Freedom Summer 08

Tuition Thoughts

2008-06-14T20:07:00.002-04:00

David James here
June 14, 2008

Some of us had some discussion while on the trip about tuition issues at IU South Bend. I promised a "piece." Here HERE is a link to it, my first try at it. Responses to this blog or djames@tiompanalley.com, if you are interested in building on this discussion.

I did the Underground Railroad program at the Charles Black Center "on the Lake" here in South Bend yesterday. I played a black Buffalo Soldier. In addition to my slogan, "Blacks Come In All Colors" that I used to cover my obvious whiteness, I also described the contributions of blacks who settled, and helped others to settle the West. I played the fiddle, and sang "Rally 'Round the Flag," an old Civil War song, in which the refrain, repeated over and over, is "shouting the battle cry of 'freedom'." So I made it that the last word the children heard--about fifty-odd in groups of ten--and sang, was "freedom." More thoughts on the children, their demeanor and knowledge levels on a later post. For now, keep on keepin' on.

Reflection

2008-05-27T12:39:00.002-04:00

So I'm back home and I've had some time to decompress. I haven't posted anyting the whole trip, maybe it's because I was enjoying the journey and the people, maybe it's because I wasn't sure what to say but I can tell you that there will be other posts after this. I loved this trip and the people that experienced it with me. We learned together, we grew together and I hope that we will stay together. I think that it would be really hard not to after sharing something as powerful as this. I hope that everyone got something out of the trip, whether it was what they wanted or not. I got many things out of it, way more than I expected and I'm glad. I still can't believe I'm home, and I'm prepared to leave at the drop of a hat if someone were to say "the trip has been extended we still have another week." I'd be gone. I miss our home on wheels, the bus that became a roaming apartment building where all the tenants shared the same destination but were on different journeys. Tony, our driver, who learned a lot as well and always had a joke will be missed. I think if I play my cards right we're gonna go back to Greenwood, MS and go on an adventure. Good Times... I need everyone to bring it in one more time. 1..2..3...

The Audio CD

2008-05-27T01:48:00.002-04:00

Tuesday, May 27, 1:30AM
David James here

I have re-mastered the Freedom Summer 08 disc, to get rid of some background noise and make all the cuts equal volume. I also have re-done the liner notes to correct some mistakes and make it prettier. I will also email everyone and let them know to pick them up from Dr. T., where they'll be stashed.

Nashville, TN

2008-05-24T00:22:00.003-04:00

The sun was shining from morning til evening on our last day of the tour in Nashville, TN. We began at Fisk University (founded in 1866) and visited the Fisk Chapel where some of the student demonstrations in the 1960s began. We then went to the site of Rev. Kelly Miller's First Baptist Church, which was demolished to make way for a freeway. Despite the long uphill slope, the whole group make it into downtown where we saw the Walgreen's drugstore where some of the sit-ins took place and the steps of the Davidson County Courthouse where Diane Nash asked Mayor Ben West a question that marked the beginning of the end of the apartheid system in Nashville. On this day with some free time, some of us enjoyed the water features, which cooled us off. Lunch was on our own and then we met Mr. John Siegenthaler at the Civil Rights Room of the Nashville Public Library. He told of his life and his experiences with the Freedom Riders. The evening ended with a quick stop at Vanderbilt University and dinner at the Calypso restaurant. I am grateful to have had such a great group of students and I thank you for making the organizing of this trip worthwhile. I look forward to your journals and any additions to the blog.

PathFinder award for Freedom Summer 08

2008-05-23T21:16:00.002-04:00

I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE THE SOUTH! okay now that I let everyone know where I'm coming from on that one haha. I am not kidding the first thing I am doing when I get back is finding out how to wrangle myself into a Montgomery high school U.S. history classroom. I love it down here and Alabama is so pretty. I want to live there, specifically Montgomery. I had the most fun exploring that city at night despite a cop car at every other block haha. Montgomery was some good times for me. The bus has become like a second home to me. I'm going to miss Tony our bus driver and all his smart cracks and amazing bus driving abilities. But I'm not here to talk about what I'm going to miss. I just wanted to post a blog from Nashville and talk about the beautiful southern towns we have visited and the amazing southern people. There was this one guy at the breakfast in our hotel in Montgomery who was telling us he met a guy who asked him if they were shoes in Alabama. I was dying until I realized he was serious. I was like "Dang, I know people joke about being slow and southern but I didn't think people actually thought southerners are that dumb and uncultivated" For goodness sake this is a region that was its own country for 4 years I'd imagine there would be quite a few intelligent and shoe wearing folk about. Oh well thats why I am going to teach so there will be less ignorant people. I really encourage everyone to come down south and take a tour of something, anything. I guarentee you'll find some history that will intrigue people of all sorts of interests. I'm planning a trip to Montgomery for spring break next year. Anyone wanna come with?

Birmingham, AL

2008-05-22T23:00:00.006-04:00

Today we went to Kelly Ingram Park in Birmingham and toured the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute, an excellent civil rights museum, which also contains the history of race and labor relations in Birmingham. I was especially impressed with the oral history collection which can be accessed by touch screens in the resource room. The art gallery also added another beautiful dimension to the tour.

Another phase of the movement was the Freedom Rides, which came to Birmingham in 1961. After we finished at the museum, Katherine Burke-Brooks met us and talked about her experiences as a Freedom Rider. She shared many details that made her experience vivid to us. She also spoke of her work with Robert F. Williams, a little-known, but very interesting NAACP leader in North Carolina, who championed self-defense. We wished we could have had more time with her.

We also visited the 16th Baptist Church, which was the organizing center for the demonstrations where thousands of children marched out into Kelly Ingam Park. They were met with dogs and fire hoses and the children are memorialized in that park. So are the four little girls who were killing by the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist church. We went to the photography studio and art gallery of Chris McNair, the father of one of those girls, Denise McNair. She will not be forgotten because of the beautiful photographs of her father and the delicious food catered by her sister Kimberly Brock. We at dinner at the studio and then rode on to Nashville, Tennessee. Mr. Tony Vaughn, our bus driver has driven faithfully and skillfully through these twisting, turning southern roads and even up to the hotel high above Birmingham, where we watched an amazing sunset. Thank you Mr. Tony!

Montgomery, Alabama and Albany, Georgia

2008-05-21T23:49:00.005-04:00

After visiting Brick-A-Day, where we photographed the Freedom Summer 2004 brick, we found the modern-day movement alive at the Southern Poverty Law Center. In addition to their moving Civil Rights Memorial sculpure and museum, they are doing important work today, defending Mexican guest workers and so much more. See their website and considering joining them http://www.splcenter.org/index.jsp

I am tired, but I wanted to post of few photos of Montgomery. We met Arlam Carr, Jr., son of Mrs. Johnnie Carr, who passed away this year. We remember her and are grateful her son is carrying on her tradition of meeting with Freedom Summer classes.

We also had reports on the steps of the capitol and on the Freedom Riders. In the evening we crowded into my room and shared the parts of the trip that have made the greatest impact on us.

In Albany, GA today, we heard Rutha Harris and Charles Sherrod. Ms. Harris's singing was as incredible as ever and Mr. Sherrod gave more good insights into organizing and into nonviolence training.

Tonight we have arrived safely in Birmingham, AL, just in time to watch the sunset over the city from the hotel's garden terrace. I am tired, but happy.

-Dr. T

Take Off Your Thirsty Boots and Stay for a While. . .

2008-05-20T01:48:00.007-04:00

Tuesday, 1AM, May 20. David James here.

These photos are described below.

Thirsty Boots, by Eric Andersen, is the song of the day for me. HERE is my version of it, recorded in the motel room here in Montgomery, while the emotion is still fresh in my mind, on the mighty Macintosh. We’ll dedicate this to all my Freedom Summer friends, but especially to Lola, who had a hard day. it really epitomizes my love for those people of yesterday who did what they did for us. Some of them are still alive; this is also for the love of them. Here's the words:

1 You've long been on the open road, you've been sleeping in the rain,
From dirty words and muddy cells your clothes are smeared and stained,
But the dirty words and muddy cells will soon be hid in shame
So only stop to rest yourself ‘til you are off again

Chorus:

So take off your thirsty boots and stay for a while,
Your feet are hot and weary, from a dusty mile,
And maybe I can make you laugh, maybe I can try,
I'm just looking for the evening, and the morning in your eye.

2 So tell me of the ones you saw as far as you could see
Across the plain from field to town a-marching to be free
And of the rusted prison gates that tumbled by degree
Like laughing children, one by one, they look like you and me [ch]

3 I know you are no stranger down the crooked rainbow trails
From dancing cliff-edged shattered sills of slandered, shackled jails
For the voices drift up from below as the walls they're being scaled
Yes, all of this, and more, my friend, your song shall not be failed. [ch]

Yesterday we drove the route of the Selma to Montgomery March, the third try, on March 21, 1965. We stopped by Viola Liuzzo's memorial. I remember her murder from when I was a young boy.

Yesterday (Sunday, May 18) we ended our day’s journey at the 1st Baptist “Brick-a-day” Church on North Ripley Street in Montgomery. Now, I wrote this whole bit, Friday, about how I was already missing Mississippi. Little did I (we) know the reception in store at the Brick-a-day Church. [Now, for them what ain’t in the know, this church was led from 1952-1961 by Ralph David Abernathy. It dates back to 1867. It burned down, and the pastor, Andrew Stokes built it by exhorting his flock to bring one brick each day for the new building, hence the nickname.] So we walk into this place—I’m missing Mississippi, right—and there on either side of the pulpit are movie screens with the I.U. South Bend crest (photo #2), and “welcome.” The church is full of people there for US, and for the next three hors we get a program from Pastor E. Baxter Morris, Dot Posey Jones (hopefully photo #3), an old timer, talking about the movement and all the great figures, including E.D. Nixon (read about HIM)—more about her later—history of the church by Karen Pugh (#3), then a long and captivating address by Montgomery’s “beloved couple,” the Reverend Bob and Jeannie Graetz (photo #4), 80 years of age and still (nonviolently) kicking ass. Oh, but that wasn’t the end children! Mrs. Posey-Jones sat down at the piano, D.K. Frizette (I hope I’ve got his name right, if not someone tell me) shepherds the combined Children’s (photo # 1) (and speakinawhich, those children were mighty well behaved during the service), Youth, and Adult Choirs to the choir balcony in the front of the church, and they proceed to do two numbers. HERE is a link to my RESOURCE PAGE where they are. (Look for 5/18 Keep Hope Alive, and Go Ye Now In Peace). If you can, listen on earphones and/or play them LOUD. I recorded them on a tiny digital machine 4”x 1”. Had I known what was in store, I would have rigged up the whole rutabaga, but this recording will suffice.
I’m telling you, I was struck speechless, thunderstruck, tears coursing, awestricken, dumbstruck, you name it. Only two other times in my crabby-auld-61-year life has that happened in such a setting. The first was when I was in seventh grade, and my eighth grade sister and the St. Thomas Moore elementary school choir sang the first harmony number they had ever worked up , with their beautiful children’s’ voices I thought I was listening to angels sing. The second was in 3rd Baptist Church in South Bend in 1984, during the Jesse Jackson for President campaign when we had a Jesse rally, and this five-man, with four-piece band group did a spiritual set that so rocked the house that women were fainting. Oh, brothers and sisters, I almost got religion that day. But Sunday, May 18 has taken the cake for all time. Listen to the MP3s from the link above. Simple lyric line: in the first, “keep hope alive got to keep hope alive.” In the second, “Go Ye Now in Peace.”

