8 10 650 https://digitallis.isg.siue.edu/files/original/390ce47523ae882bb6204655383b91aa.pdf c0535edd5626c4a351cad7a91ffb0dc1 PDF Text Text B. RE DMOND, a native of East St. Louis, Illinois, is a graduate of Southern Illino~s University and \Vashington Uni\·ersity (St. Loms) _a~d !!as achieved distinction in several areas of wntmg, mcluding poetry, dram3, journalism, and cf.deism. He has published five books of poetry a:1d recorded a:i album reading his own verse to musical accompam· ment. Cofounder and publisher of Black River Writers Press1 Redmond is also literary executor for the estate of the bte poet and fiction writer H e1:ry DnmJs. C urrently Redmond is ~rofessor of ~ngl_1sh and poet-in-residence at California St~te Umvers1ty, Sacramento, and is one of the co-ordmators of the Annual 111ird World \Vriters and 111inkers Sym· posium held on that c;;mpus. He is in deman~ as a speaker, lecturer, reader, and consultant to _vanous workshops, symposia, and conferences, haV1ng ap· peared before audiences at UCLA, . Berkeley, in H arlem, in ·watts, H oward Umvers1ty, Southern University, and many more. EuGF.NE t': uq OTHER ANCHOR PRESS BOOKS OF INTEREST The Poetry of the N egro EDlTED BY LANGSTON HUGHES AND ARNA BONTEMPS How I Got Ovah: N ew and Selected Poems CAROLYN RODGERS The Mission of Afro-American Poet1y The Gospel Sound TONY HEILBUT Black-eyed Susans: Classic Stories by and about Black Women EDITED BY MARY HELEN WASiiINGTON A C'?ITICAL HISTORY BYEUGENEB.REDMOND Morning Yet on Creation Day CHINUA ACHEBE ANCHOR BOOKS The Black Aesthetic A N CEOR PRESS/ D OUBLEDAY EDITED BY ADDISON GAYLE, JR. CA R DEN CITY, NEW YORK ,,,.. v ◄A &fl(&;M'~ 1976 �r' & ♦a®t +tt:-:b enti?t»il wJb 4 1 'M t:::¾11 J I · yg be-:•?t ~ - t:t:1lf 'e tt •i ~,w,ui4:)+,+1:rJli::U,;,,, -lb: DRUMVOICES tablished a ten-year winning streak. Tolson interrupted his work at "\1/iley to pursue an M.A. in English and comparative literature at Columbia University, where he met V. F. Calverton, editor of The Modern Quarterly. Later, in 1935, at Wiley, Tolso:1's career as a debating coach peaked when his team defeated the national champions, University of Southern California, before eleven hundred people. And in 1947, the same year Tolson was appointed poet laureate of Liberia by President V . S. Tubman, he became English and drama professor at Langston University, Langston, Oklahoma, of which city he served as mayor for four terms. At Langston he directed the Dust Bowl Players and dramatized novels by Walter "\1/hite and George Schuyler. A revered and feared teacher and organizer, Tolson became a legend in his own time. Hardly a student at any Deep South black college had not heard of Tolson's ·work as poet, dramatist, debating coach and educator. His column "Cabbages and Caviar" was a regular in the Vlasbington Tribune during the thirties. Tolson published three volumes of poetry: Rendezvous with America ( 1944), Libretto for the .Republic of Liberia (1953), and H arlem Gallery, Book I: The Curator (1965), and wrote a number of unpublished novels and plays. His work appeared in Th.e Modern Quarterly, Atlantic Monthly, Common Ground, Poetry, and other periodicals. He won numerous awards and citations, among them first place (1939) in the National Poetry Contest sponsored by the American Negro Exposition in Chicago (for "Dark Symphony"); the Omega Psi Phi Award for Creative Literature (1945); Poetry magazine's Bess Hokim Award for the long psychological poem "E. & 0.E." ( 1947); honorary doctorate in letters, Lincoln University ( 19 54); permanent Bread Loaf Fellow in poetry and drama (1954); District of Columbia Citation and Award for Cultural Achievement in Fine Arts (1955); first appointment to the Avalon Chair in Humanities at Tuskegee Institute (1965); and the annual poetry award of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, including a grant of twenty-five hundred dollars (1966), the same year he died following three operations for abdominal cancer. As a black poet and intellectual in the mid-twentieth _, A LONG WAYS FRO M H O ME century, Tolson assumed the multi-leveled stance of_ his eighteenth- and nineteenth-century pre~ecessors (Pnnce Hall, Benjami-::i Banneker, James "\1/h1tfield, Alexander Crummell, Frances E . W . Harper, and others) who served as teachers, aboli tionists, revolutionists, defenders of what they believed to be decent in the promise of America, and character models for black communities. Tolson's predecessors fought for the right to be called humans; he fought the battle of integration. As Tolson lay dying, other, younger poets were fighting the battle of self-determination-albeit using the same tools employed by poets and intellectuals of the previous two centuri_es. S~ it is in~eed ironic ( and sad!) when a youn~ wnter like Ha~1 R. Madhubuti (Don L. Lee) complams tha~ Tolson 1s ;1ot accessible to the everyday reader ( see review of Kalezd0scope, Negro Digest, January 1968). But Joy Flasch points out (Melvin B. Toison, 1972} that Tolson was aware that he was not writing for the "average" reader but for the "vertical" audience. In "Omega" of Harlem G allery, Tolson asks if a serious artist should "skim the milk of culture" and give those demanding immediacy and relevancy a popular latex brand? __ _ __.__.,lson- dicLna live, as did Hayden, Bro :vn, Redding, and others, to make clcse contact \vith proponents of the - "E ac, aesthetic" of the 1 6os. But som~pp_onents have continue o ra_,e um over the coals of responsibili.._ty. Black oet Sarah Webster Fa io (Negro Dige.st, Decemoer 1 - halleng.ed Karl Shapiro's statement (Introduction to Harlem Gallery)_ that Tolson "writes _ in Ne ro." Hi p tic language is "most certainly not 'Necrro '" she averred noting that i_L!s "a bizarre, pseudoliter~1 1ction" taken from stilted "American maingrearn" RQe ry, '\vhere if rightfully and wrongmindedly · belonged.'' \Vhite critics :md writers joining in the assault onTolson included Laurence Liebennan ~nd Englishman Paul Bremen ( of the Heritage Series). Lieberman takes exception to Shapiro's statement, saying that he teaches black students from all over the world who are steeped in black language bat do not understand Tolson (review of Harlem Galtery, The Hudson Review, Autumn 1965). Yet Tolson's publishers had high hopes that he might get �DRUMVOICES This poignant revelation is made in the end: I raise my downbent kinky head to charlie & shout I'm black. I'm black & I'm from Look Back. ..,Ne think immediately of such titles as Think Black (Lee) and "Say It Loud-I'm Black and I'm Proud" (James Brown) even though this poem preceded them by several years-to say nothing of Joseph Cotter, Jr.'s '·Is It Because I'm Black?" But White can also do light and touching things, as in "Picnic" and "Day Is Done," whic~ places "music in the air" ~s l?repar7s_ for ,?ed a_n~. hr,~ "woman" sets her hair. Hrs iromc, satmcal Inqms1tive displays the range of these poets. The narrator wonders where "Gods" and "buddhas" hide if the earth and sky are both visible to man. · critical attention has been given tl1e__Hm_y- ~ r -grou or any of the otl1er poets writing during this period. uf they are legion, including well-known as well as unfamiliar names : Jolmson Ackerson, Charles _Anderson (1938- ), Eugene Redmond (1937- ), Julian _Bond (19 40- ), John Henrik Clarke (1915- ), Leslie M. Collins ( 1914- ) , Katherine Cuestas ( 1944- ) , Margaret Danner ( 191 5- ) ,. Gl~ria Davis, Durem, :tv;ari Evans, Ivlicki Grant, Julia Fields ( 1938- )_, Gomon Heath, Horne, Ted Joans (192 8- ), Na?~I ~ad~ett (192 3,- ) , James C. Morriss (1920- ), OH1ggms, Iatterson, James Randall (1938- ), Peter T. Rogers, John Sherman Scott, Carmell Simmons, James W. TI1ompson (1935- ), Vesey, Sarah V\Tright \1929- ), Joyce Y71dell (1944- ), Robert Earl Fitzgerald (1935- ), Calvm •, Hernton ·(1932- ), Lula Lowe Weeden (1918- ), l Lillie Mae Carter, Gloria C. Oden, Mose Carl Holman i 1919- ), Alfred Duckett (191 8- ), J.M. G ates, James } Emanuel (1921- ), Lerone Bennett, Jr. (1928- ), 'I _i£_ Sarah Vlebst r ' bio_(.i9~=-),.Jfoyt Fuller (1927- ), ~~ Carl Gardener (1931- ), Ossie Davis (1922- ), Zack ':! Gilbert (1925- ), Herbert Clark JohD;son (1911- ), ) Bette Darcie Latimer (1927- ), _Oliver ~ Crone ( 191 5- ) , Rivers, Bruce McM. Wnght, Pauli ~urray (1910- ), Roy Hill, Sam Cornish (1938- ), 'Yvonne ?e YltSTIYAI.S AND FtTH'f:RJ.LS 319 Gregory (191<;- ), Frank Yerby (1916-), Nanina Alba (1915-68), Frank London Brown (1927-62.), Isabella Maria fhown (1917- ), Catherine Carter (1917- ), Ernest J. -vVilson, Jr. (1920- ), Mary Carter Smith (1924- ), James P. Vaughn (1929- ), Robert J. Abrams (1924- ), Roscoe Lee Browne (1930- ), William Browne (1930- ), Oliver Pitcher (1923- ), Ishmael Reed (1938-- ), Adam David Miller (1922- ), David Henderson (1942- ), Don Johnson (1942- ), 11rnrmond Snyder, A. B. Spellman (1935- ), Mance Williams, Tom Dent, LeRoi Jones (1934- ), Vivian Ayers, Helen Morgan Brooks, Solomon Edwards (1932- ), Ed Roberson, Vilma Howard, George Love, Allen Polite (1932- ), Lloyd Addison (1931), Hart Leroi Bibbs, Durwood Collins ( 1937- ) , Bobb Hamilton, May Miller, Stanley Morris, Jr. ( 1944- ) , Quandra Prettyman. In anthologies this non-exhaustive list was often intermingled witl1 early poets ( as far back as Phillis Wheatley ), elder ones (Johnson, McKay, Dunbar), a.nd spiced ,vith a good offering of post-Harlem Renaissance poets (Walker, Brooks, Tolson, Hayden). Such names as Fuller, Bennett, Jr., Holman, Yerby, Davis, and Clarke fall in the category of part-time poets-most of whom undertook full-time duties as novelists, editors, laivyers, or teachers. Other important movements parallel to this phase were the emergence of literary magazines (Free Lance, Phylon), especially on black college campuses; black newspapers' renewed interest in verse; establishment of poets in residences at southern black colleges; the flowering of regional "movements" or writing collectives.such as those in New York's Greenwich Village (Yungcn, Umbra, etc.) , Cleveland's Karamu House and Free Lance ( Casper Leroy Jordan, Atkins), Howard's Dasein group, the Detroit poets, and Georgia Douglas Johnson's homebased workshops in Washington, D.C.1 Not all these de- ii i l f t \ t ~ fI f ' f I 1 I t• t f l I 1 Development of a black listening oudienco was a control aim In most of th ese activities. For example, on June 16, 1957, young poets Co :vi n H ern :on ond Rcymo~d Potterson read toge ther ct 316 East 6th S:rcat In New York City. A favo rite New York gotherlng place for readi ngs was the lv'~rk6t f'loce Gallery (2305 Seventh Ave nue) , whor e Roscoe l ee Browne was fea tured In th e lo!e fifrios. In July and ! t 4 l • tf i w~ ,. �37° DRUMVOICES Anthology of Black Phi"ladelphi.a Poets ( 1970) , published by the Black History Museum Committee. Harold Franklin's Introduction states: "A BLACK POET IS A KIND OF WARRIOR"-thus linking Philadelphia sentiments to those in New York and Boston. The Black Butterfly, Inc., a cultural center, was one of the several crossroads for various cultural/political activities in Philadelphia. Its founder was Maloney (now Chaka Ta), whose Dimensions of Morning Sky was published in 1964 in Pamplona, Spain. "Good Friday: 2 A.M." celebrates a "sultry brown girl" who "seems a superior animal." T11is "sepia siren" also holds the "semen" of a "vivid passion." Philadelphia poets explore city life and Africa, and exalt blackness. TI1ere is, too, the rage and vehemence often found in New York and Chicago poetry. "Cool Black Nights" (by Traylor, who died at age twenty-two) also captures driving street rhythms and rough rhymes: them hard-looking hard-talking hard-loving Cool black dudes and them fine-looking fine-walking fine-talking fine-loving them fine soul sisters ..•. In Pittsburgh there was born the short-lived Black Lines: a Journal of Black Studies ( 1970). It published such Pittsburgh-area poets as Ed Roberson, August Wilson and Joanne Braxton, as well as such poets from the Midwest as Al Grover Armstrong and Redmond. The University of Pittsburgh Press opened up to black poets that same year, publishing H arper (Dear John, D ear Coltrane, 1970; So ng: Carz I Get a Witness, 1973), Roberson (Vlhen Thy King Is a Boy, 1970, and Etai-Eken, 1975) and Gerald Barrax (Another Kind of Rain, 1970). Roberson's poetry makes use of the gamut of techniques and styles-from neat drama to slanted spacings and slashes. In "mayday" there is an "underside of heaven" and the FESTIVALS AND FUNERALS 371 warning from one misunderstood that he is "armed" to fight the final kindling of your dreaming. "Othello Jones Dresses for Dinner" is a satirical look at the "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" theme. After dating a white woman, the narrator assures her parc:nts that he is "well mannered." Roberson adds his voice to a growing group of Pittsburgh poets that includes Kiik Hall (1 944- ). Poetic talent has always been sired to the south in Washington, D.C., where Sterling Brown continued to teach into i:he early seventies. Howard, by now leading all l ,hck universities in the new consciousness, was the scene of a number of significant disturbances that nudged the school toward a new image. While Howard's poetic histo1y can be traced through the early days of Sterling Brown ( and into the Howard poets), the school has produced a number of younger writers: Clay Goss, Richard ·wesley, E. Ethelbert Miller (Andromeda, 1<)74), and Paula Giddings. Its new image was deepened and broadened by the appointments of Hie Guiancse poet Damas and Stephen Henderson (English chaim1an at More-. house), who heads the Institute for foe Arts and Humanities. However, the Howard drama was staged against a series of developments in the surrounding communities: Federal City College (Scott-Heron), Center for Black Education (Garrett), New Thing in Art and Architecture (Topper Carew), TI1e New School of Afro-American Thought (Gaston Neal), Drum & Spear Bookstore (and Press) and the D.C. Black Repertory (Robert Hooks). In addition to Damas and Henderson, the instit ute has added Madhubuti (Lee), Killens, Goss, Brown, Arthur P. Davis, and Mmos Zu-Bolton. Already, the program's service to poets h as been invaluable. Selected for special honors have been Baraka, Gwendolyn Brooks, Joans, and Dodson. A number of poets were also featured in the institute's First Annual Symposium: Lucille Clifton, Goss, Scott-Heron, Adesanya Alakoye, Miller, and M ari Evans. Toure, Johnston, and Kgositsile were guests for a program examining the African cultural presence in the Americas. Several poets h ave been invited to read and be recorded �D ~ ...,..,4",► 111WScf'c'6et 37.2 DRUMVOIC:,;s for the permanent audio/video library: Jayne Cortct, - -i~IE=--- - - - 'C ~ ro,..ru..-.c.... h,, · • · Harper, Jeffers, JI' Joans, Redmond, Sonia Sanchez, Scott-Heron, Bruce St. Iohn, Margaret Walker, and Jay Wright. In 1968 Gaston Neal said his "philosophy" was "to purge myself of the whiteness v.-ithin me and link completelv with my black brothers in the struggle to destroy the enemy aud rebuild a black nation." He appeared to be working at that task for a while before the Afro-American school closed. In "Today" be said the tone of his life resembled a "growl mingled" with the groan of the past . . . and he lamented the jungies, which had been deflowered by r.apalm. . . • Karl Carter, another D .C. poet, appears in Understanding the New Black Poetry. He evokes the spirits of the "Heroes" of Orangeburg, Jackson, Memphis, New York, and Nashville, recalling that during a riot in Nashville he was Riding somewhere in my mind with Eldridge Cleaver.. .. "Roots" is an unsuccessful attempt to fuse the drama of colloquial black language with a formal English narrative about his grandmother. Other poets living or publishing in the D.C. area during the sixties and seventies were Bernadette G-Olden ( 1949- ) , Helen Quigless ( 194 5- ) and Corrie and Roberta Haines. Beatrice Murphy ( 1908- ) , who over the years has contributed greatly to the growth and development of black poetry, has edited three important anthologies : Negro Voices (19,38), Ebony Rhythm (1947), and Today's Negro Voices ( 1970) . Her own_volumes. of poetry are Love Is a Terrible Thing ( 1945 J and, with Nancy Arnez, The Rocks Cry Out (Broadside, 1969). Her poetry has moved from a traditional meter to a traditional free verse, dealing in the new phase with tensions cause~ by overemphasizing "white" and "bl~c½," and_war. She 1s currently director of the Negro B1bhograph1c and Research Center and serves as managing editor of its publica- 7I J TIYALS AND FUNERALS 'I· I j 373 t.1n Bibliographic Survey: the Negro in Print. Poetry by I).C.-area poets can be found in Transition, a journal of Howard's Afro-American Studies Department. Editors are ~filler, Iris Holiday, Ella Harding, and Veronica Lowe. The Haineses co-authored As I See It (1973). Many D.C. poets are also fo und in Synergy: D .C. Anthology, edited by Zu-Bolton and Ethelbert Miller (Energy Black South Press, 1975). Adjacent i:o the District of Columbia, in Baltimore, more height is added to the black poetry totem. Lucille Clifton ( 1936-- ) , Sam Cornish ( 1938- ) and Yvette Johnson ( 1943- ) have produced poetry that stands with the best contemporary verse. Good Times ( 1969), Good New.~ About the Earth (1972) and An Ordinary \Voman (1974) are volumes by Lucille Clifton, who also writes children's books. She currently teaches at Coppin State College in Baltimore, where she lives with her husband and six children. Even her titles suggest something about her spirit and temperament. In the swamp of depression and bleakness, it is indeed warming to hear someone proclaim G-Ood News! The "Eldridge" of the 1960s is compared to a meat "cleaver" that will not "rust or break." And there are humor, irony and truth in "Lately" in which the "always drunk" delivery man says : "I'm 25 years old and all the white boys my age are younger than me." \Vhile some sing good times in tl1e kitchen, there are also other acknowledgments: "Malcolm," "Eldridge," "Bobby Seale," and student participants in den1011strations at Jackson and Kent states. G-Ood News About the Earth gives black and contemporary settings to biblical stories. Most are unique, like the very womanly "Mary": I this kiss as soft as cotton over my breasts all shiny bright something is in this night oh Lord have mercy on me J �DRUMVOICES tablishes her right to have "caviar" or " shr_iI?Jp souffic" over "gut" o~ "jowl." Som~ mei:ius and political stances are overexoticized by revolut10nanes, sh_e says, and she has "earned" the riaht to do what she,, likes. She has even b . . . . . ,, heard "Mau Maus" screammg and romanbcizmg pam. But she has paid her dues and had enough pressures ~rom both sides of the color line. The subtle dart, but direct power, of Julia Fields suggests a healthy future for black poetry. ·writers C · i k niversit, the most imporn one taking place in the spring of 1967. Hayden, who h ad been at Fisk since the forties, left in 1968 after. a series of brushes with proponents of the black aestl1ebc. The 1967 conference (probably the straw that b:ok~ the camel's back for Hayden) is seen by some as a ma1or Juncture in the new black writing. Gwendolyn Broo~ talked about it in her autobiography, Margaret Walker discussed it with N ikki Giovanni in their published "conversations," and Hoyt Ful1er wrote glowingly of it in B~ck VVorld. Writers attending the conference were David Llorens, Fuller, Ron M ilner, Clarke, Bennett, Margaret Danne:, Nikki Giovanni, Randa11, Lee, Margaret Walker, Son_i::i Sanchez, Jones, and Margaret Burroughs. frob:ibly hel? m the Soui.h for symbolic reasons, the conference provided the first real "new" national dramatic arena for old and youn.,. writers . G wendolyn Brooks (a "Negro" then, she has s~id) recalls being "col~ly :espect~d" after just havinp, flown to Nashville from white white South Dakota. However she was among the first (with Randall and Fuller) to take up the banner of the black aesthetic and the causes of the voung writers. Such action, of course, was displeasing to number of white and black poets, not the least among them Hayden, who refuses to acknowledge the existence of a "separate" aesthetic for Blacks (Kaleidoscope, 1967, and Blacl< World poll, Januar1 a 1968). I l - Although the Fisk example has been followed by dozens of black colleges all ov~r ~he South, M~~'Yest. and ,,East, there is still no monolithic stand on directions, ~ut some writers keep trying to give them anywa~. O~e indication of the healthy diversity among black wnter~ 1s ~he journal Roots, published at Texas Southern Umvers1ty. FESTIVALS AND FUNERALS t ·i Editors are Tommv Guy, Jeffree James, Turner Whorton, and Mance Willia~11S. Lorenzo T110mas is also associated witli the publication. Volume I, number 1 contains essays, art and tl1e works of several poets, most of them Southeners. The poetry, devoid of monotonous theme or style, represents a broad range of interests in linguistics, subjects aP..d fonns. M'lo, in "a love supreme," says, "all my eyes gazed forever backwards." In "she'll never _k now," 11ic~ey Leland writes of various aspects of the social and physical landscape including the "Kinky haired boys" who build "arsenals 'of straw." Clarence Ward notes in "Hanging On" that the rent has gone up, eviction is imminent, faere is no food for the baby, and Hanging on aint easy. . .. I J. ahmad j.'s title "Hard Head Makes a Soft Ass" implies the poem's statement. And far.tasy eternalizes, "like a good high," for Tommy Guy in "Brother." The themes of unity, self-esteem, the African "motherland," and anger remain in the new poetry as the Midwest and West contribute immensely to its brilliance and the controversy. Ohio, for example, represented a uaique gathering of diverse views on the new consciousness, attracting a number of poets to aid the work of Nom1an Jordan (1938- ), Atkins, Jam es Kilgore (all from Cleveland ) and Hernton. Now at Oberlin, Hernton succeeded Redmond as writer-in-residence there a year after Quincy Troupe began a residency at Ohio l!nivers~ty. Sarah Webster Fabio has also taught at Oberlm dunng Hemton's leave of absence. However, Cleveland-area activity was spurred by a long tradition of black writers including Dunbar, Hughes, Chesnutt ( one of the founders of Karamu House ) and Atkins. This continuum produced Jordan and a host of younger poets: Anthony Fudge, Larry Howard, Larr1 \,Vade, Art Nixon, Clint Nelson, Robert Fleming (Ku \Vais magazine), Alan Bell, Roland Forte, T ed Hayes, Elmer Buford, and Bill Russell of the Muntu poets. Ci:J.1er participating writers-artists were Clyde Shy, Ameer Rashid, a:i.d Anetta Jefferson. Support for poets and their activities came from various places: the Cleveland Call and Post, Afro-Set Black Arts Project, United Black Artists. Free Lance, and Karamu House I i �~- . .,...,,.,.,...y);,: d F'ESTIVALS AND FUNERALS DRUMVOIC ES life, love and ancestry. Exceptional pieces are the folksy "Hard Rock Returns to Prison from the Hospital for the Criminal Insane," the mystical and mythical "He Sees Through Stone," the genealogical "The Idea of Ancestrv" the innovative haiku sections, and "On Universalism'" which warns against applying "universal laws" to Blacks' "pains" and "chains" in America. His technical abilities are poignantly displayed in haiku "9": i Making jazz swing in Seventeen syllables AIN'T No square poet's job. Knight, who was later rele;;sed from prison, also edited Bl,ack Voi~es from Prison ( 1970) , and in 1973 Broadside Press published Bell)' Song and Other Poems. He loses bis re,a ch when he overintellectualizes in his poetry. And Poems .is not surpassed by Belly Song. The second book has some fine moments, but it sometimes slips into polemics. However, Knight is still stretching out as a poet, currently doing research into oral literature with the aid of a Guggenheim grant. Belly shows him pursning this tradi. tion in "The Bones of My Father," which smile at the moon in Mississippi from the bottom of the Tallahatchie. Fina~ly, a number of poets from this general region of the Mr?west and South are included in a special blackpoetry rss~e of Negro American Literature Forum (spring 1972) edited by Redmond. T:1e Forum is published by Indiana State University School of Education and edited by John Bayliss, an Englishman. It regularly reviews black literature. Chicago is a Midwest heart and has a long tradition of black arts, going back to, and before, Count Basie's opening at the Sunset Club, in 1927. However, some of the more recent forces helping to shape the new poetry movement there are South Side Community Arts Center, the formidable Johnson Publications, Kuumba's Workshop and Root Theater (Francis and Val Ward), the DuSable Museum of African American History (Margaret Burroughs), Organization of Black American Culture, Insti- tute of Positive Education and Third ,vorld Press (Madhubuti), Free Blach Press.• Afro-Arts Theater, Malcolm X College, Oscar Brown, Jr., Muhammad S{Jeal~s (now Bilalian News), Eilis's Bookstores, Chicago Defender, and Philip CohraP. (Artistic Heritage Ensemble). Much of the new poetry scene generates from OBAC and Gwendolyn Brooks. Fuller, former Black \Vorld managing editor, is also adviser to OBAC's Writer's \Vorkshop. In a 1969 (fall) issue of Nommo, the workshop's journal, Fuller said: Black is a way of looking at the world. The poets of OBAC, in revealing their vision, celebrate their blackness. In this moment in history, what might under different circumstances be simply assumed must necessarily be asserted. And the OBAC poets know--if others do not-that pale men out of the West do not define for mankind the perimete1s of art. This they want all black people to know. I In the jourml's winter issue of the same year, Fuller said OBAC members were "seeking" to be "both simple and profound." They display an •'imaginative representation of their experiences," but they also seek "to be revolutionary." In the first quote, Fuller's tone, carrying the battle-baiting phrase "even if others do not," seemed to have been a signal for, among others, Don L. Lee (1942- ) , to continue his own relentless attacks on all fronts. There are no sacred cows, as Lee sees it, and since "others do not" know what the youthful Chicago Blacks presumably did know, Lee's assignment seems to have been to teach them. Gwendolyn Brooks concurred with most of this feeling, embracing as it were a "new" blackness and (unfortunately) engaging in self-deprecation: "It frightens me to realize that, if I had died before the age of fifty, I would have died a 'Negro' fraction." Lee, following the examples of Randall and Baraka, began Third World Press-a valuable vehicle for the new poets-and changed his name in the early seventies to H aki R. Madhubuti. He also established the Institute for Positive Education, which publishes Black Books Bulletin ( with himself as editor). Other poets included in the editorial staff are Sterling Plurnpp ( 1940- ) , Johari Amini (Jewel Latimore) �7 ' 388 1 re tr:aft'➔ 171 •l&'iiloal'1irlm, ·ii,!biri I ttott::::t:4illt - etile'•, -..,_ FESTIVALS AND FUNERALS DRUM VO ICES (1935- ), Emanuel, Sarah r Fabio the late David Llorens (who aunched Lee's national career in Ebony, March 1969), and Dudley Randall. OBAC was founded in 1967; poets of varying temperaments were attracted to it and to Gwendolyn Brooks's workshops : Carolyn . Rodgers (1943- ), Walter Bradford (1937- )~ Carl Clark (1932- ), Mike Cook (1 939- ), James Cunningham (1936- ), Ronda Davis (1940- ), Sam Greenlee, Philip Royster (1943- ), Peggy Kenner ( 1937- ) , Madhubuti, Linyatta (1947- ), Sharon Scott (1951- ), Sigemonde Wimberli (Ebon) (1938- ), and a continuous stream of newly arriving poets. Other Chicago-area poets are Stephany Fuller (1947- ), Eugene Perkins, Irma McLaurin, Lucille Patterson, Jerrod, Zack Gilbert (1925- ), Alicia Johnson (1944- ), Ruwa Chiri, Robert Butler, and Barbara McBain ( 1944- ) . The work of many Chicago-area poets can be found in Nommo, Black Expressions, Black World, Black Writers' News, Muhammad Speaks, and in the anthologies A Broadside Treasury ( 1971 ) and Jump Bad: a New Chicago Anthology ( 1971), both eclited by Gwendolyn Brooks. They can also be found in numerous other nationally distributed anthologies and journals. Black World, as name and concept, was a concession won by Chicago-area artists and activists who protested against the old name, N egro D igest, in tl1e late sixties. Until April of 1976, when Johnson Publishing Company ceased publishing it, Fuller guided Black World's new image through tl1e choppy waters of controversy and change. But many readers have been critjcal of Black World's particularized stands, its lack of "open" forum on some issues, and its tendency to circumscribe individuals and groups. Nevertheless the journal has been an indispensable aid to black poets and writers, printing their work, identifying anthologists,dn?ti£ng ~ books published, and serving as facilitator and con mt or .i prizes and contact. At the same time, however, the Afro- I American community faces the challenge of producing a journal tbat can reflect its new sophistication and thought. Among all new poets, Madhubuti is second only to Nikki Giovanni in the number cf accolades and the com· mercial attention he and his poetry have received. A 1 j I\ •~§i,btie, sampling of critics, poets, and scholars who feel he is one of the greatest of the new poets would have to include St;phen Henderso?, ~uller, Gwendolyn Brooks, Margaret v\ alker, Paula C1ddmgs, Baraka, Mari Evans, Randall, and Gayle. Gwen~olyn Brooks has said he physically rese1:1bl~ Jesus Chnst, and her Introduction to 1ump Bad hai~s him as "the. most significant, inventive, 'and influential black poet m _tl~e country." Overlooking, for the mon;i_ent, th~, prereqmsite. of reading "all" the poetry in the. co~ntr~ before makmg such a statement it is para?Ox:c~l m_ view of the "collective" policy- and the antimdiv1duahst positions-that allegedly £01m the cornerstone of the Chicago poetry scene. Madhub~ti has published five volumes of poetry: Think Black! (1907), Black Pride (1968), Don't Cry, Scream (1_969~, We Walk the Way of the New World ( 1910 ), Dzrectzonscore: _Selected and . New Po~ms ( 1971 ) and The Bo?k of Life (1973). His Dynamite Voices, Vol. I (Broadside Press), publi?h~d in 1971, is a study of four!een black poets of the sixbe~; but, like his other criticism, it reveals that he :s_ a hazy tlunker who lacks discretion and a firm unders~andmg the black poetry tradition. He spend~ an ~tire_ page, ror example, illuminating and apparently ad,ocatmg the use of the word "motherfucker." And any ?ook about the sixties should not come off the press without examining tl1e poetry of LcRoi Jo~es/Imamu Baraka. Madhubuti attributes the fothersl?p of the new black poetry to Baraka but does not ~iscuss th~ man's poetry. T11ere are other, incredible flaws