I will start this series with the work of the International Communist League/Spartacist League/U.S. as I have been mining their archival materials of late. I am most familiar with the history of their work on this question, although on this question the Socialist Workers Party's efforts run a close second, especially in their revolutionary period. Lastly, and most importantly, I am comfortable starting with the ICL/SL efforts on the labor party question since after having reviewed in this space in previous series their G.I. work and youth work (Campus Spartacist and the Revolutionary Marxist Caucus Newsletter inside SDS) I noted that throughout their history they have consistently called for the creation of such a party in the various social arenas in which they have worked. Other organizational and independent efforts, most notably by the Socialist Workers Party and the American Communist Party will follow.
*****
Markin comment on this article:

Max Shachtman knew how to "speak" Marxism back in the 1930s and believe it. Later he could speak that language only at Sunday picnics and the like as he drifted back into the warm embrace of American imperialism.

On The Sixtieth Anniversary Of Her Death-Lady Day-Billie Holiday- She Took Our Pain Away Despite Her Own Pains- Happy Birthday To You-***When Radio Ruled The Air-Waves- "Stardust:Decca Records:Classics and Standards Collection"

Happy Birthday To You-

By Lester Lannon

I am devoted to a local folk station WUMB which is run out of the campus of U/Mass-Boston over near Boston Harbor. At one time this station was an independent one based in Cambridge but went under when their significant demographic base deserted or just passed on once the remnant of the folk minute really did sink below the horizon.

So much for radio folk history except to say that the DJs on many of the programs go out of their ways to commemorate or celebrate the birthdays of many folk, rock, blues and related genre artists. So many and so often that I have had a hard time keeping up with noting those occurrences in this space which after all is dedicated to such happening along the historical continuum.

To “solve” this problem I have decided to send birthday to that grouping of musicians on an arbitrary basis as I come across their names in other contents or as someone here has written about them and we have them in the archives. This may not be the best way to acknowledge them, but it does do so in a respectful manner.    



Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of the Inkspots performing I’ll Get By.

CD Review

Stardust: The Classic Decca Hits and Standards Collection, various artists, Decca Records, MCA, 1994



I am a first generation child of the television age, although in recent years I have spent more time kicking and screaming about that fact than watching the damn thing. Nevertheless I can appreciate this little compilation of Decca hits and standard tunes from the 1940s and 1950s as a valentine to the radio days of my parents’ youth, parents who came of musical age (and every other kind of age as well) during the Great Depression of the 1930s and who fought, or waited for those out on the front lines fighting, World War II. I am just old enough though, although generation behind them, to remember the strains of songs like the harmonic –heavy Mills Brothers Paper Dolls (a favorite of my mother’s) and The Glow Worm (not a favorite of anybody as far as I know although the harmony is still first-rate) that came wafting, via the local Adamsville radio station WJDA, through our big box living room radio in the early 1950s. It seemed they, or maybe the Andrews Sisters, be-bopping (be-bopping now, not then, you do not want to know what I called it then), on Rum And Coca-Cola or tagging along with Bing Crosby on Don’t Fence Me In were permanent residents of the airs-waves in the Markin household.

I am also a child of Rock 'n' Roll but those above-mentioned tunes were the melodies that my mother and father came of age to and the stuff of their dreams during World War II and its aftermath. The rough and tumble of my parents raising a bunch of kids might have taken the edge off it but the dreams remained. In the end it is this musical backdrop, behind the generation musical fights that roils the Markin household in teen times, that makes this compilation most memorable to me. Just to say names like Dick Haymes (I think my mother had a “crush” on him at some point), Vaughn Monroe, The Inkspots (who, truth, I liked even then, even in my “high, Elvis, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee, Buddy Holly days, especially on If I Didn’t Care and I’ll Get By-wow), and Lois Armstrong. Or songs like Blueberry Hill, You’ll Never Know, A- Tisket- A Tasket, You Always Hurt The One You Love and so gather in a goodly portion of the mid-20th century American Songbook. Other talents like Billie Holiday, The Weavers, and Rosemary Clooney and tunes like Lover Man (and a thousand and one Cole Porter Billie-sung songs), Fever, and As Time Goes By (from Dooley Wilson in Casablanca) came later through very different frames of reference. But the seed, no question, no question now, was planted then.

Let’s be clear as well going back to that first paragraph mention of television - there something very different between the medium of the radio and the medium of the television. The radio allowed for an expansion of the imagination (and of fantasy) that the increasingly harsh realities of what was being portrayed on television did not allow one to get away with. The heart of World War II, and in its immediate aftermath, was time when one needed to be able to dream a little. The realities of the world at that time seemingly only allowed for nightmares. My feeling is that this compilation will touch a lot of sentimental nerves for the World War II generation (that so-called ‘greatest generation’), including my growing-up Irish working class families on the shores of North Adamsville. Nice work.