[Now, dad-gummit! I swore when I started out tonight I wasn’t going to write forever and I’m not. I HAVE to get to bed, I was nodding out this afternoon at the Rosa Parks Museum. So I’m going to quit writing, post this thing and figure out how to do the HTML all over again, and go to bed. Nitey-night. Kim and Ethan I love you.]

Beautiful Sunday

2008-05-19T00:09:00.003-04:00

The marchers in 1965 endured Bloody Sunday. Thanks to them and the churches who supported the movement, we experienced a Beautiful Sunday with a church service that some of us attended at Brown Chapel A.M.E., and a program in the afternoon by First Baptist or "Brick a Day" church in Montgomery, AL. I enjoyed singing "Sweet Hour of Prayer" in the morning and listening to the singing of "Keep Hope Alive" and a Peace song sung by the children's choir at Brick a Day. We were astonished and humbled by the warm welcome we received at Brick A Day, where we were honored guests for a special program on Rev. Graetz's 80th birthday. Thank you Rev. James Jackson, Mrs. Dorothy Posey-Jones and Pastor E. Baxter Morris for welcoming us.

Freedom Comin' and It Won't Be Long

2008-05-18T13:13:00.005-04:00

Sunday, May 18
David James here

Here is a link to my Freedom Summer '08 Resource Page, entitled Freedom Summer 08 Miscellany, where I hope to put lots more stuff. But for now, on the page are MP3s of Ain't Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me 'Round, Ain't Scared of Nobody 'Cause I Want My Freedom, Freedom Calypso Chant, and Been Down Into the South.

Also on the site is the sheet music for Been Down Into the South, Freedom, Freedom Rider, I'm Gonna Do What the Spirit Says Do, and Woke Up This Morning With My Mind on Freedom.

This is what I've been doing instead of going to church in Selma this morning. Doing this for my friends is my way of "going to church."
Yesterday we marched the path of the 1965 March 7 "Bloody Sunday" March, from Brown Chapel to over the Edmund Pettus Bridge, where the marchers under the leadership of John Lewis and Hosea Williams got the hell beat out of them by Alabama troopers and "posse." The day started out with the successful acquisition of a digital recorder to replace my mini-disc machine that started skipping while playing back material I had recorded. I'll attend to that when I get back to South Bend, and try to rescue the material off the discs. There was a Radio Shack (Black owned, and she knew her stuff) right by the Pettus Bridge; couldn't be beat. While there I got some blank CDs to surprise everyone today with a recording of the four Freedom Songs that you who are not on this trip can hear on the Resource Page (link above).
The real phenomenon of the day was the Selma tour with civil rights Veteran Joanne Bland. She was eight years old when she went on the first '65 march, and has been "in it" ever since. She it was who started the National Voting Rights Museum on Water Ave. in sight of the bridge.
Thanks Les Lamon and Monica Tetzlaf for connecting us with this astounding person. She took us through the "projects," where she was iving then, virtually unchanged since '65; she talked to us on the steps of the Brown Chapel, conducted us through the Voting Rights Museum, and sent us two-by-two over the Edmund Pettus Bridge, singing all the way over. You know, every time I write on this blasted blog about a person whom we've met, I describe one or another amazing person we have met. This is not starry-eyed idealism, children, I am sixty-one years old and I hope able to spot a winner when I meet one. These people are winners. They won their fights by being the people they are, and doing things the right way. I see no monument to "Bull" Connor or Sheriff Clark, but there's one to Amelia Boynton, whom he beat nearly to death; there's one to John Lewis, and there's one to Hosea Williams. Joanne Bland is a walking monument. You'll be lucky to meet her and hear her talk. try and listen to the audio files that will be at the IUSB Civil Rights Heritage Center. She's "dead on."
There was one particularly interesting project of the Voting Rights Museum that I must comment on. To pariphrase our guide, the place was dedicated to remembering and gathering the histories of the "forgotton people" of the Selma movement--the ordinary people who marched, cooked for and sheltered the marchers, made signs gave medical treatment--were "there" in one way or another. There's a whole wall of messages from some of these people, and I'll try to put up a photograph of a couple of these messages for you maybe this evening. This kind of thing is what I'd love to see happen to the Natatorium project in South Bend.
Five of us got a glimpse of what it was like to be captured and sent into slavery from Africa, down the street from the Voting Rights Museum at the Civil War and Slavery Museum. Along with some older tourists, we were made to hang our heads and blindly obey, as we were herded into a boat for our journey to the south and terrorized by slave masters. These friends were very theatrical and dramatic, and have clearly accomplished a lot with a very low budget. It was a real "experience."
All right, enough for now. We will soon shove off for Montgomery and, I am sure, some more amazing experiences. Lemme try and get a photo or two up, one of us at the Brown Chapel, and maybe one of the messages on the wall of the remembrance in the VRM. If you see them at the top of this post, you'll know I've been successfully
Yours Truly, still in the fight
David James

A day to sleep in but I'm a morning person really

2008-05-18T08:35:00.002-04:00

or I just suffer from insomnia. I really haven't been sleeping well this last month or so and its beginning to take its toll on me. Oh well I'll rest when I am dead as the song goes. Yesterday was a surreal experience for me. We had the pleasure of walking around Selma Alabama with Ms. Joann Bland who was 8 years old when she participated in the march from Selma to Montgomery on Sunday March 7th. Her testimony about what she saw and heard was moving. It gave me a chilling mental picture that I wish wasn't as real as my mind made it. I woke up choking from one nightmare as if the tear gas was actually in my room. I constantly am thinking to myself that what these people experienced and went through all for freedoms that should have been giving willingly and without a fight is absolutely incredible. And to do it in a non-violent way, I am constantly at a war with myself and this world and unfortunate as it is to say to be truthful my anger fuels me most of the time. Anger is a powerful force but I think the movement's choice of love and gentleness and peace is as close to invincible as one comes to outside of the comic books. Walking over the Bridge yesterday I completely let go of my fear of man-made heights which has plagued me since I was little and I just shut my eyes and let the voices of those around me bring me to a time called 1965. My heart skipped a few beats as we made it to the apex of the bridge and I looked down. It was as if the sunlight was playing a trick on me but I swore for a flash I saw the police men and reporters and the cars and the bystanders and in me I felt scared. That was only for a moment though. Once we got down to the bottom Dane gave a bomb oral report on John Lewis right beside the memorial they have there and Dr.T gave us some time to explore the park which they had on the side of the bridge. I loved that part. They had a few paths but I had more fun wandering of into the woods as I always do. I made a way down to the Alabama river and soaked my feet in it for a moment or two before tramping off to see what else I could see. I could of spent all day there once I found a rock laying in the sunlight and which I sat and wrote a few reflections down. Eventually we were forced back on the bus but than we got to go to the Civil War and Slavery museum. That was so cool and I think if more people went they would of enjoyed it just as much. A lot of people on this trip keep talking about America and how we are to proud of a history that is not very flattering and that they really aren't proud of America and just stuff like that. I've studied one of America's most controversial times since I was real young and it never occurred to me not to be proud of my country because of this. I mean no country is perfect just like no person is perfect. I can imagine that the Germans still have some national sense of pride even after WWII and England is certainly proud of England even though its colonial grip left many countries screwed in the end. I do agree that America has become more arrogant which is the ugly sister of pride but I don't believe that is any reason for me to not like this country. Our ancestors have made bad decisions and have done horrible things, let us learn from that and keep from repeating their mistakes and build an America that future generations can be proud about. Well I'm going to go try that sleep thing now or maybe go for a run. Take Care

More Selma Pics

2008-05-18T02:28:00.001-04:00

What would the Movement be without love?

2008-05-17T23:31:00.005-04:00

Many of the veterans in the Civil Rights Movement adopted non-violence as a strategy in the battle for voting rights and desegration. Those who were most affected by the non-violent Movement, such as John Lewis, for example, described non-violence as a way of life, beyond any mere strategy to win the attention of a sympathetic audience. Lewis built the rest of his life around the principles of non-violence; Satyagraha is one of those principles--steadfastness of truth--and redemptive suffering, the idea that we are made pure through pain. Possibly the most affective principle is that of agape love, which Dr. T spoke of a couple of posts ago.

Unconditional love. A love that continues no matter how much a person is hurt by another. The veterans of the Civil Rights Movement who adopted the principles of non-violence as a life style understood that love would be the catalyst for change. Love for our enemies is a great sacrifice in that we must be willing to sacrifice some of our own pride for the sake of unity. Unconditional love seems impractical in this day when too many of us must do what we have to do to "get ours."

While it seems that unconditional love is an impossibility at times, imagine what the non-violent brothers and sisters must have experienced as they faced their enemies and they were beaten repeatedly by the very same people the veterans intended to win over with love. Yet they deliberately and intentionally met their attackers as they knew it was necessary for the nation to see the reality of racism and to turn their attackers into brothers.

This must have taken unbelievable strength. It is impossible in the minds of many of us today to imagine the kind of courage it takes to achieve this kind of love for those who hate us. It is hard enough for many us to love one another. It seems that it only takes one moment of weakness to destroy a friendship. Without the possibility of forgiveness, especially when it is sought by the offending party, then the relationship is superficial. Each person would not willing to be themselves, for fear that the friendship would end in the wake of an exhorting word or angry look or even a difference in opinion. The relationship would exist only on a superficial level and very little or no growth would result between its members.

The movement would have been impossible if the veterans were only willing to hold superficial relationships. The threat of death would easily crumble the fight for justice and reduce the battlecry for freedom to a barely audible whisper. If those who worked in the Movement were not willing to be real in the relationships they had with each other, why in the world would the rest of America care about the ideals they were risking their lives for?

"That's all I have to say about that..."

2008-05-17T22:57:00.004-04:00

Selma, AL

43 years ago, on March 7, marchers began the day preparing to travel by foot to Montgomery, the Capitol, to protest the killing of Jimmy Lee Jackson and to demand voting rights. Sheriff Jim Clark and his posse awaited them at the foot of the Emund Pettus Bridge--on the only route out of Selma. As the marchers, led by John Lewis and Hosea Williams, crested the bridge, the first image they saw was that of State Troopers, many on horseback, who formed a wide crescent at the foot of the bridge. The horror that the marchers felt at the moment of attack by the troopers is unimaginable. Even as Ms. Joanne Bland described her experience as a 12 year old, we could feel the pain and the fear she experienced. No one can take that away from her, it is hers forever, and she must deal with it every day as Selma is her home where the Edmund Pettus Bridge looms over the center of this small town.