m the book, for which this young poet's mentors must s~are some blame. As a critic, he did not ( could not!) cultivate the "distance" of a Johnson, Brown, Redding, or He_n~erson, and consequently- lacking discipline and ~amm&-could not really see the poetry. The book's :ed~emmg . values, such as they are, possibly reside in its mcidental mformation and bibliography. As a poet, Le~ f~res ~etter, employing ,vit, irony, under. St~te~en!, a~~ sigmficat10n ( e.g., "In the Interest of Black awation : Jesus saves-S&H Green Stamps") But there exc~1_lent _poets in Chicago who have been dwarfed by b~ pohticalT 1:11age (P1umpp, Cunningham, Rodgers, Gil. h~rt, etc.) ,.His themes range from what Artl1ur P. Dr,vis "s called TI1e New Poetry of Black Hate," through love o! ]? ·, t Il II I I �j J DRUMVOICES Washington University in St. Louis, and recently returned to Los Angeles. Jayne Cortez went to New York, where she has lived and wTitten since the late sixties. Her three books are Pissstained Stairs and the Monkey Man's ~.;:vares ( 1969), Festivals and Funerals ( 1971), and Scarifications ( 197 3) . She has also recorded an Lp, Celebrations and Solitudes ( 1974). Her themes and styles are broad, but mostly they embrace music as aspect and form. Africa as stmggle and spirit is also a dominant theme in her poetry. Pissstained is especially rich in its interweavings of music and indexes of struggle. "TI1e Road" is " where another Hank moans" and is Stoney Lonesome. • •• "Lead" describes the kind of hard life that is "cracklin hot at sunrise." Lead, of course, is Leadbelly, whom the "nigguhs" desperately want to hear spit the blues out. Her struggles are more than simple "contrivances" as they chronicle the hardships and good times of Dinah, Bird, Omette, Coltrane, "Fats" Navarro, Clifford Brown, and others-a veritable poetic tapestry of black expression in defiance of death, from one who would ("Hungry Love" ) ••. eat mud to touch the root of you . . . . l' Among other Southern California poets are Robert Bowen (1936Sherley Anne Williams, Arthur Boze (1945- , Kinamo Hodari (1940- ), Dee Dee McNeil ( 1943- , Bill Thompson and Lance Williams. A popular Watts counterpart of The Last Poets of New York are the Prophets of Watts, who have recorded several Lps. Northern California als e_ctsJ:he varied inJ:~rests and backgrounds of black poets and writers. Indeed, a listing of poets and writers from the general San Francisco Bay area reads like a national convention : Gonc;alves (1937- ), Reed, Al Young (1939- ), Harper (1938- ) (now at Brown), Ntozake Shange (1948- ), Conyus ( 1942- ) , Clyde Taylor, Victor Hernandez Cruz (1949- ), Angelo Lewis (1950- ), L. V . Mack (1947- ), Miller, Thulani Nkabinde (1949- ), Lawrence McGaugh ( 1940- ) , Cecil Bro'Nn, El Muhajir (:Marvin X), (1944- ), Leona Welch, Joyce Carol FESTI VALS AND FUNERA LS Thomas (1938- ), Joseph McNair (1948- ), David Henderson ( 1942- ) , Jon Eckels, Glen Myles (1933- ), George Barlow (1948- ), Ernest Gaines, Herman Brown (Muumba), Pat Parker, De Leon Harrison (1941- ), Sarah , r s Fabi 9.z_& William Anderson, Maya Angelou ( 1928- ) and Alli and M~c?ev,:eo Aweusi (Words Never Kill, 197 4) . Bayarea activity m the arts has been heightened and enhanced by the San Francisco Afro-American Historical and Cultural Society, bookstores such as More, Marcus and New Day ( Gon9alves), activities of Black Panthers and similar ~oups, the DEEP Black \Vriters Workshop, tl1e Rainbow Sign cultural center in Berkeley, Nairobi College, and numerous other cultural and literary projects. Poems by many of these bards are included in Miller's Dices or Black Bones ( 1970), Journal of Bl-a.ck Poetry, Yardbird Reader (a semic:nnual edited by Reed, Young, Brnwn and l\:iyles), Umbra Blackworks (Henderson, all issues, especially 1970-71), and other nationally distributed an- \ I i I thologies and periodicals.5 Reed, a strange and original writer, has published tluee volumes of poems: catechism of a neoamerican hoodoo church (1971) , Conjure: Selected Poems, 1963- 1970 (1972), Chattanooga (1973), and four novels. Volumes of poetry an~ more_fiction are forthcoming. His work has drawn a cunous mixture of adjectives from critics: "brilliant/' ,:•cute," "jumbles and puzzles," "important," "bad ~om1c~ and so on. Indeed, Reed writes his poetry themes mto h_1s novels and_ his ~ction themes into his poems, thm revealmg an ~rrestmg literary continuum. In this service, he e1:1~loys d1~lects, Voodoo, the occult, whimsicality, wit, mysticism, satire, which he obviously enjoys, all reinforced by assort~d library information and street expressions. He v10lates time barriers, placing an ancient Greek figure in a contemporary poem, or vice versa. His verse forms are experi_m~n~al, roug~ly recalling the beats and other past stylistic meverenc1es. But a close reading will show him in the tradition sf Dunbar, Toomer, and Tolson. There are no sacred cows for Reed, who sometimes Iambasts black nationalists and white liberals in the same poem. Gener6 1n The works o f many Northern Califo rnia writers con al so be found " A rts & litera ture" issue of Th e Block Scholar, June 1975, ° special t II � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context EBRWritings_09_39 Title A name given to the resource Copy of excerpts from published Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry: A Critical History with handwritten notes Description An account of the resource Copy of excerpts from published Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry: A Critical History with handwritten notes. Includes title page, p. 248-249, p. 318-319, p. 370-373, p. 380-381, p. 386-389, p. 406-407. Relation A related resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Language A language of the resource English Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource For digital rights and permissions, see <a href="https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml">https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml</a> or contact <a href="mailto:library@siue.edu">library@siue.edu</a> for direct inquiries. In copyright. <a href="http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/">http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/</a> Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Redmond, Eugene B. https://digitallis.isg.siue.edu/files/original/0aace93cb3598cb2b3c9e6086f3eef85.pdf 46c067e9af6d7d38429624c5c4cff470 PDF Text Text M4;4 ~1117 uf ldo DRUMVOICES: THE MISSION OF AFRO-AMERICAN POETRY CAST Director/Producer: EUGENE REDMOND Narrator: TOMMIE ELLIS Chorus: KEITH JEFFERSON DEBORAH SLIM CHAMBERS CLIFTON WATSON RAMONA OWEN AHAJI UMBUDI 11 11 Musicians: IKE PAGGITT SELWYN JONES Dancers: PAM KAY LILLIE SAWYER JAMES WHEATLEY PH I LLI P WATSON Choreographer: ELAINE DRUMVOICES is a confluence of several fonns of theater under the heading of ritual ballet. It employs elements of traditional African and European drama as well as indigenous Afro-American ritual. Grounded in the concept of the African continuum, it was first developed as a teaching and performing vehicle. As a production, DRUMVOICES was first staged in 1976, but conceptually speaking, it represents the culmination of fifteen years of active research and work with anthropologists, composers, folklorists, poets, dancers, choreographers and philosophers. One peak in this long process was the publication, in 1976 1 of Eugene Redmond's DRUMVOICES, a critical history of Afro-American poetry. The production tonight explores the technical and thematic history of Afro-American written and oral poetry. The written fonns ar,e drawn from colonial America to the present; the oral fonns are assembled from African beginnings down to today. DRUMVOICES is presented at the University of California, Davis, by the AfroAmerican Studies Program, the Department of English, and the Committee on Arts and Lectures, under a grant by the Graduate Division. (M]V.l � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context EBRWritings_09_37 Title A name given to the resource Cast and description of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry, A Readers Theatre/Ritual Drama, May 8, 1977 Description An account of the resource Cast and description of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry, A Readers Theatre/Ritual Drama, May 8, 1977 at UC-Davis. Relation A related resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Language A language of the resource English Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource For digital rights and permissions, see <a href="https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml">https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml</a> or contact <a href="mailto:library@siue.edu">library@siue.edu</a> for direct inquiries. In copyright. <a href="http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/">http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/</a> Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Redmond, Eugene B. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 5/8/77 https://digitallis.isg.siue.edu/files/original/bfb75894c8114ba03872010752d62c0e.pdf b80a7c78d3404af2dfa4c921e6026866 PDF Text Text I DRUMVOICES: THE MISSION OF AFRO-AMERICAN POETRY* A Readers Theatre/Ritual Drama By Eugene B. Redmond * Script Adaptation of DRUMVOICES: THE MISSION OF AFRO-AMERICAN POETRY (a critical history), by Eugene B. Re.dmond: Doubleday, 1976. Script copyright© 1977 by Eugene B. Redmond �Note to Directors & Players * DRUMVOICES, as a theatrical., follows ~ 1~tradition of ritual theater or the "ri tuali zing 11 of an event . Ideally, for Readers Theater, th'$ ::.stage ·are . snould have :,.to'Qm ,,fox-, c: ti.ro ·--sets .~r,·.:m~l:f:A r~~ds and ·a danchfr ' :re-a 0 ~ince ritual theater is conceptually and practically adaptable to as few or as many players as are desire4, directo r s / stagers should proceed accordingly. Ritual drama is also qualitative in terms of depth and meaning--that is it can be as deep or as light as one wants it. Hence, in preparing DRUMVOICES for the stage, directors should take pains to determine the levels of intensity or message-del i v ery that tbe"y · w~t·. These levels can be ·achieved and/or modified .from perfonna.nce to performance by shifting (heightening or lesseni ng) tone and thrust. Ideally, for DRUI1VOICES, one drummer and one horn -player should make up the cast, along with at least one male and one female dancer. At the same,time, owing to the flexibility and adaptability of ritual theater, directors may use as many dancers or musicians as are desired . The speaking cast should(preferably ) consist of a three-member core-chorus. The core-chorus provides unison, harmony and call-and-response while at the same time supplying the main individual voices . Set apart from the core-chorus is th e n arrator, who is atmospherically removed, somewhat dispassionate but omnipresent aa a vast-voice image . Another voice , some distance to the other side of the core-chorus is khown as a relief-voice . This character/ player can be made the focus of attention or go unnoticed while he/she slips into the audience , disappears to change clothes , or prepares for some sudden and surprise shift in the action o f the drama . �1 Part I: Music & I The stage is bear except for music stands, a podium and the musicians' instruments. A log~ dancer appears, walks upstage and lmeels in preparation for the opeti~~ance-poem. 'r he first sounds are heard off stage at which time the drummer and horn player come on stage and situate themselves at their instruments. The dancer begins to dance when the musicians are assembled. Voices(off-stage) Music and I--Listenl--Yail Yail~ ,, Listen to the sound of my horn~ Music and I--Listenl--Yail Yail ~ Listen to the sound of my horn l ~,vv-- Music and I--Listenl--Yail Yail ~ Voictfoff-atage as dance begins) Listen to the sound of my horn ••• ~ This note you have longed to hear! \ Voicef2 Listen .to the sound of ~Y song, Fo'r :.. ·the music you have hummed by ear. Voice#3 I sound the time to rise for the fields. I moan the rhythm as the congregation lmeels . Voice#4 For I am the note of air, the catcher of your despair. Voice 5 I cry long nights for you my people . I rise early with my clayed cotton coat. I tote water to sun-baked lips, VoiceJl And I sing awa'f pain from your chain-whipped hips . (oveiJ ) �2 Voicet/2 But now, my people, I've grown a new song • .,..5.~~ Listen, all ye Americans I Lis t en with your ear: Voice#3(walking upstate to position) , I Now the congregation rises-Voice#4(walking upsta ge to position ) Now the new corn sprouts-Voice#5 (walking upstage to position) Now the air breathes fresh- - ---- Voice#l(walking upsta ge to position ) Now the trodden land sings-VoiceJ2 ( walking upstage to position) Now my horn of clay airs a long signa l motif. Voi ce/!3 Listen to the sound of my horn , my people. This rhythm of years long past . Voice#4 Listen to the sound of my horn, I say; _ Chorus(raising arms) Music and I ••• have come at lastJ (Durms) \ un . tempo; then dancer exits~ After a slight pause, narrator be gins the on~stage ritual program. ) ( As voices expa.bde , dancer and drumm~i- Gpick Narrator I am the poem! We are the poem! Na rrator And the poem is me I And the poem is us! And the poem is us! And the poem is u s ! (over) . �3 Narrator I run the poem and I came before pen or pencil or paper or printing press , \~ ; l I cupped and cuddled the wisdom of the winds in drum- bosoms of ecstasy . Drummer Performs a wide range of rhythms, movements , tones , multi ple - rhythms : African, West Indian, fro-Latin, Afro-American . Narrator Listenl Listen closely and you can hear me , you can hear me writing in drum-language ; you can hear me conversing with tomorrow, today and the heretofore. DRUMFEEI' ON THE SO IL, ON THE SAND ROADS OF THE MIND I FLESH-PISTONS PRANCING, THE EARTH'S ENGINE! IT IS A COMING FORTH , THE NIGHT WITHIN US COMING FORrH t THE NIGHT WITH I N US COMING PORTH I FEEr BEATING, BEATING, BEATING SEEDS INTO THE SO IL I Narrator I return and return an d return to my magnificent and reliable arclliv es . Chorus That 11,ove we can depend onJ Tha t Love we can depend on l Voice ( singing; as ·dancer·s st~llt,-sea.roh. ..' the sta·ge )'n, · 'ONOBOROBO ! ONOBOROBO t Voice ONOBOROBO t Chorus ONOBOROBO I (ov er ) �4 Voice Chorus ONOBOROBO I Narrator In my dependable cultural vault is the Idea-gram: that natural cil"etagraphy landscaped by thudding thoughts of my totem family, the living-dead, the breathing, the unborn. I am the poetic flesh-temple with many forms, earthdaughter and agile inundator oP history. I am the poem in motion. Dancer Bxecutes rudimentary movements and other elements of traditional African and neo-African dance: isolati on , use of pelvis and torso , leaps, twirls, pulls, the Yanvalou(or a kindre~movement}, vigorous stretches, lifts and thrusts. (Drum a ccompaniment) Narrator I am the Black and Unknown Bard. American put me on a conveyer belt - moving in two different direc t i ons at the same time. My African Jubilance turned to anger and a song of i&botage. My IndomiLable Echo and Idion flavored my Indomitable Press to be Human . As a poem, I became part of what I did, saw and dreamed on these shores: Field Hollers, Vendors' Shouts, Chants, Work Songs , Spirituals, Blues , Gospels, Jazz, Rhytbm-n- Blues, Soul Music .( See at tache d chart of the preceding items : which Je~!1- lus.t rated with short examples by voices after the list has been g~ven . ) Voice Did ye~ feed my cow? Voice Y~s M Voice Will yer te·ll me how? (ov er) �- 4-A ~ Ji'ield Hollers / yodle •••• hey brother yodle •••• hey brother Vendors' Shouts watermello~h oh ••• sausages,~.. / tomatoes, oh ••• I got •em fresh ••• , ohl Chants Om-la-la Om-la-la Work Songs Say I 1 m ~rking hard on the chaingang Spirituals Ezekiel saw the wheel a-turning(chorus) Way up in the middle of the air Blues Blood, lawd, blood all on the wall Gospels o~happ'J day O happy day When Jesus washed When Resue washed Washed all my sins away Jazz Ri fls from Ike Rhythm-and-Blues Will you still love me tomorrow? Soul Music I •m a soul man I 1 m a soul man ;{/ ,,,. \: �5 Voice Oh w 1 at did yer give 1 er? Voice Cawn an hay! Voice Oh w 1 at did yer give 1 er? Voice Cawn an hay! Voice(looking up) Evahwhuh I, whuh I loo~ dis mawnin , Looks lak rain, looks like rain . Chorus Looks lak rain, l ooks lak rain J clc11,µ1.1df~ Voice I gotta rainbow, tied all roun mah sh oulder, Ain gonna rain, ain gonna rain . Chorus Dis is de hammer, Kilt John Henry I Voice(emphatically) Twon•t kill me , baby, Twon 1 t kill me . Take dis hammer, Carry it to de captain-Voice Tell him I'm gone , baby, I - I Tell him I 1 m gone . ( ova') . I �6 Chorus I got a rainbow Tied 1 roun my shoulder, Ain 1 t gonna rain, baby, Ain't gonna rain . Voice(work-song,sung) Dis ole hammer- -huh!(chorus) Ring lak silver--huht(chorus) 'f-. r J (.; Shine lak gold--huhl(chorus) Chorus Ain 1 t gonna rainJ Ain!t gonna rain! Voice(female) I 1 m a big fat mamma, got the meat shaking on mah bones , I ' m a big fat mamma , got the meat shaking on map bones , C\.Jj And eV6frY time I shakes , some skinny girl loses huh home . Voice Run, nigger run ; de patter- roller catch you; Chorus Run , nigger, run, it ' s almost day . Voice Run , ni gger , run; de patter-roller catch you ; Chorus Run , nigger, run, and try to ~ get away . Voice Dis nigger run, he run his best ,-- Stuck his head in a hornet's n e st,-Voice Jumped de fence and run fru the paster; (over ) I I I 1' I\ I �7 Cho rus White man run, but ni gge r run faster . Voi c e Da.t nigger run, dat nigger flew,-Cho rus Dat ni gge r tore hi s shirt in two. Narrator Yes, as poem,as cotton-picker, as banjo-player, as fiddler, as preacher, as ,minstrel-maker and mirror, as slave-rebellion leader, I emered a ne'f/ part of the old. My African song ushered forth in strange new Biblical Language. Voice(s inging ) Go Down, Moses , Way Down in Egyptland; Chorus(talking~pointing) Tell old Pharoah To let my people go . Voice ( s~mging) Deep River •••• / Chorus ( talking) Deep Deep Deep River •• 0. Voice Deep Riv e r, my home is ove r Jordan ; Deep River, Lord; I want to c ross over into camp ground. Voice ( exci te dly) And, yes, I DREAMED I was riding in that chariot . Chorus ( or Voice) Swing low, sweet chariot , , / ✓ Coming for to carry me hoITB1 ( over ) ' - • - - I I �sweet chariot, \ Coming for to carry me home . l. Voice \ Green trees a-bending, Po' sinner stands a-trembling The trumpet sounds within-a-my soul ; Chorus I ain't got long to stay h ere. Vo i ce (male) Joshua fit de battle of Jericho,-- Jericho, Jericho-hG-ho-hol Voice Joshua fit de battle of Jericho,-- And de walls came tumbling down . Voice f Dat morning • • • • ~ w~~AhM,,~ .~· "'- ~ Chorus And ·de:_ walls came tumblins down Voice My God is a rock in a weary lan 1 - - Chorus Weary lan 1 , weary lan 1 - - j. ~ Voice My God is a rock in a weary lan 1 - I I Shelter in de time of storm. ,, Narrato r I was Black and curious; I confronted harshness head-on; my struggle meant (over) �write like whites , even though,Ironically , their 9 ~aws said I could be punished or jailed for possessing such knowl edge and skill . Voice You named me .Lucy Terry! Voice Gustavas Vassal Voice Britton & Jupiter Hammon! Voice Coon & Buck I Voice Phyllis Wheatley! And I maste r ed Greek , Latin and English in my teens . Lonely Black girl whom the muses befriended, thousands and thousands of miles away from my West Afri can home. I contimued to emerge as the poem. Voice Should you,my Lord, while you peruse my song, ti Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung, Whence flow these wishes fort h e common good, By feeling hearts alone best understood, I, youn g in life, by s e eming cruel fate, snatched from Afrjc 1 s fancy 1 d happy seat; ~~t pangs· ~xcruci~t:ing must molest, , .1.l.".1t'.·c -~·· ·, ··, - ~ _: ,.. ,r,1 •:;. · - _ ., _ · _ .,. ·,:.,~. ! ~-.-. .. - -~~• What sorr'ows labour in my parents I breasts? Steel 1 d was that soul and by no misery mov 1 d ~~s 1 • 1I That from a father seiz 1 d his babe belov 1 d: ' I Such, such my case . And can I then but p r ay Others may never feel tyranic sway? (wheo1ley) Narrator You n amed me George Moses Horton. I did not like the injustice (over ) of the �10 I turned into a po em. Even t ho ugh some continued calling me "The Slave." Chorus "The Slave"? Voice Because the brood-sow 1 s left side pigs were black, Whose sable tincture was by na tu re struck , Were you by justice bound to pul l them back And leave the sandy -c olored pig s to suck ? (Ho rton) Chorus(ominously ) Runagate I Runaga to l Runagate l Narrator My mother cure d ills and my father worke d mots . In the bi - cultural constriction the poem became juju-man, the face hidden by the ambiguous minstrel smile . Voice We have fashioned l aughter Out of tears and pain; Chorus Bqt the moment after-Voice Pain and t ea rs again.(9harles Bertram Johnson) Voice Forgive these erring people , Lord! Voice Who lynch at home and love abroad. ( ~ D ~ ) Na rrator Still I wrote - -this time just like I talked, though some made fun of it , But,as maker of song , I could only produce heart-rhythrn.s . (over) �Voice 11 de Cunjah man , O chi llen,run, de Cunjah man ! Chorus O chillen,run, the Cunjah man! Voice Him mouf ez beez as fryin 1 pan; Voice Him yurs am small, him eyes am raid,-Voice Him hab no toof een him 01 1 haid, -- <\ /, Voice Him hab him roots , him wuk him tricks,-- 0:\ J Voice Him roll him eye , him mek you sick-Chorus De Cunjah man, de Cunjah man, 0 chillen run, de Cunjah manl(J . E. Campbell) Narrato r I knew my rights, my rou@-1 times and my remedies. Voice(assuming tones reflBoting physical illneases) Blue-mass , laudnum, liver pills , "Sixty-six, fo I fever an 1 chills,'' Ready Relief, an' A.B.c., An 1 half a bottle of X. Y. Z.(J. H. Ho J.loway) Narrator / You named me Frances Bl len Watkins Harper, James Edwin Campbell, James Weldon Johnson, Paul Lawrence Dunbar--Son of ex-slaves, elevator boy risen to brilliantbard of the race . As the poem I strode forth in several kinds of English . ( over ) - _j �12 Voice bird sings, Ah me, ./ When his wing is bruised and his bosom soraT Wb_en he beats his bars a nd he would be free; It is not a carol of joy or glee , But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core, But a plea , that upward to Heaven he flings-I know why theca ged bird singsl(Dunbar } Narrator Above all, song exudes from me . Indeed, I am song. Watch and examine me. My birthright is my anthem. My song is my sword. And I :· lift that sword hi gh I Voice (singing) Lift evEry voice and sing, I I "} Till earth and he aven ring, Ring with the harmonies of liberty. Chorus ( t al king, pointing upwards) Till our rejoicin gs ri s e High as t h e li s t enin g skies l( J . W. Johnson ) / Narrator As song-poem I forged pure fl ames of rhythms without books. James Weldon Johnson called me the Black and Unknown gard . And, let me tell you something ••• hmmmmmmrn •••• I always loved to hear Ma lindy sing. Voice G1 way an 1 quit dat noise, Miss Lucy-PUt dat music book away; What's de use to keep on tryin 1 ? Jf you p ractis e twell you're gray , You cain 1 t sta 1 t no notes a-flyin 1 Lak de ones dat r ants and rings From de kitchen to de big woods (ove r) �Chorus Wb_en Malindy sings . Voice You ain 1 t got de nachel o'~ans Fu t to make de soun ' come right, You ain 1 t got de tu 1 ns an' twistin's fut to make it sweet an ' li ght . Tell you one thing now , Miss Lucy , An ' I'm tellin ' you fu ' true, When hit comes to raal right singin' , Chorus • ' T a in' t no easy thing to do . Voice Easy 1 nough fu I follcs to hollah, Lookin ' at de lines an ' dots, When dey ain ' t no one kin sence it , An ' de chune comes in,in spots; But fu' real melojous music, Dat jes strikes yo ' hea 1 t and clings, Jes you stan 1 an 1 listen wif me .Chorus When Malindy sings . Voice Ain I t you nevah hyeahd Malindy? Blessed soul , tek up de cross I Look hyeah , ain 1 t you jo kin' , honey? Well, you don't lmow what you los 1 • Y' ought to hyeah dat gal a-wa 1 blin 1 , (over) I, �14 Robin s , la 1 ks, an' all dem things , Heish dey moufs an' hides dey faces Chorus When Malindy sin~s. Voicef/1 Fidlin 1 man jes' stops his fiddlin 1 , Lay his fiddle on de she 1 f; · Voice /12 Mockin 1 -bird quit tryin' to whistle , 1 0ause he jes so shamed hiss e 1 f. Voice#3 Folks a-playin' on de banjo Draps dey fingahs on de strings-Bless yo' soul--fu' gits to move 1 em, When Malindy sings. Voice#She jes 1 spreads hu mouf and hollahs, Voice( singing) "Come to Jesus, 11 Voice ••• twell you hyeah Sinnahs 1 tremblin' steps and voices, Timid-lak a-drawin 1 neah; - Den she tu'ns to "Rock of Ages, Voice(singing) 11 \~ Voice Simply to de cross she clings , (over) �fin yo ' teahs a-drapp in 1 When Malindy sings . Voice Who dat says de humble praises Wif de Master nevah counts? Heish yo• mouf, I hyeah dat music , Ez it rises up an• mounts-P'loatin1 by de hills an 1 valleys, 'I Way above dis burryin 1 sod, ' I Ez hit makes its way in glory To de very gates of GodJ Vo i ce Oh, hit ts sweetah dan de mu sic Of an edic ated band; An 1 hitts dearah dan de battle 's Song 0 1 triumph in de lan 1 • Voice#l r J It seems holier dan evenin 1 When de solemn chu I ch bell rings,/ • ' Voice #2 ( slowly,search ingly) Ez I sit an I ca •·m ly listen Chorus While Malindy sings. Voice Tows~. stop dat ba 1 ki n , hyeah me I Mandy, mek dat chil e keep s till; I (ove r) -- -- - --- - ~ �16 hyeah de echoes c al lin 1 F 1 om de valley to de hill? Let me listen, I can hyeah it, Th 1 oo de br~sh of angels' wings , Sof 1.. and sweet, . V v~ Voice//3 ( singing ) • • o 11 Swing low, Sweet Chariot, 11 Voice(dreamily and ecstatically) Ez Malindy sin gs . (Dunbar) ~ --r:::;:;:;- Narrato r Poem that I was and am, I traveled from 11 oas i s to oas i s . 11 Voice Man I s Saharic up and down~ (M. B. To lson) Narr ator Riverboats , river towns chaingangs ••• Voice( singin 8 as chorus makes work-sounds in background) ,.,, , it Well don ' t you know ,, That I s the sound of the men, working on the chain - n - n-n gan- ee - ang ; We l l don't you know That ' s the sound of the men , worki ng on the chain gang .( Cooke) Narrator Bar-room toughs , hard-hearted Hanna , Stagolee ••• they all knew me . Voice Hardahaarted Hanna - Voice F rom Savannah, GEE A. Voice She was so cold , yall-Chorus Wasn 1 t she 1 (ov er ) �17 Voice a drownin g man! Cho rus(slowly and deliberately ) Water , on a drown-ii-nnn g man. Voice(attracting the attention of othe r s ) It was early one mornin', When I heard my bulldog bark; Stagolee and Bi lly Lyons Was squablin 1 in the dark . Voice ' / Frankie and Hohnny were lovers , , ~ ¥l Cho rus \~\,_,1).Lo r dy , how they could love , Voice Swore to each o ther , True as the stars up above , /y I \~ He was he r man but he don e her wrong. · Voice(fcmale) / Shine, shine , shine , ••• save po 1 me . Na rrator I was in the constant see - saw of life, wading through hell in search of heaven. But I kept my working philoso phy with me . Voice#l De stoppe r get de longest rest in de empty jug. Voice #2 ~ De pric e of your hat ain 1 t de measure of your brain. Voice#J De graveyard is de cheapes 1 boardin 1 - house . Voiceff4 \ ~ Buy i n ' on credit is robbin 1 next year's crop . (Over) t �Voice#5 Life is short and full of blisters . Voice#l De cow-bell can ' t keep a secret. Voice#2 Little flakes make de deppest snow. Voice#3 De crawfish in a hurry look li k e he tryin' to git dar yesterday . Voicei'/4 Be drinks so much whis key t hat he stae;gers in his sleep . Vo ice//5 In God we trust , all others ca sh . Harr n.to r Yes I was lyric-wise . You heard me everywhere . You even heard me coming from the swollen lips of the bugle, French horn , trumpet, clari net and saxophone . Horn A series of short riffs and movements exemplary and illustrative of various forms of Afro - American music played between the advent of the spirituals and the ra gtime-blues pe riod. Nar r o.tor In Paris they called the "C ak ewal k " th e "poe try of motion o II In the crevices of ships I was transported t o global points to make m' splendid sound and dance my splendid poetry of motion . Dance.[;) Executes a series of movements an.c steps repr es enting such dances as-------, I t the Cakewalk, Charleston , the Two ·- S tep , Ji tterbpg and the Bop . ~lerr.ents ✓ of West Indian dances should flavor movements . (over) �Narrator As the poem I blue horns , shot guns in your First World War, danc ed dances and came home to face the Ku Klux Klan, Southern Sheri f fs and Jim Crow . I got Angry . And I go t defiant. But , I was re l at i v ely cool. Vo i c e ( serious ) Into the furnace let me go alone ; Stay you without in terror of the heat . I f I I will go naked in-~for thu s 1tis sweet -Into the wei rd depth s of the hott est zone . Voice ( serious but r esolute and emer ging) De si re d e s troys , consumes my mortal fea r s , Transforming me into a shape of f l ame . I wi ll come out , back to your world of tears , A strong4 cr soul within u finer framc .( McKay) Na rrator From the dark tower I watched az I pr.epareg, watched as I prepare d, wat ched as I pre pared, lmowinc; that !!We were not made ete rnally to weep . Voice(reflective , meditative ) The n i ght whose sable breast relieves the stark \mi te stars is no less lov e ly being dar k , And there are buds that cannot bloom at all In light , but crumple , pite ous, and fall; So in the dark we hide the heart that bleeds , And wait , and tend our agonizing seeds . (Cullen ) Narrator Aft er race riots in several American citi es , I lifted my voi c e i s e aring shaft of discontent . Chorus 0 kinsmen! we must meet the common foel (over) 11 �20 Voice Li ke men we 1 11 face t he murde r ous , cowardly pac k , // ( Pre ssed to th e wa l l , dyin g , ••• Ch orus ( slowl y an d softly ) Dying • •• dying ••• dyinG Voice ••• but fi e)ltin~ ba ck ! (MC,'f(~t) No.rrato r All the wh ile my past k e pt pul lin g on me . It was if we we r e married to each other, c lue d , loc ked, 1ve l de d to geth er . It was as if t h o se who dep ar t ed n e v e r re al ly , real l y die d . An Af rican sense kept tu ggi n g tu gging a t my trunc a t e d ro o ts . The bri dge of my dwarf-lik e pa st r e s t ed on at l ea s t two shores . Voi ce Pour o pou r tha t pa rtin g s oul i n song , 0 } ., J pour it in the s awdu s t g l ow o f ni gh t , Into t h e v elve t pine- smoke air to - ni ght , ••• Ch orus( s l ow an d e cho - li ke ) I And l et the vall ey carry it a l ong . l And l et th e va ll ey ca rry it a long . (t6ome~) Narr ator( co nfus e d a nd desp era te) Sometime s I wa s only ha l f - there , f i ~ht ing t hose who wante d to sn a tch away my humanity by day ; and fi~tin g hunge r and confu si on at h ome by night . As th e poem, I eme r ge d convolute d and who lly new, only t o -, re t r e at to a some - other- time r e f rai n . ~gyp t , Ghana , Madagasc a r , th e Pyramids-- Voodoo Ceremon ies--what did th ey all me an ,to me? The beau ty - pain of it all? Chorus Come with a bl as t of trump et s , Jesu s ! (over ) I I I �21 Voice(oxymoronic) And the be auty of Susanna Jones in red Burns in my h e art a love -fir e sharp like pain. Chorus Sweet silver trump e ts , Jesust(}\v8~8S) Voice l • Well, son, I 1 11 t e ll yo u: Life for me ain' t been no c ry st al Na r r a tor ,, But the blur of that v ei 1 wa s al ways tempo rar-f ly relieved by sorig, by I dance, by re a ding or th inkin g about for ei gn places and looking forward to the day when American s wo ul d grow up . We were here--in America-but not of it . Simply wo r rying, wi thout a plan tn change things , didn 't help much. We grew stronger, and more b eautiful , in the- words of Langston Hughes , as we re-embr a c e d ou r own ri t u a ls . Ch orus ( si n ging an d jiving) Shake your brown , f eet , ho ney, Shake your brown feet, chile, I Shake you r brown f eet , honey, \ Shake Jem swift and wil 1 - Voi ce Get way back , hon ey , Do that low- down step • Walk on over, da r l i n g, Nowt Come out With your left . (Hu ghes ) Voi ce (breaki n g t h e fun - frolic and wairing serious) Yet do I marvel at this curious thi ng : To make a po et b l a Ck . ond bid h im s ing I (ov e r) (.cvUeri) ·- ~ /k w-;=--- -\t, .