The Freedom Summer 08 class marched over this bride as part of her tour. The tension and emotion universally affected the students as they reached they themselves crested the Bridge and peared over to the foot of the Bridge where Clark's posse met the original marchers. This experience is one I am sure they will never forget as I have not been able to myself.

Selma

2008-05-17T22:15:00.005-04:00

Joanne Bland and the women of Selma are on my mind today. We had a wonderful tour from Ms. Bland, who had a story at every corner during our walking tour. Kris is featured in two photos. One is a serious photo at the marker for Rev. James Reeb, a Unitarian minister who was killed while supporting the movement. I send this out to our friend Dale Gibson, also a Unitarian, who spoke to us about the South Bend movement before we left. We remembered him and also Jimmy Lee Jackson, who was killed at a voting rights march in Marion, Alabama, which we passed on the way to Selma yesterday. The other photo of Kris shows him hamming it up in the Towns family restaurant with great graffiti style art on the wall.

We visited the Voting Rights Museum and walked over the Edmund Pettus bridge, hand in hand. Ms. Bland, who walked over the bridge on Bloody Sunday in 1965, chose Dane to be John Lewis and Shenaa to be Hosea Williams. We often hear about them, but not so often the women of the movement. Today we were privileged to hear from Ms. Bland, who told us of her grandmother who took her to civil rights meetings in the 1960s. I'm also remembering Amelia Boynton, a voting rights activist who was active with her husband, Samuel Boynton in the 1930s right through the 1960s and beyond. There is a room in the Voting Rights Museum set aside for the women, black and white, who fought for their voting rights. Cassandra posed for a beautiful photo there. Another woman of Freedom Summer 2008, Liz stood next to the window in the museum that looks out onto the Edmund Pettus bridge.

Couple More...

2008-05-17T02:48:00.005-04:00

Faith in the Photos

2008-05-17T02:17:00.002-04:00

Here are some pictures...finally

2008-05-17T01:19:00.003-04:00

Memphis is now a cherished memory for us, this picture is fun as it features the people I am growing to love and respect deeply.

Today, in Jackson, we visited the office of NAACP
Field Secretary and martyr, Medgar Evers. Just
a poignant reminder that 45 years ago today,
Medgar Evers went to work, not knowing that
he had a mere 27 days left to live on this earth.

There is so much fun in this group but the most enjoyment I
get (and will never forget) is the joy on their faces as they are
affected by courageous veterans such as Hollis Watkins.

Been Down into the South

2008-05-16T23:40:00.005-04:00

Friday, May 16, 08
David James here

Photograph by Sara Jane Lowe, of the crowd of us singing in Hollis Watkins's office. See below to listen to the song.

When I was growing up, and in the '60s, or on through my activist life, I'm not sure I would ever have said I miss Mississippi. The place held for me the image of too much fear, too much baggage of murder, racism, and you-name-it all around hell for progressive Blacks and whites. This evening, in Selma, Alabama, I can honestly say I ALREADY MISS MISSISSIPPI!

It has wormed its way into my heart. I love the people we met. I love the friends we made. I'd love to go back again. Today, former Governor William Winter said it was a new day in Mississippi, and he was proud of the race relations, proud of how much the political system in Mississippi has opened up and become more reflective of the racial and class population demographics. Of course the state is still dreadfully poor, but at least you've a start when people of the quality of those we have met are holding office and planning for the state's future.

This morning we covered a march route followed by Jackson State University students and others after the June ’63 murder of Medgar Evers. We spent some time at the Masonic Temple/NAACP office just beyond the university, where Medgar worked and where his funeral was held, then marched—or more properly put for our group—strode, strung-straggled toward the State Capitol, passing by the very important COFO—Council of Federated Organizations—office on Lynch Street.

We drove—or rather Tony drove and we rode—to the Southern Echo office, where two—at least—very skilled activists from the SNCC/CORE days are still at work doing leadership training for indigenous activists, and other great work in Mississippi. Their home page is: http://www.southernecho.org/
check 'em out.

Hero #1: Jimmy Travis: Has transformed his activities from the civil rights movement to the human rights movement and HIV-AIDS education.

Hero #2: Hollis Watkins – Says, communicate with people, if it’s about sharing it’s about life experience – cause a positive experience to make the person you’re communicating with take one step beyond where they are to make the world a better place. In order to do that we have to share our life experiences.

In answer to Dane’s “most important issue question” [Dane has been asking everyone we have interviewed what he or she thought were the most important issues in which the young people of today should be involved] – Watkins answer was the issue they [the activists of today] define for themselves. Determine what you (they) want to start with – find someone else who’s interested and move the process. See how it has the interconnections with the other important issues.

Jimmy Travis’s answer – come back to Mississippi in march to the conference, last one was Mar. 27-29, 2008 – they will have the DVDs of presentations and workshops of this last one available through Hollis Watkins and Southern Echo.

Then the fun began in earnest. Mr. Watkins feels the singing is very important to the movement, so we sang, as an opener, Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me ‘Round. He came back with the SNCC adaptation of Harry Belafonte’s Banana Boat Song, Freedom Coming and It Won’t Be Long. Then he taught us one I have not heard before, Been Down Into the South. I had the good fortune of recording it (and having no glitches) so HERE it is if you are interested, right from the conference room of Southern Echo! Hollis Watkins, Jimmy Travis and the Freedom Summer 08 Singing Chorus (that is, all of us). That's what we're doing in the

We left the Southern Echo office and drove to Schimmel’s Restaurant in Jackson where we had a wonderful lunch (best coffee—besides mine—that I’ve had in a long time) and an encounter with former Governor of Mississippi, William Winter.

The Measure of our Days: Writings of William F. Winter. Ed. by Andrew P. Mullins, Jr.

The Governor lists among his most important accomplishments that he worked for a strong bi-racial coalition from '65 forward until '79 when he gained the governorship. He is proudest of his work for education – he established full day kindergarten in Mississippi. “Break the cycle of cultural deprivation . . . get the children prepared intellectually and physically . . . to absorb the knowledge. We have to attract more of our best and brightest to the classroom and give them support in the classroom to transform the social background of the children.”

The Governor described his political career in the Mississippi legislature as a “moderate” who managed to avoid being run out of the state during the civil rights era, and later during his tenure as governor founded an institute for racial reconciliation. The bus has been buzzing with controversy since, over whether he should be judged for not speaking out unequivocally during that time. But he maintained that he swallowed a lot in order to retain his political career and eventually become able to do what he wanted, what he thought was right. He described a process whereby the virulent racists would box he and other moderates in a corner where they were forced to support segregationist programs or expose themselves, and be run out of office.

He said, of those who fled the cities and established private schools, “People remove themselves from the opportunity to associate with people who are different from them.” Nicely put. “If Obama can be elected it will change the whole paradigm of race relations in the United States.”

"Well, have you been to the jail?"

2008-05-16T23:34:00.006-04:00

Well, have you been to the jail?

Certainly, Lord,

Certainly, certainly, certainly, Lord!

These are the words to a Freedom Song and we have now seen several jail cells on this trip. Mohatma Gandhi's strategy was to fill the jail cells of India with those who had committed civil disobedience to show their dissatisfaction with the colonial system. The civil rights movement sought to fill the jails too, with those who violated segregation laws and orders not to peacefully assemble, etc. Every civil rights movement leader is proud of his or her time in jail during the movement. As Hollis Watkins said today, he was "blessed with the opportunity to go to jail" during the time of the sit-ins in Jackson, Mississippi. We have seen a jail and a prison on this trip and replicas of jail cells in civil rights museums. We were also invited by an African American sheriff to tour the Indianola police station and the white deputy took our picture. Dane playfully took my mug shot inside the station. A lot has changed in Mississippi. I was not blessed with the opportunity to go to jail for obeying a higher law as Martin Luther King did in Birmingham and as Hollis Watkins did in Jackson. But I was blessed with being able to meet Hollis Watkins, now for the third time, and to bring a wonderful group of IU South Bend students to him. Been down into the South? Certainly, certainly, certainly, Lord.

Real Love

2008-05-16T23:11:00.004-04:00

You give me love, love, love, crazy love. What is love? Diane Nash, former SNCC organizer and civil rights goddess, gave us the word Agape when she described the soul force that powered the Civil Rights movement. I feel that greater love, that love of God that is also love of neighbor (and self) in the Civil Rights Movement veterans we meet. They are powerful. They overcame fear because of anger at injustice, but also for a greater love, and they invite us, by their example, to do the same. Charles McLaurin, Margaret Kibbee, Margaret Block, David Jordan, L.C. Dorsey, Charles Evers, Hollis Watkins, and Jimmy Travis. Thank you. I especially felt this spiritual power today with Hollis Watkins. He overcame fear at Parchman prison and he works today, so many years later, to carry on the legacy of the civil rights movement to us and to young people throughout the South, teaching them the organizing tools to tackle the issues in their communities, issues like lack of investment in education and environmental racism and classism. William Winter is not a Civil Rights Movement veteran, but his Institute for Racial Reconciliation is part of the work of love too, 'cause we can't move on without truth and reconconciliation, otherwise known as forgiveness. His holding up of his grandchildren's integrated public school classroom in present-day Oxford, Mississippi, with quality public education, participated in by all classes and races, is part of Medgar's dream, of King's dream. Keep the faith, brothers and sisters. There is a greater Love.

-Dr. T

Ticking away...SPOONING!

2008-05-16T23:10:00.004-04:00

I'm sitting in my hotel room right now in Selma just relaxing. The last two days have been go go go and anytime for rest has been spent exploring. Yesterday we met David Jordan who is a Senator in the state of Mississippi and the Mayor of Greenwood. I wish we could of explored downtown some but we had to head off to Jackson for an appointment with Charles Evers and to go tour the Medgar Evers house. It was soo sad as we were walking down the street we saw a bunch of dogs playing in an what looked to be an abandoned house and one had a broken leg so Dane used my phone to get in touch with animal control and when they got there they told us that the mama dog had had her leg broken for seven years and they call her hop-a-long. Its like WTHeck why can't someone take care of her! I hate animal abuse. Hmmm I guess I should get back to Freedom Summer stuff. Meeting Mr. Evers was a very interesting guy and I thought it was cool he let us say stuff on the air. We were almost late to our dinner place but it turned out okay because our speaker was late too. Once we checked into the hotel for the evening and I unsuccessfully tried to find Grey's, Justine, Calvin and I decided to go to downtown Jackson. Yea its a bit more of a walk than the map lead me to believe. Once we made it back I passed out and woke up in time for us to head out and do a march to the NAACP offices. For once my quirky habit of always having a map came in handy when we started going the wrong direction but we got turned around and made it on time. Afterwards a group of us marched/ran to the old state capitol to complete the original marchers path. That was fun than we went and got to meet/sing with Jimmy Travis and Hollis Watkins. For lunch we had the honor of dining with former Governor Willie Winter who was really fun to talk with. I really wish I could become a politician but too many obstacles for me to overcome. Well I'm really exhausted and need some spoooning so Night!

Katie and Cassandra (aka spoon) here...

2008-05-16T21:47:00.001-04:00

We are sitting here waiting here in Selma Mississippi, we are just reflecting on our day, getting ready to get some food. We have been talking about our meeting with the former Governor of MS, while we were in Jackson. He had some inspiring things to say about his racial reconciliation work and civil rights movement teaching. So ya, we are planning a massive spooning party on campus as soon as we get back just to give everyone a heads up!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PEACE....lol......spoon and katie......

Everybody's Got Pictures...

2008-05-16T02:29:00.002-04:00

but not me.... For the second time in two years, I have the privilege to talk to my heroes. Real people telling real stories of organizing scared people living in the South to vote. These organizers never left anyone behind; once Charles McLaurin walked into a town for the first time to begin organizing the people there, he was determined to work until the work was done and Medgar Evers' dream was realized. Today his work continues but in a different form. His time is spent talking to students, sharing his life and laying it all down for us to pick up and organize in our communities, working for the change needed today.

The work for the Civil Rights veterans always included, every day--every waking moment, the fear of death. In Mississippi, examples of raw courage are embodied in known figures such as Medgar Evers but also in those organizers and civil rights workers who do not have a street named after them but are every bit the heroes as the martyr from Jackson. We consider the motivation for the actions of those workers, even white students who journeyed away from the comfort of their homes to the gritty South to register voters. We on this trip wonder why the volunteers would continue to work even after the disappearance of the three workers as Freedom Summer 1964. How could one do the work of the Civil Rights Movement when, on any given day, any given worker could be targeted for a savage example of Southern white hatred?

The only possible answer I can provide is that the veterans, the tireless workers of the Movement possessed the DREAM. They did the work to achieve Medgar's Dream. They were active in pursuing voters to gain political and, ultimately, economic power in Missississppi. The testimony of their actions in the face of very tangible fear demonstrate their understanding that they are just the worker, a body, a resource. Southern Hate can kill the body but IT CANNOT KILL THE DREAM.

They dream is still not dead. There is a new Movement in the air...

Photos from Wednesday May 14, 08

2008-05-16T00:17:00.004-04:00

David James here with some photos:

This is the grave site of Fannie Lou Hamer, one of my civil rights heroes, and her husband Perry "Pap" Hamer in Ruleville. That jail was tiny. It was a holding cell in Drew, MS where Charles McLaurin and 13 others (!) were stashed overnight by the Sunflower County cops. We figured it to be about 15 feet by maybe 25 feet, but it was divided into three cells. The group photo, also from Ruleville, is of us at the Sunflower County Freedom Project in Ruleville, with high schoo student program members. It's to better prepare them for college. More in yesterday's post.

Couple Shots

2008-05-15T23:37:00.005-04:00

"I went down to the Crossroads"

2008-05-15T03:02:00.006-04:00

David James here
Wednesday, May 14, Day 4

That's me at "The Crossroads," the subject of the Robert Johnson song, in which he allegedly went to the intersection (now numbered) of US Hwy 49 and MS HWY 161 and sold his soul to the devil in return for blues prowess. He did get blues prowess in his short (26 year old) life. You can see me calling, but I don't think he answered.

Margaret Block and Charles McLaurin spent the whole day with us. To have them for the whole day was most fortunate; we had them for eleven power-house hours of knowledge, stories, songs, poems, inspirational conversation and fun. We started in Indianola with “Mac,” leaving our motel for downtown, and an imposing courthouse where Fannie Lou Hamer first tried to register to vote. McLaurin knew everybody in town, and the theme of his presentation was the words of Medgar Evers, who predicted that with enough of the right work the public officials could not just be fought, but be replaced with the people’s choices—the people this time around being the whole body politic. And there they were, Black police chief and Black woman assistant chief, black mayor and alder persons, the same situation repeated in many Black-majority political entities in the Delta. He listed, I think, six Black women mayors of Delta towns. Indianola, for the uninitiated, is also home to B. B. King, who has a club there—in addition to his place in Memphis—and there is the beginning of a B. B King museum. His face is all over town.
We visited Amzie Moore’s home in Cleveland, a place described by both as the first place everyone went when they came into the Delta. He was, in Charles McLaurin’s words, “the Czar.” He knew everyone, he was everywhere from the ‘50s, when he was president of the local branch of the NAACP, to the ‘60’s, when he often housed as many as 12 SNCC organizers in his very small, one-storey house. When Bob Moses came to the Delta, Amzie took him in and the waves of SNCC workers who followed. Moore died in 1982. Charles McLaurin was proud of the new historical marker in front of the house, and the effort to have it declared a landmark, restored and renewed.
We visited the site of the drugstore of the “Czar” of Clarksdale (a large town), Aaron Henry, known as the “Grand Old Man” of civil rights. Henry it was who ran for governor of Mississippi in the 1963 “Freedom Vote” mock election, and was active in the reform of the Democratic Party. While in Clarksdale we visited “Ground Zero,” the home of the Blues Museum, and Tony the Driver stopped so I could get a picture of “The Crossroads” where Robert Johnson allegedly sold his soul to the devil for the blues prowess.

We visited Mound Bayou, and an old cemetery filled with the graves of former slaves. Drew, where a friendly town worker opened the door of the tiny jail, about the size of my motel room where McLaurin and 14 others were incarcerated for a night by Sunflower (!) county cops. We were through Marks, Tutwiler, Sumner, Webb, Parchman, home of the famous Parchman Farm, now Mississippi State Penitentiary. We stopped at Dockery’s Plantation, on the very muddy Sunflower River outside Cleveland before Ruleville, where Charlie Patton and many others including Robert Johnson, “Pop” Staples, Howling Wolf and others worked from time to time.
Of course I took many photographs at each location. These will be posted in one form or another soon.
The most important stop for me was in Ruleville, at the burial site and memorial to Fannie Lou Hamer and her husband Perry “Pap” Hamer. She was one of the greatest of the Movement singing and speaking voices in addition to leading a life of total dedication to others and to the Movement’s goals. It was hard to hold back emotions there. I led us in “We’ve Been ‘Buked.”

We've been 'buked and we've been scorned,
We've been talked about sure's you're born
But we'll never turn back
No, we'll never turn back

We have walked through the shadows of death
We had to walk all by ourselves
But we'll never turn back
No, we'll never turn back

We have served our time in jail
With no money for to go our bail
But we'll never turn back
No, we'll never turn back

We have hung our heads and cried
Cried for those like Lee who died
Died for you, and died for me
Died for the cause of equality
But we'll never turn back
No, we'll never turn back
Until we've all been freed
and we have equality
No, we’ll never turn back.
by Bertha Gober

This the freedom song that has my vote far and away for the “most moving.” This song is like “We Shall Overcome” in its ability to embody the goals and sorrows of the civil rights movement. Sometimes, I’m the luckiest person on earth, to be singing that song in the company of Margaret Block and Charles McLaurin, not to mention the entire Freedom Summer 08 class.
All along the route it was stories, stories, stories. I have many of them recorded. Margaret led us in many songs and recited about half a dozen of her poems on the themes of freedom politics and the hypocrisies of life. Charles McLaurin’s stories were tragically comic, but illustrated the troubles that the civil rights workers landed in, their courage, their defiance of the White Citizen’s Council’s terrorisms, their determination to see a new day in Mississippi. I’ll not forget his many imitations of “Mr. Charlie,” the personification of the white racist to whom even a Black person holding a pencil was a mortal threat to the “Southern Way of Life.” Ferchrissake!
Finally, passed Ruleville we visited the Sunflower County Freedom Project, spending an inspirational evening among high school students of the program who put on a play that involved us, and fed us some great grub.
What a day! Photos and sound bites at the earliest opportunity.

Delta Blues

2008-05-14T23:44:00.003-04:00

The Blues singers like Robert Johnson, B.B. King and Bessie Smith, capture for me the ragged energy, injustice, triumph, and not quite triumph of life in the Delta. I loved going by the places that the Blues legends were from and seeing the historic markers. It's just as important as seeing those Civil Rights historic markers. Both are important. We stopped at the Ground Zero Blues Club in Clarksdale and I added my love note, written with a Sharpie, to my husband, Brad Laird, and I added our weddng date, my little tribute at Ground Zero.

Monica T.

Tour of the Delta

2008-05-14T23:18:00.006-04:00

Wow, it was an intense and amazing day in the Delta. Charles McLaurin, "a legend" of the Civil Rights Movement as one of the people we met in Indianola said, took us lucky campers to movement sites and shared his recollections. Margaret Block, a courageous movement participant, and a currently rockin' poet and activist, also moved and shook us. She read her poetry out loud and wow, could she sing. The combination of Block and James (David James) was electric. They were trying to outdo each other in coming up with Movement songs the other had not heard. We were the beneficiaries as they led us in song after song and also as they both gave their tributes to Fannie Lou Hamer at her gravesite. There are no words for how she has influenced us all, including Charles McLaurin, who continues her movement organizing legacy to this day by bringing Movement history to us and to the Sunflower County Freedom Project (SCFP)students.

We were hosted beautifully by those student and by Greg McCoy, the SCFP leader. The high school students showed us around the project in rural Sunflower County, and performed a play about Fannie Lou Hamer. Our own Julaine James outdid herself playing Fannie Lou Hamer. I was proud of her and of all the Freedom Summer students, who have been asking interesting and thoughtful questions of our speakers and who have participated 100% in everything we have done. Each one participates in his or her own way, but the combination is our beloved community. This is one of the most intense days of the trip, so take care of yourself everybody, be kind to yourself and to your fellow Freedom Summer students and leader.

Peace out,

Dr. T

12 and a half hours on the road and Im still energized!

2008-05-14T22:50:00.002-04:00

well...okay so I'm not. I was suppose to go out to Club Ebony tonight but we have an 8 am bus call and I was up late defending myself from my roomie and her co-hort Calvin. We had fun though. We went around Indianola with Mac and he seemed to know everyone! It was fun. I got a few good photos and a video of David James playing his harmonica. That man is an amazing musician and needs to stop being so modest. Tonight at dinner with the Sunflower County Freedom Project kids we got him play some freedom songs. We were also treated to a special guest, Ms Margaret Block, who was also involved in the movement in the Delta with Fannie Lou Hamer and Mac. She treated us to some really great Freedom Songs and some of her fine poetry. She even invited us into her home which was beautiful. She has a very fine library. I really enjoyed meeting Senator Simmons and eating at his restaurant. That was some good food! I don't like stuffing but their stuff was so amazing I'm sure I ate 5 lbs atleast haha. Well I'm going to go pack now. Take Care

Meeting McLaurin in Indianola

2008-05-13T23:46:00.003-04:00

Mr. Charles McLaurin did not disappoint. With his Freedom Summer friend, Margarete Kibbee, he told us stories of his life in the Delta, especially organizing with SNCC and how to continue to organize for change in our communities today. We look forward to another great day in the Delta.