~ �22 Narrator Yet must I marvel that I'm here nt al l. Because during the watering years, after the GREAT DEPRESSION, my existence was seriously threatened by lynching and at atmosphere of intimidation. I went to war, as poem and soldier and cook and shining knight of DEMOCRACY! The SWASTIKA, 'rhe RISING SUN, The HAMI1ER & SICKLE , I was told, were my REAL enemies . Meanwhile you had named me Owen Dodson and I grew accustomed to the realities of neighborly enemies, 'rhose who caused UNNATURAL DEATHS . Voice(preaching a funeral sermon) d I Wake up, boy, and tell me how yo u died: What sense was alert last, What immediate intuition about m You clutched like a bullet when your nails Dug red in your yellow p alm And that map the fortunetell e rs r ead Chorus (this line for money , this for love) ·Voice ••• Chorus Wake up, boy . ••• Voice • • • I go to death tomorrow, I Tell me what ro a d you took, • • • Chory.s What hour in the day is luc kiest? Voice Did your Adams apple explode? Who sewed stitches in your angry (over) heart ?(0.~.S0'1] I �-23 Chorus O wake ••• Narr a t o r Yes, yes, • • • I wa s someti me s a t at t e red and beaten poem in the nineteen Thirties, Fo rti e s an d Fifties. But I was a poem anyway: Gracious, Noble, ~un darnen tal, Fiery, Firm, Relating to .1~ W(lltt~ People" on ~ur Common Ground . Some one cal led me Margare~ I became a Tapestry of My Many Selves. Voice#l For my people,everywhere sin ging their slave songs repeatedly ; • • • their dirges and th eir ditties and theitit.:,bL~ and jubilees, Voi ce1f3 • • • praying th e ir p r ayers ni ghtly to an unknown god, Voice/Pf • • • bending th eir knees humbly to an un/seen power; Voice #2 • • • washing/ironin g cooking scrubbing sewing mending plowing/digging planting pruning patching dragging along n ever gaining never reaping neve~ knowing and never understand/tng; Voice#) For my playmates in the clay and du s t and sand of Alabama backyards playing • • • Voice #l baptizing · and••• Voice#2 preaching and ••• (over) hoeing/ �24 Voiceif3 doptor and ••• Voice/fl jail and ••• Voice-/12 soldier and ••• Voiceff3 school and •••• Voiceirl mama and/cookin8 an d playhouse and concert and store and/hair and l-1iss Choomby and company; Voice #2 For the cramp ed bewildered ye a rs we went to school t o learn to know the reasons why and the answer s to and t h e people who and the p laces wh ere and the days when , in memory of t he bitter hours ,-men we di s cov ere d we were black and poor and small and different an d nobody cared an d nobody wondered and nobody understood; Voice lfJ/ § ~;.)), For the boys and girls who grew in spite of these things to be • .. man and woman, to l au gh and dance and sin g and play and drink th eir wine and reli gi_on and success, to marry their playmates and be a r children and then die of consumption and anemia and lynching; Voice#l For my people throngin 15 47th Street in Chicago and Lenox Avenue in New stre et in New Orleans, ••• Voiceif· For my people blundering and g roping and floundering in the (o ver ) I l , I �25 dark of churche s an d nch ools and clubs and societies , as - • sociations an d co uncils an d connni ttees and convent i ons, distressed a nd di s turbe d and deceived and devoured by money-hungry glory-craving leeches, preyed on by facile force of st ate and fad an d novelty , by false prophet and holy believer; Voice-11'3 Le t a new ea rth ri se . Lot anothe r wo rld be born. Let a bloody peace be wri t t en in t he sky , Voic e#"J. • •• Le t a second gen e ra t ion full/ of courage issue forth ; Voice #2 • • • l e t a peo ple loving fr e e dom come/ to growth . Let a beauty ful l / of healing and a stren gth of final clenching be the pulsing in/ our spirits and(our blood . Voice #J • • • Let the martial songs be written , let the dirges dis/ appear. Ch orus(strongly) • • • Let a race of men now rise and tak e contro l . (M. Walker) b Narrate r Frank Ma rshall Da vis , Melvin Be a unorous Tolson , Sterling Brown, :Hobert Hay den, Pau l Ve sey, Bob Kau fman , Geore;ia Douglas ~ Johnson, Russell Atkins, Le a dbel l y , Li [71 t nin 1 Hopkins--thes e are names by which my voice is lmo,,m . Some even call me by the n ame of (whisp e ring ) HISTO RY . Ch or u s ( r isin g from History I Runagat e I Runa gatel Voice Runs falls rises stumbl e s on f r om da rlrne ss into darlmess and the da rkness thic kete d ui t h shap e s of t e r r or ( ov e r) II �~ ;-.-lii'i:::====~:::::::::::::::=====~~--=,-,..= 26 and the hunt e rs pu rsu i n g and the h ound s pursuing and t he n i gh t cold an d t he ni 8ht long a nd the river tocross a nd t he j a.c k - muh-l ante rns beckoning be c koning and th e b l ack n e ss ahead and when shall I r ea ch that son:ewhere morning a nd k e ep on go ing a nd ne v er turn back and keep on going ••• Chorus(fri gh tencd) Runa gatel Voice Some go weeping and some r e j oicing I, ~~ some in coffins and s ome i n c a rri age s ~ ~ some in s ilks and some i n shackl e s ••• -- r Oh tha t train , gho s t-story trai n through swamp and s~vanna mov c r ing mo vering over trestles of dew, thro u gh c a ves of the wish, _M_i_dn_i~gh,,_t__S~p_e_c_i_a=l,_o_n_a _sabre track mov e ring movering, first s t o e y and th e l as t Ha llelujah . \ Voice O- '2.--, \ ' Ch oru s ( ~ Mean me ~n t ean to be fr e e . ( R. Hayden) Narrator I became a brilliant word- to rch shining back against my past and flami ng proudly into the f u ture . Al l the while I wormed into and won hearts and minds . And in 1950 , Ameri c a gave me the coveted Pulitzer Prise . My name was Annie A1len but I wus many peo ple . I was so fin ely sculpted that no infl e c tion wa s impreci se . I said what I had to say in a langua ge that dazzled and blinded the worl d . I s tood as a j ewel ; I talkitJd about e. jewel name d "Satin-Less Smith . 11 (ov er) I, �27 Voice(a s others look on admiringly) He wakes, unwinds, elaborately: a cat Tawny, reluctant, royal o He is fat And fine this morning . Definite . Reimbursed. He waits a momemt , he designs his reign , That no performance m~y be plain or vainp Then rises in a cl ear deliriwn. Voice Let .; us proceed. Let us inspect, together .With his meticulous and serious love, , The tnnards of this closet. Which is vault r ~ Whose glory is not diamonds, not pearls , Not silver plate with just enough dull shine . But wonder suits in yeJlow ru1d in wine , Sarcastic creen and zebra-striped cobalt. With shoulder padding that is wide And cocky and determined as his pride ; Ballooning pan.ts that taper off to ends Scheduled to choke precisely . Voice Here are hats Like bri ght umbrellas; and hysterical ties Like narrow banners for some gathering war.(G . Narrator Yes , I was immaculately Black . Magni ficently Black . And I knew the powe r of the Rap I Chorus Amen! (over) �28 Narrator I became the power of the Ra.pl Ch orus Amen ! Vo ice Bartender, make it strai ght and ma ke it two -Voice( poin t ing) Otte for the you in me ••• Voice (point i ng ) • •• and the me . in you . (H. Tol so n ) Nar r ator After lengthy conversations with my music, I became th e Be-Bopper; somebody c alled me t he Zoot-S uiter ; I put on dark gl a sses and conked my hair. A do uble-chinned salesman handed me some bleaching cream and a cadillac as I sped North to join my brothers and sisters in the Promised Lan d. Richard Wright and James Baldwin cried for me . John Oliver Killens Hea rd The Thunde r and Ralph Ellison called me Invisible , adding that once my leaders de coded the riddl e of my style and my rap they could help me save me . Black , I left a White country to fight Yellow men in Korea . Ella , Miles , Monk , Billie, Prez , Chana Pozo , Ornette, Col t rane -- they went to war with me . Ch orus Good Morning heartachel(sung) How do you do.(said) Horn Medley of tunes and musical mannerisms reminiscent of the period. / Narra tor I got hip to world events , sci en c e and space exploration . I knew wha:; I knew, still I c ouldn 1 t go where I wanted to go, or d() what I wanted to do . Americ a: got nervo us wh en ever I ap pe a r ed in public . But I knew (o ver) �29 certain events and de velopmen t s were dooming all of us t.o an "Ultimate Reality. 11 Voice You know , Joe, it's a fUJ1ny t h in~, Joe , You worry most of you r life about me , Always afraid 1 1 11 g,et a job with you, Always scared I mi c;ht get s e rv e d Hi th you , I Always afraid I'd wanna love you r sister I Or that she might love me . Voice Don~t want me to e o. t with you , Voice Seared I might live next t o you-- / ~•t Vo i ce But with the Atom Bomb , Joe , It looks like I might die with you . Voice That don •t : seem ri c;ht , does it, Joe?( Ray Durem) Narrator But in spit e of all the adversity, the historical s trengths kept returning to me , sho rin g me u_r , h clpine; me to keep ge tting up, to keep going . We had our personal victori es in the meant ime . We learned everything tha t it too~ to make it in America , even when no one would let us have equipment or space to work in . We ju s t reo.che d back inside ours elves and came up with what was n ee de d . Then one day, the poem became a baseball in the hands of the le gendary Leroy Satchel Paige . Voic e Sometimes I feel like I will never stop Just go on foreve r ( over) I I �30 .dll one fine morniri 1 I'm gonna reach up and g rab me a handf'ulla stars Swing out my long lean le g \ And whip th ree hot strikes burnin 1 down the heavens And look over at God and say How about thatt(S. Allep) \ ) Narrator Style has always been my signature . So it was not a surp ris e t hat I returned to myself in motion . Behold ! The Stroll! Ch orus Sings a portion of -.rcne Chandler ' s 11 Duke of Ba rl II or some oth er period pi ec e . lJu1•ruLl) I' ' The Kans a s City Slo p I The i·1adi son I Sings !l portion of the Five Satins ' "±n the Still of the Nigh t" or anothe r song from period . Na rrator The Twist ! II B:ri•ef exerpt from Chubby Checker ' s "Twist 11 • Narrator The Funky Chicken l 'fi1e Karate Do ogaloo I They saw me poeting with my hips and my feet . Chorus Poetincl Poeting t Na rrat or And took it all b a ck to American Bandstand and other countries . Voice (sin ging ) There 's a thrill upon the hill! Chorus (singing) Let's Go ! Let ' s Go! Let 1 s Go! (over) I I �Norrator I ea.me home from Ko rea to meet the Klan in a new sheet. And in Mo nt gomery they would not let my mother sit down on a bus. As a poem, my name became Lanc e Jeffers, Raymond Patterson , G. C. Oden, Mari Evans , LeRoi Jones and Imamu Amiri Baraka , Audre Lorde . Chorus( qucstioningly) Montgome ry? Montgomery? Mont gomery? • • • I remember Montgomery . Voice And Birmingham--the fo\J\" little , little girls. t' Voice Four little girls r, Who went to Sunday Scho ol that day And never came ba c k homo at all - Voice But le ft inste a d Th~ir blood upon the wall With spattered flesh And bloodied Sunday dresses Scorched by dynamite that Ghina made aeons ago Dmtl not know' what China made Befo re China was ever Red at all Woul d redden with their blood This Birmingham- on-Sunday wall . Four tiny girls Who left thei r blood upon th a t wal l , In jli ttle ·.graves _today await (o v e r ) .... �32 Voice The dynamit e t ho. t mi ch t i gnite The anci ent fuse of Dr a gon Kings ·w hose tomorrow sing s a. hymn The missiona ries n e v er t a u f;ht In Ch ristian Sunday ~cho ol 'f o Impl ement th e Go lden Hu le . Voice Four little girl s Might be awakened someday so on By son gs u pon the breeze Voice As y et unfelt amo n g Magnolia trees . \ ! (t-\vffe-9 Voice And Se lma ! Voice And Philadelphia, Mississippi! Voice(vagu e ly, hesita ting ly) I recollect Emmett Til l! Voice Jind Watts! Harrator My Name was Conrad Kent Rivers at that time . I became a poem called "Watts , " hoping that in such dis guise I could find my way out of this daily nightmare. Voice Hust I sho o t the white man dead to free the ni gge r (e v er ) . �33 tis head? Voice( p ausing , musin e ) Must I shoot the white man dead to free the nigger in h is head? (t ,t~°t(..Jer;) Voice And Newa r k l Voice And Harlem ! Voice And Oakland I ' Voice And Dallas! Voice And East St . Louis! Voic e And Chicago J Voice Hartin Luther King ! Voice Malcolm! ,( J Voi c~ Stokley! Voice H. flap Bro wn! Voice James Brown l (ov e r) �Na rrator 34 the ~ sky . Libe ration became ~y ;passi onate preoccupati on . A warm self-love engulfed me . My woman and I looke d at each othor through new-old eyes . We had our own standard of be a uty. I stret ched and yawned and walked around in my own neighborhood. My ~o l or felt good and healthy to me . It looked good to me in the mirror of my Brothers 1 eyes . Someone called me Black and I didn I t h it him. At a ral l y , I turned into a voice on the podium shouting. Chorus WE ARE AN AFRICAN PEOPLE! Drummer & Dance r Salute the coming of the new consciousness with appropria t e n eo - Afri can rhythms and movement s . Voice For all thin gs Plack and beautiful , The brown f a c es you loved s o well and lonG, the endless roads leading bac k to Harlem . Chorus Kulu Se Mama l Kulu Se Mama! Ku l u Se Mama! Kulu Se Mama Vbice i/1 Where the string At ~~,~~ Some umbilical j azz , Voice #2 Or perhaps , I n memory, A long lost bloody cross, Buried in some steel calvary. �35 Voicetf3 ,J~ In what time For whom do we bl ee d, 1 Lost notes, from some j a zzman s Broken needle. Voice tf4 Musical tears from lo s t Byes , Broken drumstick s, whyT Voice1tl q- Pitter pa tte r , boom dropping v Bombs in the middle Of my emotions Voicetf~ . Voi ce t/=3 ~ My father 1 s s oun d My mother i s sound ••• Chorus Is l ove , f\\ Is life . ~ (\3,(°o.\lr~V\) "if<).~ Narrator I had watched America . I know Amer ic a . I could deal with the diff e rence and the samene ss, ~hut st r ange decora t e d pain that character ize s our existence . I ke ~ f coming b ac:, Co the point of the sy'~he s is and the symbiosis . I am history ru~d fut ure, or , put differently , I am future • history . Sometimes , because of my many levels of vision , I grasp the helm of the struggJ. es of the many co lo red hands . I might ev en be in a riv er that laces the stomach of America . ... �36 Voice (with dance accompaniment) Vibrant vein, Bent, crooked, Older than the Red Men \ Who named you; Arici ent as the winds That break on your Serene and shining face; One time western boundary of America From whc.s,&rc.ehTh~ Your broad shoulders now r each To touch sisters On the flanks . Cb:brus River of Truth: Voice • • • Mornings You leap , yawn 2000 miles , And shed a giant joyous tear Over sprouting, straggling Hives of humanity; Nigh ts you weep As the moon , tiptoeing Across your silent silky Face, hears you praying Over the broken backs Of black slaves who rode, ~rouched and hudd led, At your heart in the bellies (6cer) �Chorus River of Memo ry_: Voice Laboratory for C1vil War Boat builders Who left huge eyes of steel Staring from your sullen deptl1s; Reluctant pa rtn er to crime s 0 f Ku Klux IGana.men ; River moved to wav es Of ecstasy By the venerable trumpet Of Louis Armstrong . Chor1ls River of Bones : River of bones and flesh-- ~ ;.~ Bones and flesh and blood; Voice The nation ' s large st Intestine And longest conveyer belt; Cho rus River MISSISSIPPI: River of little rivers; River of rises , Voice Sometimes subdued By a roof of ice, descendine finally On your Southward course .:.. �38 Gu lf And join the wrath 0 f large r bodies . ( l{edmo nd) Na rrato r I mused ov e r river s and long - go n e v o ices underneath rivers . Soor., however, I turned to philosophy . In the spit and dart of my new se lf, th e re were uttera nces I had to make , blood- thou ghts I had to share . I knew this was another sequel to the dream . I h a d not believed those fairy tales . I needed to take a hand a n d s tand and speak the truth to t he people . Cho rus Speak the truth to the people ! Vo ice It is not n e c essary to Gre en the heart Only to ident ify the enemy It is not nec ess ary t o blo w the mind Only to free the mind . ·0riorus It is thetotal black! Voi ce It is the total black, being spoken From theearth' s inside. There are many kinds of open. How a diamond comes into c1l,: knot of flame How a sound comes into a word, colored By who pays what for speaking . Chorus Love is another k ind of openr(over) �39 Voice diamond comes ipto a kno t of flame I am bla c k b ecause I come from the earth ' s i nsi de Take my word for j ewel in your open li@it . Na rrator I am the ecs tasy of NOW ! 'fhe fullest realization of my Ancestors' wishes. I retum , even in the alarm ; even in the shadow-body I am often forced to we ar . But enouf!,h , cnough --I beg you, my dear aijsociates, look How on our's and history 's finest treasure. Voice(and dancer ) I am a black woman the musi c of my song some sweet a rp eggio of t ea rs is written in a mi nor k ey and I can be heard humming in the ni l.Jlt Can be heard hummin g ✓ Cho rus Hums fi rst line of 11 No body l,no ws the Troubl e I See Vo ice(continuing poem ) in the night , J / I saw my mate leap scre runi n c to th e s ea and I/with these han~s/cupped the lifebreath from my issue in tre c anebre.lrn I lost Nat ' s swinging body in a rain of tears and I heard my son ~ s cre am all the way from~z for Peace he n evEr kn ew . • • • I learned Da Nang \md Pork Chop Hill in anguish (o ver) 7 11 , �40 my no s trils lmow the gas and t h ese tri gge r tire/d fin Ge rs seek t h e softness in my wa r rio r 1 s b ear d I am a blac k woman tall as a cypress strong beyond all definition st ill defying place and time and circum s tance assailed ) impervious i ndestruc tible Look on me and be renewed.(/j\ f~~0 Cho rus Look on me and be ren ewed. A.1 1 Look on us and be renewed. 11inis � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context EBRWritings_09_36 Title A name given to the resource Second draft of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry, A Readers Theatre/Ritual Drama, typed with handwritten edits, 1977 Relation A related resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Language A language of the resource English Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource For digital rights and permissions, see <a href="https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml">https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml</a> or contact <a href="mailto:library@siue.edu">library@siue.edu</a> for direct inquiries. In copyright. <a href="http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/">http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/</a> Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Redmond, Eugene B. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1977 https://digitallis.isg.siue.edu/files/original/ebdd342df128b6d11a87a37cfb825ca8.pdf 070f4f3c8a3259e0890523f38bde3a7b PDF Text Text DRUMVOICES : THE MISSION OF AFRO-AMERICAN POETRY* A Readers Theatre/Ritual Drama By Eugene B. * Script Adaptation of DRUMVOICES : THE MISSION OF AFRO-AMERICAN POETRY (a critical history} , by Eugene B. Redmond: Doubleday, 1976. Script copyright @ 1977 by Eugene B Redmond �Note to Directors & Players DRUMVOICES , as a theatricalqc:RJ,Tt , follows .~ 1 -tW- tradition of ritual theater or the 11 ri tualizing"of an event. I deally, for Readers Theater, th.fJ) · ta-ge.r ;;r,el\lrebo.u~ hav~:' i.'<ii'-Q_ {:l'P~ . "Ti<> ·"'.s~r~J~ ,. r-r 4:i:~ ·-s ~and ,· and ~a. ce iar. . Since ritual theater is conceptually and practically adaptable to as few or as many players as are desired, directors/stagers should proceed accordingly. Ritual drama is also qualitative in terms of depth and meaning- -that is it can be as deep o.r as light as one wants it . Hence , in preparing DRUMVOICES for the stage, directors should take pains to determine the levels of intensity or message - delivery · '·a, tff~J" ii.' • These levels can be achieved and/or modified .from performance to performance by shifting (heightening or lessening) tone and thrust . Ideally, for DRUMVOICES , one drummer and one horn -player should make up the cast , along with at least one male and one female dancer. At t~e same time , owing to the nexibility and adaptability of ritual theater , director may use as many dancers or musicians as are desired. The speaking cast sho.µ ld(preferably) consist of a three-member core-chorus . The core-chorus provides unison, harmony and call-and-response while at the same t ime suppl ying the main indivi,dual voices . S.et apart from t .he core-chorus is the narrator, who is atmospherically removed, some-what dispassionate but omnipresent i a vast-voice :bn ge. Another voice , some distance to the other side of the core-chorus is khown ·as a ralief-voiee . This character/player can- be made the focus of attention or go unnoticed while he/she slips into the audience , disappears to change clothes, or prepares for some sudden and -surprise shift in the action of the drrune. . :t'. �l art I: Music & I The stage is bear except for music stands, a podium and the musicians' instruments . A lo~t dancer appears, walks upstage and lmeels in preparation for the oped~~ance-poem. The first sounds are heard off stage at which time the drummer and horn player come on stage and situate themselves at their instruments . The dancer begins to dance when the musicians are assembled. Voice~{of~-stage) Music and !-- Listen f--Yai L:.Y ai ! Listen to the sound of rrry homl Music and I --Listenl--Yaif Yail Listen to the sound of rrry homl Musi c ~and !--Listen 1-- Yai I Yai ! Voice(ofr-atage as dance begins) Listen to the sound of my horn ••• This note you have longed to hear! Voieef2 Listentito ·" the s souiido of- ·w s,s:ong, : I s TJ.Y, FIO"r :,:the music you have hummed by ear. Voice#) I sound the time to rise for, the fields . I moan the rhythm as the congregation lmeels . Voice:/14 For I am the note of air, the catcher of your despair. Voice .5 I cry long nights for you my people . I rise early with my clayed cotton coat . I tote water to sun-baked lips. Voice#l And I sing awm, pain from your chain-whipped hips . (oven· ) �2 Voice#2 But now, my people, I've grown a new song Listen, all ye Americans! Listen with your ear: Voice#3(walking upstate to position) Now the congregation rises-Voice#4(walking upstage to position) Now the new corn sprouts-Voice#5(walking upstage to position) Now the air breathes fresh-Voice#l(walking upstage to position) Now the trodden land sings-Voice#2(walking upstage to position) Now my horn of clay airs a long signal motif. Voiee/13 Listen to the sound of my horn, my people . This rhythm of years long past . Voice#4 Listen to the sound of my horn, I say; Chorus(raising arms) Music and I :. . ·- have come at last J (Dunn s) ( As voices expaade, dancer ~BJid :dmmm~:ropic1~ u-p ,1tempo ; then dancer exits ~ After a slight pause , narrator begins the on~stage ritual program. ) Narrator I am the poem! We are the poem! Narrator And the poem is me ! Chorus And the poem is u s I And the poem is us I And the poem is us I (over) �3 Narrator I am the poem and I caae before pen ,1or pencil or paper or printing press t e~ ! I cupped and cuddled the wisdom of the winds in drum-bosoms of ecstasy. Drunmer Performs a wide range of rhythms , movements , tones , multiple-rhythms African, West Indian, fro-Latin , Afro - American. Narrator Listenl Listen closely and you can hear me , you can hear me writing in drum-language ; you can hear me conversing with tomorrow, today and the heretofore . Chorus DRUMFEEI' ON THE SO IL, ON THE SANDROADS OF THE MIND! FLESH-PISTONS PRANCING, THE EARTH'S ENGINE! IT IS A COMING FORTH, THE NIGHT WITHrN US COMING FORTH'! THE NIGHT WITHIN US COMING FORTH f FEEI' BEATING, BEATING, BEATING SEEDS INTO THE SO IL! Narrator I return and return and return to my magnificent and reliable archives . 'Chorus That J,ove we can depend onJ That Love we can depend on! Voice ( singing; as danc er:,s _s _tJ?l~ ONOBOROBO I Chorus ONOBOROBO ! Voice ONOBOROBo ! Chorus ONOBOROBO f (over) si; ·rch. J. th.a ta·ge )•0nt [•.op �4 Voice ONOBOROBO I Chorus ONOBOROBO! Narrator In my dependable cultural vault is the Idea-gram: that natural clinetagraphy landscaped by thudding thoughts of my totem family, the living-dead, the breathing, the unborn. I am the poetic flesh-temple .with many forms, earth- daughter and agile inundator o- history. I am the poem in motion. Dancer Executes rudimentary movements and other elements of traditional African and nee-African dance: isolation, use of pelvis and torso, leaps, twirls, pulls, the Yanvalou(or a ~indreckmovement), vigorous stretches, lifts and thrusts. (D~t;A:M. accompaniment) Narrator I am the Black and Unkno-wn Bard. American put me on a · conveyer belt moving in two different directions at the same time My African Jubilance turned to anger and a song of sabotage. My Indomi..table Echo and Id.ion flavored my Indomitable Press to be Human. As a poem, I became part of what I did, saw and dreamed on these shores: Field Hollers, Vendors r Shouls, Chants, Work Songs, Spirituals, Blues, Gospels, Jazz, Rhythm-nBlues, Soul Music. ( See attache.d chart of the preceding item~ , which ~ et!1- lustrated with short examples by voices after the list has been given.) Voice Did ye~ feed my cow? Voice Voice · Wi:11 yer tell me how? (over) �yodle •••• hey brother yodle •••• hey brother Vendors• Shouts watermellons, oh ••• sausages, oh ••• · tomatoes, oh ••• I got •em fresh ••• , Chants Om-la-la Om-la-la Work Songs Say I'm working hard on the chaingang Spirituals Ezekiel saw the wheel a-turning(chorus) Way up in the middle of the air Blues Blood, lawd, blood all on the wall Gospels O' happ. day . O happy day When Jesus washed When ~esus washed Washed all my sins away Jazz Riffs from Ike Rhythm-and-Blues Will you still love me tomorrow? Soul Music I ,m a soul man I •m a soul man �5 Voice Oh w' at did yer give 'er? Voice Cawn an hay! Voice Oh w1 at did yer give 1 er? Voice Cawn an hay! Voice(looking up) Evahwhub. I , -whuh I loo]j: dis mawnin, Looks lak rain, looks like rain. Chorus Looks lak rain, looks lak rain! Voice I gotta rainbow, tied all rounl mah shoulder, Ain gonna r ain, ain gonna rain. Chorus Dis is de hammer, Kilt John Henry 1 oice(emphatically} Twon•t kill me , baby, Twon 1 t kill me . Take dis hammer, Carry it to de captain-Voiee Tell him I'm gone , baby, Tell him I 1 m gone . ( ova--, ) �6 Chorus I got a rainbow Tied 1 roun my shoulder, Ain 1 t gonna rain, baby, Ain't gonna rain. · oice(work-song sung) Dis ole hammer--huht(chorus) 1 Ring lak silver--huht (chorus) Shine lak gold--huh chorus) Chorus Ain 1 t gonna rainJ Ain~t gonna rainl Voice(female) I 1m a big fat mamma, got the meat shaking on mah bones, I'm a big fat mamma, got the meat shaking on map. bones, And everry time I shakes some skinny girl loses huh home. Voice Run, nigger run; de patter-roller catch you; Chorus un, nigger, run, it I s almost day. Voice Run, nigger, run; de patter-roller catch you; Chorus Run, nigger, run, and tey to get get away. Voi-c e Dis nigger run, he run his best,-- Stuck his head in a hornet's nest,-Voice Jumped de fence and run fru the paster; (over) �7 Chorus White man run, but nigger run faster . Voice Dat nigger run, dat nigger flew,-Chorus. Dat nigger tore his shirt in two. N~rrator Yes, as poem, as cotton~pfucker, as banjo-player, as fiddler, as preacher, a minstrel-maker and mirror, as slave-rebellion leader, I emered a ne'I/ part of the old My 4friean song ushered forth in strange new Biblical Language. Voice(singing) Go Down, Moses, Way Down in Egyptland; Choru ( talking+pointing) , Tell old haroah To let my people go . Deep River •••• Deep Deep Deep River •••• Voice Deep Bi ver, my home is over Jordan; Deep River, Lord; I want to cross over into camp ground Voice (excitedly) And, yes , I DREAMED I was riding in that chariot. Chorus(or Voice) Swing low, sweet chariot, Coming fort o carry me hon:e1 (over) �8 Swing low, sweet chariot, Coming for to carry me home. Voice Green trees a-bending, Po' sinn.er stands a-trembling The trumpet sounds within-a-my soul; Chorus I ain't got long to stay here . Voice (male) Joshua fit de battle of Jericho,-Chorus Voice Joshua fit de battle of Jericho,-Chorus And de walls came tumbling down . Voice Dat morning •• •• Chorus And decwalls came tumbling Voice My God is a rock in a weary lan 1 - Chorus Weary lan 1 , weary lan' -Voice My God is a rock in a weary lan 1 - Chorus Shelter in de time of storm. Narrator I was Black and curious; I confronted harshness head-on; my struggle meant {over) �I had to learn to write like wh~tes, even though,Ironically, their laws 9 aid I could be punished or jailed for possessing such knowledge and skill . Voice You named me . Lucy Terry! Voice Gustavas Vassa J Voice Britton & Jupiter Hammon! Voice Coon & Buck I Voice Phyllis Wheatley! And I mastered Greek, Latin and English in my teens . Lonely Black girl whom the muses befriended, thousands and thousands of miles away from rrry West African home . I continued to emerge as the poem. Voice Should you, my Lord, while you peruse rrry song, Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung, Whence flow these wishes fort he common good, By feeling hearts alone best understood, I, young in life , by seeming cruel fate , }'las snatched from Afric' s fancy• d happy seat , :t an~ 6.xcruci- ting must mole t ., hat c·,Ja la ,cur~~ ~y ~~r&nt~ t r~ ~t? What sor:irows labour in my parents ' -breasts? Steel 1 d was that soul and by no misery mov•d That from a father seiz 1 d his babe belov 1 d: Such , such my case . And can I then but pray Others :may never feel tyranic sway? (whea1lay) Narrator You named me George Moses Horton. I did not like the injustice (over) of the �10 double standard. And so I turned into a poem. Even though some continued calling me "The Slave . " Chorus 11 Th Slave"? Voice Because the brood-sow's left si de pigs were black, - Whose sable tincture was by nature struck, Were you by justice bound to pull them back And leav e the sandy-colored pigs to suck? (Horton) Chorus(ominously) Runagatel Bunagate! Runagate! Runagate! Runagate! Narrator My mother cured ills and my father worked mots . In the bi-cultural constriction the poem became juju-man, the face hidden by the ambiguous minstrel smile . Voice We have fashioned laughter out of tears and pain; Chorus B~t the moment after- Voice Pain and tears again. (Cb. rles Bertram .Johnson) Voice Forgive these erring people, Lordi Yoip-~s Who lynch at home and love abroad. (cloJ,o D~) Narrator Still I wrote--this time just like I talked, though some made :run of it . But, as maker of song, I could only produce heart-rhythms . (over) �Voice 11 De Ounjah man, de Ounjah man, o chillen,run, de Gunjah man! Chorus O chillen,run, the Cunjah man! Voice Him mouf ez beez as fryin' pan; Voice Him yurs am small, him eyes am raid,-Voice Him hab no toof een him ol' haid, -Voice Him hab him roots, him vru.k him tricks,-Voice Him roll him eye, him mek you sick-Chorus De Cunjah man, de Cunjah man, O chillen run, de Cunjah mant(J.E.Campbell) Narrator I knew my rights, my rou@l times and my remedies. Voice(assurning tones ref1Boting physical illne ses) Blue-mass, laudnum, liver pills, "Sixty-six, fo I fever an 1 chills,'' Ready Relief, an 1 A.B.c., An 1 half a bottle of X.Y.Z.