Mason Temple

2008-05-13T23:34:00.004-04:00

It was great to see Mother Cooper at Mason Temple, the Church of God in Christ (COGIC) headquarters, where Dr. King gave his Mountaintop Speech. Here are photos of our experience there.

Midnight swim in Indianola

2008-05-13T23:20:00.002-04:00

So I finally have internet in Indianola! Yea Indianola. We just got done taking a swim after hearing Charles "Mac" McLaurin speak to us with Margaret Kibby who was a volunteer from San Fransisco who came to Sunflower county in 1965. I got some great shots of Calvin tossing Sara into the pool. Good times. We had an amazing discussion before they arrived. Its only the 3rd day and I already know I'm going to miss everyone. I'm so mad I brought the wrong cord cause I wanted to upload some photos. We are making plans to go exploring Indianola tomorrow. More later

Woke Up This Morning, Looked Around for my Shoes. . .

2008-05-13T23:08:00.005-04:00

Sunday May 11

David James here - This is out of sequence: the wireless connection was so bad I didn't get to post it.

Today's ride:

Tony Ware gave a presentation on King and the garbage workers’ strike in Memphis, we watched coverage of that and MLK’s death on a portion of Eyes on the Prize. Other of these photographs: Cairo is the absolute tip of Illinois and an old river boat town. At the intersections of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers it was a huge "rafter's" town and "wide open." Think: Mike Fink.

My blues set in the bus, southern Illinois (seriously windy, so the bus—very large—was rocking to its own beat)

By way of explanation, Dr. Tetzlaf asked me to do a little presentation on Delta blues. She suggested--oh, that's where trouble begins--I pull the guitar from the luggage compartment—we certainly have enough room on this bus to stash it—and do a live set. I’ve become emboldened on the "bottleneck" style since the World Music Company (Chicago, April 5th) staff concert. We were all asked to do Beatles’ songs, and I pulled out the auld Airline Special from under the bed and did “Come Together” on slide.
For the uninitiated, "slide" guitar means a number of different things.

1. "Bottleneck" slide, where you tune the guitar to a chord, called "open" tuning, meaning when you strum the guitar without putting any fingers on you get, say, DGDGBD instead of EADGBE, the "regular" tuning for guitar. You put the bottleneck (more about that later) on your third or fourth finger, and that's pretty much all you do: slide that bottleneck up and down the guitar neck to make the music; OR,
2. [Oh, now, here I go getting long posts again!Damn! Will I ever shut up!] Some people put a smaller slide on their pinkie, and fret the guitar as usual but occasionally slide that slide to get "that" sound.
3. Hawaiian "slack key" guitar - this kind of guitar has the strings set high enough above the fingerboard so that you couldn't fret them in the ordinary manner. As a result, this sounds more like a pedal steel--the guitar sound of Country Music--than regular guitar styles. Songs like "Aloha Oe" come to mind, if you've ever heard them. They call it "slack key" because you take the guitar in the regular tuning and "slack off" the tuners down from, say, E to D.

Ask me for more if you want it. That's ENOUGH for now. This ain't about music, it's about Civil Rights!
So it was slide day for me – glass bottleneck segment:

Blues set:
1 John Hurt’s “If I Had My Way” (slide) this was made famous by Mississippi John Hurt at Newport Folk Festivals in the early 60s, and if you think Peter, Paul, and Mary’s cover of it was stirring (including the Mary Travers head shake) listen to John Hurt’s version.
2 Muddy’s ”I’m a Man” (slide) Robert Johnson was wonderful, but Muddy has always been “my man.” All of the aspects of blues sentiment, from “I ain’t got no money or no job,” “my baby done gone,” to “I’m the rooster in the barnyard,” and “she’s long and tall and weeps like a willow tree” are putty in his hands.
3 “Little Red Rooster” and some "Ice Cream Freezer” (slide) 61-year-old white guy with three stents in his heart singing “Little Red Rooster.” O.K. . . but it sure is fun.
4 Muddy’s “Mean Ole Walking Blues” (slide)

I woke up this morning (actually I never got to bed last night)
Looked around for my shoes (I had to decide among three pairs; for the first time in my life I own three decent-looking pairs of shoes)
People you know by that I got them mean ole walking blues (I am ready to walk, ain’t nothing mean about this walking, I am walking in the footsteps of GIANTS.)

5 “Ain’t Gonna Throw This Away” (standard tuning) Written by Howard “Louie Bluie” Armstrong—Google him if you want to encounter an amazing character. He had a third-grade education in east Tennessee as a Black child in the Depression, yet he could speak, read, and write maybe seven languages, play any damn instrument better than me, and court a woman in her forties with a Ph.D. at the age of 85.

Kris Robinson gave a report on Cesar Chavez and the grape boycott. Chavez was inspired by MLK and Gandhi’s stands on nonviolence.
Kris's current favorite music cut:
Blackellicious’s “Make You Feel That Way.” Kris said: "Appreciate the small things we get in life – the bad times make you appreciate the good times."

I-57 south trough Cairo IL goes across the Mississippi River into Missouri, then the eastern corner of Arkansas, then we turn left and go over the Mississippi again and we’re in Memphis. So in one day we were in Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Arkansas and Tennessee. Not bad for a delightful ride. Tony is the driver’s name. He knoweth what he doeth.

In anticipation of tonight some song words from an old W.C. Handy song:

If Beale Street could talk, if Beale Street could talk,
Married men would have to take their beds and walk,
Except one or two who never drink booze,
And the blind man on the corner singing "Beale Street Blues!"
I'd rather be there than any place I know...

- W.C. Handy/Beale Street Blues

[Later]
You gotta be amazed when you look at the photographs and read about the Memphis garbage workers’ strike. The absurdity of white National Guardsmen with bayonets thrust out, armored personnel carriers line up on the other side of the line of march, all for poor Black garbage collectors, poor worn men with I Am a Man signs; it would make me laugh if it didn’t make me sick first. The meanest and most un-academic phallic comparisons leap to my mind. I will NOT express them here in print, but the photographs call to mind a RAPE SCENE.

Pictures of Memphis

2008-05-13T19:30:00.006-04:00

Dear Freedom Summer Class and Supporters,
we have internet access in Indianola, Mississippi, believe it or not, and I can try to post a photo. We had a very good visit in Memphis and the photowill testify to that. I'll leave it to the students to post their observations.
Love ya,
Dr. T

Anybody Here Seen My Old Friend Martin. . .

2008-05-13T02:44:00.003-04:00

David James here -
May 12, 2008 - Day 2 [Caution: contains the “n” word)

Comments on Beale Street:
“I definitely left my soul on Beale Street.” (Monday morning)
“B.B. King’s had the best band.” (Monday morning)
They also had a mighty good acoustic blues-man Monday night.
The record store next door had a phenomenal blues collection for sale.

That was the morning. At 3:15 PM this afternoon I emerged almost speechless from the National Civil Rights Museum here in Memphis. If I was appalled before I went in at what Americans did to Black people (and, I’m sure, many other races—the Japanese-Americans during WWII the Latinos, the Irish after the Famine—white people in America have been equal-opportunity racists for so long!) I am even more appalled now; at the ferocity of violence and hate that was hurled against sweet but determined friends during the sit-in movements, in Birmingham, at the Pettis Bridge. Though I did not know many of them, they were and are my friends, the people who went to the wall for Justice, and I hope to continue to be inspired and goaded by their example. They went to the wall; they were pinned to the wall by dogs, smashed into the wall by fire hoses, pushed and beaten into the wall by fists and clubs, hung from the wall by nooses. Proclamations were fastened to the wall declaring them non-persons, somehow ¿without souls or something? ¿what do they have, does Lysa have less of a brain, does Tony have less of a heart, LaRonda different mental processes, less love, compassion, Kris less determination; is Maurice 3/5 of a man? HOW could anyone EVER believe such unmitigated rubbish? And they pushe and pushed until the wall fell down. This afternoon I wish that there was a hell, so all those who profited from this atrocity could cook in it ‘til they understood what hurt they caused. I sympathize even more with Bob Moses, who according to reports walked away speechless and never wanted to talk to a white person again. The white people beating and abusing the Nashville sit-in people were chanting on the film strip “Eeny-meany-miney-mo, catch a nigger by the toe,” while all the time pounding the #$@! out of them. So I walked away; I won’t forget that for a while, you can be sure.
John Lewis was right when he said they ought to be looked at with compassion; that they were really the lesser human beings even thought they have the guns, the laws and the power. J. Todd Moye, in Let the People Decide: Black Freedom and White Resistance Movements in Sunflower County, Mississippi, 1945-1986 (Chapel Hill: U. of N.C. Press, 2004) suggests that whites in Mississippi prepared for confrontations with the response of massive resistance, economic, political, and physical. From the archive films of the sit-ins, the whites seemed to be beside themselves with rage. How could they have been brought to feel that way?
I remember a song from the musical, South Pacific:

You've got to be taught
To hate and fear,
You've got to be taught
From year to year,
It's got to be drummed
In your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught.

You've got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made,
And people whose skin is a diff'rent shade,
You've got to be carefully taught.

You've got to be taught before it's too late,
Before you are six or seven or eight,
To hate all the people your relatives hate,
You've got to be carefully taught!

A few snippets:

“’Sure, we’ll give you your rights, but not now.’” “It would never have occurred to me in my lifetime that I would have to buy water. . . It was my generation that messed up the environment. . . and it was strictly greed.” “I had a civil rights meeting with the people in the back of the bus. . . I said, ‘The steering wheel is in the FRONT. . .’ They had lost their dream.” “You can’t kill the dream; the dream is still alive.” “If you make a saint out of him, it excuses US” [from taking action]. Rev. Kyle at the NCRM*, 5/12.

Thomas the trolley driver in downtown Memphis told us of the street where his line started: Auction Street, where there was a stone, with an historical marker, where slaves were auctioned [en]during slavery.

Three quotes from the past; they were no dummies:

From an exhibit, NCRM: “Right is of no sex, truth is of no color, one is the father of us all and all we are brethren.” Frederick Douglas, in The North Star.

From an exhibit, NCRM: “The Honorable Robert B. Elliott, 1842-1884, South Carolina, delivered a famous speech in the U.S. House of Representatives on behalf of the pending civil rights bill of 1875, during which he said. ‘What you give to one class you must give to all, and what you deny to one class you shall deny to all.’”