(J.W. Holloway) Narrator You nmned me Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, James Edwin Campbell, James Weldon Johnson, Paul Lawrence Dunbar--Son of ex-slaves, elevator boy risen to brilliant bard of the race. s the poem I strode forth in several kinds of English. ( OVell' ) �12 Voice I know why the caged bird sings, Ah me , lfuen bis wing is bruised and his . bosom sor~.,.Wnen he beats his bars and he would be free; It is not a carol 0f joy or glee, But a prayer that he send from his heart 1 s de p core , But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings-1 know why thecaged bird sings l (Dunb~r} Narrator Above all , song exudes from me . Indeed, I am song. atch and examine me . My birthright is my anthem. My song is my sword. And I l l ift that sword high I Voice ( singing) Lift evfr y voice and sing, Till earth and heaven ring, Ring with the harmonies of liberty . Chorus (talking, pointing upwards) Till our rejoicings rise High as the listening skies!(J. W Johnson} Narrator As song-poem I forged pure flames of rhythms without books James Weldon Johnson called me the Black and Unknown ~ard. And, let me tell you some thing ••• hmmm.mmmm •••• I always loved to hear Malindy sing. Voice G 1 way an 1 quit dat noise , Miss Lucy-- Put dat music book away; What 1 s de use to keep on tryin 1 ? f you practise twell you're gray, You cain 1 t sta 1 t no notes a-flyin' Lak de ones dat rants and rings From de kitchen to de big woods (over} �13 Chorus When Malindy sings. Voice You ain 1 t got de nachel o 1 gans Fu• to make de soun 1 come right, You ~in't got de tu'ns an' twistin•s fur to make it sweet an• light. Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy, I'm tellin' you fu' true, An. 1 'When hit comes to ra l right singin', '~ _Chor.us 1T " ain't no easy thing to do. Voice Easy 1 nough fu 1 folks to hollah, Lookin' at de lines an' dots, When dey ain't no one kin sence it, An' de chune comes in,in spots; But fu 1 real melojous music, Dat jes strikes yo I hea 1.t and clings, Jes you stan 1 an 1 listen wif me ~ · 1~ r • Chorus When Malindy sings . Voice Ain't you nev,ah hyeahd Malindy? Blessed soul, tek up de crossl Look hyeah, ain 1 t you jokin', honey? Well, you don't know what you los•. Y' ought to hyeah dat gal a-wai' blin,, (over) �Ro bins, la' ks, an' all dem things, Heish dey moufs an' hides dey faces Chorus When Malindy sings. Voice#l Fidlin' man jes' stops his fiddlin', Lay his fiddle on de she 1 f; Voice 2 Mockin 1 -bird quit tryin' to 'Whistle, 1 0ause he jes so shamed hisse r. Voice#3 Folks a-playint on de banjo Draps dey fingahs on de strings-Bless yo' soul--fu 1 gits to move •em, Chorus When Malindy sings. Voice She jes' spreads hu mouf and hollahs, Voice( singing) "Come to Jesus," Voice ••• twell you hyeah Sinnahs' tremblin 1 steps and voices, Timid-lak a-drawin 1 neah; Den she tu•ns to Voice(singing) 11 Rock of Ages, 11 Voice Simply to de cross she clings, (over) �15 Ant you fin yo' teahs a-drappin' .Oh(i>I?US When Malindy sings. Voice Who dat says de humble praises lif de Master nevah counts? Heish yo' mouf, I hyea.h dat music, Ez it rises up an' mounts-Ploatin1 by de hills an' valleys, a:y above dis burryin 1 sod, Ez hit makes its way in glo ry ; . " Chorua To de very gates of God~ Voice Oh, hit re sweetah dan de music Of an edicated band; An' hit 1 s deara.h dan de battle's Song o 1 triumph in de lan•. Voice 1 It seems holier dan evenin' \when de solemn chu'ch bell rings, Voice 2(slowly,searchingly) Ez I sit an' ca 1,m ly listen Chorus While alindy sings. Voice Tows stop dat ba 1 kin, hyeah me! Mandy, , mek dat chile keep still; (over) �16 Don't you hyeah de echoes callin 1 F 1 om de valley to de hill? Let me listen, I can hyeah it, Th·' oo de br-esh of angels I wings , Boft and sweet, Voice 3 ( singing) • • • 11 swing . 1 ow, Sweet Chariot , " Voice(dreamily and ecstatically) Ez Malindy sings . (Dunbar) Narrator Poem that I was and am, I traveled from "oasis to oasis . " Voice Man's Saharic up and down . (M . B. Tolson) Narrator Riverbbats , river towns chaingangs • • Voice(singing as chorus makes work-sounds in background) Well don ' t you know That's the sound of the men, working on the chain-n-n-n gan-ee-ang; Well don 1 t you know That's the sound of the men , working on the chain gang . (Cooke) Narrator Bar-room toughs , hard-hearted Hanna , Stagolee ••• they all knew me . Voice Hard haarted Harm.a- Voice From Savannah, GEE A. Voice She was so cold, yal,1-Chorus Wasn't shel (over) �17 Voice She 1 d pour water on a drowning manJ Chorua(slowly and deliberately) Water, on a drown-ii-nnng man. Voice(attracting the attention of others) It was early one mornin 1 , When I heard my bulldog bark; Stagolee and Billy. Lyons Was squablin 1 in the dark . Voice Frankie and Kohnny were lovers , Lordy , how they could love, Voice Swore to each other , True as the stars up above , He was her man but he done her wrong. Voice(female) Shine , shine , shine , ••• save po ' me . Narrator I was in the constant see-saw of life , wading through hell in search of heaven. Bu t I kept my working philosophy with me . Voice l De stopper get de longest rest in de empty jug. Voice 2 De price of your hat ain 1 t de measure of your brain . VoiceJ3 De graveyard is de cheapes' boardin 1 -house . Buyin 1 Voice-f14 on credit is robbin 1 next year's crop . (Over) �18 Voice 5 Life is short and Voice, 1 De cow-bell can 1 t keep a secret . Voiee#2 Little flakes make de deppest snow. Voice 3 De crawfish in a hurry look like he tryin' to git dar y Voicel/4 Be drinks so much whiskey that he staggers in his sleep. Voice 5 In God we trust , all others cash. Narrator Yes I was lyric-wise . You heard me everywhere . You even heard me coming from the ·swollen lips of the bugle, French horn, trumpet , clarinet and saxophone. Horn A series of short riffs and movements exemplary and ±llustrative of various forms of Afro-American music played between the advent of the spirituals and the ragtime-blues period. Narrator In Paris they called the "Cakewalk'' the '1poetry of motion. tt In the crevices of ships I was transported to global points to make me splendid sound and dance my splendid poetry of motion. Dancer Executes a series of movements and steps representing such dances as the Cakewalk, Charleston, the ,Two~~tep, Jitterbp g and t he Bop . Elerr:ents of West Indian dances should flavor movements . (over) �19 Narrator As the poem I blue horns, shot guns in your Virst World War, danced dances and came home to face the Ku Klux Klan, Southern Sheriffs and Jim Crow. I got Angry . And I got defiant . But , I was relatively cool. Voice( serious) Into the furnace let me go alone; Stay you without in terror of the heat . I will go naked in-:e-:fior -.thus 'tis sweet-- . Into the weird depths of the hottest zone. Voice(serious but resolute and emerging) Desire destroys , consumes my mortal fears , Transforming me into a shape of flame . I will come out, back to your world of tears , A strongger soul within a finer frame . (McKay') Narrator From the dark tower I watched as I 1 pr.~para~, ~.Matcb.ed ·as I prepared, watched as I pre pared, knowing that f.We :were not made eternally to weep . Voice(reflective, meditative) The night whose sable breast relie~es the stark White stars is no less lovely being dark, And there are buds that cannot bloom at all In light, but crumple , piteous , and fall; So in the dark we hide ,t he heart ~. that bleeds , And wait , and tend our agonizing seeds . (Cullen) Narrator After race riots in several American cities , I lifted my voice in a searing shaft o~ discontent . Chorus 0 kinsmen! we must meet the common foeJ (over) 11 �20 Voice Like men we•l1 face the murderous , cowa~dly pack , Pressed to the wall, dying, •• Chorus(slowly and softly) Dying ••• dying ••• dying Voice ••• but fighting back! (M.~~,) Narrator All the while my past kept pulling on me . It was if we were married to each other, glued, locked, welded together. It was as if those who departed never really, really died. An African sense kept tugging tugging at my truncated »oot-s . The bridge of my dwarf-like past . rested on at least two shores. Voice Pour o pour that parting soul in song, O pour it in the sawdust glow of night, Into the velvet pine-smoke air to-night, ••• Chorus(slow and echo-like) And let the valley carry it along . And let the valley carry it along . (tG'onte~) Narrator(confused and desperate} Sometimes I was only half-there , fighting those who wanted to snatch away my humanity by day; and fighting hunger and confusion at home by night . As the poem, I emerged convoluted and wholly new, only to ·)retreat to a some-other-time refrain. Egypt, Ghana, Madagascar, the Pyramids-- Voodoo Ceremonies--what did they all mean ito me? The beauty- pain of it all? Chorus Come with a blast of trumpets , Jesus I (over) �21 Voice(o.:xymoronic) And the beauty of Susanna Jones in red Burns in my heart a love-fire sharp like pain. Chorus weet silver trumpets , Jesust ()\~3~8SJ V'oice Well , son, I'll tell you: Life for me ain't been -no crystal stair. (Hughes) Narrator But the blur of that veil was always tempora~t ly relieved by song, by dance , by reading mr thinking about foreign places and looking forward to the day when Americans would grow up . e were here--in America-- but not of it . Simply worrying, without a plan to change things , didn't help much. We grew stronger, and more beautiful, in tha words of Langston Hughes , as we re-embraced our own rituals . Ch orus(singing and jiving) Shake your brown , feet, honey , Shake your brown feet , chile , Shake your brown feet, honey, Shake em swift and wil 1 - Voice Get way back, honey, Do that low-down step. Walk on over, darling, Nowt Come out With your left . (Hughes) Voice (breaking the fun-frolic' and wanng serious) Yet do I marvel at this curious thing: To make a poet black, and bid him (over} singt ~ vlle~ �22 Narrator Yet must I marvel that I 1 m here at all . Because during the watering years , after the GREAT DEPRESSION, my .. existence was seriliously threatened by lynching and at atmosphere of intimidation. I went to war, as poem and soJ:.dier and cook and shining knight of DEMOCRACY! The SWASTIKA, i:che ISING SUN, The HAMMER & SICKLE, I was told, were my L enemies . wen Dodson and I grew accustomed to the Meanwhile you had named me realities of neighborly enemies , Those who caused UNNATURAL DEATHS . Voice(preaching a funeral sermon) Wake up , boy, and tell me how you died : What sense was alert last, What immediate intuition about m You clutched like a bullet when your nails Dug red in your yellow palm And that map the fortunetellers read Chorus ( this line for money, this for love} ' Voice Uhi.ldish ag~in- ~d.2meared. • • Chorus Wake up , boy • • • Voice • •• I go to death tomorrow, Tell me what road you took, ••• Cho rps What hour in the day is luckiest? Voice Did your Adams apple explode? Who sewed stitches in your angry heart?(O. (over) �23 Chorus 0 wake ••• Narrator Yes, yes , • • • I was sometimes a tattered and beaten poem in the nineteen Thirties, Forties and Fifties . But I was a poem anyway: Gracious, Noble , ·Fundamental , Fiery , Firm, Relating to ;r on ~ of Wtllkb- Common Ground. Someone cal led me Margare ~ eople 11 I became a Tapestry y Many Selves . Voice/11 For my people everywhe:t9'8 singing their slave songs repeatedly; Voice#2 • • • their dirges and their ditties and ~heitb~-.S and jubilees , Voice 3 • • • praying their prayers nightly to an unknown god, Voice#l • • • bending their knees humbly to an un/seen power; Voice#2 • • • washing/ironing cooking scrubbing sewing mending plowing/digging planting pruning patching dragging along never gaining never reapi ng nev er . lmowing and neve~ understand/tng; Voice#) For my playmates in the clay and dust and sand of Alabama backyards playing • • • Voice#l Voice#2 preaching and••• (over) hoeing/ �24 Voice 3 doctor and •• • Voice#l jail and ••• Voice 2 soldier and • . • Voice 3 school and • ••• Voicefl mama and/cooking and playhouse and concert and store and/hair and Miss Choomby and company; Voice#2 For the cramped bewildered yearS' we went to school to learn to know the reasons why and the answers to and the people who and the places where and the days when , in memory of the bitter hours when we discovered we were black and poor and small and different and nobody cared and nobody wondered and nobody understood; Voice 3 For the boys and girls who grew in spite of these things to be . 1__. . . man and woman, to laugh and dance and sing and play and drink their wine and religion and success, to marry their playmates and bear children and then die of consumption and anemia and lynching; Voice 1 For my people thronging 47th Street in Chicago and Lenox Avenue in New York and Rampart street in New Orleans , ••• Voice 2 ~or my people blundering and groping and floundering in the (over) �25 dark of chnrche and schools and clubs and societies , as - sociations and councils and committees and conventions , distressed and disturbed and deceived and devoured by money-hungry glory-craving leeches, preyed on by facile force of state and fad and novelty , by false prophet and holy believer; Voice#) Let a new earth rise . Let another world be born. Let a bloody peace be written in the sky, Voice#J,. • • • Let a second generation full/ of courage issue forth; Voice 2 • • let a people loving freedom come/ to growth . Let a beauty full/ of healing and a strength of f inal clenching be t he pulsing in/ our spirits and<OU.r blood. Voice 3 • • Let the martial songs be written , let the dirges . dis/ appear • Chorus (strongly) • • • Let a race of men now rise and take contro l. M• .Walker) Narrator rank Marshall Davis , Melvin Beaunorous Jolson, terling Brown, Robert Hayden, Paul Vesey, Bob Kaufman, Georgia Douglas t Johnson, Russell Atkins , Leadbelly, Ligb.tnin 1 Hopkins--these are names by which my voice is known . Some even call me by the name of (whispering) HISTORY . Chorus(rising from whispers) Histocy! History! History! RunagateJ RunagateJ Runagatel Voice Runs falls rises stumbles on from darkness into darkness and the darkness thicketed with shapes of terror (over) �26 and the hunters pursuing and the hounds pursuing and the night cold and the night long and the river tocross and the jack-muh-lanterns be ckoning beckoning and the blackness ahead and 'Wb.en shall I reach that somewj):ere morning and keep on going and never turn back and keep on going ••• Chorus(frightened) Runa gatel Eun.agate! Runagatet Voice Some go weeping and some re j oicing ~ome in coffins and some some in silks and some in shac kles Oh that train, ghost-story t r ain through swamp and savanna move r ing movering over trestles of dew, through caves of the wish, Midnight Special on a sabre track movering moveFing , first stop Mercy and the last Hallelujah. Voice Come ride- a my train . Chorus Mean mean mean to be free . (R. Hayden) Narrator I 'ecame a brilliant word-torch shining back against my past and flaming proudly into the future . All the while I wormed into and won hearts and minds . And in 1950, America gave me the coveted Pulitzer Prise . My name was Annie A1len but I was rnsny people . I was so finely sculpted that no inflection was imprecise. I said what I had to say in a language that dazzled and bl inded the world. I stood as a jewel; I talked about a jewel named "Satin-Legs Smith . 11 (over) �27 Voice(as othe~s look on admiringly) He wakes, unwinds, elaborately. a cat Tawny, reluctant, royal. He is fat And fine this morning. Definite. Reimbursed. He waits a momemt, he designs his reign, That no performance mp.y be plain or vain Then rises in a clear delirium. Voice Let 1.~us proceed. Let us inspect, together i th his meticulous and serious love, The unnards of this closet. Which is vault 'Whose glory is not diamonds, not pearls, Not silver plate with just enough dull shine. But wonder suits in yellow and in wine, Sarcastic green and zebra-striped cobalt. i th shoulder padding that is wide And c cky and determined as his pride; Ballooning panms that taper off to ends Scheduled to choke precisely. Voice Here are hats Like bright umbrellas; and hysterical ties Like narrow banners for some gathering war.(G. Narrator Yes, I was immaculately Black. Magnificently Black. And I knew the power of the Rapl Chorus Ament (over) �28 Narr.a tor I became the power of the Rap! Chorus Amen! Voice Bartender, make it straight and make Voice(p6inting) one for the you in me••• Voice(pointing) • • and the me -:in you. (11. Tolson) Narrator After lengthy conversations with my musio, I became the Be-Bopper; somebody called me the Zoot-Suiter; I put on. dark glasses and conked my hair. A double-chinned ~alesman handed me some bleaching cream and a cadillac as I sped North' to join my brothers and siste~s in the .romised Lan Richard Wright and James Baldwin cried for me. John Oliver Killens Heard The Thunder and Ralph Ellison called me Invisible, adding that once rrry leaders ~.e goded the riddle of my style and my rap they could help me save me. Black, I left a Whi e country to fight Yellow men in Korea. Ella, Miles, Monk, Billie, Prez, Chano Pozo, Ornette, Coltrane--they went to war with me. Chorus Good Morning heartachet(sung) How do you do.(said) Horn Medley of tunes and musical mannerisms reminiscent of the period. Narrator I got hip to world events, science and space exploration. I knew wh~ I knew, still I couldn I t go where r wanted to go, or dO what I wanted to do. Arneric~· got nervous whenever I appeared in public. But I knew (over} �29 certain events and developments were dooming all of us t .o an • "Ultimate Reality . 11 Voice You know, Joe, it's a f\u.:;my thing, Joe, You worry most of your life about me, Always afraid I 1 11 get a job with you, Always scared I might get served with you, Always afraid I'd wanna love1your 0r that she might love me Voice Don ,t want me to eat with you, Voice S ared I might live next to Voice But with the Atom Bomb, Joe, It looks like I might die with you . Voice That don:t:p I seem right , does it, Joe? (Ray Durem} Narrator But inspite of all the adversity, the historical strengths kept returning to me, shoring me up , helping me to feep getting up , to keep going. We had our persona] victories in the meantime . We learned everything that it too~ to make it in America, even when no one would let us have equipment or space to work in. We just reached back inside ourselves and crune up with what was needed. Then__;one day, the poem became a baseball in the hands of the legendary Leroy Satchel Paige . Voice Sometimes I feel like I will never stop Just go forever (over) �30 Till one fine mornin• I'm gonna reach up and grab me a handf'ulla tars Swing out my long lean leg And whip three hot strikes burnin• down the heavens And look over at God and say How about thatl(S. 1lav) Narrator Style has always been my signature . So it was not a surprise that I returned to myself in motion. Behold! The tr.oil! Chorus Sings a t,ortion of Gene Chandler ts 11 Duke of Earl" or some other period piege . Narrator The Kansas City Slopt The Madison! · Chorus Sings Jportion of the Five Satins• song from period. n±n the Still of the Night" or another Narrator The Twist! Bri,ef exerpt from Chubby Checker's "Twist" . Narrator The Funky Chicken! The Karate Boogaloot They saw me poeting with my hips and my feet . Chorus PoetingJ Poetingf Narrator And took it all back to American Bandstand and other countries . Voice(singing) There ' s a thrill upon the hil11 Chorus ( singing2 Let's Go! Let's Go! Let•s Go! (over) �Narrator I eaina home from Korea to meet the Klan in a new sheet. And in Montgome;ey they would not let my mother sit down on a bus. As a poem, my name became Lance Jeffers, Raumond:· Pa:tterson, G.C. Oden,Mari Evans, LeRoi Jones and Imamu Amiri Baraka, Audre Lorde. Chorus(questioningly) Montgomery? Montgomery? Montgomery?. • I remembeF Montgomery. Voice And Birmingb.am--the fo~.-~ little, little girls. Voice Four little girls Who went to Sunday School that day And never came back home at l all-Voice But left instead Th~ir blood upon the wall With spattered flesh And bloodied Sunday dresses Scorched by dynamite that hina made aeons ago llirtl not know' .what 6hina made Before China was ever Red at all Would redden with their blood This Birmingham-on-Sunday wall. Four tiny girls Who left their blood upon that wall, InJ littlet g:ra..ves l today await (over) �32 Voice The dynamite that might ignite The ancient fuse ' of Dragon Kings Whose tomorrow sings a hymn, The missionaries never taught In Christian Sunday School To Implement the Golden Rule . Voice Four little girls Might be awakened someday soon By songs upon the breeze Voice As yet unfelt among Magnolia .o:U.. trees. C~v&,es) Voice And Selma! Voice And Phiiadelphia, Mississippi! Voiee(vaguely , hesitatingly) I recollect Emmett Till Voice 1lnd Watts J Narrator My Name was Conrad Kent Rivers at that time . I became a poem called "Watts , " hoping that in such disguise I could find my way out of this daily nightmare . Voice Must I shoot the white man dead to free the nigger (ever) �33 in his head? Voice(pausing, musing) Must I shoot the white man dead to free the nigger in his head? (t •'--' \\Jl~9 Voice And Newarkl Voice And Harlem! Voice And Oakland! Voice And Dallas! Voice And East St . Louis I Voice And Chicago f Voice M' rtin iuther Kingt Voice Malcolm! Voice Stokley! Voice H. .ap Brown! Voice James Bro'WI'l I (over) �34 Narrator Drumbeats enflamed ·tb.ev sky. Liberation became lilyupassionate preoccupation. A warm self- love engulfed me . My woman and I looked at each oth~ through. new-old eyes . We had our ow.n standard of beauty. I stretched and ya-wned and walked around in my own neighborhood. My ~o l or felt good and healthy to me . It looked good to me in the mirror of my Brothers' eyes . Someone called me Black and I didn't hit him. At a rally, I turned into a voice on the podium shouting. Chorus WE ARE AN AFRICAN PEOPLE! Drummer & Dancer Salute the ~oming of the new consciousness with appropriate nee - African rhythms and movements Voice For all things ~lack and beautiful, The brown faces you loved so well and long , ' the endless roads leading back to Harlem. Chorus Kulu Se Mama l Kulu· Se Mama! Kulu Se Mama! Kulu Se Mama Voi ce 1 Where the string At 1...> Some umbilical jazz, Voice#2 Or perhaps , In memory, A long lost bloody cross , Buried in some steel calvary. (over) �35 Voice#3 In what time For whom do we bleed, Lost notes, from some jazzman 1 s Broken needle . VoiceH=4 Musical tears from lost Eyes , Broken drumsticks , whyT Voice ;I.. Pitter patter, boom dropping Bombs in the middle Of my emotions Voice#2 My father ' s s ound Voiee#3 My mother's sound ••• Chorus Is ~love , Is life . (6,to.\)fi ~· Narrator I had watched America. I knew America I could deal with the difference and the sameness , that strange decorated pain that characterizes our existence . I keep coming back to the point of the sythesis and the symbiosis . I am history and future , or, put differently, I am future• history . Sometimes , because of my ma.ny: level fOf vision, I grasp the helm of the struggles of the many colored hands . I might even be in a river that laces the stomach of America. �36 Voice(with dance accompaniment} River of Time: Vibrant vein , Bent , crooked, Older than the Red Men Who named you; Ancient as the winds That break on your Serene and shini ng face; One time western boundary of America From WhQS~h~t'Your broad shoui ders now reach To touch sisters On the flanks . hl>~us River of Truth: Voice • • • Mornings You leap , yawn 2000 miles , And shed a giant joyous tear Over sprouting, straggling Hives of humanity; Nights you weep As the moon , tiptoeing Across your silent silky Face , hears you praying Over the broken backs Of black slaves who rode, rouched and huddled, At your heart in the bel lies Of steamships . (6 cer) �37 Chorus River of Memory. Voice Laboratory for Civil War Boat builders Who left huge . eyes of steel Staring from your sullen depths; Reluctant partner to crimes Of Ku lux Klanarnen; River mov:-ed to waves Of ecstasy By the venerable trumpet Of Louis rmst~ong . River of Bones: River of bones and flesh-Bones and flesh and blood; Voice The nation ' s largest Intestine And longest conveyer belt; Chorus River MISSISSIPPI : River of little rivers; River of rises , Voice Sometimes subdued By a roof of ice , descending finally On your outhward course over) �38 To . spit Into t:tie Gulf And join the wrath Of larger bodies.(Rea.mond) Narrator I mused over rivers and long-gone voices underneath rivers Soo, however, I turned to philosophy. In the spit and dart of my new self, there were utterances I had to make, blood-thoughts I had to share. I lmew this was another sequel to the dream. l had not believed those fairy tales. I needed to take a hand and stand and speak the ~ruth to the people Choru_s Speak the truth to the people! . Voice It is not necessary to green the Only to identify the enemy It is not necessary to blow the mind Only to free the mind. C}iorus It is thetotal black! Voi_ce It is the total black, being spoken From theear1lh. 1 s inside. There are· many kinds of open. How a diamond comes into t knot of flame How a sound comes into a word, colored By who pays what for speaking. Chorus Love is mother kind of openr(overJ �39 Voice As a diamond comes i to a knot of flame I am black because I come from the earth's inside Take my word for jewel in your open light . Narrator I am the ecstasy of NOW! 'fhe fullest realization of my Ancestors 1 wishes . I return , even in the alarm; even in the shadow-body I am often forced to wear . - But enough , enough--I beg you, my dear aqsociate s , look How on our~s and history's finest treasure . Voice(and dancer) I am a black woman the music of my song some sweet arpeggio of tears i_s writ ten in a minor key and I can be heard humming in the night Can be heard hunnning Chorus Hums first line of 11 No body nows the Trouble I See" Voice(continuing poem) in the night I saw my mate leap screaming to the sea and I/with these hands/cupped the lifebreath from my issue in tre canebrake I lost Nat's swinging body in a rain of tears and I heard my song scream all the way from Anzio for Peace he nevt:r knew. • • • I learned Da Nang and Pork Chop Hill in anguish (over} �Now my nostrils know the gas and these trigger tire/d fingers seek the softness in my warrior's beard I am a black woman tall as a cypress strong beyond all definition still defying place and time and circumstance assailed impervious indestructible Look on me and be renewed.(,., E\J~~ Look on me and be renewed. Look on us and be renewed . i'inis ��DRUMVOICES: THE MISSION OF AFRO-AMEIUCAN POETRY* A Readers Theatre/Ritual Drama By Eugene B. Redmond * Script Adaptation of DRUMVOICES: THE MISSION OF AFRO - AMERICAN POETRY (a critical history), by Eugene B. Redmond: Doubleday, 1976. Script copyright @ 1977 by Eugene B. Redmond - ./ . . �Note to Directors & Players DRUMVOICES, as a theatricalQcll·v'ff~;, follows ~ 1 ~ tradition of ritual theater or the "ri tuali zing"of an event . Ideally, for · Readers Theater, t~ ~.s:tase.~.a·re . should hav-e ~.;f>Q~~ cf.O~'tt:i.ro·~~~e,t .s ._pf,\,m-q,1 $,q 1':~ ' ~ds ··and ·a dsnce i· 'r'84o ~ince ritual theater is conceptually and practically adaptable to as few or as many players as are desired, directors/stagers should proceed accordingly. Ritual drama is also qualitative in terms of depth and meaning--that is it can be as deep or as light as one wants it. Hence , in preparing DRUMVOICES for the stage, directors should take pains to determine the levels of intensity or message-delivery tha-'b' tb&"'y 1 -~ "t'• These levels can be achieved and/or modified .from performance to performance by shifting (heightening or lessening) tone and thrust. Ideally, for DRUMVOICES, one drummer and one hom - player should make up the cast, along with at least one male and one female dancer. At the same ~time, owing to the flexibility and adaptability of ritual theater, directors may use as many dancers or musicians as are desired. The speaking cast should(preferably) consist of a three-member core-chorus. The core-chorus provides unison, harmony and call-and-response whi le at the same time suppiying the main individual voices. Set apart from the core-chorus is the narrator, who is atmospherically removed, somewhat dispassionate but omnipresent ·s a vast-voice image. Another voice, some distance to the other side of the core-cho rus is khown as a ralief-voice . This character/player can be made the focus of attention or go unnoticed while he/she slips into the audience , disappears to change clothes, or prepares for some sudden and surprise shift in the action o f the drama. • �1 Part I: Music & I The stage is bear except for music stands, a podium and the musicians' instruments . A log~ dancer appears, walks upstage and kneels in preparation for the ope:d~~ance-poem. 'rhe first sounds are heard off stage at which time the drumm.er and horn player come on stage an d situ ate themselves at their instruments . The dan c er begins to dance wh en the mus i ci ans are assembled. Voices(off-stage ) Music and I--Listenl--Yail Yail Listen to the sound of my homl Music and I--Listenl--Yail Yail Listen to the sound of my homl Music and I--Listenl--Yail Yail Voice(off-stage as dance begins) Listen to the sound of my horn•• • This note you have longed to hear! Voice/12 Listen to the sound of my song, I say, For _·the music you have hunn:ned by ear. Voice #3 I sound the time to rise for ' the fields . I moan the rhythm as the congregation lmeels . Voice#4. For I am the note of air, the catcher of your despair. Voice//5 I cry long nights for you my people. I rise early with my clay e d cotton coat . I tote water to sun-baked lips , Voice ,¥1 And I sing awa'f pain from your chain-whi pp e d hips. (oveu ) �2 Voice # 2 But now, my people, I've grown a new song. Listen, all ye Americans I Li sten with your ear: Voice#3 (walking upstate to position) Now the congre gation rises-Voice#4 (walking upsta ge to positi on ) Now the new corn sprouts-Voice#5 (wal king upsta ge to position) Now the air breathes f r esh -Voice#l(walking upsta ge to position ) Now t h e trodden land sings-Voi c e#2 (walking upstage to po sition ) Now my horn of clay airs a long signa l motif . Voi ce/!3 Listen to the sound of my h orn, my people . This rhythm of years long past . Voice#4 Listen to the sound of my horn , I say; Chorus(raising arms) Mus ic and I • •• have come a t last J( Durms ) (As voices expaode , dancer arid drUll11Jl!~r. Gpick un ,tempo; then dancer exits~ After a slight pause, narrator begins the on~stage r i t ual p ro gram . ) Narrat or I am the poem! We are the poem l Narrator And the poem is me t And t h e po em i s u s! And t h e poem is u s! And the poem is us f (over) �3 Narrator I run ~3 1 the poem and I cruae before pen ·or pencil or paper or printing presst I cupped and cuddled the wisdom of the winds in drum-bosoms of ecstasy. Drummer Performs a wide range of rhythms, movements , tones, multi ple-rhythms : African, West Indian, Afro- Latin, Afro - Ame r ican. Narrat or Listen! Listen closely and you can hear me, you can hear me writing in drum-langu age; you can h ear me conv~rsing with tomorrow, today and the heretofore. Chorus DRUMFEEI' ON THE SO IL, ON THE SANDROADS OF THE MIND I FLESH- PISTONS PRANCING, 'r HE EARTH I S ENGINE I IT IS A COMING FORTH, THE NI GHT WITHI N US COMING FORTH! THE NIGHT WITH I N US COMING FOR'r H 1 FEEr BEATI NG, BEATING, BEATING SEEDS INTO THE SOIL! Narra tor I return and return an d return to my magnifi cent and reliable archives. Chorus That l.ove we can depend on J That Love we can depend on! Voice ( singing; as ·danc er·s st!}:lR!"seareh.'.'the stage ),r:nt .: ONOBORO BO ! Ch orus ONOBORO BO ! Voice ONOBOROBo I Chorus ONOBOROBO I (over) �4 Voice ONOBOROBO ! Chorus ONOBOROBO t Narra tor In my dependable cultural vault is the Idea-gram: that natural cinetagraphy landscaped by thudding thoughts of my totem family , the living-dead, the breathing, the unborn. I am the poet ic flesh-temple with many forms, earthdaughter and agile inundator oP history . I am the poem in motion. Dancer Bxecutes rudimentary movements and other eleme nts of traditional African and nee -A frican dance: isolation, use of pelvis and tor s o, leaps, twirls, pulls , the Yanvalou(or a kindred movement} , vigorous stretches, lift s and thrusts. {Dr'-lm. accompaniment) Narrator I am the Black and Unknown Bard. American put me on a conveyer belt moving in two different directions at the same time . My African Jubi lance turned to anger and a song of sabotage. My IndomiLable Echo and Idion flavored my Indomitabl e Press to be Human . As a poem, I became part of what I did , saw and dreamed on these shores: Field Hollers, Vendors ' Shouts, Chants, Wo rk Song s , Spiritua ls , Blues , Gospels, Jazz, Rhythm-nBlues, Soul Music.( See attached cha rt of the preceding items : which ~e~!1- lustrated with short examples by voices after the list has been given .) Voice Did ye~ feed my cow? Voice Yes Manf Voice Will yer te·ll me how? (ov er) �- 4-A Field Hollers yodle •••• hey brother yodle •••• hey brother Vendors' Shouts watermellons, oh ••• sausages, oh ••• tomatoes, oh ••• I got 'em fresh ••• , ohl Chants Om-la-la Om-la-la Work Songs Say 1 1 m working hard on the chaingang Spirituals Ezekiel saw the wheel a-turning ( chorus ) · Way up in the middle of the air Blues Blood, lawd, blood all on the wall Gospels 0 ) happp: day _ 0 happy day When Jesus washed When Resus washed Washed all my sins away Jazz Riffs from Ike :Rhythm-and-Blues Will you still love me tomorrow? Soul Music I tm a soul man I 1m a soul man ... - �5 Voice Oh w1 at did yer give 1 er? Voice Cawn a.n hay! Voice Oh w•at did yer give 1 er? Voice Cawn an hay! Voice(looking up) Evahwhuh I, whuh I loolj: dis mawnin, Looks lak rain, looks like rain. Chorus Looks lak rain, looks lak rain! Voice I gotta. rainbow, tied all roun\ ma.h shoulder, Ain gonna rain, ain gonna rain . Chorus Dis is de hammer, Kilt John Henry! Voice(emphatically) Twon 1 t kill me, baby, 'l1won 1 t kill me. Take dis hammer, Carry it to de captain-Voice Tell him I'm gone, baby, Tell him I 1 m gone . ( OVEr ) �6 Chorus I got a rainbow Tied 1 roun my shoulder, Ain ' t gonna rain, baby, Ain 't gonna rain. Voice(work-song,sung) Dis ole hammer--huh!(chorus) Ring lak silver--huh!(chorus ) Shine lak gold--huhl(chorus) Chorus Ain't gonna rain J Ain't gonna rain! Voice(female) I 1 m a big fat mamma , got the meat shaking on mah bones, I ' m a bi g fat mamma , got the meat shaking on map. bones , And eve:rr.ry time I shakes, some skinny girl loses huh home . Voice Run, nigger run ; de patter-roller catch you; Chorus Run , nigger, run, it's almost day . Voice Run , nigger , run; de patter-roller catch you ; Chorus Run, nigger , run, and try to get get away. Voice Dis nigger run, he run his .best ,- •-· I Chorus Stuck his h ead in a hornet's nest,- Voice Jumped de fence and run fru the paste r; (over ) �7 Ch orus White man run, but ni gger run f a ster. Voice Dat nigger run, dat ni gge r flew,-Chorus Dat nigger tore his shirt in two. Narrator Yes , as poem, as cotton-pfucker, as banjo-player, as fiddle r, as preacher, as ili:dnstrel-maker and mirror, as slave-rebellion leader, I emered a ne'fl part of the old. My African song ushered forth in strange new Biblical Language . Voice(singing) Go Down, Moses, Way Down in Egyptland; Cho rus(talking~pointing) Te l l old Pharoah To let my people go. Voice(s!inging) Deep River ••• • Ch orus (talking) Deep Deep Deep River .. 0. Voice Deep River , my home is ove r Jordan; Deep River, Lord; I want to cross over into camp ground . Voice (exci t edly) And , yes, I DREAMED I was riding in that chariot . Cho rus(or Voice) Swi ng low, sweet ch ariot, Comin g for to carry me horr.e1 ( over) �8 Swing low, sweet chariot, Coming for to earry me home . Voice Green trees a-bending, Po ' sinner stands a-trembling The trumpet sounds within -a-my soul ; Chorus I ain I t got long to stay he re . Voice (male) Joshua fit de battle of Jericho,-- Jeri cho, Jericho-hG-ho-hol Voice Joshua fit de battle of Jericho ,-Cho rus And de walls came tumbling down . Voice Dat morning •••• Chorus And de: walls came tumbling down Voice My God is a rock in a weary lan 1 - Ch orus Weary lan 1 , weary lan 1 - Voice My God is a rock in a weary lan 1 - - Shelt er in de time of storm. Narrator I was Black and curious; I confronted harshness head-on; my struggle meant (over) �9 I had to learn to write like whites, even though ,Ironically, their laws Said I could be punished or jailed for possessing such knowledge and skill. Voice You named me : Lucy Terry I Voice Gustavas Vassal Voice Britton & Jupiter Hanmonl Voice Coon & Buck I Voice Phyllis Wheatley ! And I mastered Greek, Latin and English in rrry teens . Lonely Black girl whom the muses befriended, thousands and thousands of miles away from rrry West African home. I contimued to emerge as the poem. Voice Should you,my Lord, while you peruse my song, Wonde r from whence my love of Freedom sprung, Whence flow these wish es fort h e common good, By feeling hearts alone best understood, I, young in life, by seemin g cruel fate, snatched from Afrjc 1 s fancy 1 d happy seat; wti-~t pa.ng·s- ~xcruci~ting must mo+est, ~Jt.tD.t -.;··r~.. ~L J.~' , ✓-~1.:.:(" : _::. ·, - - ~-·~~( :.-;t,r.; · ,:.,t~·~· What sor~ows labour in my parents' breasts? Steel 1 d was that soul and by no misery mov 1 d ~~s l .~•-,< That from a father seiz 1 d his babe belov 1 d: Such, such my case. And can I then but pray Others may never feel tyrani c sway? (vJhfQtley) Narrator You named me George Moses Ho rton. I did not like the injustice (over) of the �10 double standard. And so I turned into a poem. Even though some continued calling me "The Slave." Chorus "Tha Slave"? Voice Because the brood-sow' s left side pigs were black, Whose sable tincture was by nature struck, Were you by justice bound to pull them back And leave the sandy-colored pigs to suck? (Horton) Chorus(ominously) Runagate! Runagatel Runa ga tel Runagate l Runagatel Narrator My mother cured ills and my father worked root-s. In the bi-cultural constriction the poem became j~ju-man , the face hidden by the ambiguous minstrel smile. Voice We have fashioned laughter Out of tears and pain; Bqt the moment after- Voice Pain and tears again.(Charles Bertram Johnson) Voice Forgive these erring people, Lord! Voip_e Who l ynch at home and love abroad.(~ D~) Narrator Still I wrote--this time just like I talked, though some made fun of it . But,as maker of song, I could only produce heart-rhythms. (over) �Voice 11 De Ounjah man, de Ounjah man , O chillen,run, de Gunjah man! Chorus 0 chillen , run, the Cunjah man! Voice Him mouf ez beez as fryin 1 pan; Voice Him yurs am small, him eyes run raid, -- Voice -- Him hab no toof een him ol 1 ha.id, Voice Him hab him roots , him wuk him tr.i. cks, -Voice Him r oll him eye, him mek you sick-Chorus De Cunjah man , de Cunjah man, O chillen run, de Cunjah manl(J . E.Campbell) Na rrator I knew my rights, my rougp times and my remedies . Voice (assuming tones reflB.oting physical ill n e a ses) Blue-mass , laudnum, liver pills , "Sixty-six, fo I fev er an ' chills , 11 Ready Relief , an' A. B. c . , An 1 half a. bottle of X. Y. Z. (J . W. Holloway) Narrato r You named me Frances El l en Watkins Harp er, James Edwin Campbell , James Weldon Johnson, Paul Lawrence Dunbar--Son of ex-slaves , elevator boy -· r i sen to brilliantbard of the race . As the poem I strode forth in sever al kinds of English. ( OVeJ? ) �12 Voice I know why the caged bird sings , Ah me, When his wing is bruised and his bosom soreyWh_en he be a ts his bars and he would be fr ee ; It is not a carol of joy or glee , But a prayer that he sends from his heart 's deep core, But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings -I know why thecaged bir d sings l(Dunbar) Narrator Above all , song exudes from me . Indeed, I am song . Watch and examine me . My birthright is my anthem. My song is my sword. And I ~li ft that sword high! Voice( singing) Lift evff'y voice and s ing , Till earth and heaven ring, Ring with the harmonies of liberty. Chorus (talking, pointing upwards) Till our r ejo icings rise High as t he listening skies! (J . W. Johnson ) Narrato r As song-poem I _forged pure flames of rhythms without books . James Weldon Johnson called me the Black and Unknown gard. And, let me tell you something • •• :hmmrnmmmm • ••• I always loved to hear Ma lindy sing. Voice G1 way an 1 quit dat noise, Miss Lucy-Put dat music book away; What ' s de use to keep on tryin 1 f Ef you practise twell you're gray, You cain 1 t sta 1 t no notes a-flyin 1 Lak de ones dat rants and rings From de kitchen to de big woo ds (ovor ) �13 Chorus When Malindy sings . Voice You ain 1 t got de nachel o 1 gans Fu 1 to make de soun 1 come right , You ain 1 t got de tu 1 ns an 1 twistin 1 s fut to make it sweet an ' light . Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy , An' I'm tellin ' you fu 1 true , When hit comes to raal ri ght singin 1 , Chorus IT ain 1 t no easy thing to do . Voice Easy 1 nough fu' folks to hollah, Lo okint at de lines an' dots , When dey ain 1 t no one kin senc e it , An ' de chune comes in, in spo t s ; But fu 1 real melo j ous music , Dat jes strikes yo 1 hea't and clings , Jes you stan 1 an ' listen wif me .Chorus When Malindy sings . Voice Ain 1 t you nevah hyeahd Halindy? Bl essed soul , tek up de cross I Look hyeah , ain 1 t you jo kin 1 , honey? Well, you don I t know what you lo s 1• Y1 ou ght to hyeah dat gal a-wa ,1 blin 1 , (over) �Robins, la 1 ks, an' all dem things, Heish dey moufs an' hides dey faces Chorus When Malindy sings. Voice#l Fidlin' man jes 1 stops his fiddlin 1 , Lay his fiddle on de she 1 f; Voice#2 :Mockin 1 -bird quit tryin' to -whistle, 1 0ause he jes so shamed hisse1_f. Voice#3 Folks a-playin 1 on de banjo Draps dey fingahs on de strings-Bless yo' soul--fu 1 gits to move 1 em, Chorus When :Malindy sings. Voice She jes 1 spreads hu mouf and hollahs, Voice( singing) "Come to Jesus, 11 Voice ••• twell you hyeah Sinnahs 1 tremblin 1 steps and voices, Timid-lak a-drawin 1 neah; Den she tu 1 ns to Voice (singing) "Rock of Ages, 11 Voice Simply to de cross she clings , (over) �15 An' you fin yo' teahs a-drappin 1 .Chorus When Malindy sings. Voice Who dat says de humble praises Wif de Master neva.h counts? Heish yo 1 mouf, I hyeah dat music, Ez it rises up an 1 mounts-Floatin 1 by de hills an' valleys, Way above dis burryin 1 sod, Ez hit makes its way in glory Chorus To de very gates of God, Voice Oh, hit ts sweetah dan de music Of an edicated band; An 1 hit's dearah dan de battle 's Song o 1 triumph in de lan•. Voi ce#l It seems holier dan evenin 1 When de solemn chu 1 ch bell rings , Voice #2 (slowly,searchingly) Ez I sit an I ca 1·m ly listen Chorus While Malindy sings . Voice Tows a.h;,, stop dat ba 1 kin, hyea.h me 1 Man~y, 1 :mek dat chile keep still; (over} �16 Don ' t you hyeah de echoes callin 1 F 1 om de valley to de hill? Let me listen, I can hyeah it , Th 1 oo de brash of angels' wings, Sof,_. and sweet, Voice#3 (singing ) •• o 11 swing . 1 ow , Sweet Chariot, 11 Voice(dreamily and ecstatically) Ez Mal indy sings . (Dunbar) Narrato r Poem that I was and am , I travel ed from "oasis to oasis . 11 Voice Man's Saharic up and down . ( M. B o Tolson) Narrato r Riverboats, river towns chaingangs • • • Voice(singing as chorus make s work - sounds in background) Well don ' t you know That's the sound of the men, working on the chain -n-n-n gan-ee - ang; We ll don 1 t you know That's the sound of the men , working on the chain gang . (Cooke) Narrator Bar-room toughs, hard-hearted Hanna, Stagolee • • • they all knew me . Voice Hard~hearted Hanna-Voice From Savannah, GEE A. Voice She was so cold, yall - Chorus Wasn ' t she I (over ) �17 Voice She ' d pour water on a dr owning man ! Cho rus(slowly and deliberately ) Water , on a drown-ii-nnng man. Voice(attracting the attenti on of oth ers) It was early one morni n 1 , When I h e a r d my bull dog bark ; Stagolee and Billy Lyons Was s quabli n 1 in the da r k . Voi c e Frankie and liohnny were l overs , Lordy , how they could love , Voi c e Swo re to each oth er , True as t h e stars up abo ve , Cho rus He was h er man but h e done her wrong . Voice ( f cmale ) Sh ine, shine , shin e , ••• save po ' me . Na rrator I was in the constant s e e - saw of life , wading thr ough h e ll in sea rch of h e aven. But I kept my working philosophy with me . Voice# l De stoppe r get de l ongest res t i n de emp ty jug . Vo i ce#2 De price o f you r h at ain't de measure of your brain. Voic et/3 De grav eya rd is de ch e apes 1 bo a rdin 1 -house . Vo i ceff4 Buyin 1 on cre di t is ro bbin ' next ye a r's c rop . Over} �18 Voice#5 Life is short and full of blisters. Voice #l De cow-bell can 't k eep a secret. Voice#2 Little flakes make de de~pest snow. Voice#3 De crawfish in a hurry look like he tryin 1 to git dar yesterday . Voicef/4 Be drinks so much whis key tha t he staggers in his sleep. Voice-#5 In God we trust, all others cash. Nar rator Yes I was lyric-wise. You heard me everywhere . You even heard me coming from the swoll en lip s of the bugle , French horn, trumpet , clarinet and saxophone . lio rn A series of short riffs and movements exempiary and illustrative of various forms of Afro-Ameri can mus ic played between the advent of the spirituals and the ra gtime-blues period. Narro.tor In Paris they calle d the "Cakewalk 11 the 11poetry of motion o" In the crevices of ships I was trans ported to global points to make me splendid sound and dance my splendid poetry of motion . Dancer Executes a series of movements and s teps r ep r esenting such dances as the Cakewalk , Charl es ton, the Two '- Step , Ji tterbµg and the Bop. i:!;lerehts of West Indian danc e s sl1ould fl avor mo vements. (over) �19 Narrator As the poem I blue horns, shot guns in your First World War, danced dances and came home to face the Ku Klux lClan , Southern Sheriffs and Jim Crow. I got An gry. And I got defiant. But, I was relatively· cool . Voice(serious) Into the furnace let me go alone; Stay you without in terror of the heat. I will go naked in-~for thus 'tis sweet- Into the weird d epths of the hottest zone. Voice(serious but resolute and emergin g) Desire destroys, consumes my mortal fears, Transforming me into a shape of flame . I will come out, back to your world of tears , A strongger soul within a finer frame . (McKay) Narra tor From the dark tower I watched as I pr.~pare9, Matched as I prepared, watched as I pre pared, knowing that !!We were not made eternally to weep . Voice(reflective, meditative) The night whos e s able b rea st r eli e v e s t h e stark White stars is n o l e ss l ov e l y being dark, And there are buds t hat c annot bloom at all In light , but crumpl e, pit eou s, and f a ll; So in the da r k we h ide the h e art t ha t bleeds , And wait, and t end our a gonizing seeds . (Cul1en) Na r rator After race riots in s ev e r a l American cities, I lifted my voice in a searing shaft of discon t ent . Chorus 0 kinsmen! we must meet the common foel (over) 11 �20 Voice Like men we 1 11 face the murderous , cowardly pack, Pressed to the wall , dying , ••• Ch orus ( slowly and softly) Dying ••• dying ••• dying Voice ••• but fight ing b a ck ! (M"'f-,-) Na r rator All the while my p a s t kept pu llin g on me . It was if we were married to each other, glue d, loc ke d , welded to gether. It was a s if those who dep art ed n ev e r r eally , really died . An African sense kept tugg ing tu gging a t my trunc a t e d roots . The bridge of my dwarf-lilte past rested on at le a st two shores . Voice Pour o pour tha t parting soul in song , O pour it in the s awdust glow of night , Into the velvet pins-smoke air to-night , ••• Chorus (s low and echo -li ke ) And l et the vall ey ca r r y it along . And l et the valley carry it along . (t6orner) Narrator ( confused and desperate ) Sometimes I wa s only half-the r e, fighting those who wanted to snatch away my humanity by day;and fi;jlting hunger and confusion at home by night. As the p oem, I emer ge d convo luted and who lly new, only to ,re treat to a some-other-time r e f r ain . ~gypt , Ghana, Mada gasca r, th e Py_ramids-- Voodoo Ceremonies--what d id th ey all me an -to me? The beauty-pain of it all? Chorus Come with a blast of trumpets, Jesus! (over) �21 Voice(oxymoronic) And the beauty of Susanna Jones in red Burns in my heart a love-fire sharp like pain. Chorus Sweet silver trumpets , Jesusl(}\~s~e..s) Voice Well , son , I ' ll tell you: Life for me ain ' t been no crystal stair . (Hughes) Narrator But the blur of that veil was always temporar-f.ly relie v ed by sorig , by dance , by reading or thinking about forei gn places and looki ng forward to the day when Americans would grow up . We were here - -in America- but not of it . Simply worrying, without a plan 1x> change things , didn ' t help much. We grew stronger, and more beautiful , in the words of Langston Hughes , as we re-embraced our own rituals . Ch orus ( singing and jiving) Shake your brown,feet, honey , Shake your brown feet , chile, Shake your brown feet , honey, Shake I em swift and wil' -Voice Get way back , honey , Do that low- down step. Walk on ove r, darling, Now ! Come out With your left . (Hughes) Voice (breakin g the fun-frolic and wa.ci..ng seriou s ) Yet do I marvel at this curious thing : To make a poet black,ond bid him (ov e r) singl (ev({erD �22 Narrator Yet must I marvel that I'm here at all . Because during the watering years, after the GREAT DEPRESSION, my existence was ser·i ously threatened by lynching and at atmosphere of intimidation. I went to war, as poem and soldier and cook and shining knight of DEi'10C RACY I The SWASTIKA , the RISING SUN, The HAMMER & SICKLE, I was to l d , were my REAL enemies. Meanwhile you had named me Owen Dodson and I grew accustomed to the realities of nei ghborly enemies: •rho se who caused UNNATURAL DEATHS. Voice(preaching a funeral sermon ) Wake up, boy , and tell me how you died : What sense was alert last , What immediate intuition about m You clutched like a bullet when your nails Dug red in your yellow palm And that map the fortunetellers read Chorus (this line for money , this for love) Voice Child.5.:sh ag~in and.smeared . • • • Chorus Wake up , boy . • •• Voice • • • I go to death tomorrow, Tell me what road you took , • • • Chory.s What hour in the day is luckiest? I Voice Did your Adams a pple explode? Who sewed stitches in your angry (over) heart?(O•Dad..S0'1J �23 Chorus 0 wake ••• Narrator Yes , yes, • • • I was sometimes a tatt e red and beaten poem in the nineteen Thirties , Forties and Fifties . But I was a poem anyway: Gracious, Noble, Fundamental, Fiery , Firm, Re lating to ~ People" Wttl~~ on ~uh Common Ground. Someone called me Ma r ga re1' I became a Tapestry of My Many Selves. Voice #l For my people~everywhere singing their slave songs repeatedly; Voic e#2 • • • their dirges and their ditties and theittbliueJ' and jubilees, . V oice il"3 • • • praying their p r ayers nightly to an unknown god, Voice#l • • • bending their lmee s humbly to an un/seen power; Voice#2 • • • washing/ironin g cooking scrubbing s ewing mending plowing/digging planting pruning patching dragging along never gaining never reaping neveF knowing and nev er understand/;i.'ng ; Voice #J For my playmates in the clay and du s t and sand of Alabama backyards playing • • • Voice #l 'bapti zi-ng : and ••• Voice#2 preaching and••• (over) hoeing/ �24 Voiceff3 doctor and ••• Voicef/1 jail and••• Voice;/2 soldier and••• Voicel/3 school and •• • • Voi ce,fl mama and/cookin g and playhouse and concer t and store and/hair and Miss Choomby and company ; Voic e/12 For the cramped bewildered year s we went to s ch ool to learn to know the reasons why and the answers to and the people who and the pla ces wh ere and the days when , in memory of the bitter hours ,men we discovered we were black and poor an d small and different and nobody cared and nobody wondered and nobody understood ; Voice 1f3 For the boys and girls who e;rew in spit e of th.e se t hings to be • ' .i man and woman, to laugh and dance and sing and play and drink their wine and relig~on and success, to marry their playmat es and bear children and then die o f consumption and anemia and lynching ; Voice//1 For my people thronging 47th Street in Chicago and Lenox Ave nu e in Ne w Yo r k and Rampart street i n New Orleans , ••• VoiceH-2 For my people blundoring and Groping nnd floundering in the (over) �25 dark of churches and s choo ls and clubs and societies , as sociations and councils and committees and conventions, distressed and disturbed and deceived and devoured by money-hungry glory-craving leeches, preyed on by facile force of state and fad and novelty , by false prophet and holy believer; Voice#) Let a new earth rise. Let another world be born. Let a bloody peace be written in the sky, Voice#). • • • Let a second generation full/ of courage issue forth ; Voice#2 • • • let a people loving freedom come/ to growth . Let a beauty full/ of healing and a strength of final clenching be the pulsing in/ our spirits and(our b lood. Voice#) • • • Let the martial songs be written, let the dirge s dis/ appear . Chorus ( st rongly) • • • Let a race of men now rise and take control . (M. Walker) Narrator Frank Marshall Davis, Me lvin Beaunorous ~olson , Sterling Brown , Robert Hayden, Paul Vesey, Bob Kaufman, Georgia Douglas ~ Johnson, Russell Atkins, Leadbel ly, Lic;l1tnin 1 Hopkins--these are names by which my voice is known . Some even call me by the name of (whisp ering) HISTORY . Chorus(rising from whispers) Histo!'1J History! History ! RunagateI Runagate l Runagate l Voice Runs falls rises stumbles on from darkness into darkness and the darkness thicketed with shap e s of terror (over) �26 and the hunters pu rsuing and the hounds pursuing and the ni ght cold and the nigh t long a nd the river tocross and the j ack - muh-l an t e rns beckoning beckoning an d the bl a ckn e s s ahe a d and when sha ll I reach th a t somewhere morning and ke ep on go i n g a nd ne v er turn back and keep on going••• Chorus ( frigh tened) Runagatel Runagatel Runagate l Vo ic e Some go weeping and s ome r ej oicing some in coffins an d s ome i n ca rriages some in s ilks and some i n sha ckl e s ••• Oh that train, ghost-story train through swamp and s avanna mov e r ing movering over trestl e s of dew, thro ugh c aves of the wish, Midnight Special on a sabre t r a ck mov e rin g movering, first stop Mercy and the l as t Ha ll e luj ah . Voice Come ride-a my t r a in. Chorus Me an mean me an to be fr c e .( R. Hayden) Na r rator I became a b r illiant word- tor ch shining back against my past and flaming proudly into the f u ture . All th e whil e I wormed into and won hearts and minds. And in 1950 , Ame ri c a gav e me the coveted Pulitzer Prise . My name was Annie A1len but I was man y peopl e . I was so finely sculpted that no inflection was imprecise . I sai d what I had to say in a language that dazz.led and blinded the world. I s tood as a jewel; I talk~d. about a jewel named "Satin-Leg s Smith." (ov er) �27 Voice (as othe.rs look on admiringly) He wakes, unwinds, elaborately: a cat Tawny, reluctant, royalo He is fat And fine this morning. Definite . Reimbursed. He waits a momemt, he designs his reigµ, That no performance m~y be plain or vain~ Then rises in a clear delirium. Voice Let .·us proceed. Let us inspect, together With his meticulous and serious love, The unnards of this closet. Which is vault Whose glory is not diamonds, not pearls, Not silver plate with just enough dull shine. But wonder suits in yellow and in wine , Sarcastic green and zebra-striped cobalt . With shoulder padding tha t is wide And cocky and determined as his pride; Ballooning panits that taper off to ends Scheduled to choke pre cisely . Voice Here are hats Like bright umbrellas ; and hysterical ties Like narrow banners for some gathering war . (G. Narrator Yes, I was immaculately Black. Magnific ently Black . And I knew the powe r of the Rap I Chorus Amen! (over) �28 Narrator I became the power of the Ra.pl Chorus Arnenl Voice Bartender, make it st rai ght and make it two- Voice(pointing) Otie for the you in me••• Voice(pointing) ••• and the me : ·in you. ( H . Tolson) Narrator After lengthy conver sations with my music , I became the Be - Bopper; somebody called me the Zoot-Suite~; I put on dark glasses and conked my hair. A double-chinned salesman handed me some bleaching cream and a cadillac as I sped Horth to join my brothers and sisters in the Promised Lan d. Richard Wri ght ru1d James Baldwin cried for me . John Oliver Killens Heard The Thunde r and Balph Ellison called me Invisible , adding that once my leaders decoded the riddle of my style and my rap they could help me save me . Bla ck, I left a White country to fight Yellow men in Korea. El la, Miles, Monk, Billie, Prez , Chano Pozo , Ornette, Coltrane--they went to war with me. Chorus Good Morning heartache l(sung) How do you do . (said) Horn Medley of tunes and musical mannerisms reminiscent of the period. Narrator I got hip to world events , science and space exploration . I knew wh~ I knew, still I c ouldn 1 t go where I wanted to go, or d() what I wanted to do . Americ~ got nervous wheneve r I ap peared in pub lic . But I knew (over) �29 certain events and deve lo pments were do oming all of us to an "Ultimate Reality . " Voice You know, Joe, it 1 s a fup.ny thin g, Joe, You worry most of your life about me , Always afraid I'll get a job with you, Always scared I mi ght get served with you, Always afraid I'd wanna love your sister Or that she might lov e me. Voice Don~t want me to e a t with you, Voic e Seared I mi gh t live n ext t o you-- Voi ce But with the Atom Bomb, J oe, It looks li k e I mi ght di e with you . Voice That don 1 t:seem ri ght , does it, Joe?( Ray Durem) Na rrator But inspite of all the a dversity , the hi sto rical s tren gths kept returning to me , shoring me up , helping me to ~eep getting u p , to keep going. We had our persona] victories in the meantime . We learned everything that it too~ to make it in America , even when no one would let us have equipment or space to work in . We jus t reached back inside ourselves and crune up with what was needed. Then one day , the poem becrune a baseball in the hands of the legendary Leroy Satchel Paige . Voic e Sometimes I feel li ke I will never stop Just go on forever ( over) �30 Till one fine mornin 1 I'm gonna reach up and grab me a handfulla stars Swing out my long lean leg And whip three hot strikes burnin 1 down the heavens And look over at God and say How about thatt(S. Allep) Narrator Style has always been my signature. So it was not a surprise that I returned to myself in motion . Behold! The 8troll! Chorus Sings a porti on of Gene Chandler I s "Duke of Ea rl II or some other period pie~e. Harrator The Kan sas City Slop! 1he Madison! Chorus Sings J ·portion of the Five Satins 1 song fr om period. 11 ±n the Still of the Nigh t" or another Narra tor The Twist! Bri•ef exerp t from Chubby Checker's 11 •rwist 11 • Narrator The Funky Chicken! The Karate Bo ogalool They saw me poeting with my hips and my feet. Chorus Poeting l Poetingl Narrator And took it all back to Ameri can Bandstand and other countries . Voice(singing) There's a thrill upon the hill! Chorus(singi ng) Let 1 s Gol Let's Go! Let 1 s Go! (over) �Narrator I oatne home from Korea to me et the Klan in a new sheet. And in Montgomepy they would not let my mother sit down on a bus. As a poem, my name became Lance Jeffers, Raymond Patterson, G. C. Oden,Mari Evans, LeRoi Jones and Imamu Amiri Baraka, Audre Lorde. Cho rus( que stionin~ly) Montgomery? Montgomery? Montgomery? • • • I remember Montgomery . Voice And Bi rmingham--the fo\l \f' little, little girls . Voice Four little girls Who went to Sunday School t h at day And never came back home at all-Voic e But left instead Their blood upon the wall With spattered flesh And bloodied Sunday dre s ses Scorched by dynamit e tha t Ghina made aeons a go Dfufi not know' 'What Chi n a ma de Before China was eve r Re d at a l l Would redden with the i r blood This Birmingham-on-Sun day wall. Four tiny girls Who left their blood upon th a t wall , In1; li ttle ;, gra.ves l today await (over) �32 Voice The dynamite that might ignite The ancient fuse of Dragon Kings Whose tomorrow sin~s a h~nn The missionaries never tau ght In Christian Sunday Scho o l 'r o Implement the Gol den Hu le. Voice Four little girls Might be awakened someday soon By songs upon the breeze Voice As yet unfelt among Magnolia trees. (t.