Here’s one that might be tough for you to swallow, although I understand it well. From an exhibit, NCRM: “I don’t know if I can get across to you the thing that came over me whenever I went to a meeting of the Communist Party. All my life I have been sweated and stepped on and Jim Crowed. I lay on by belly in the mines for a few dollars a week and saw my pay stolen and slashed and my buddies killed. I lived in the worst section of town and rode behind the “colored” signs on the streetcars, as though there was something disgusting about me. I heard myself called ‘nigger,’ and ‘darky,’ and I had to say ‘Yes, sir’ to every white man, whether he had my respect or not. . . I had never known that anything could be done about it. . . And here I had found organizations in which Negroes and whites sat together, and worked together, and knew no difference of race or color. Here were organizations that weren’t scared to come out for equality for the Negro people and for the rights of workers. . . It was like all of a sudden turning a corner on a dirty old street and finding yourself facing a broad. Shining highway.” Angelo Herndon (May 6, 1913-1997, B. Wyoming, Ohio.
“Angelo Herndon was an African American communist organizer arrested and convicted for insurrection in 1932 in Atlanta, Georgia. Sentenced to 18-20 years in prison, he was released after serving 2 years, and 6,000 people greeted his return in 1934 at New York’s Penn Station.” [from his Wikipedia entry]

*NCRM = National Civil Rights Museum, Memphis, TN. I've tried to upload some photos but the wireless connection here is very poor. I'll try again tomorrow.

One Day In

2008-05-11T19:36:00.001-04:00

Memphis!

Regis Here! No Wolf Biscuits Allowed!

2008-05-10T10:00:00.002-04:00

Hey this is Lysa and Sara and it's the day before we leave. Needless to say, we are a bit excited. Go Regis! One of us has packed, the other one hasn't even started. Great! Guess who? Laundry soap anyone? We are alumni of this trip and we are excited to go again. Beale Street here we COME!!! Just kidding. No seriously...

WE LOVE YOU REGIS!! OMG!!! @#%!*

Well we just wanted to drop by and say a few words. There you have it.

-Until we meet again in our dreams on the bus ride to Memphis minus Tom Taylor -:-(

Adios,
Lysa and Sara

PS Crack kills! Save a life!

Excited!!!

2008-05-09T17:56:00.003-04:00

I am freaking out with excitement guys...I am excited to learn so much and to get to know everyone on this trip. I totally started packing and I hope I do not forget anything... I am not bringing a hair dryer, so I hope someone else is that I can steal it if i need it ...hahahaha....and I hope someone can braid hair because I want will want it out of my face!!! I am excited to just have a little vacation...I am just so excited...and Regis, I love you......We all love you.....

2008-05-09T15:12:00.002-04:00

How much more?

2008-05-09T00:49:00.002-04:00

I just finished the John Lewis book and all I can say is wow! I have always had the uncanny ability to really place myself into a book when I am reading it but I was in no way prepared for the emotional upheaval I would feel with each turning of the page. I literally cried, cried the hard tears of frustration and confusion when Mr.Lewis describes the night of Bobby Kennedy's assassination. There were other hair rising parts of the book that really grabbed at me but overall it was quite an enjoyable read and was glad I went through with it all. I've been really busy with work this week I haven't had a day off since last Thursday so I haven't been able to give as much time to preparing for the trip as I would like to. I'm just now getting around to pulling my luggage out and packing a few things. I'm actually having trouble getting most of the clothes I think I'll need into my luggage which is funny cause I'm known for being a lite load sort of person, always ready to fly off at a whim haha. The car wash last Saturday was a lot of fun! I was already losing my voice but the car wash made sure I had none at all. It was sure chilly though! I wish I would of gotten my truck washed god knows he needs it haha. Well Its almost one and I suppose I should be crawling into bed so I can roll out and head straight to work again. I really can't wait for Freedom summer....it'll be my freedom from my job haha. Take Care y'all and see you Saturday.

What is Freedom Summer 2008?

2008-05-08T13:35:00.001-04:00

The Freedom Summer 2008 Study Tour is a 14-day intensive IU South Bend History class wherein 19 students journey to the U.S. South and encounter the people who made the Civil Rights Movement possible. Started by Dr. Lester Lamon in 2000, this academic experience is now led by Dr. Monica Tetzlaff. Each student will play an important role in the team, such as counting fellow students at every stop or unloading luggage.

A full academic day at IU South Bend on Saturday May 10 begins the trip. Then, on May 11, the group will travel by Royal Excursions bus to the following places: Memphis, Tennessee; the Mississippi Delta; Jackson, Mississippi; Selma, Alabama; Montgomery, Alabama; Albany, GA; Birmingham, Alabama; and Nashville, Tennessee.

The Freedom Summer class of 2008 will meet local leaders like Charles MacLaurin, a Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee organizer in Ruleville and Indiananola, Mississippi. (See MacLaurin talking to us in 2004 in photo above). MacLaurin was a young man from Jackson, Mississippi in the 1960s and he creatively channeled his anger over segregation and second class status for African Americans into organizing a nonviolent movement for change. He will spend a day with the IU South Bend students taking them to see places like the site where a Freedom School was held and then burned down and also the jail where he was held for violating segregation laws. Our day in the Delta is just one example of the Freedom Summer trip.

Students will also visit eight different Civil Rights museums and retrace civil rights protest march routes through the downtowns of all of the cities they visited. They will keep a journal of each day, comparing museums and speakers and simply recording their impressions of the South today, particularly race relations. Students will give presentations on different people and places in the movement, presentations they have prepared in advance. Finally, Students will learn about leadership from local Civil Rights leaders who made a difference, and will come back to IU South Bend on May 24 and contribute their leadership to the Michiana area.

Freedom Summer 00, 02, 04, and 06

2008-05-08T09:41:00.006-04:00

Hello Past Freedom Summer Folks and Dr. Lamon,

I'm thinking of you and what you started. I'm going to post some photos of '04 and '06. You can email me earlier digital photos if you have them. We're continuing the tradition.
Peace,
Dr. T

Like the Stillness in the Wind ‘Fore the Hurricane Begins

2008-05-08T02:31:00.004-04:00

“Oh the time will come when the winds will stop
And the breezes will cease to be breathin’
Like the stillness in the wind ‘fore the hurricane begins
The hour that the ship comes in.
Then the seas will split and the ships will hit
And the shore-line sands will be shaking
Then the tide will sound and the waves will pound
And the morning will be breaking.”
Bob Dylan, 1963

David James here. May 7-8, 2008

There’s a whole lotta good lines in this song that were running through my mind as I was out on the streets yesterday for Election Day. Apocalyptic? Naw, but an important time, for Hillary, for Obama, for Indiana, and boy, was I ever in the thick of it.

I’m an Obama supporter, living with a Hillary supporter, so we’ve had many engaging discussions. I heard a few remarks yesterday, from a mayor’s wife, from a former congressman. Both said it wasn’t all about the substance; the two candidates’ positions weren’t all that far apart on most of the issues. Both said it was more the tenor of the two campaigns, the way that Obama tended to inspire and call out the best efforts of his listeners; he was, for them, not just a politician angling for votes, but someone you could tell really believed in his message. How many times during the day and evening did I hear comparisons with the Bobby Kennedy campaign of 1968.

Believe it or not, I have seen both the dead Kennedys. My parents chaperoned a bunch of us to D.C. on the train for J.F.K.’s inauguration, and I heard the “ask not” speech, standing in some of the coldest D.C. weather on record. Despite the cold, he made me feel warm and strong, though I was all of fourteen years old.

It’s not just that Bobby Kennedy was here in South Bend, and I was there and saw him. It was the way he spoke during that campaign, trying hard to get you to believe him, believe in him. He made me feel as if he really could be elected, that this nightmare of a war in Vietnam that I was fighting against, that had consumed my life for the past year, would actually be brought to an end; that there was going to be a paradigm shift in the direction of the nation, away from war, toward peace and justice. I had only a short vacation of hope after he announced his candidacy before he, and Martin Luther King, were gone.

On April 4, 1968, Kennedy came to South Bend, and then gave a major address at the University of Notre Dame’s Stepan Center. I was there.

Our band—it was the latest incarnation of The Scum of the Earth—had somehow been contracted to play for the gathering crowd at the speech. Don’t ask me how we got that gig. I was so “freaked out” and frightened that Spring I’m not sure how anything happened to me. I did have a few things together, though. I got our band’s equipment, such as it was, to the Stepan Center the night before, and consulted with the sound guy there to hook up a line feed from our paltry sound gear to Stepan’s sound system, which though of less than high fidelity, was at least loud.

I proudly claim my time of membership in “The Scum.” We weren’t the hot rock band on campus. We were almost a joke in that category. We were, however, an expression of the times on campus: anti-war, pro peace, but cynical. One could not help but be cynical. Lyndon and his reference to “the enemies of freedom” in Vietnam as he bombed North Vietnam towns and countryside, killing millions of civilians; Lyndon and his military draft; Dow Chemical with their napalm recruiting on campus; “beware the Generals” and their war profiteering: justice was definitely not in the wind that Spring; it looked like more build-up, more war. Kennedy was really my only chance for a life that did not revolve around war; you see, I’d already been called up for my preliminary military draft physical. The next step was the draft itself, and a confrontation over my claim of conscientious objection, which they had twice denied me. Young men were going to jail to stop this war, and I was prepared and afraid I was going to be one of them.

I will not name the other members of The Scum. Even after this long time a couple of them might get in trouble on the job, so I’ll leave it to them. Our repertoire for the day included a great song called Quarrel With the Earth that one of us had written, a brilliant ecology song. We would, of course, do our theme song, Here Comes the Scum; we had a strong self-image as four of Franz Fanon’s “wretched of the earth.” And we would do Country Joe and the Fish’s One, Two, Three, What Are We Fighting For? The kicker song, that we knew might get us into trouble (but we didn’t care) was an anti war number that a friend had written with a refrain that repeated four agonizing times in the song. Here is the last verse:

“He says he’d like to make the world a loving sort of Christian wonderland.
But heaven help the ones that dare refuse the love of Christian helping hands.
A couple of million people learned the hard way in the swamps of Viet Nam.
Don’t know why it’s so,
But it seems them G-- D---ed Christians
Are the most un-Christian people in the land.”

It was a good hippie “country” song, sort-of like Up Against the Wall Red-necked Mothers. And, as it turned out, about 11,000 people, at the Stepan Center, outside in overflow, and on the radio live, heard us sing it. The Notre Dame powers that be were horrified, and the band was “banned from campus,” an honor I still delight in to this day. We didn’t have much of a chance to enjoy our notoriety before the news hit that Dr. King had been killed. I remember sitting in the living room of my South Street second floor slum apartment thinking “the good people are being killed.” Killed for what they believe in. In another two months Kennedy would be dead, and for the same purpose.

As Bobby Kennedy boarded a plane at the South Bend airport after his Notre Dame speech, he heard that Martin King had been shot that afternoon in Memphis, TN. In Indianapolis for a campaign stop, he was due to open his state party headquarters and make a campaign speech. Instead, extemporaneously addressing the unknowing and jubilant crowd, he told them he’d just heard that Martin Luther King was shot. As wailing and stunned disbelief spread through the crowd, Kennedy spoke from the heart. He said those who were Black could be filled with "bitterness, and with hatred and a desire for revenge. Or we can make an effort, as Martin Luther King did, to understand and to comprehend, and replace that violence, that stain of bloodshed that has spread across our land, with an effort to understand, compassion and love.” See the speech on YouTube (wow!):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCg05pTYt0A&feature=related

and hold back a tear if you can.