\v&>EJ') Voice And Selma I Voice And Philadelphia, Mississippi! Voi ce(vaguely, hesitatingly) I recollect Emmett Till! Voice Jind Watts! Narrator My Name was Conrad Rent Rivers at that time . I became a poem called "Watts, 11 hoping that in such disguise I could find my way out of this daily nightmare . Voice Must I shoot the white man dea d to free the nigger (Over) �33 in his head? Voice(pausing, musing) Must I shoot the white man dead to free the nigger in his head? (t 1~\"t\-Jtf'~ Voice And Newark I Voice And Harlem! Voice And Oakland t Voice And Dallas t . Voice And East St. Louis! Voic e And Chicago I Voice Martin ~uther King! Voi ce Malcolm! Voice Stokley! Voice H. itap Brown ! Voice James Brown I (over) �Narrator 34 Drumbeats enflamed the " sky . Libe ration became ltl.y.Jpassiona.te preocoupation. A warm self-love engulfed me . My woman and I looke d at ea.ch othor through new- old eyes . We had our own standard of beauty. I stretched and yawned and walked around in my own neighborhood. My ~olor felt good and heal thy to me . It looked good to me in the mirror of my Brothers' eyes . Someone called me Black a.nd I didn't hit him. At a rally, I t u rned into a voice on the podium shouting. Chorus WE ARE AN AFRICAN PEOPLE l Drummer & Dancer Salute the coming of the new consciousness with appropriate nee - African rhythms and moveme nts. Voice For a.11 things Plack and be autiful , The brown faces you loved so well and long , the endless roads leading back to Harlem. Chorus Kulu Se Mamal Kulu Se Marna! Kulu Se Marna! Kulu Se Mama Vbice #l Where the string At i , Some umbilical jazz, Voice if2 Or perhaps, I n memory, A long lost bloody cross, Buried in some steel calvary. �35 VoiceJJ In what time For whom do we bleed, Lost notes , from some jazzman 1 s Broken needle . Voice,¥4 Musical tears fro m lost Eyes , Broken drumsticks , whyT Voicet/-1 Pitter patter, boom dropping Bombs in the middle Of my emotions Voicerf2 My father ' s s oun d Voice/13 My mother's sound • • • Cho rus I s love , Is life . (O,to.\)rlt\0-Vl} Narrator I had watched America . I knew Ameri c a . I could deal with the diff e r ence • and the samene ss, that stran ge de cora t ed pain that character i zes our existence . I keep coming b ac k to the point of the sythes i s and the symbiosis . I am history an d fut ure, or , put differently, I am fu ture• history . Sometimes, because of my many levels · of vision, I grasp the helm of the stru8g]e s of the many colored hands . I might even be i n " a river that lac es the stoma ch of Ameri ca . �36 Voice(with dance accompan i ment) River of Time : Vibrant vein, Bent , crooked, Older tha.n the Red Men Who named you; Ancient as the winds That break on your Serene and shining face; One time western boundary of America From whDJ,tr.eehlet', Your broad shoulders now r each To touch sisters On the flanks. -Ch orus River of Truth : Voice • • • Mo rnings You lea.p, yawn 2000 mil e s, And shed a gi ant joyou s tear Over sprouting , straggling Hives of humanity; Nigh ts you we ep As the moon , tiptoeing Across your silent silky Face, hears you prayin g Over the broken backs Of black slaves who rode , Grouched and hudd led, At your he a rt in the belli e s Of ~teamship s . (6cer) �37 Chorus River of Memory: Voice Laboratory f or Civil War Boat builders Who left huge eyes of steel Staring from your su l len depths; Reluctant partner to crimes Of Ku Klux Klansmen; River moved to waves Of ecstasy By the venerable trumpet Of Louis Armstron g . River of Bones: River of bones and flesh-Bones and flesh and blood; Voice The nation ' s l a r ge st Intestine And longest conveyer belt; Chorus River MISSISSIPPI: River of little rivers; River of rises, Voice Sometimes subdued By a roof of ice , descendine finally On your Southward course �38 To . spit Into the Gulf And join the wrath 0 f large r bodie s . ( He dmond ) Nar r a tor I mused ov er riv ers and long- gone voic es underneat h rivers. Soon, however, I turned t o philosophy . In t he sp it and da rt of my new self, there were utterances I ha d to make , blo o d- thoughts I had t o share. I lmew this was another s equel t o the dream. I h a d not believed those fairy tales . I needed :to take a hand and stand and speak the truth to the people . Ch orus Speak the truth t o the pe opl e! Voice It is not nec e ssary to g r e en t h e heart Only to identify the en emy It is not nec e ssary t o blow t he mind Only to free t h e mind. C}iorus It is thetotal black! Voi ce It is the total b l ack , bein g spok en From theearth 1 s inside. There are many kinds of open. How a diamond comes into t knot of flame How a sound comes into a word, colored By who pays what for s peaking. Choru s Love is another kind of op enw(over) �39 Voice As e. diamond comes ipto a kno t of flame I a.m black because I come from the earth 1 s inside Take my word for jewel in your open light. Na rrator I am the ecstasy of NOW! 'fhe fullest realization of my Ancestors' wishes. I return, even in the alarm; even in the shadow-body I am often forced to wear . But enough , enough--I beg you, my dear aijsociates, look How on our.1 s and hi story I s finest treasure. Voi ce(and dancer) I am a black woman the music of my song some sweet a rpe ggio of tears is written in a mino r key and I can be heard hummin g in the ni cJ:it Can be heard hummin g Chorus Hums first line of "lll o bocly .r,no ws the Trouble I See 11 Voice(cont inuing poem) in the night I saw my mate leap screaming to the sea and I/with these hands/cuppe d the lifebreath from my is sue in tre c ane brake I lost Nat ' s swinging body in a rain of tears and I heard my song scream all t he way from Anzio for Peace he n ever> kn ew. • • • I learned Da Nang and Pork Cho p Hill in anguish (over) �40 Now my nostrils lmow the gas and these tri gger tire/d fin gers seek the softness in my warrior ' s beard I am a black woman tall as a cypress strong beyond all definition still defying place and time and circumstance assailed impervious indestructibl e L0ok on me and be renewed .(M, E)JOJ'lS) Ch orus Look on me and be renewed. Look on us and be renewed. lHnis ��DRUMVOICES : THE MISSION OF AFRO-AMERICAN POETRY* A Readers Theatre/Ritual Drama By Eugene B. Redmond * Script Adaptation of DRUMVOICES : THE MISSION OF AFRO - AMERICAN POETRY (a critical history}, by Eugene B. Redmond: Doubleday, 1976. Script co pyright@ 1977 by Eugene B. Redmond .. ;,.' y �Note to Directors & Players DRUMVOICES, as a theatricalQcllJa-1, follows ~ 1 ~tradition of ritual theater or the "ri tuali zing"of an event. Ide ally, for Readers Theater, th.~-~-s:tage_·· ia.'rea should bav,e ~;i'G>'Ql!l i:.fo~-::tl!fo·--:s~ts -.~ r~·.=.-mll$i:~ T-1:!~imds ·and ·a dance i~r0-4QSince ritual theater is conceptually and practically adaptable to as few or as many players as are desirea, directors/stagers should proceed accordingly . Ritual drama is also qualitative in terms of depth and meaning--that is it can be as deep or a s light as one wants it. Hence, in preparing DRUMVOICES for the stage, directors should t ake pains to determine the levels of intensity or message-delivery iha-t' t1:'fey i These levels can be achieved and/or modified .from performance to performance by shifting (heightening or lessening) tone and thrust. Ideally, for DRUMVOICES , one drummer and one horn -player should make up the cast, along wi th at least one male and one female dancer. At t~e same,time, owing to the flexibility and adaptability of ritual theater, direc t ors may use as many dancers or musicians as are desired. The speaking cast should( preferably) consist of a three-member core-chorus. The core-chorus pro vides unison, harmony and call-and-response while at the same time suppiying the main individual voices. Set apart from the core-chorus is the narrator, who is atmospherically removed, some-what dispassionate but omnipresent aa a vast-voice image . Another voice , some distance to th e other side of the core-ch orus is khown as a ralief-voice . This character/player can be made the focus of at tention or go unnotic ed while he/she slips into the audience , di sappears to change cloth es , or prepares for some sudden and surprise shift in the action of the drama. w~-t-. �1 Part I: Music & I The stage is bear exce pt for music stands, a podium and the musicians' instruments. A lou~ dancer appears , walks upstage and kneels in preparation for the opeJ~~ance-poem. 'r he first sounds are heard off stage at which time the drummer and horn player come on stage and situate themselve s at their instruments . The dancer begins to dan ce when the musicians are assembled. Voices(off-stage ) Music and I--Listenl--Yail Yail Listen to the sound of my hom l Music and I--List enl--Yail Yait Listen to the sound of my homl Musi c and I--Listenl--Yail Yai l Voice(off-stage as dan ce begi._ns) Listen to the sound of my horn• •• This note you have longed to hear! Voicef2 Listen to the sound of my song, I say, Fo'r :. ·the music you have hurm:ned by ear. Voice#3 I sound the time to rise for the fields. I moan the rhythm as the congregation kneels. Voice#4 For I am the note of air , the catcher of your despair. Voice#5 I c ry long nights for you my people . I rise early wi th my clayed cotton coat . I tote water to sun-baked lips , Voice #l And I sing awa" pain from your chain-whi ppe d hips . ( OVeII ) �2 Voice#2 But now , my people , I 1 ve grown a new song. Listen, all ye Americans! Listen with your ear: Voice#3(walking upstate to position ) Now the congregation rises-Voice#4(walking upsta ge to position ) Now the new corn sprouts-Voice#5 (walking upstage to positi on) Now the air breathes fresh-Voice#l(walking upstage to po si tio n) Now the trodden land sings-Voice #2 (walking upstage to positi on) Now my horn of clay airs a long signal motif. Voice/13 List en to the sound of my h orn , my people. Thi s rhythm of years long past . Voice#4 Listen t o the sound of my horn , I say; Chorus ( raising arms) Music and I ~•• have come at last J (Durm.s ) ( As voices expaade , dancer and drumm:~rcpi ck un .;t empo; t hen dancer e xits~ After a slight pause , narrator begins the on~ s tage ritu al program.) Narrator I am the poem! We a r e the po em ! Narrator And the poem is me! And the poem is us! And the poem is usl And the poem is us! (over ) �3 Narrator I am the poem and I ca.me before pen ~or pencil or paper or printing press• 0a l I cupped and cuddled the wisdom of the winds in drum-bosoms of ecstasy. Drummer Performs a wide range of rhythms, movements , tones, multiple-rhythms: African, West Indian, Af ro-Latin, Afro-American. Narrator Listen! Listen clo se ly and you can hear me, you can hear me writing in drum-language; you c an h ear me conv~rsing 'With tomorrow, today and the heretofore. Chorus DRUMFEEr ON THE SO IL , ON 'r HE SAND ROADS OF THE MIND I FLESH-PISTONS PRANCIN G, 'r HE EAH'l'H I S ENGINE I IT IS A COMING FORTH, THE NI UHT WITHIN US COMING FORTH ! THE NIGHT WITHIN US COMING F'OR'rH I FEEr BEATING, BEATING, BEAT I NG SEEDS INTO THE SOIL l Narrato r I return and return an d return to my magnificent and reliable archives . Chorus That 1.ove we can depend on J That Love we can depend onl Voice ( singing; as danceI!.'·s s _t_?ll!,.search .'.'the sta:ge }· 1:.t '0 ONOBOROBO I Chorus ONOBOROBO I Voice ONOBOROBo I Chorus ONOBOROBO ! ( over ) �4 Voice ONOBOROBO ! Chorus ONOBORO BO ! Narrator In my dependable cultural vault is the Idea-gram: that natural cinetagraphy landscaped by thudding thou ghts of my totem family, the . living - dead, the breathing, the unborn. I am the poeti c flesh-temple with many f orms, earthdaughter and agile inundator o, history . I am the poem in motion . Dancer Executes rudimenta r y movements and other elements of traditional African and neo-Afric an dance: isolation, use of pelvis and torso, leaps, twirls , pulls , the Yanvalou( or a kindred movement) , vigorous stretches, lifts and thrusts . {Dr.um accompaniment) Na rra tor I am the Black nnd Unknown Ba rd . American put me on a conveyer belt moving in two different directi ons at the same time . My African Jubilance turned to anger and a song of sabotage . My Indomi~able Echo and Id.ion flavored my Indomitabl e Press to be Human . As a poem, I became part of what I did, saw and dreamed on these shores: Field Ho llers , Vendors' Shout s , Chants, Work Song s , Spirituals , Blues , Go spels, Jazz , Rhythm-n Blues , Soul Music . ( See attache d cha rt of the preceding item~ : which ~e~i1 - lustrated with short examples by voices after the list has been given .) Voice Did y e~ feed my cow? Voice Voice Will y er te·ll me how? (ov er) �4-A Field Hollers yodle •••• hey brother yodle •• • • hey brother Vendors' Shouts watermellons, oh ••• sausages, oh ••• tomatoes, oh ••• I got 'em fresh ••• , ohl Chants Om-la-la Om-la-la Work Songs Say I•m "WOrking hard on the chaingang Spirituals Eze~iel saw the wheel a - turning( chorus) · Way up in the middle of the air Blues Blood, lawd, blood all on the wall Gospel s 0 1 happ'J day . 0 happy day When Jesus washed When Resus washed Washed all my sins away Jazz Ri fls from Ike Rhythm- and-Blues Will you still love me tomorrow? Soul Music I •m a soul man I ' m a soul man - �5 Voice Oh w1 at did yer give 1 er? Voice Cawn an hay! Voice Oh w1 at did yer give 1 er? Voice Cawn an hay! Voice(looking up) Evahwhuh I, whuh I loolj: dis mawnin, Looks lak rain, looks like rain. Chorus Looks lak rain, looks lak rain! Voice I gotta rainbow, tied all rount mah shoulder, Ain gonna rain, ain gonna rain. Chorus Dis is de hammer, Kilt John Henry l Voice(emphatically) Twon't kill me, baqy, Twon 1 t kill me. Take dis hammer, Carry it to de captain-Voice Tell him I'm gone, baby, Tell him I'm gone. �6 Chorus I got a rainbow Tied 1 roun my shoulde r, Ain't gonna rain, baby, Ain 1 t gonna rain. Voice(work-song,sung) Dis ole hammer--huhl(chorus) Ring lak silver--huh!(chorus) Shine lak gold--huhl(chorus) Ain 1 t gonna rain J Ain~t gonna rain! Voice(female ) I 1 m a big fat mamma , got the meat shakin g on mah bones , I'm a bi g f at mamma, got the meat shaking on m.a..p. bones, And evmry time I shakes, some skinny girl loses huh home . Voice Run, nigger run; de patter-roller catch you; ~un , nigger, run, it 1 s almost day . Voice Run, nigger, run; de patter-roller catch you; Chorus Run, nigger, run, an d try to get ge t away . Voice Dis nlgger run, he run h i s best ,-- Stuck his head in a hornet ' s nest, -Voice Jumped de fence and run fru the p a ster; (over) �7 Chorus White man run, but ni Q;ge r run f a ster. Voic e Dat nigger run, dat ni gge r flew,-Chorus Dat nigger tore hi s shirt in two. Narrator Yes, as poem, as cotton-picker, as banjo-player, as fiddler, as preacher, as ,m instrel-maker and mirror, as slave-rebellion leader, I emered a new part of the old. My 4frican song ushered forth in strange new Biblical Language . Voice( singing ) Go Down , Moses , Way Down in Egyptland; Chorud(t alking ~pointing) Tell old Pharoah To let my people go. Voice ( s~mging) Deep Ri. ver •••• Chorus ( talking) Deep Deep Deep River •• 0. Voice Deep River, my home is ove r Jordan ; Deep River, Lord; I want to cross over into camp ground . Voice (excitedly) And , yes , I DREAMED ! was riding in that chariot . Chorus(or Voice) Swing low, sweet chariot, Coming for to carry me hoill:31 ( over) �8 Swing low, sweet chariot, Coming for to earry me home . Voice Green trees a-bending, Po' sinner stands a-trembling The trumpet sounds within-a-my so ul; Chorus I ain't got long to stay here . Voice (male) Joshua fit de battle of Jericho,-- Jericho, ·J ericho-hG-ho-ho ! Voice Joshua fit de battle of Jericho ,-Chorus And de walls came tumbling down . Voice Dat morning •••• Chorus And de: walls came tumbling down Voice My God is a rock in a weary lan' -Chorus Weary lan', weary lan 1 - Voice My God is a rock in a weary lan'-- Shelter in de time of storm. Narrator I was Black and curious; I confronted harshness head-on ; my struggle meant (over) �9 I had to learn to write like whites, even thougp.,Ironically, their laws said I could be puni she d or jailed for possessing such knowledge and skill . Voice You named me:Lucy Terry I Voice Gustavas Vassal Voice Britton & Jupiter Hamm.on ! Voice Coon & Buck I Voice Phyllis Wheatley! And I ma stered Greek , Latin and English in my teens . Lonely Black girl whom th e muses befriended, thousands and thousands of miles away from my We st African home. I contim.ued to emerge as the poem. Voice Should you , my Lord, while you peruse my song, Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung, Whence flow these wish es fort he common good, By feeling hearts alone best understood, I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate, ~as snatched from Afric 1 s fancy 1 d happy seat; wJia:. t pang· ~x~ruci~ting must ·,-;;:-. molest, , ~Jt1D. t -~:-•r,.·: ~ J--, ,r, 1..:.:(i :.::. -, - · 1 :•·,# ·; ·:, '~• What sorrows labour in my pa rents' breasts? Steel 1 d was that soul and by no misery mov 1 d •N•( That from a father seiz 1 d his babe belov 1 d: Such , such my case . And can I then but pray Others may never feel tyranic sway? (wheQ1tey) Narrator You named me George Moses Horton . I did not like the injustice (over) of the �10 double standard. And so I turned into a poem. Even though some continued calling me "The Slave." Chorus "Tha Slave"? Voice Because the brood-sow 1 s left side pigs were black, Whose sable tincture was by nature struck, Were you by justice bound to pull them back And leave the sandy-colored pigs to suck? (Horton) Chorus (ominously ) Runagate! Bunagatel Runagatel Runagatel Runagate! Narrator My mother cured ills and my father worked roots . In the bi-cultural oonstriction the poem became juju-man , the face hidden by the ambiguous minstrel smile . Voice We have fashioned l aughter Out of tears and pain; Bqt the moment after-Voice Pain and tears again.(Charles Bertram Johnson) Voice Forgive these erring people, Lordi Voip_e .. Who lynch at home and love abro a d . ( ~ D ~ ) Narrator Still I wrote--this time just like I talked• though some made fun of it. But,as maker of song , I could only produce heart-rhythms . (over) �Voice 11 De Ounjah man, de Ounjah man , 0 chillen,run, de Cunjah man ! Chorus 0 chi ll en , run, the Cun jah man! Voice Him mouf ez beez as fryin' pan; Voice Him yurs am small, him eye s am raid,-Voice -- Him hab no toof een him 01 1 haid, Voi ce Him hab him roots , him wuk him trick s, -Voice Him roll him eye, him mek you s ick-Chorus De Cunjah man, de Cunj ah man, O chillen run, de Cunjah man!(J . E. Carnpbell) Na rrat or I knew my rights, my rough times and my remedies. Voice(assuming tones reflaoting physical illneases) Blue-mass, laudnum, liver pills , "Sixty-six, fo I fev er an I chi lls, 11 Ready Relief, an 1 A. B. c ., An' half a bottle o f X. Y. Z.(J. W. Ho J.loway ) Narrator You named me Frances ~llen Watkins Har p er, James Edwin Campbell, James Weldon Johnson, Paul Lawrence Dunbar--Son of ex-slaves, elevator boy , risen to brilliantbard of the race . As the poem I strode forth in several kinds of English. (over· ) �12 Voice I know 'Why the caged bird sings, Ah me, When his wing is bruised and his bosom soraT Wh.en he beats his bars and he would be free; It is not a carol of joy or glee, But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core , But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings -- I know why thecaged bir d s ings! (Dunb~r} Na rra tor Above all, song exudes from me . Indeed, I am song . Wat ch and examine me. My birthright is my anthem. Hy song is my sword. And I : lift that sword high I Voic e (singing) Lift evfry voice and sing , Till earth and he aven ring, Ring with the harmonies of liberty . Chorus(talking, pointing upwards) Till our rejoicings rise High as the listening skies!(J . W. Johnson) Narrato r As song-poem I forged pure fl ames of rhythms without books. James Weldon Johnson called me the Black and Unknown Bard. And, let me tell you something ••• h.mmmmmmm ••• • I always loved to hear Malindy sing. Voice G 1 way an 1 quit dat noise, Miss Lucy-- Put dat music book away; What's de use to keep on tryin 1 Y Jf you p ractise twell you're gray, You cain•t sta•t no notes a-flyin' Lak de ones dat rants an d rings From de kitchen to de big woods (over} �13 Chorus When Malindy sings. Voice You ain't got de nachel o 1 gans Fu• to make de soun 1 come right, You ~in 1 t got de tu 1 ns an ' twistin 1 s fu • to make it sweet an• light . Tell you one thing now , Mi s s Lucy, An' I'm tellin' you fu 1 t rue, When hit comes to raal right singin •, Chorus T ain't no easy thing~to do . 1 Voice Easy 1 nough fu 1 folks to hollah , Lookin 1 at de lines an ' dots , 'When dey ain ' t no one kin sence it , An' de ch une comes in , in spots ; But fU 1 real melo jous music , Dat jes strikes yo 1 hea 1 t and clings, Jes you stan' an ' lis ten wif me .Chorus When Malindy sings. Voice Ain 1 t you nevah hyeahd Ma lindy? Bl esse d soul , tek up de cros s! Look hyeah, ain ' t you jo kin ' , honey? Well, you do n't know what you los• . Y1 ought to hyeah da t gal a -wa .1 blin 1 , (ov er) �14 Robins, la 1 ks, an 1 all dem things, Heish dey moufs an 1 hides dey faces Chorus When Malindy sinEs• Voice//1 Fidlin 1 man jes 1 stops his fiddlin 1 , Lay his fiddle on de she 1 f; Voice#2 Mockin 1 -bird quit tryin 1 to whistle , 1 6ause he jes so shamed hisse1.f. Voice#3 Folks a-playin 1 on de banjo Draps dey fingahs on de strings -Bless yo' soul--fu' gits to move 1 em, Chorus · When Malindy sings . Voice She jes' spreads hu mouf and hollahs, Voice( singing) "Come to Jesus, 11 Voice ••• twell you hyeah Sinnahs 1 tremblin 1 steps and voices, Timid-lak a-drawin 1 neah; Den she tu 1 ns to Voice(singing) "Rock of Ages, 11 Voice Simply to de cross she clings, (over) �15 An 1 you fin yo 1 teahs a-drappin' .Chorus When Malindy sings. Voice Who dat says de humble praises Wif de Maste r nevah counts? Heish yo 1 mouf, I hyeah dat music , Ez it rises up an 1 mounts-1loatin1 by de hills an 1 valleys, Way above dis burryin I sod, Ez hit makes its way in glory Chorus To de very gates of God~ Voice Oh, hit 'e sweetah dan de music Of an edicated band; An 1 hitfs dearah dan de battle's Song 0 1 triumph in de lan 1 • Voice#l It seems holier dan evenin 1 When de solemn chu 1 ch bell rings, Voice #2 ( slowly,s earchingly) Ez I sit an 1 ca 1mly liston Chorus While Malindy sings . Voice Towsah,, stop dat ba 1 kin, hyeah me! Man~y, 1 .m.ek dat chile keep still; (over) �16 Don't you hyeah de echoes callin 1 F 1 om de valley to de hill? Let me listen, I can hyeah it , Th 1 oo de br~sh of angels ' wings , So f', and sweet, Voice #3(singing ) •• o 11 swing · 1 ow, Swee t Chariot ," Voic e (dreamily and ecstati cally) Ez Malindy sin gs .( Dunbar ) Narrator Poem t hat I was and am, I t r a veled from "oasis to o asis." Voice Man 's Saharic up and down. ( H . B . Tolson ) Narrator Riverboats , river towns chaingangs ••• Voice(singing as cho r us makes work-sounds in background ) Well don't you know That's the sound of the men, working on the chain-n-n-n gan-ee-ang; Well don't you know That 's the sound of the men, working on the chain gang . (Cooke) Narr ator Bar-room toughs, hard- hearted Hanna , Stagolee ••• they all knew me. Voice Hard•ha arted Hanna-Voice From Savannah, GEE A. Voice She was so cold, yall -Chorus Wasn 1 t she 1 (ov er ) �17 Voice She ' d pour water on a drowning man! Chorus(slowly and deliberately ) Wate r, on a drown- ii-nnng man. Voice(at t racting the attention of others) It wa s early one mornin•, When I heard my bulldog bark ; Stagolee and Billy. Lyons Was s quab lin' in the dark . Voice Frankie and Hohnny were lov ers , Choru s Lordy , how they could love , Voice Swore to each other , True as the stars up abo ve , He wa s h er man but he done her wrong . Voice(femal e) Shine, shine, sh ine, ••• sav e po ' me . Narrato r I was in t h e constant see -s aw of l ife , wading t hro u gh h ell in search of heaven. But I kept my working philo sophy wi th me. Voi c e#l De stopp er get de longest rest in de empty j ug . Voice#2 De price of your hat ain ' t de measure of your b rain. Voicei/3 De graveya rd i s de cheapes 1 boar din 1 -house . Voiceff4 Buy in _ on credit is robbin 1 next year ' s crop. (Over) 1 - ---- ._ �18 Voice#5 Life is short and full of blisters. Voice#l De cow-bell c an 1 t k eep a secret. Voice#2 Little flakes make de def:)pest snow. Voice#3 De crawfish in a hurry look like he tryin 1 to git dar yesterday. Voice,'/4 Be drinks so much whiskey that he stae;gers in his sleep. Voice#-5 In God we trust, all others cash. Narrator Yes I was lyric-wise. You heard me everywhere . You even heard me coming from the swoJ.len lips of the bugle, French horn, trumpet, clarinet and saxophone. Horn A series of short riffs and movemen ts exempJ.ary and illustrative of various forms of Afro-American music p l ayed between the advent of the spirituals and the ragtime-blues period. Narrator :i;n Paris they called the "Cakewalk 11 the 11poetry of motion o II In the crevices of ships I was transported to global points to make me splendid sound and dance my splendid poetry of motion . Dancer Executes a serie s of movements and step s representing such dances as the Cakewalk , Charleston, the Two'-Step, Ji tterbµg and the Bop . Blen:e:ht.s of West Indian dances should flavor movements . (over) �19 Narrator As the poem I blue horn s , sho t guns in your First World War, danced dances and came h ome to face the Ku Klux Klan, Southern Sheriffs and Jim Crow. I got Angry . And I got defiant. But , I was relatively· cool. Voice (s erious) Into the furnace let me 80 alone; Stay you without in terro r of the heat. I will go naked in-:-for thus 'tis sweet -Into the weird depths of the hottest zone. Voice ( serious but resolute and emerging) Desire destroys, consumes my mortal fears , Transforming me i nto a shape of flame . I will come out, ba ck to you r world of tears, A strongger soul within a f iner frame.( McKay) Narra tor From the dark tower I wat che d as I p:r.~pare<)., .watched as I prepared, watched as I pre pared, knowing that ·!!We were not made eternally to weep . Voice(reflective, medita tive) The night whose sable breast relieves the stark White stars is no less lov e ly being dark, And there are buds that c annot bloom at all In li ght , but crumple , piteous , and fall; So in the dark we hide the hea r t that bleeds , And wait, and tend our agonizing seeds .( Cullen) Narrator After race riots in several American citi e s , I lifted my voice in a searing shaft of discontent. Chorus 0 kinsmen! we must meet the common foel (over) 11 �ao Voice Like men we'll face the murderous , cowardly pack , Pressed to the wall, dying , ••• Ch orus ( slowly and softly) Dying ••• dying ••• dyin8 Voice ••• but fi ghting b a ck I (M."'r(°'t) Na r rato r All the while my p a st kept pu lling on me . It was if we were married to each other, glue d, l o cke d , welde d to gether. It was as if tho se who dep arted n ev e r re ally , really died . An African sense kept tugging tugging a t my trunc a t e d ro ot s . 'rl1e br i dge of my dwar f -lilte past rested on at le a st t wo shore s . Voi c e Pour o pour th8 t pa r ti n g s oul in so n g, O pour it in t he s awdust glow of ni gh t , Into th e velvet pine- smo ke air to-ni ght , ••• Chorus(slow and echo -li ke ) And l et the valley carr y it along . And l et the valley ca rry it along . (t6'omer) Na rrator(confus ed a nd desperate) Sometimes I was only ha lf - t here , fightin g those who wanted to snatch away my humanity by day;and f'i [sh tin g hun ger and confusion at home by night . As the poem, I emer ge d convo luted and wholly new, only to ,, retrea.t to a some-othe r-time refrain. ~gyp t , Ghana , Madagasc a r, the Pyramids- - Voodoo Ceremonies--what did they all mean ,to me? The beauty- pain of it all? Chorus Come with a blast of trumpets , Jesus ! (over) �21 Voice(oxymoronic) And the beauty of Susanna Jones in red Burns in my heart a love -fire sharp like pain. Chorus Sweet silver trumpets, Jesust<)\~s~as) Vo ice Well , son , 1 1 11 tell you: Life for me ain 1 t been no crystal stair.(Hughes) Narra tor But the blur of that veil was always temporaFtly relieved by song, by dance, by reading or thinking ab out foreign places and looking forward to the day when Americans would grow up. We were here --in America-but not of it . Simply worrying, without a p lan to change things, didn 1 t help much. We grew stronger , and more beautiful, in the words of Langston Hughes , as we re-emb raced our own ritun.ls . Chorus(singing and jiving) Shake your br01m. , feet, honey , Shake your brown feet, chile , Shake your brown feet, honey, Shake ,J em swift and wil' -Voice Get way back, honey , Do that low-down step 0 Wal,k on over,darling, Now! Come out With your left. (Hughes) Voice(breakin g the fun -frolic and wanng serious) Yet do I marvel at this curious thing : To make a poet black,and bid him sing l~v(le~ (over) �22 Narrator Yet must I marvel tha t I' m here at al l. Be cause during the watering years , after the GREAT DEPRESSION , my existence was seriously threatened by lynching and at atmosphere of intimidation. I went to war, as poem and s oldi er and cook and shining knight of DEMOCRACY ! The SWASTIKA, 'rhe RISING SUN , The HAMMER & SICKLE, I was told, were my REAL enemies. Meanwhile you had n amed me Owen Dodson and I grew accustomed to the realities of nei ghborly enemie s, 'rhose who caused UNNATURAL DEATHS . Voice(preaching a funeral sermon) Wake up, boy , and tell me how yo u died : What sense was alert last , What immediate intuiti on about m You clut ched like a bullet when your nails Dug red in your ye llow pa lm And that map the for tunetell e r s read Cho rus (this line for mon ey , this for love) Voi ce Uh.ildish ag~in - a~d.imeared . • • • Cho rus Wake up , boy . ••• Vo ice • • • I go t o death tomorrow, Tel l me what ro a d you took , • • • What hour in the day is luckiest? Voice Did your Adams apple explode? Who sewed stitches in your angry (over) heart?(O.Dod,.so.-,J �23 Ch orus 0 wake•• • Narrator Yes, yes, • • • I wa s sometime s a tatt e red and beaten poem in the nineteen Thirties, Forties and Fifties. But I was a poem anyway: Gracious, Noble, Fundamental, Fiery, Firm, Relating to ;~ People" W~L~ on ~ur Comm,o n Ground. Some one cal led me Margare1t I became a Tapestry of My Many Selves. Voice#l For my people , everywhere singing their slave songs repeatedly; Voi ce#2 • • • their dir ges and the i r ditti es and theifll:•~~J' and jubile es, • • • praying the ir pray ers ni ghtly to an unknown god, Voice#l • •• bending their knees humbly to an un/seen power; Voice#2 • • • washing/ironin g cooking scrubbing sewing mending I i i & hoeing/ plowing/digging planting pruning patching dragging along never gaining never reaping never !mowing and never understand/fng; Voice#J For my playmates in the clay and du s t nnd sand of Alabama backyards p laying • • • Vo i ce #l 't>aptizing :,and • •• Voic e//2 preaching and••• (over) �24 Voiceff3 doctor and ••• Voicei/1 jail and • •• Voice-/12 soldier and••• VoicelfJ school and • •• • Voice,IJ. mama and/cooking and playhouse and concert and store and/hair and Miss Choomby and company; Voice#2 For the cramped bewildere d y ears we went to school to learn to lmow the r easons why and the answers to and t h e people who and the places whe re and the days when, in memory of the bitter hours ,m en we discovered we were black and poor and small and different and nobody cared and nobody wondered and no bo dy underst ood; Voice1f3 For the boys and girls who grew in spite of these things to be • • .1 man and woman, to l o.u gh and dance and sing and play and drink their wine and religion and success , to marry their playmates and bear children and then die of consumption and anemia and lynching; Voi ce-//1 For my people thronging 47th Street in Chicago and Lenox Avenue in New York and Rampart stre et in New Orleans , ••• Voice-H2 For my people blund oring und (j ro ping and floundering in the (over) �25 dark of churches and schools and clubs and societies , associations and councils and committees and conventions, distressed and disturbed and deceived and devoured by money-hungry glory-crav ing leeches, preyed on by facile force of state and fad and novelty, by false prophet and holy believer; Voice#) Let a new earth rise . Let another world be born. Let a bloody peace be written in the sky , Voice#l. • • • Let a second generation full/ of courage issue forth ; Voice//2 • • • let a people loving freedom come/ to growth. Let a beauty full/ of healing and a strength of final clenching be the pulsing in/ our spirits and(OUrblood. Voice /1-3 • •• Let the martial songs be written , let the dirges dis/appear . Chorus (strongly) • • • Let a race of men now rise and take control.( M. Walker) Narrator ~rank Marshall Davis , Melvin Beaunorous ~olson , Sterling Brown , Robert Hayden, Paul Ve sey, Bob Kaufman, Georgia Douglas~ Johnson, ~ussell Atkins, Le a db elly, Livitnin 1 Hopkins--these are names by which my voice is known . 0ome even call me by the name of (whispering) HISTORY . Chorus(rising from whispers) History I History 1 History 1 Runagate 1 Runagate I Runagate l Voice Runs falls rises stumbles on from darkness into darkness and the darkness thic keted with shapes of terror (over) �26 and the hunters pursuing and the hounds pursuing and the night cold and the night long a nd the river tocross and the j a ck - mul~-lanterns beckoning beckoning and the blackness ahead and when shall I reach that somewhere morning and keep on go in g and never turn back and keep on going ••• Chorus(frightened) Runagatel Runagatel Runagate l Voice Some go weeping and some rejoicing some in coffins and some in carriages some in silks and some in shackl es ••• Oh that train, ghost-story train through swamp and savanna mov c ring movering over trestles of dew, thro ugh c aves of the wish, Midnight Special on a _sabre track movering movering, first stop Mercy and the last Hallelujah . Voice Come ride - a my train. Chorus Mean mean mean to be free .( R. Hayden) Narrator I became a brilli~t word-torch shining back against my past and flaming proudly into the future . All the while I wormed into and won hearts and minds. And in 1950 , America gave me the coveted Pulitzer Prise . My name was Annie A1len but I was many people . I was so finely sculpted that no inflection was imprecise. I said what I had to say in a language that dazzled and blinded the wo rld. I stood as a jewel; I talk~a abou t a jewel named "Satin-Le gs Smith . 11 (over) �27 Voice(as others look on admiringly ) He wakes, unwinds, elaborately: a cat Tawny , reluct ant, royalo He is fat And fine thi s morning . De finite . Reimbursed. He waits a momemt , he designs his reign , That no performance m~y be plain or vainp Then rises in a clear delirium. Voice Le t :·us pro c eed. Let us inspect , together Wi th his meti culous and serious love , The unnards of this closet . Which is vault Whos e glory i s not diamonds, not pearls , Not silver plate with just enough dull shine . But wonder suits i n y ellow and in wine, Sarcastic green an d zebra-striped cobalt . With shoulder padding t ha t is wide And co cky and det e rmined as his pride ; Ballooning pants that taper off to ends Sch eduled to choke precisely . Voice Here are hats Li k e bri ght umbr ellas; and hysterical ties Like narrow banners for some gathering war .( G. Narrator Ye s, I was immaculately Black . Magnificently Black . And I knew the powe r of the Rap I Chorus Amen! (over) �28 Narrato r I became the power of the Rap I Chorus Ament Voice Bartender, ma ke it strai ght and make it two- Voice (po in t ing ) One for the y ou in me ••• Voice (point ing ) ••• and the me : in you . (Iii . Tolso n) Narrator After lengthy conversat ions ~dth my music, I became the Be -Bopper; somebody called me the Zoot-Suiter; I put on dark gl a sses and conked my hair. A do uble-chinned salesman h anded me some bl ea ching cream and a cadillac as I sped Horth to join my brothers and s isters in the Promised Land. Richard Wright and James Baldwin cried for me . John Oliver Killens Heard ·r he Thunde r and Ralph Ellison called me Invisible, adding that once rrry leaders decoded the riddle of my style and my rap they could help me save me . Black, I left a White country to fight Yellow men in Korea. Ella, Miles , Monk, Billie, Prez, Chana Pozo, Ornette, Coltrane-- they went to war with me. Chorus Good Morning heartachel (sung) How do you do . (said) Horn Menley of tunes and musical mannerisms reminiscent of the period. Narrator I got hip to world events, science an d space explorat ion. I lmew wh~ I lmew, still I couldn 1 t go where I wanted to go , or dQ what I wanted to do . Americ~ got nervous whenever I appea red in public . But I knew ('over ) �29 certain events and developments were dooming all of u s to an "Ultimate Reality. 11 Voice You know, Joe, it I s a fupny t h ine;, Joe , Yo u worry most of your life about me , Always afraid I ' ll ge t a job with you , Always scared I mi [Jlt ge t s e rv e d with you , Always afraid I ' d wlill na l ove your sister Or t h at she might love me . Voice Don ·~t want me to e a t with you , Voice Seared I might live next t o you -- Voice But with the Atom Bomb , Joe, It looks li k e I might die with you . Voice That don 1 t :seem ri c;ht , does it, Joe?(Ray Durem) Na rrator But inspite of all the adversity , the hi s torical strength s kept returning to me , shoring me up , h elpi n g me to ~ee p get ting up, to keep going . We had our personal victori es in the meantime. We learned everything that it too~ to make it in America, even when no one would let us have equipment or space to work in. We just reached back insi de ours elves and came up with what was n ee ded . Then one day, the po em became a baseball in the hands of the legendary Leroy Sat chel Paige . Voice Sometimes I feel like I will never stop Just go on forever (over ) �30 Till one fine mornin' I'm gonna reach up and grab me a handfulla stars Swing out my long lean le g And whip three hot stri kes burnin 1 down the heavens And look over at God and say How about thatt(S. Allep) Na rra tor Style has always been my si ,snature . So it was not a surp ri se that I returned to myself in moti on . Behold! The St roll! Cho rus Sings a portion of Gene Chandl er I s "Duke of Earl" or some other period piece . Ha1·rato r The Kans as City Slop 1 l'he 1-Iadi s on I Sing s ¥- portion of t he Fi v e Satins 1 song f r om pe rio d . 11 ±n the Still o f the Night II or another lla rra t or The Twist! Bt~ef exerpt from Chubby Checker's "Twist" . Narrator The Funky Chicken I The l~arate Bo ogaloo I They saw me poeting with my hips and my feet . Chorus Poeting l Poetingl Na rra tor And took it all ·ba ck to Ame rican Bandstand and other countries . Voice( singing) There ' s a thrill upon the hill! Ch orus (singing~ Let 1 s Go! Let ' s Go! Let's Go! (over) �Narra tor I oame home from Ko re a to meet th e Klan in a new sheet. And in Montgome:ry they would not let my moth e r sit down on a bus . As a poem, my name became Lance J e ffers, Raymond Patterso n, G.C. Oden, Mari Evans, LeRoi Jones and Imamu Amiri Baraka, Audre Lo rde . Choru s ( ques tionin~ly) Montgomery? Montgomery? Montgome ry? • • • I remember Montgomery . Voic e And Birrningham--the f.o\l\" little, little girls . Voice Four little girls Who went to Sunday School that day And never came back h ome at all-Voice But left instead Their blood upon the wall With spattered fl esh And bloodied Sunday dr ess es Scorched by dynami te t ha t Ghina made aeons a go Dfutl not know' what China made Before China was eve r Re d at a l l Would redden with the ir blood This Birmingham-on-Sun day wall . Four tiny girls Who left their blood upon that wall, In.Jlittle ·. graves l today await (ov er) �32 Voice The dynamite that might i gnite The ancient fuse of Dragon Kings \\'hose tomorrow sings a hymn The missionaries never tau ght In Christian Sunday School 'E o Implement the Go lden Hu.le . Voice Four littl e girls Might be awakened someday so on By songs upon the bree ze Voi c e As yet unfelt among Magnolia trees. (t\v&ies) Voice And Selma! Voice And Phiiadelphia, Mi ssissippi I Vo ice(vaguely, hesitatingly) I recollect Emmett Till! Voice Jlnd Watts! Narrator My Name was Conrad Kent Ri v e rs a t that time . I became a poem called "Watts, 11 hoping that in su ch disgui se I could find my way out of this daily nightmare . Voice Must I shoot the white man dead to free the nigger (av er) �33 in his head? Voice( pausing, musing ) Must I shoot the white man dead to free the ni gge r in his head? Ct .~,l,-.;er9 Voice And Newark I Voi ce And Harlem! Voice And Oakland! Voice And Dallas! Voice And Eas t St . Louis! Voice And Chicago I Voice Martin ~uther King! Voice Malcolm! Voice Stokley! Voice H. flap Brown ! Voice James Brown I (over ) �Na r r ato r 34 Drumbeats en fla.me d the--., sky . Li be ration became ltl.y.;pas si onate preoccupation. A wa r m se lf-love engulfed me . My woman an d I look ed at each oth r t hrough n ew-old eyes. We ha d our own standard of b eauty. I st r etched and yawned and walke d aro und i n my own neighborhood. My ~olor felt good and healthy t o me . It loo ked good to me in the mi rror o f my Brothers'eyes . Someone called me Bl ack and I di dn I t h it him. At a r ally, I t urned into a voice on th e podium shouting. Chorus WE ARE AN AFRICAN PEO PLE! Drumme r & Dancer Sal ute the coming of t he new cons ciousn e ss wi th approp riate n eo-Afri c an rhythms and mov eme nts . Voice For all t h ing s Pl a ck and beautifu l , The b ro wn f a c e s you lov ed so well and long , th e endl e s s ro ads leading back to Ha r l em . Ch o rus Kulu Se Mama l Kulu Se Mama ! Kulu Se Mam.al Kulu Se Mama Vbice-#1 Where the string At : ) Some umbilical j a z z , Voice #2 Or perhaps , In memory, A long lo st bloo dy cross , Buried i n some steel c alvary . �35 Voice/13 In what time For 'Whom do we bleed , Lo st note s , from some j o. z zman ' s Broken n eedle . Voicet/4 Music al tears from lost Eyes, Broken drumsticks , whyT Voicer-Jl Pitter patter, boom dropping Bombs i n the middle Of my emotions Voic e11·2 My fath e r ' s s oun d Voi c e ,f3 My mo ther I s s ound ••• Chorus rs : love, Is life. (B' to.\)rtt\0-v.) Narr ator I had watched America . I knew Amer ica . I could deal with the difference and the sameness, that stran ge decora t ed pain that character izes our existence . I keep comi ng bac k to the point of the sythe sis and the symbio s is. I am history illL d futu re, or, put differently , I am future• history. Sometimes , because of my many levels · of vision, I grasp the helm of the strugg]es of the many colored hands . I might even be in ' a river th at lac es the stomach of Ameri ca. �36 Voice(with dance accompaniment) River of Time: Vibrant vein , Bent, c rooked , Older than the Red Men Who named you; Ancient as the win ds That break on your Serene and shining face; One t i me western bo undary of America From who.sercehTh~ Your broad shouide rs n ow r each To touch sisters On the flanks . Ch orus River of Truth: Voice •• • Mornings You leap, yawn 2000 miles , And shed a giant joyous tear Over sprouting , straggl ing Hives of humanity; Nigh ts you weep As the moon, tiptoeing Across your silent s i l ky Face, hears you prayin g Over the broken backs Of black s l aves who rode, Grouched and hudd led, At your he a rt in the belli e s Of steamshJ p s , (Ocer) �37 Chorus River of Memory: Voice Laboratory for Civil Wu r Boat builde rs Who left huge eyes of s te el Staring from your sullen dep t h s ; Re luc tant partner to crime s Of Ku Klux Klanamen ; River moved to wav es Of ecstasy By the venerable t rump e t Of Louis Armstron g . River of Bones: River of bones and fl esh -Bones and flesh an d blood ; Voice The nation's l argest Intestine And longest conveyer belt ; Ch orus River MISSISSI PPI : River of little rivers ; River of rises , Voi ce Sometimes subdued By a roof of ice, de sc endine finally On your Southward course �To . spit Into th e Gulf And join the wrath Of larger bodies . ( Hedmond ) Nar r a tor I mused ov er river s and long- gon e voic e s underne a th rivers . Soon, however, I turned to philosophy . I n l~he sp it and da rt of my new self, th e re were utterances I ha d to make , blood- thoughts I h a d to share. I lmew this was another se quel to the dr eam . I had not believed those fairy tales . I needed ;to tak e a hand a nd stand and s pe a k the truth to the peopl e . Chorus Speak the truth to the people! Voice I t i s not n e c essary to green the hea r t Only t o i denti fy the en emy I t i s not nec essary to blow the mi nd Only t o f r e e the mind . Crioru s It is the total bl ac k ! Voice It is the total black, bein g spoken From theearth 1 s inside . There are many kinds of open. How a diamond comes into t knot of flame How a sound comes int o a wo rd, colored By who pays what for s peaking . Chorus Love is another kind of open r (over) �39 Voi ce As a diamond comes ipto a knot of flame I am black because I come from the earth's inside Take my word for j ewel in your open li gh t . Narrator I am the e cstasy of NOW ! 'fhe fullest realization of my Ancesto rs 1 wishes . I return , even in the alarm; ev en in the shadow- body I am often forced to wear . But enough , enough - -I beg you , my d ear a~soc i ates , look How on our~s and history ' s finest treasure . Voice(and dancer) I am a black woman the music of my s ong some sweet a rp eggi o of t e a r s is wri t t e n in a mino r k e y and I can b e heard hummin g in t h e ni crit Can be heard h ummin g Ch orus Hums first line of 11 .1: obo dy .t,nows the Tro uble I See" Voice(continuing poem) in the n ight I saw my mate leap scre aming t o the sea and I / with these hands/cupped the lifeb rea th f r om my is sue in tre c ane brak e I lo st Nat ' s swin ging body in a rain of tears and I heard my song scream all t he way from Anzio f or Peac e he n eva-- kn ew • • • • I l ea rn ed Da Nang and Pork Chop Hi ll i n anguish ( o ver) �Now my nostrils know the gas and these tri gger tire/d fin gers seek the softness in my warrior ' s beard I am a black woman tall as a cypress strong beyond all definition s till defying place and time and circumstance assail ed i mper vious i ndestruc tib le L0ok on me and be renewed.(M, Evo.n!>) Chorus Look on me and be ren ewed. Look on us and be renewed. 11inis � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context EBRWritings_09_35 Title A name given to the resource First draft of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry, A Readers Theatre/Ritual Drama, typed with handwritten edits, 1977 Relation A related resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Language A language of the resource English Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource For digital rights and permissions, see <a href="https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml">https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml</a> or contact <a href="mailto:library@siue.edu">library@siue.edu</a> for direct inquiries. In copyright. <a href="http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/">http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/</a> Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Redmond, Eugene B. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1977 https://digitallis.isg.siue.edu/files/original/e5580ce5a8c02619eecb72d8cadc6bd7.pdf 5d8db0d18eb83e8b0a658e97ea540ab7 PDF Text Text ., I / / / / SCRI P? ADAPTATION OF DRUMVO ICES: THE MISSIO N OF AFP.0AM:~RICAN POETRY (a c ri t ical hi s~c ry) / b ,J Eugene B. Redmon d For Presentation at Book Party Oc:ober 3, 1976 : 3 p.m. to 6 p .m., Redwood Room, Univ ersity Uni on California State Unive rsity Sacramento ( �Na rrator: I ru11 the poer.il Chorus: We are the poemJ Narrator: And the poem is mel Chorus: And the poem is usJ :narrator: , :p o e:,: .'J.Tld I came before pen or pencil or paper or printing pressJ - L, p:i;; c c... and cuddled the wisdom of the winds in drum-bosoms of ecstasy 0 Drummer: / A wi-de range of rhythms, movements, multiple movement -rhythms : African, West Indian., Afro-Americano Narrator: I write in dru.:.--:i-language and converse with tomorrow., today and the here- t c fore. Chorus: DRU:MFEET O:N 'l'E2 SO IL, ON Tl{E SANDROA DS OF THE MIND! F:,ESH-PIS':i:'o:;s PRANCING, THE EARTH Is ENGINE l IT IS A cor::n;G FD R'l'H , THE NIGHT WIT :HN us COMING FORTH l Trill NIG:ir_r 1rJI'I'~-J:IN US COHING FORTH! FEET B.:.::ATING, BEATING, BEATING SEEDS INTO THE SOIL! Narrator: I retu rn anC: :ceturn an d reta;-:,n to m.,'_ magni fi cent and reli able archiv es. Chorus: That love we can depEmd on l ·rha t (over ) l ove we can depend ont �Voice (singing): Onoborobol Chorus: Onoborobo! Voice: Onoborobo! Chorus: Onoborobo 1 Voice: Onoborobo I Chorus: Onoborobo! Narrator: In my dependable cultural vault is the Idea-gram.: the natural cinerna tography landscaped by thudding thoughts of my totem-family, the living-dead, the breathin3, the W1born. I run the poetic flesh-temple wlth many forms, earth-daughter and agile inW1dator of history. I am the poem in motion. Dancer: (q{ (c) ,.-¢ii f I \ Rudimentary movements and other ele:ments of traditional African and Afro-American dance: isolation, use of pelvis and torso, leaps, twirls, pulls, yanvalou, vigorous stretches and thrusts.(Drum accompaniment) Narrator: I am the Black and Unknown Bard. America put me on a conveyer belt moving in ~ different directions at the same time. My African Jubilance turned to anger and a song of sabatage. My Indorni..table Echo and Idiom flavored my rndomi table press to be human. As a poem, I became part of-.,wha.t :_I :did, saw and dreamed on these shores: Field Hollers, Vendors' ~houts, Chants, \l ' ' Work Songs, Spirituals, Blues, Gospels , Jazz, Rhythm-and-Blues, S0 ul Musico ' (over) I �Voice: Did yer feed my cow? Chorus: Voice: Will yer tell me ·f how? Chorus: Yes Ms.ml Voice: Oh w'at did y er give , ;; 1 r6..JJ_ er? ~ 5 ~,, , Chorus: Ca'WI1. an hay! Voice: Oh w1 at did y e r give 'er. ' I i ,· ' Chorus: Cawn an hay! Voice: l. Eva....-iwhuh. I, whuh r,.look dis mawnin, Looks lak rain , loo ks lak rain. Vo i ce: "'•h ) \~ I go tta r;ainbow, tied a ll roun mah shouJ_der 2~-,~ Ain gonna rain, ain gonna rain. Chorus: Dis is de hamme r Kilt John Henry; (over) �Voice: -c;;cu1f- - Twon•t kill me, baby 1 Twon't kill me .. ~ho.rus: Take dis hammer, Carry it to de captain; Voice: Tell him I'm gone , baby, '>l' I --- ~toil Tell him I'm gone. Chorus: I got a rainboH Tied !roun my shoulder, Ain.'t gonna rain, baby, Ain't gonna rain. Voice: ~ Dis ole hammer- -huhi Ring lak silver--huh, Shine lak gold--huh. _. --Chorus: gonna rain, gonna rain. Voice f female): c/. ·,~' I 1 m a big fat mamma, got the meat shaking on mah bones, Itm a big fat mamma, got the meat shaking on mah bones, And every time I shakes, some skinny girl loses huh home. Narrator: Yes, as- poem, as cotton-picker, as banj o-player, as preacher and slave-rebellion leader, I emerged as a · new part of the old. IJ',. y African song ushered forth in st~ange new Bib i cal language. (over) �Voice: Go down, Moses, . '\ Way down in Egyptland; Chorus: 11 old Pharaoh ~ ~ let my people go. Voice: sY Deep River ••• Chorus: Deep Deep Deep River •••• Voice: Deep River, my home is over Jordan; , Chorus: ( < Deep River, Lord; I want to cross over into camp ground. '- Voice: A..~d yes, I DREAMED I was riding in that chariot. Chorus: Swing low, swe e t chariot, Coming for to carry me home, Swing low, sweet chariot, Coming for to carry me home. Voice: Green trees a-bending, Po' sinner stands a-trembling The trumpet_., sounds within-a-my sou] J Chorus: I ain 1 t got long to stay here. (over) ·, J �Drumvoic e s, b Voice: You . named me: Lucy Terry! ·'.,, ··~: ,· • Voice, 'I Gustava s Va s sa ~ Voice: Britton & Jupi t0 r Hammon. • Vo ice: f Coon -~ {BocKJ · we- Voice: Phyllis 1tlheatleyi. Alld I mastered Gree~, , La.ti~- and · English in my teens. Lonely Black girl wh om the muses befriended, thousands and thousands rt.'I of miles away from ,;.Wes_t African home. I continued to emerge as the poem. /11 \ . Voice: ~Should you, rrry Lord, whil e you peruse my song , J?c::_, d eiii .- J Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung, Whence flow. these wishes for the common good, By feelin g hearts alone best understood, I, young in life, by seeming cruel f a te, Was snatch ~d from Afric's fancy'd h appy seat; What pangs excruciating must molest, What sorrows l a bour in my parents' breast? Steel'd was tha t soul and by no misery mov 1 d That from a f a the r s e i z 1 d hi s babe be lov .'d: \) Such, suchf\.my cas~ And can I th en but pray Others may neve r feel t y rannic sway? Na rrator: You named me George Mo s es Hort on. I did not like t he injust i c e of the cvv~L_:u- -.r:- double s t anda rci ~ And su ch res entment tu rned me into a poem. Ev en t h ough (over) �--' • - - 1.J. II, V ...._ _,, •J , 1 some called me "'l"ne ~lave. 11 Chorus: The Slave. Voice: / Because the brood-sow•s left side pigs were black, ~ ~ Whose sable tincture was by nature struck, . Were you by justice bound to pull them back And leave the sandy-colored pigs to suck? Chorus: Runagatef Runagatel Runagate! Runagate! Runagate! Narrator: f'IIY. My mother cured ills andAfather worked roots. In the bi-cultural constriction the poem became juju-man, the face hidden by the a,r.bi~vov.s minstrel smile. Voice: We have fashioned laughter Out of tears and pain; Chorus: G t the moment after-Voice: Pain and tears again. Voice: Forgive these erring people, Lord; Voice: Who lynch at home and love abroad. Narrator: Still I wrote--thi s time just like I talked, though some made fun of it. But, as maker of song, I could only p roduce heart-rhythms. (over ) �. Dru."'Tivoi c es, 8 Voice: De Cunjah man, de Cunjah man, O chillen, run, de Cunjah man! G Chorus: chill en, run, de Cunjuh man I Voice: •. I ; I Him mouf e z bee g e z fryin' pan ;_ Voice: Him yurs am small, him eyes am raid, ';'' · ·' Him hab no toof een him ol' haid, CJ(!tl1f ~ I \ Him hab him roots, him wu'k him trick, ! 1 :...,'-,'-- \_1 Him roll him eye, him mek you sick-- ~ e Cunjah man, de Cun jah man, ~ h.illen, run, de Cun ~ah man! Narrator: I lmew my rights, my rough-times and my remedies .... . f o - r - w ~ Voice: laud-nu.i.~, liver µills, "Sixty-six, fo I fever an1 chills, 11 Ready Relief, ant A. B. C., An' half a bottle of X.Y.Z. Narrator: You named me Frances El len Watkin~ Harperi,-~Jarnes Edwin Campbell, James ~•i ela.on j'ohnson, Paul Lawrence Dunbar--son of ex-slaves, elevator boy risen to brilliant bard of ~he race. As the poem I S'1rodc in several kinds of English • ...\ Qx' Yr know why Voice: 1 • the caged bird sings, ah me , (f'-- ~ ~ , forth �When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore-When he beats his bars and he would b e free; It is not a carol of joy or glee, But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core, But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings-- I know why the caged bird sings! Narrator: oll..> Abovef\ song exudes from me. I am song. P,.e.pus_e__:me • .i::xarnine Me. Watch Me. My birthright is my anthem. My song is my sword. Voice: -$~ ~ f t every voice and singI Till earth and heaven ringI Ring with the harmonies of liberty I Voice: 1 our rejoicings rise gh as the listening skiesJ -,.::_-, ,· Narrator: ! song-poem , I forge pure flames of rhythms without books. James Weldon Johnson called me the Black and Unknown Bard. And I love to hear Ma.lindy sing. Voice: G'way an 1 quit dat noise, Miss Lucy-Put dat music book away; What 1 s ce use to keep on tryin 1 ? Ef you practise twell you 1 re gray, You cain't sta•t no notes a-flyin' Lak do on es dat rants and rings From de kitchen to de big woods When Malindy sings. (over ) �:tou ain I t got de nachel o I gans Fu I to make de soun I come right, You ain't got de tu 1 ns an' twistin's Fu' :.to make it sweet an I light. Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy, An 1 I 1 m tellin' you fut true, When hit comes to raal right singin 1 , 'T ain't no easy thing to do. Easy .1 nough fu 1 folks to hollah, Lookin' at de lines an 1 dots, When dey ain 1 t no one kin sence it, An 1 6.e chune comes in, in spo.ts; But fu 1 real melojous music, Dat jesr strikes y o' hear t and cling s, .Jes' you stan r an' listen wif me When Malindy sings. Ain't you nevah hyea.hd Malindy? Blessed soul, tek up de cross! Look hyeah, ain't you jokin',honey?' Well, you don't know whut you los •. y, ought to hyealL dat gal a-wa 1 blin 1 , Robbins, la' k s, an 1 all dem things, Heish dey mouf s an 1 hides dey f !lce When Malindy sings. Narrator: Poem that I am and was, I traveled frc m 11 oasis to oasis. 11 Voice: (ove r) �\. ,; , ,Jeot . _:,,,er< Drumvoices, 11 Man's Sahari c up and down. \ ~ t}""' · J,v'~ Narrator: Riverboats, river towns, chain.gangs~ bar-room toughs, hard-hearted Hanna, Stagolee, ••• t h ey all knew me. Voice: Hard-hearted Hanna-- lJ.1 ---- ,geJJf Voice: ----------------- From .Savannah 2 GEE A. . Voice: She was so cold, yal J. -Chorus: &.sn 1 t she-Voice: She 1 d poor water on a drowing man! Voice: It was eurly one morn.in', When I heard my bulldog bark; Voice: . Stagolee and Billy Lyons Was squablin' in the dark. Chorus: Shine, shine, shine, ••• save po' me. Narrator: You heard me corning from the swollen lips of the bu~le, French horn, trumpet, clarinet and saxophone. Horn: A series of sh ort riffs exemplary o f various forms of music played between the advent of t he spirituals and th e blues-ragtime period. ( ov c r) �Narrator: In Paris they called the ncakewalk" tne "poetry of motion. 11 .!'t'\11,e. crevices of ships I was transported t o global points to make my splendid sound and dance my splendid poetry of motion. Dancer: Executes a series of movements representing such dances as the Cakewalk, or. Charleston, Ji t terbug and the Bop • .t:l emen ts (\'vJest Indian dances should flavor the movements. Narrator: As the poem I blue horns, shot guns in your war, danced dances and came home to face the Ku: IUux Klan,~ Southern Sheriffs and Jim Crow. I got angry. And I got defiant. But I was relatively cool. Voice: ~ the furnace let me go alone; V \stay you 1.vi. tho ut in terror of the he at . I will go naked in--for thus 1 tis sweet-- Into the weird depths of the h ottest zone. Voice: r Desire destroys, consumes m'JV mortal fears,,:.~, Transforming me into a shape of flame o I will come out, back to your world of tears, A stronger soul within a finer frame. Narrator: After race riots in several American cities, I lifted my voice into a searing sha ft of discontent ., Chorus: ~ kinsmen! we must meet the common foe! Voice: ~ ke ...______ ,; /41)-/t · men we' 11 face the murderous, co,-:ardly pack, Pressed to the wall, dying, but fmght i•·-ig back I ~ r ) .• ~ - 4,WA .. ,e,pA ~.-R .. �Narrator: Still, still my past pulled on me. It was as if we were married to each other, glued, locked, welded togeth~r. It was as if those who left us here on this earth never really, really died. Some African sense kept tugging, tugging at my truncated roots. The bridge of my ~ast rested on two shores. Voice: Pour O pour that parting soul in song, pour it in the sawdu st glow of night, 0 Into tho velvet pine-smoke air to-night,; •• Chorus: ~ d let the valley carry it along. ~ d let the valley carry it along. Narrator: Sometimes I w a ~ f there, fi~ting those who wanted to snatch away rrry humanity by day; and fighting hunger and confusion at home by night. As the poem,~ emerged convoluted and wholly new, only to retreat to a some-other-time refrain. Egypt, Ghana, Madagascar, the Pyramids-Voodoo Ceremonies--what did they all mean to me1 Voice: Come with a blast of trumpets, Jesus! Voice: And the beauty of Susanna Jones in red / Burns in my heart a love-fire sharp like pain. Chorus; ~ eet silver trumpets, Jesus I Voice: Well, son, I 1 11 tell you: Life for me ain't been no crystal stai r. (over) I I I �Narrator: The blur of the veil was always relieved by song, by dance, by reading about foreign places and looking forward to the day when Americans would grow up. We were here--in America--but not of it. Simply worryin~ without a plan to change thing)never helped much. We grew stronger, and more beautiful, in the words of Langston Hughes, as we re~embraced our rituals. Chorus: Shake your .b rown feet, honey, Shake your brown feet, chile, Shake your brown feet, honey, Shake 1 Vk:way em swift and wil' -Voice: back, honey, ~\ Do that low-down step. Walk on over, darling, Now! Come out With your left. Warrator: During the watering years, after the Great Depression, I was terrified by lynching and an atmosphere of intimidation. I went to war, as poem and soldier and cook and shining knight of Democracy. 'rhe Swa stika, ( ..,-4 ~ ) i£J The Rising Sun, The Hammer & Sickle, I was told, are your r eal enemy. r Meanwhile you had name d me 01-w- Doc.son and I became a witness to the .};.~alft;i._e_s ~of neighborly enemies. Those who caused unnatural Ileaths. Voic0: . . I up, boy, and tell me how you di ed : sense was alert last, What irnraediate intuition about us (over) '·I ..