On May 2, Bobby returned to South Bend and stopped by the West Side Democratic Club, the same place from which Obama volunteers worked and to which we were slated to rendezvous to watch the returns, and hopefully, to celebrate. A month later Kennedy was dead and I lost hope. From then on it was good times and bad times, yeah, but no more shared vision of America as The New Frontier of J.F.K.’s vision; just more war, and a government that was not “of the people.”

Until this year. Until Barack Obama lit that fire again, and held out the promise. Here’s what he said in an Email to me today:

David --
Before yesterday, some were saying the results from Indiana and North Carolina would be a game changer in this election.
But with your votes and with your voices, you said that the only game that needs changing is the one in Washington, D.C.
We knew our climb would be steep.
But in record numbers, you came out, spoke up, and made it clear that at this moment, in this election, there is something happening in America.
There is something happening when Americans who have never participated in politics get involved and knock on doors, make phone calls, and talk to each other about their vision for our country.
There is something happening when people vote not just for the party they belong to but for the hopes they hold in common.
Change is what's happening in America.
The momentum you created won't stop now. Together we're building a campaign that will compete in the general election -- and a united Democratic Party that can lead this country for the next generation.

Old as I am, as long as I’ve been anti-this and anti-that, there’s actually someone running for president that I can be FOR again, like I was for Gene McCarthy, and for Bobby Kennedy. Not just because I liked his message—there are plenty of aspects of it that seem lightweight to me. I am for single-payer health insurance, for example, and I haven’t heard that except from Dennis Kucinich. I am for a precipitous withdrawal from Iraq: if I had the reins of power I wouldn’t spend a minute before giving the order: “Everybody out! Get on the bus, Gus, get on the plane, Jane, go out the back, Jack, just get out of Iraq.”

But what he is doing to people! The South Bend Obama campaign was mighty rag-tag, but all the good people were a part of it. Black and white coming together like I haven’t seen in a long time, maybe since the Jesse campaign in the ‘80s. Better. We actually have a chance this time; we’re not just a movement—there, I’ve said it—we’ve also a chance to share the power. The Democratic Party standard-bearer and his V.P. will actually be people I can believe in. These are people like Lewis and Nash and Neblett and Grupper; maybe not them, but people like them who believe what they believe. I can’t wait!

So I showed up yesterday (Tuesday May 6, 2008) at about 10AM. The polls had been open since 6AM, and first I was sent to get some “numbers” from the VFW Hall on Mishawaka Ave. That done, I returned to the 111 W. Wayne satellite office to find the Illinois state senator who had replaced Obama after his election to national office giving a pep talk to those on hand. “Get out and do it, let’s put this one on ice.” O.K. I said, here goes.

The last time I said “here goes” was two years ago November, when, despite disagreeing with the 2nd District’s choice of a congressional candidate, I felt we had to get rid of Chris Chocola, Bush’s “man” in congress, and a neo-con con-man of the first order; here I was again, “anti-“ someone instead of really being for a candidate. And I worked so hard, that campaign, plus one day of heavy playing for a feis at the end of the week, precipitated a major heart attack. I all but died.

But I believe in Obama, and I’m fifteen pounds lighter and pretty much a vegan, so, despite there’s a feis that I’m playing for this Saturday (odd these coincidences) which is why I can’t be at the pre-Freedom-Summer-day activities. The feis has been on the books for a year, and it’s my tuition.

So I said “here goes” when the canvassing director said, “Are you ready to go out?” He handed me a sheaf of voter lists, and I looked it over.

It was the hard-core Southeast Side. Fellows, Rush, Marietta and High streets north-south; Pennsylvania, Broadway, Indiana, Dubail and Dayton streets east-west. This was the poorest section of town, and the blackest. Only within the last few years had the area received the attention of the housing renewal programs, seen new construction, and an attempt to really rebuild the neighborhood. But it was a tough battle against the looming recession, the lingering racism and discrimination, white flight; you-name-it, if it was poor people it was on the Southeast Side, and I was to be alone.

Well, what a stupid cynical unbeliever I am! Out of the whole day, only two small incidents. Once I shouted up to a porch where there was the beginnings of a serious party happening; “players.” All they did was look at me funny, and unfriendly-like. I moved on by. On one porch were two young Black men whom I shouldn’t have approached, obviously gang-banger types, but who knows? So I went up and asked if they were registered and were going to vote. Mistake! I was right the first time. They told me to “have a good day,” but also “get out of here.” I back-pedaled by little white ass back on the sidewalk and went on down the road.
Other than these two mild rebukes, the entire neighborhood was wonderful. I was in Obama country. People were happy to see me on their porches, genuinely ready to talk. Everybody, and I mean everybody that I met either had voted or were going to vote. Their families had voted. Only three—women, and I can understand that—votes for Hillary.

My favorite conversation was with a 91-year-old Black woman from—honest-to-God—the Mississippi Delta! I knocked on her door and she answered me from inside her screen porch. I didn’t see her at first, but consulting my registration list saw—awestruck—that this voter was 91! So we yacked a little through the screen and she invited me to “set,” when she discovered I’d be down there only next week. She was waiting for her daughter who worked at I.U. South Bend’s library (You can be sure I’m going to stop by and say hello to her!) to come take her to vote. I’m sure I was on that porch an hour. We talked of cotton, of catfish. (You feed the “little ones” fertilizer, she said. Farm store fertilizer.) We talked about climbing trees with your four brothers; about mules and “jennies and jacks;” about the heat in Mississippi, about her coming up to South Bend finally, to take care of aging parents who had come during WWII, about what it was like to grow up Black in Mississippi during the Great Depression. She was proud of her family; everybody worked hard to keep food on the table, and she had no complaints about the way life had turned out for her. There she was, 91, in her own little house, healthy (damn skinny though, bones showing through her light housedress) and hale. I’m not sure those were her own teeth, although they were nice looking they were perfect. But her speech was easy to understand and she had a lovely Southern lilt. She loved “the Clintons,” but believed Obama’s message was more than just the talk of a politician. He got people involved; it was her that brought up the Kennedys, not me. 91. Hated “that Bush” for ruining the country and turning everyone against each other. I had, finally, to make my politeness and move on. I saw my friend Conrad Damien across the street mowing his lawn, and I wanted to say hello and get his sense of the “pulse” of the neighborhood before I moved down the block. Conrad was happy with what was going on.

Everywhere I knocked, people were happy to see me, even though others had been in the neighborhood before me. I saw the signs: lit in the screen door of vacant houses, hang-tags newly hung on screen-door knobs. I woke up a short-haul delivery truck driver. He said “Now you woke me up, I’ll take that ride to the polls.” So I went and cleared out my heap’s front seat and rode him over to St. Matt’s and back. My first ride of the day. He wasn’t the least upset at me for persisting to wake him up: he was eager, finally, to vote—for Obama. I learned later, from my third ride of the day, all the way to Stanley Clark school because she hadn’t transferred her address and didn’t have a car, that he had owned three trucks and his own little business, but gas costs had forced him to sell and go back to work for others. She was proud that he was working to “make it” again.

I took a 24-year-old white girl to St. Matts. She was awfully frail and short haired, and she related she was on “chemo” from ovarian cancer (“They think it’s gone.”) but she was optimistic and “loved Obama.” I was proud to take her to vote, and put on the limousine “show” of opening the door and handing her out. That was a gas, so I did it for the rest of the day, to four more rides. The last was another white girl in her twenties who was sitting in her living room when I came up. She threw up her hands and asked one friend who was there to watch her baby. She related on the trip to Lincoln School that I was “the tenth one” to knock on her door for Obama; so she gave up and decided we better get her vote.

Impressions:

The Southeast side is ripe for some “organizing.” There’s some optimism there that I was surprised to discover, but also some eagerness to “get going again.”

I need to get among Black people again. The Irish-Americans are all “like me.” And not just Black people, but other races too; do some work, come out I the sun again, get out of the comfort zone. I don’t know what, but Freedom Summer 08 is a start. It made me happy going up and down, down there.

Lotta vacant houses; come to think of it, lotta vacant houses in my neighborhood too. We need some jobs in this town or we’ll fade into the “labor pool for Notre Dame” instead of the home of Studebaker, Bendix, Wheel-Horse, A.M. General, Harvester, Cummings Diesel—all gone, alas!

We need peace. We need to spend some money on education, not just to employ yours, truly, but get everyone in school again (Kim) and bring up Michiana to a more desirable level. We need to spend American tax money on important stuff; we need to have people proud to pay their taxes because they believe in what’s being done with the money. I hated paying taxes ‘til Bill Clinton got in; lately I’ve resented every nickel given to Bush’s neo-con war machine.

The party after was at the West Side Democratic Club. That place hasn’t changed since I got here in the ‘Sixties. You go in, it smells like Polish sausage and kraut. (Oh how I wish I could still eat that stuff!) Bobby Kennedy could walk back in there and be right at home. Look at the video of his speech in Indianapolis; our crown looked like that, before they heard the sad news. Maybe 60/40 white/black. Mayor and bride, former Congressman Steve Roemer, like it’s real election day. Roemer’s for Obama, so’s the mayor. I leave before the fat lady sings, too tired. One more beer I’d be trouble. I hang with the labor crowd, with the always-astute Steve Francis, who was my choice for congress last time. I hang with the ObamaMamas, who had that lovely rally last Saturday. (“Got questions? Ask your mama!”) Everybody’s cheering the T.V. What I wanted to do was grab a mike and sing this song, get everybody singing with me:

“Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me ‘round
Turn me ‘round, turn me ‘round
Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me ‘round
Gonna keep on walkin’, keep on talkin’
‘Til we make it to Freedom Land.”

Woke up this morning with my mind set on voting!

2008-05-06T14:03:00.003-04:00

As usual, it was a wonderful experience voting at the YMCA on Northside Ave. this morning. My neighbors were there and I was remembering all the people in the Civil Rights Movement who sacrificed so that we can ALL vote today.
Peace,
Dr. T

May 3, 08 "Woke up this morning. . ."

2008-05-04T20:18:00.000-04:00

Sunday, May 4, 08
David James here:
Yesterday's itinerary:

9:30AM South Bend ObamaMamas had a rally and pray-in at Century Center. I did sound and sang four songs: Living in the Love of the Common People, Woke Up This Morning With My Mind on Freedom, Ain't Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me 'Round, and One Man's Hands. Photos are
HERE.

11:00AM After driving to the Grape Road Gurly Leep dealership for our Freedom Summer car wash fund-raising event and finding no one there, I called Lysa and, naturally, found out I was at the wrong dealership. It was at the one on Ireland. No great loss! Only took me a few minutes to find them. We enthusiastically washed cars until 3PM, and slowly began to shiver as the temperature dropped. Photos are HERE.

3:30PM I checked in at Obama HQ substation at 111 W. Wayne, then went over to the area around Miami and Fairview streets on South Bend's S.E. side, with more experienced local volunteer named Steve. This was to be my first door-knocking for Obama experience. We canvassed from a list provided at HQ by Anuj Gupta, a mighty hard-working young man who always seems to be there, the list centering on registered voters in that area, about three blocks N/S by six E/W. It was already chilly and I was under-dressed with only a light sweater. Burr. We knocked on a few doors together as my "training," with him doing the talking, then I did the talking on a couple so he could critique. He was cleverer than I, at first, at drawing out the views of the people. The idea was to get them talking and listen yourself, to get a feel for why the person was supporting one or another party and candidate, then steer the conversation to why the person should be supporting Obama, or what he or she could do if already an Obama supporter. Next we started divvying up the odd and even sides of the street. It was getting colder and starting misty rain.
This was interesting because it was a white area by and large, with poorer people west of Miami and clearly more well-off people east of Miami. At the house of the only Black family I encountered the woman was very cagey, wary, and dismissed me closing the door quickly. The thought struck me that she could have thought me some kind of a spy. ? We received many interesting responses. Occasionally Steve would join me when I was having a lengthy conversation, and I might do the same when I saw him engaging someone.
Despite the blowing chilly wind, the increasing misty rain, and the fact that I had to "wee" pretty bad, I seriously got into our job. People wanted to talk. I was delighted; even though some weren't for my guy they would still talk to me. Were they impressed because we were out in the rain and cold?

Snippets:

(I've gone out to the back yard to finish this. I have a wireless "AirPort Extreme" in the house, and it's a beautifu day outside. I'm under a 12-year-old Red Bud tree in the back yard that's in full flower, occasionally watching some very large bees solicit pollen from the pink blossoms.)

A county policeman surprised me. He looked like your skinhead type: closed cropped, body-builder, tattoo or two. Boy was I surprised when he professed for Obama; goes to show me not to pre-judge. He was mad about gas prices, about the oil companies making all that money, and he kept up on the issues, and knew that Obama had come out the day before with the idea that the oil companies should pay the gas tax instead of the consumer. That was a good talking point for us at more than one house. I took my cue and brought up the issue from the presence of an SUV, or conversely a car clearly bought for gas mileage.
One fellow came out for McCain. Despite living in poorer circumstances he believed he was going to be rich some day, and disliked the idea of somebody taxing his future economic bedfellows. Now, mind you, this cat looked and talked in no way headed for the upper crust, but by by heavens he might strike it rich soon and didn't want any candidate who might be laying for him when he reached the grail of American free enterprise--my words, but that was where he was coming from. By God you never know, but it looked to us more likely he would be struck by lightning in a sea-going yacht than. . .
Two thirty-something sisters, on the (I'll call it) "rich" side of Miami looked at me as if I was crazy. They are, of course, right, but not for the reason they were looking at me. They were for Hillary, and isn't it obvious that two girls like us should be? One house on the (I'll call it) "poor" side had a Hillary yard sign. This has not been a "yard sign" primary battle. I have gleaned that maybe the long-term planning of both the Democratic candidates did not contemplate such an intense battle at this late stage of the primary. Yard signs seem to be scarce as hen's teeth, and a few weeks ago when I dropped into Obama HQ for a yard sign and button I felt like I had to make phone calls for two hours--which I did--in order to be granted access to them; and two enthusiastic forty-ish Black women who came in later were told they were out of signs temporarily. Fergodssake I had gotten the last yard sign of the ¿day?

Hillary seems to be counting more on the personal appearance tactic for votes. She was in town again today, this is her fourth, I think, appearance in the South Bend/Mishawaka area in the last two weeks. If personal appearances will get her a win she's 'way ahead of Obama, at least locally. We'll see on that one. Obama? He seems 'way ahead on volunteers. Steve and I detected that there had been other Obama volunteers in the 1st precinct ahead of us. Obama HQ has very insistently called and Emailed me about getting out, and followed up my promises with reminder calls. Last Thursday I was on my way to Chicago and got a "who do you support" call from Obama HQ in South Bend. Turned out the caller was a man from Chicago, a reverend from Garrett Semenary at Northwestern U named Ken Vaux. We had a nice chat, and I alerted him to the Mama/Obama rally yesterday. He showed up, and proved to be a high-status guest who, invited to speak, and gave a tub-thumper for Obama. Score one fer auld Davey. Anyway, back to the task at hand, I was told at the West Side Democratic club that they had sent out over a hudred volunteers Saturday from that location alone. So if volunteer presence on the street will win it, Obama has it hands down.
For those readers who may be out-of-towners or just unfamiliar with local politics, the West Side Democratic Club is an amazing place. It's been on the very old west side, on Ford Street "over the tracks," forever, and I mean forever, as in maybe prelapsarian, or at least pre-WWII. That area was a very old Polish and Hungarian stronghold before it became a Black stronghold, before it began turning into a Chicano stronghold; names like Poland Street and Kosciusko Street; it's the place to be on Dingus Day (look that one up; I'll not go there today). Walk in, you smell Polish sausage, one of my pre-heart-attack loves, and beer. Robert F. Kennedy came there in 1968; Obama came there last month. I don't know why Hillary has not been there; it seems like her kind of place; but maybe I'm getting some things wrong this election; wouldn't be the first time.

More snippets:

18 year-old on the richer side of Miami, having a cigarette in the garage, wanted to talk, was Demo but undecided. He very much appreciated our attention--we talked to him for about fifteen minutes, so if that counts we scored one for our side. He was a first-time voter and seemed worried about his future. Many at houses where we had conversations were clearly engaged with this election and the issues, whomever they supported. We only got one or two "not interested" replies.

Odd, though, but west of Miami, on the richer side, there were three or four houses in a row that were Ron Paul junkies. I thought only the John Birch Society was left on his side--I mean, right on his side--these days, but no, there was some serious affection for him on Victoria Street here in South Bend. I rather like yer average Ron Paul supporter. Nice to see there's a bit of "Don't Tread On Me" sentiment left among the "sout side" folks, a bit of sentiment for the auld "lost cause." And if ever there was a lost cause. . . These people sometimes turn into "Obamicans;" hell, I'll take 'em.

Steve and I were gratified by the frequency of Obama support down there. I'm surprised that there are still such people as "undecideds" left in Indiana. I can see many people's reasoning for supporting both Democratic candidates, and also Ron Paul and John McCain. I've become more tolerant in my ancient age, albeit more perplexed at the middle and lower economic class support for the Republicans. These people are either hornswoggled by the Repub propaganda or really believe in some torturous reasonings.

We did run into one rabid Rev. Jeremiah Wright hater. We were yacking a bit--or rather, he was excoriating away while I was trying to get in a word edgewise--when Steve ambled up and got right in his face. Wow! I wouldn't have been surprised if this guy threw us right off his porch, but I think he needed us yesterday as objects on whom to let off steam. Anyway, that was one seriously pointless conversation. This guy was having nothing to do with Barack Obama and that "racist Jeremiah Wright." This whole tempest is depressing me. I'm afraid Obama may have lost some votes in Indiana from it. I'm surprised at the reactions of some of the more sensible Black columnists--my man Leonard Pitts whom I very much respect used words today like "clownishness," and "arrogance." Me, I have those very tendencies sometimes, and I got the feeling as I watched Wright at the National Press Club that he was very fed up with white people these days and was mocking people who criticized him when they had no idea what he was really about. Sort of like people in my auld day who criticized Abbie Hoffman, who did not or were not prepared to understand him. [By the way, he was an early-on SNCC activist, and his later attempt in '67 along with 50,000 others to levitate and make turn orange the Pentagon earned my undying affection. He also, while on a tour of the New York Stock Exchange, threw fists fulls of dollars--mostly fake--over the observation platform and mocked while those on the trading floor went scrambling for them. The platform was fitted with bullet-proof glass after that one. I loved it!]

8:10PM Enough of this! I should be writing papers and doing serious stuff.

See you next time.

Hey!

2008-05-03T22:54:00.002-04:00

I just wanted to officially say whats up and that the car wash was fun today, but it was so cold, I hope I do not get sick! I can't wait to start the trip and have a blast!!! -

2008-05-02T20:02:00.002-04:00

May 2, 2008
I did the www.typefocus.com personality thing. For what it's worth I'm an INTP. What does this mean? Freedom Summer 08 folks have two options (legal ones, that is):

1. Put up with the old _art in your midst. Download the short version of the bitter truth HERE

2. Start a "Send Him Home in a Stretch Prius Limo" fund.

I have also started a resource page. My Web site has lots of room and I intend to use it on this trip. If you're interested, go to HERE

already starting to pack

2008-05-02T18:38:00.002-04:00

I know its a little over a week away but i don't want forget anything. However I know i will.

I am really looking forward to this trip, because I know a lot of people that are going and I just want to know and be there to hear the stories from the people that exprienced them. I am a firm believer that exprience is the best teacher and what better way to learn.

So Close, the Smell of Diesel

2008-04-30T21:35:00.002-04:00

What an excellent idea.

I will post my daily writings here, pictures too. I am writing my daily journals as individual stories that will be ran weekly throughout the upcoming fall semester in The Preface for other students to get some sort of an understanding of a trip of this nature. Its energies, its momentum, and its impact- on the group and the internal. I am trying to acquire The Preface’s camera as well for a daily photo to go with each one.

The weather has me burning for the road. I find I’m actually grateful for winter suppressing this in me until just now, until just before. There is something that I found to affect me when traveling, being without a nightly place called ‘home’ where I can dismiss the day, get right back into me. I can hardly wait.

Katie J drops a line

2008-04-30T09:45:00.002-04:00

Hi, I had to set up a blogger account for an education class never thought I would use it again but now I'm kind of glad haha. I know that we don't have to read the whole John Lewis book but last night I got to the part where he went on the Freedom Rides and I can't put it down. It was 2 a.m before I realized it. Oh and By the way I got the transcript done for Mr. Maxwell of the April 25th interview. It took me all day yesterday but it was a productive day. The trip is only 10 or so days away. I'm getting really excited.

Dr. T checks in

2008-04-29T20:44:00.002-04:00

Hi,
I'm looking forward to this method of communication. You can post your journal entries here or keep them private in a notebook. You can just shout out in the blog. Hello world!

NPR program about the Freedom Riders

2008-04-29T20:41:00.003-04:00

If you're interested, Terry Gross, M.C. of the National Public Radio program Fresh Air, interviewed Raymond Arsenault, author of Get on the Bus: The Freedom Riders of 1961. To listen to the entire show, go to:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyid=5149667

I've recorded the show. If anyone wants a CD of it let me know

djames@tiompanalley.com

David James Checks In

2008-04-22T14:41:00.001-04:00

April 22, 08 2:43PM - I'm setting this up for everyone on the IU South Bend Freedom Summer 08 tour, so their daily recollections can be saved, read, and commented upon by friends at home. We can post photos etc., and maybe audion if I can get that set up properly. Let's see what happens next!