• ~ �You clutched like a bullet 'When your nails Dug red in your yellow palm. And that map the fortunetellers read Chorus: (this line for money, this for love) Voice: Childish again and smeared •••• Chorus: Wake up,boy, ••• Voice: ••• I go to death tomorrow, Tell me what road you took, ••• Chorus: What hour in the day i s luckiest? Voice: - Did your Adams appl e explodez - Who sewed stitches in 0 your µ;:t\ .,' ~ 5 \ angry heart? ~rtt 4 Chorus: wake••• Na rrator: Yes, yes••• I was sometimes a tattered poem in the thirties, forties and fifites. But I was a poem anyway: gracious, noble, fundamental, fiery, Wa ll<C1L 1 firm, relating td My People~' Someone called me Margaret~ I be came a tapestry of my many selves. Voice: For my people everywhere singing their slave songs repeatedly: their dirges and their ciitties and their b,lues and jubi lees, praying their . pr~.yers nightly to an unknown god, bending their knee s humbly to an un/seen power; ( OVf!' r ) �Voice: For my playmate s in the clay and dust and sand of Alabama backyards playing baptizing and preaching and doctor and jail and soldier an~hool and mama and cooking and playhouse and concert and store and hair and Mi s3 Choomby and company; Voice: Let a new earth rise. Chorus: [ let another world be born. Let ·.a bloody peace be written in the sky. Voice: Let a race of mfn / now rise and take control. Narrator: Frank Marshall Davis, Helvin Beaunorous Tolson, Sterling Brown, Robert Hayden, Gwendolyn Brooks--these are names by which my voice is lmown. Some even call me by the name of HISTORY. Chorus: History, history, history. Runagate J Runagate!RunagateJ Voice: Runs falls rises stumbles on from da rlmess into darlmess and the darlmess thicketed with shapes of terror and the hunters pursuing and the hounds pursuing and the night cold and the night long and the river · to cross and the ja ck-muh-lant e rns beckoning beckoning _ and the blaclmess ahead and when shall I reach that somewhere morning and keep on going and never turn back and keep on going •••• Chorus: Runagatel Runagate! Runagate! (over) �Narrator: I wormed into and won hearts and minds. In 1950, America · gave me the Pulitzer Prize. My name was Annie Allen. I was so ·finely sculpt- .. . ed that no inflection was imprecise. I said what I had to say in a language that dazzled and blinded the world. I stood as a jewel; I talked about a jewel named Satin-Leg s Smith. Voice: He wakes, unwinds, elaborately: a cat \ Tawny, reluctant, royal. He is fat ; And fine this morning. Definite. Reimburs e d. He waits a moment, he designs his reign, That no performance maybe plain or vain. Then rises in a clear delirium. Voice: Let us proceed. Let us inspect, together With his meticulous and serious love, The innards of this close+;. Which is vault Whose glory is not diamonds, not pearls, Not silver plat e with just enough dull shine. But wonder-suits in yellow and in wine, Sarcastic green and zebra-striped cobalt. With shoulder paddine that is wide And cocky and determined as his pride; Ballooning pants that taper off to ends Scheduled to ch oke precisely. Voice: Here are hats Like bri e;ht umbrellas; and hystericaJ. ties Like narrow ba.."lners for some ga theri r..g war. (111ver) �1-~arrato r: I lmew the power of the rap l Chorus: Narrator: I am the power of the rap I Chorus: ~ en! Voice: Bartender, make it straight and make it two-- \ ', Voice(pointing): One for the you in me••• Voice(pointing): • • • and one for the me in you. \' Narrator: I became the Be Bopper; somebody called me the Jfot-suiter; I put on dark glasses and conked my hair. A salesman handed me some bleaching cream and a cad.illac as I sped North to join my Brothers and Sisters in the Promised Land. mchard Wright and James Baldwin cried for l'.ll3 • . John Oliver Killens Heard the 'fhunder and Ralph .l!:11ison called me Invisible, adding that once my leaders figured out tbe riddle of my · style and my rap they could help me save me. Black, I left a white country t to fight yellow men in Korea. :t.:lla, Miles, Monk, Billie, Prez,:. .Chano Pozo, Ornette, Coltrane--they went to war 1.-ri.th me. Chorus: jGood morning heartache I ~ do you do? (over) �Horn: , ' Brief medley of sounds and tunes re~~iJiscent of the period. Narrator: I returned to mys~~ .motion~ 1;:~d! The Stroll Slop I The Madisor!J l'Je ~ st~ ~ The Kansas City e Funky Chicken I The Karate-Boogaloo I They saw me poeting with my hips and my feet. ~-Ctt .. cl_., r ;oet~ngl ~ etingl ?Jarra tor: ;1~ilC J,\~ l ,All An d took it all back to 1~ andstand and other countries. Voice: ; ·q-"' l. l.? There's a thrill upon the hill. . Chorus: Let's go, lot : s go, let 1 s goJ _ Narrator: I came from knrea to meet the ltlan in a new sheet'. And, in Montgomecy, · rited,,,~ cr-&:r: ml).,,•/ \\''~hey wo,ul<ln:,' t let ~y tlp_ther sj- t down .pn a bus. )..s.?. Ko t JoiJ<?,0 H--.ilre Y h ,,cte; o Cn orus: .J~ '• i. }rl'-1.,J._ ,p¢f,~ ,."\_) G,( ..(~I\.J 1 ~ ntgomery, Montgomery, I remember Montgomery. Voice: And Birmingltlarn--the three little girls. Voice: And Selma 1 Voice: '. ) And Philadelphia, Mississippi 1 \ Voice: I recollect Emmett Till! Voice: And Watts! i · £ (Al/1-5' , (0 : ~ - ~ Ct/faw e; / ' 6 11 / �Narrator: My name was Co nra d l\ent Rivers at tha t time. I became a poem called 1 'viatts,'"-hoping that in such disguise I could .fi~d my .;wa.y out of this daily ni ghtma re JVoice: -------- Must I shoot the white man dead to free the ni gger in his head? Must I shoot the white man dead to free the ni gger in his head? And Newark! Voice: 0 And Harlem! \ \ \, -- s cgff- Na rrator: My color felt good to me. I stretched and yawned and walked around m~eigb,borhood. Someonec called me Black and I didn--:;~: i t him. At a rally, I turned into a voice on the podium shouting • Chorus: C::TE ,\ i ) ARE A.~ AFRICAN PEOPLE! Voice: \1 I I i \ all things bl a ck and beautiful, I I '- I '- brown faces you loved so well and long, the 'endless roads l eading back to Harlem. (over) \ \ I ..\,l ll \ IJ ~ ,, ,. \ L ' �Chorus: ~ lu Se Ham.al l.=:lu Se Mamal Voice: Where the stri n g At Some point, Was some umbilical jazz, Or perhaps, . I In memory, A long lost bloody cross, Buried in some steel calvary. In what time For whom do we bleed, Lost notes, fro m some jazzman 1 s Broken needlep Musical tears from los t Eyes, Broken drumstick s, why? Pitter patter, boom dropping Bombs in the middle Of my emotions My father I s sound I My mothert,s sound.o •• Chorus: love, life. Narrator: I turned to philosophy. In the spit and dart of my new self, t here �..L ... ..... • ) were utter~~c es I had to make, blood-thoughts I had to share. I knew this was anotl:er sequel to the dream. I had not believed ' jJ those fairy tales. I needed to take a hand and stand and speak the truth. Speak the truth to the peopl 0 ! Voice: It is not necessary to green the heart Only to identify the enemy It is not necessary to blow the mind Only to free the mind •••• Ch orus: It is the total black! Voice: It is the total black, being spoken From the earth's inside. There are many kinds of open. How a diamond comes into a knot of flame How a sound comes into a word, colored By who pays i:hat . :fo:v speaking •••• Ge Chorus: is another kind of open-Voice: i As a diamond cone s in to a knot of fl ame I am black because I come fro m the earth 's inside : Take my word for jewel in your open light. Narrator: I am the ecstasy of N0 1:v. The fullest r e alization of my ancestors' wishes. I return, even in the alarm; e ven in -~:1e shadow-body I am of ten forced to wear. But e:-iough, enough; I beg you, my dear associates, look Now on our&~ctnd hit'fc>;~y~ ~ int~ , ____ Thea.sv"'e. • __ , _: / " j ,JJ .(11.JJ v �Voice(and Dancer): I am a black woman the nrusic of my song some sweet arpeggio of tears is written in a minor k ey and I can be heard humming in the night Can be heard humming Chorus: Hums first line of 11 Nobody Knows The ·'f rouble I See" Voice: in the night I saw my mate leap screamin g to the sea and I/with these hands/cupped the lifebreath from my issue in the canebrake I lost Nat 1 s swinging body in a rain of tears and I heard my son ,scream all the way fromE:v for Peace he never knew • • • • I learned ·na Nang and Pork Chop Hill in anguish ) Now my nostrils lmow the gas and these tri ?ge red tire/d fingers l'!'l\·~ seek the softness inl\k1rrior I s beard I a"'1 a black wo!"lnn tall as & cyp~e ss strong (ov~r) ) ' . � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context EBRWritings_09_34 Title A name given to the resource Fifth draft of Script Adaptation of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry (A Critical History), typed with handwritten edits, 1976 Description An account of the resource Fourth draft of Script Adaptation of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry (A Critical History), typed with handwritten edits, 1976. For presentation at book party on October 3, 1976: 3 p.m. to 6 p.m., Redwood Room, University Union, California State University, Sacramento. Relation A related resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Language A language of the resource English Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource For digital rights and permissions, see <a href="https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml">https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml</a> or contact <a href="mailto:library@siue.edu">library@siue.edu</a> for direct inquiries. In copyright. <a href="http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/">http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/</a> Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Redmond, Eugene B. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1976 https://digitallis.isg.siue.edu/files/original/1fd2a0071fc6bf3853bb072e7c1d3103.pdf 89736b31f0b96b8d261b2d0e35cebc43 PDF Text Text 'I • SCRIPT ADAPTATION OF DRUMVOICES: THE MISSION OF AFROAMERICAN POETRY ~ (a'critical history) by Eugene B. Redmond . j_ C., ) ( For Presentation at Book Party October 3, 1976: 3 p.m. to 6 p.m., Redwood Room, University Union California State University Sacramento ¥4 �Narrator: . . I run the poemJ Chorus: We are the poemJ Narrator: And the poem is mel Chorus: And the poem is usi Narrator: I am the poem and I came before pen or pencil or paper or printing pressJ I cupped and cuddled the wisdom of the winds in drum-bosoms of ecstasy. Drummer: A. wide range of rhythms, movements, multiple movement-rhythms: · African, West Indian, Af ro-American. Narrator: I write in drum-language and converse with tomorrow, today and the here - t c fo re. Chorus: D:iiUMFEET ON THE SO IL, ON THE SANDROADS OF THE MIND! FLESH - PISTONS PRANCING, THE EARTH'S EN GINE! IT IS A CO MING FORTH, THE NIGHT WIT HI N US CO MI NG FOffi'H ! THE NIGHT WI'l'HIN US COMING FORTH I FEE'T BEATING, BEATING, BEATING SEEDS INTO THE SOIL! Narrator: I return and r eturn and return to my_ magni ficent and reliable arch i ves. Chorus: That love we can depend on! 'rha t love we can depend on t (over) ~ �,• . Voice (singing): Onoborobol Chorus: Onoborobo r Voice: Onoborobo! Chorus: Onoborobol Voice: Onoborobo! Chorus: Onoborobol Narrator: In my dependable cultural vault is the Idea-gram,: the natural cinematography landscaped by thudding thoughts of my totem-family, the living-dead, the breathing, the unborn. I am the poetic flesh-temple with many forms, earth-daughter and agiie inundator of history. I am the poem in motion. Dancer: Rudimentary movements and other elejnents of traditional African and Afro-American dance: isolation, use of pelvis and torso, leaps, twirls, pulls, yanvalou, vigorous stretches and thrusts.(Drum accompaniment) Narrator: I am the Black and Unknown Bard. America put me on a conveyer belt moving ✓ i n ~ different directions at the same time. My African Jubilance turned to anger and a song of sabatage. Hy Indom.ij;able Echo and Idiom flavored my Indomitable press to be human. As a poem, became part of ;,wh$.t ', I .:did, saw •;o.,• 1'1~ \ l i).\I I{ 1~' 1 ~ H ,( • and dreamed on these shores: Field_lHollers, Vendors I Snouts, Chants, ( -,o-.'I ~ _k,r.t,S•uJJ\'\C ~1wtt:K" "'•"' ' Wo~ ~ ng "' , Spirit 1 J1i a-Ti.,., C\vup l\'li \.! , L(l-l11 6"''" n-l , Blue L'ofl-tl\ , Gosptels, Jaz , Rhythm-and-Blues, Soul Musico -rr·. Vk• 1e w1b.'t,o l 0~ - (over) \ o {) l>-Jt hapyy dr,.v h11 PP I/ 1~~1 I fyy,.V ~I~ do..y ,t:v! (J,_6 ,I).!& V;, U.~ ~i LI you sf; l{ Lour l>lf "t.,11,,,, C()/ , �r. _ :. - JJrt.w1v9lc es, .> ---r:-r\,--~•--:---:--. 1 ~ ,c . I l Voice: Did yer feed my cow? Chorus: Yea Mam! Voice: Will yer tell me how? Chorus: Yes Mam! Voice: Oh w'at did yer give 'er? Chorus: Ca'Wn an hay ! Voice: Oh w 1 at did yer give 1 er. Chorus: Cawn an hay J Voice: 1Evahwhuh. I, whuh"'look dis mawnin, Looks lak rain, looks lak rain. Voice: I gotta ~~inbow, tied all roun mah shouider, Ain gonna rain, ain gonna rain. Chorus: Dis is de hammer Kilt John Henry; (over) �w ..... \...-. .,,. .. ...; .l. __::_~ , . :,~·- . ,. ~ , "' Voice: Twon't kill me, baby, Twon't kill me. ~ho.rus: Take dis hammer, Carry it to de captain'; Voice: Tell him I'm gone, baby, Tell him I'm gone. Chorus: I got a rainbow fl'ied :! roun my shoulder, AinJt gonna rain, baby, Ain't gonna rain. Voice: ~ Dis ole harnrner--huh, Ring lak silver--huh, '-, Shine lak gold--huh. I Chorus: Ain't gonna rain, Ain't gonna rain. Voiceffemale): I'm a big fat :rnrumna, got the meat shaking on mah bones, I'm a big fat mamma, got the meat shaking on mah bones, And every time I shakes, some skinny girl loses huh home. Narrator: Yes, as- poem, as cotton-picker, as banjo-player, as preacher and slave-rebellion leader, I emerged as a · new part of the old. My African song ushered forth in strange new Biblical language. (over} �., ; : -- Dr:.,,- vqi C ~ s, .::> . Voice: Go down, :Moses, Way down in Egyptland; Chorus: Tell old Pharaoh To let my people go. Voice: Deep River ••• Chorus: Deep Deep Deep River •••• Voice: Deep River, my home is over Jordan; Chorus: ----- River, Lord; I want to cross over into camp ground. ) Voice: And yes, I DREAMED I was riding in that chariot. Chorus! ~wing low, sweet chariot, Coming for to carry me home, Swing low, sweet chariot, Coming for to carry me home. Voice: Green trees a-bending, Po' sinner stands a-trembling The trwnpet~ unds within-a-my soulJ Chorus: I ain't got long to stay here. (over) · �. \ , ... : . Drum.voic e s, 6 Voice: You . named m~: Lucy Terry! , .. Voice: Voice: Britton & Jupit er Hammon. Voice: , ,, Voice: Phyllis Wheatley!. Al2d I mastered Gree~, , La.ti~ a.n,d '- English in my teens . Lonely Black girl, whom the muses befriended, thousands and thousands I pt'/ of miles away fromA~_e sJ African home. I continued to emerge as the poem. Voice: ,. Should you, rrr.y Lord, while you peruse my song, J f Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung, Whence flowi., these wishes for the common good, By feeling hearts alone best understood, I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate, Was snatchJd from Afric 1 s fancy 1 d happy seat; What pangs excruciating must molest, What sorrows labour in my parents' breast? Steel 1 d was that soul and by no misery mov'd That from a father . seiz•d his babe belov~d: Such, auch{my cas; And can I then but pray Others may never feel tyrannic sway? Narrator: You named me George Moses Horton. I did not like the injusti_ce of the . ~ 4C:,:. ,f double standard~ And such resentment turned me into a poem. Even though l (over) �some called me "'r"ne S1ave." ' Chorus: The Slave. Voice: Because the brood-sow 1 s left side pigs were black, v Whose sable tincture was by nature struck, . Were you by justice bound to pull them back And leave the sandy-colored pigs to suck? Chorus: Runagatef Runagatel Runagate! Runagate! Runagate! Narrator: , • f"i'l.fath er work ed roots. In the b i-cultura1 My mother cured ills andA constriction the poem became juju-man, the face hidden by the «.mbtJUOCIJ minstrel smile. Voice: We have fashioned laughter Out of tears and pain; Chorus: But the moment after-Voice: Pain and tears again. Voice: Forgive these erring people, Lord; Voice: Who lynch at home and love abroad. Narrator: )Vr" i Still I wrote--this time just like I talked, though some made fUn of it. But, as maker of song, I could only produce heart-rhythms. (over) �~ I ,' • Dru."Tivoi c e s, 8 Voice: ' De Cunjah man, de Cunjah man, o chillen, run, de Cunjah man! Chorus: O chillen, run, de Cun'juh manl Voice: Him mouf ez beeg ez fryin' pan; Voice: Him yurs am small, him eyes am raid, 7 Him hab no toof een him ol' haid, / • Him hab him roots, him wu'k him trick, Eim roll him eye, him mek you sick-Chorus: De Cunjah man, de Cunjah man, 0 chillen,run, de Cunjah man! Narrator: I knew my rights, my rough-times and my remedies ... :fo-r t-mat aileel me... Voice: Blue-mass, laud-num, liver pills, "Sixty-six, fo' fever an' chills, Ready Relief, an' A. B. An' half a bottle of 11 C., X.Y.z. Narrator: Yo u named me ,Frances Elleri WatkinJ Ha-r per,,_ James Edwin Campbell, James Welaon Johnson, Paul Lawrence Dunbar--son of ·ex-slaves, elevator boy risen to brilliant bard of the race. As the poem I 5~J.e. in several kinds of English. Voice: I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, ( (\-.T p 'Y> ' forth �'· V o:....; ",., -e S , . 9~ D When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore-When he beats his bars and he would be free; It is not a carol of joy or glee, But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core, But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings-I know why the caged bird sings! Narrator: o.Ll.., Above~ song exudes from me. I am song. ~ A •i:511't-e. ~xamine Me. Watch Me. My birthright is my anthem. My song is my sword. Voice: /J-,J. 1-t.J..f~ ~ • $~ Lift every voice and sing! Till earth and heaven ring! Ring with the harmonies of liberty! Voice: Till our rejoicings - ris·e High as the listening skiesJ , c.....:Narrator: As song-poem, I forge pure flames of rhythms without books. James Weldon Johnson called me the Black and Unknown Bard . • And I love to hear Malindy sing. Voice: G1 way an 1 quit dat noise, Miss Lucy-Put dat music book away; What 1 s de use to keep on tryin•? Ef you practise twell you•re gray, You cain•t sta 1 t no notes a-flyin 1 Lak de ones dat rants and rings From de kitchen to de big woods When Malindy sings. (over) �• :ir.··..unvcli c e~, 10 . You ain't got de nachel o 1 gans Fu• to make de soun• come right, You ain•t got de tutns an' twistints Fut :.to make it sweet an• light. Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy, An• I'm tellin' you fut true, When hit comes to raal right singin•, •~ ain 1 t no easy thing .to do. Easy .1 nough fur folks to hollah, Lookin' at de lines an' dots, When dey ain•t no .one kin sence it, An 1 ·- de chune ·c.omes in, in spo:ts; But fut real melojous music, Dat jest strikes yo• heatt and clings, J _e s r you stanr an' listen wif me When Malindy sings. Ain't you nevah hyeahd Malindy? Blessed soul, tek up de cross I Look hyeah, ain't you jokin 1 ,honey'? " Well, you don 1 t know whut you los•. Y' ought to hyeah dat gal a-wa I blin·~, Robbins, la 1 ks, an 1 all dem things, Heish dey moufs an' hides dey f a ce When Malindy sings. Narrator: Poem that I am and was, I traveled from "oasis to oasis." Voice: (over) �Drumvoices_, 11 Man 's Saharic up and down. Narrator: ~ ~« ,,,,,.vJI' Riverboats, river towns, chaingangs~ bar-room toughs, hard-hearted Hanna, Stagolee, ••• they all knew me. Voice: Hard-hearted Hanna-Voice: , From .Savannah, GEE A. Voice: She was so cold, yall-Chorus: Wasn't she-Voice: She'd poor water on a drowing/1 man! Voice: I It was early one mornin', When I heard my bulldog bark; Voice:~ Stagolee and Billy Lyons Was squablin' in the dark. Chorus: Shine, shine, shine, ••• save po' me. Narrator: You heard me coming from the swollen lips of the bugle, French horn, trumpet, clarinet and saxophone. Horn: A series of short riffs exempla~ of various forms of music played between the advent of the spirituals and the blues-ragtime period. (over) �.. ..·. · -J;l;rw.nv.qice •-i·•- - - -s,. ..1..::: Narrator: I n Paris they called t h e "Oakewalk" the llpoetry of motion. 11 >1'1'he. crevices of ships I wa s transported t o global points to make my splendid sound and dance my splendid poetry of motion. Dancer: Executes a series of movements representing such dances as t h e Caltewalk, aP Charleston, Jitterbug and t h e Bop. ~lements ~W est Indian dances should flavor the movements. Narrator: As the poem I blue horns, shot guns in your war, danced dances and came home to face the Ku · ; Klux Klan, ... Southern Sheriffs and Jim Crow. I got angry. And I got defiant. But I was relatively- cool. Voice: I lnto the furnace let me go alone; Stay you without in terror of the heat. I will go naked in--for thus 1 tis sweet-- Into the weird depths of t h e h ottest zone. Voice: Desire destroys, consumes m~; mortal fears ., .~ :.;, Transforming me into a shape of flame. J I will come out, back to your world of tears, A stronger soul within a finer frame. Narrator: After race riots in several American cities , I lifted my voice into a searing shaft of discontent. 0 kinsmenl we must meet the common foe! Voice: Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack, Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back! ( (over) l,,\~~el,,pA ... �l)r p:m;voi ·c e s, lJ ·. Narrator: Still, still my past pulled on me. It was as if we were married to each other, glued, locked, welded togeth~r. It was as if those who left us here on this earth never really, really died. Some African sense kept tugging, tugging at my truncated roots. The bridge of my past rested on t wo shores. Voice: Pour O pour that parting soul in song, ,-_- 0 pour it iJl the sawdust glow of night, Into the velvet pine-smoke air to-night, ••• And let the valley carry it along. And let the valley carry it along. Narrator: Sometimes I wa~ f there, fi ~ ting those who wanted to snatch away rrry humanity by day; and fighting hunger and confusion at home by night . As the poem, S emerged convoluted and wholly new, only to retreat t o a some-other-time refrain. Egypt, Ghana, Madagascar, the Pyramids- Vocdoo Ceremonies--what did they all mean to me1 Voice: · Come with a blast of t r umpets, Jesus l Voice: And the beauty of Susanna Jones in red Burns in my heart a love-fire sharp like pain. Cho_rus a Sweet silver trumpets, Jesus I Voice: Well, son, I 1 11 tell you: Life for me ain 1 t been no crystal stair. (over) I �Narrator: The blur of the veil was always reli eved by song, by dance, by reading about foreign places and looking forward. to the day when Americans would grow up. We were here--in America--but not of it. Simply worryin~ without a plan to change ·thing.,never helped much. We grew stronger, and more beautiful, in the words of Langston Hughes, as we re-embraced our rituals. Chorus: Shake your .b rown feet, honey, Shake your brown feet, chile, Shake your brown feet, honey, Shake 'em swift and wil, __ Voice: Get way back, honey, Do that low-down step. Walk on over, darling, Now! Come out With your left. Narrator: During the watering years, after the Great Depression, I was terrified by lynching end an atmosphere of intimidation. I went to war, as poem and soldier and cook and shining knight of Democracy. The Swastika, The Rising Sun, The Hammer &...-S ickle, I was told, . <~ real enemy• ~ -Meanwhile you had named me 0~ Do~son and I became a witness to the ...r~al~t~e~~of neighborly enemies. Those who caused unnatural deaths. Voice: Wake up, boy, and tell me how you died: What sense was alert last, What immediate intuition about us (over) �You clutched like a bullet when your nails Dug red in your yellow palm. And that map the fortunetellers read Chorus: (this line for money, this for love) Voice: Childish again and smeared •••• Chorus: Wake up,boy, ••• Voice: ••• I go to death tomorrow, Tell me what road you took, ••• Chorus: What hour in the day is luckiest? Voice: ,#- Did your Adams apple explode? Who sewed stitches in your angry heart? Chorus: 0 wake••• Narrator: Yes, yes ••• I was sometimes a tattered poem in the thirties, forties and fifites. But I was a poem anyway: gracious, noble, fundamental, fiery, t WtlkVL firm, relating My People1 Someone called me MargaretK I became a td tape s try of my many selves. Voice: For my people everywhere singing their slave songs repeatedly: ~ heir dirges and their ditties and their b,lues and jubilees, ( praying their pr~y.ers •.nightly to an unknown god, ( bending their knees humbly to an un/se:en-: power; (over) �Di"UlllVOices,- 1 6 Voice: For my playmates in the clay and dus t and sand of Alabama backyards playing }baptizing and preaching and doctor and jail and /s oldier and school and mama and cooking and playhouse and concert and store and hair and Miss Cho omby and company; Voice: Let a new earth rise. Chorus: Let another world be born. Let ·.a bloody peace be written in the sky. ' Voice: Let a race of ~ / now rise and take control. ')-t--•fv-,. .,,,.. I Narrator: Frank Marshall Davis, Melvin Beaunorous Tolson, Sterling Brown, Robert Hayden, Gwendolyn Brooks--these are names by which my · voice is known. Some even call me by the name of HISTORY. Chorus: History, history, history; RunagateJ Runagate!RunagateJ , Voice: Runs falls rises stumbles on from darkness into darkness and the darkness thicketed with shapes of terror and the hunters pursuing and the hounds pursuing . and the night cold and the night long and the river · to cross and the jack-muh-lantems beckoning beckoning and the blackness ahead and when shall I reach that somewhere morning and keep on going and never turn back and keep on going •••• Chorus: Runagatel Runagate! Runagate! (over) �r' Narrator: I wormed into and won hearts and minds. In 1950, America gave ·me the Pulitzer Prize. My name was Annie Allen. I was so -·finely sculpt- ed that no inflection was imprecise. I said what I had to say in a language that dazzled and blinded the world. I stood as a jewel; I talked about a jewel named Satin-Legs Smith. Voice: He wakes, unwinds, elaborately: a cat Tawny, reluctant, royal. He is fat And fine this morning. Definite. Reimbursed. He waits a moment, he designs his reign, I ,. Y That no perfom.ance may _be plain or vain. Then rises in a clear delirium. _ Voice: Let us proceed. Let us inspect, together With his meticulous and serious love, The innards of this closet. Which is vault Whose glory is not diamonds, not pearls, Not silver plate with just enough dull shine. But wonder-suits in yellow and in wine, Sarcastic green and zebra-striped cobalt. With shoulder padding that is wide And cocky and determined as his pride; Ballooning pants that taper off to ends Scheduled to choke precisely. Voice: Here are hats ' Like bright umbrellas; and hysterical ties Like narrow banners for some gathering wat. (111Ver) �· -Drtlmvoices,, l b Narrator: I lmew the power of the rap! Chorus: Ament Narrator: I am the power of the rap! Chorus: Ament Voice: \ Bartender, make it straight and make it two-- ~ /, Voice(pointing): One for the you in me••• Voice(pointing)~ • • • and one for the me in you. Narrator: I became the Be Bopper; somebody called me the oot-suiter; I put on dark glasses and conked my hair. A salesman handed me some bleaching cream and a cadillac as I sped North to join my Brothers and Sisters in the Promised Land • .Richard Wright and James Baldwin cried for IlB • . John Oliver Killens Heard the 'fhunder and Ralph ~llison called me Invisible, adding that once my leaders figured out the riddle of my • my rap they could help me save me. Black, I ~eft a white .. style and country , to fight yellow men in Korea. Ella, Miles, Monk, Billie, Prez,·::. . Chano Pozo, Ornette, Coltrane--they went to war with me. Chorus: Good morning heartache! How do you do? _(over) �.. J_j .L 'i., ;r. - ·- ·. ,, Horn: Brief medley of sounds and tunes reminiscent of the period. Narrator: ~ I returned to myself ~n, ~~ tion t Be~qldl The Stroll! The Kansas City ¢«'\~..,.,. ~ " ' ~ Slop! The Madisonl ~The Twistt~The Funky Chicken! The Karate-Boogaloo! They saw me poeting with my hips and my feet. ~ u .. ~ Poet~_n gl Poetingl Narrator: A.,_er,c. a..1 And took it all back to/\Bandstand and other countries. Voice: There's a thrill upon the hill. Chorus: Let's go, let's go, let 1 s goJ Narrator: I came from knrea to meet the ltlan in ,/.. .'~ll"they woul I t let my ~ ~.,_ l '"__, 1,,L:..aa..~;11::--_t~~ll"\:-:;J' ct'ilew sheet". 1 · ~~•t, if::;;....Btarey on, a bus. ~ ~ ;~J1¼,,,/,•j, tahkJ hit).;F/ luanJ ~ l1f/ Chorus: Montgomery, Montgomery, I remember Montgomery. Voice: And Birmingham--the three little girls. Voice: And Selma! Voice: And Philadelphia, Mississippi! Voice: I recollect Emmett Till! Voice: And Watts! And, in Montgomer)t, . �... , • v_,.· ,,._..i. ,)i ce s,, c:1., ·' Narrator: My name was Conrad Kent Rivers at that time. I became a poem called lfWatts~· ••-hoping that in such disguise I could _fi~d -·my .> wa.y out of this daily nightmare. Voice: Must I shoot the white man dead to free the nigger in his head? Voice: Must I shoot the white man dead to free the ni gger in his head? Voice: And Newark! Voice: And Harlem! Narrator: My color felt good to me. I stretched and yawned and walked around MU7 m~ eigb,borhood. Someonef' called me Black and I didn-1-:s,._ hit him. At a rally, I turried into a voice on the podium shouting. \ Chorus: WE ARE AN AFRICAN PEOPLE! Voice: For all things black and beautiful, The brown faces you loved so well and long, the endless roads leading back to Harlem. (over) ' I rl._,.) �·, Druriivoic e s,, ' 21 · Chorus: Ku:iu Se Mama I Kulu Se Mam.al Voice: Where the stri ng At Some point, Was some umbilical jazz, Or perhaps, ln memory, A long lost bloody cross, Buried in some steel calvary. In what time For whom do we bleed, Lost notes, from some jazzman 1 s Broken needle 0 Musical tears from lost Eyes, Broken drumsticks, why? Pit t er patter, boom dropping Bombs in the middle Of my emotions My father's sound My mothert,s sound •••• Chorus: Is love, Is life. Narrator: I turned to philosophy. In the spit and dart of my new self, there �were utterances I had to make, blood-thoughts I had ·to share. I knew this was another sequel to the dream. I had not believed . those fairy tales. I needed to take a hand and stand and speak the truth. Speak the truth to the people! Voice: It is not necessary to green the heart Only to identify the enemy It is not necessary to blow the mind Only to free the mind •••• Chorus: It is the total black! Voice: It is the total black, being spoken From the earth 1 s inside. There are IllBil y kinds of open. How a diamond comes into a knot of flame How a sound comes into a word, colored By who pays what . ~ar speaking •••• Chorus: Love is another kind of open-Voice: As a diamond comes into a lmot of flame I am black because I come from the earth I s inside : Take my word for jewel in your open light. Narrator: I am the ecstasy of NOW. The fullest realization of my ancestors' wishes. I return, even in the alarm; even in the shadow-body I am often forced to wear. But enough, enough; I beg you, my dear associates, look Now on ourif(tld ltisrjfry~:~j,.,st 1iitca.sv~ • ( "'"'"'Y' I --ti1}0 -~ 1 �Voice ( and Dancer): I am a black woman the music of my song some sweet arpeggio of tears is written in a minor key and I can be heard humming in the night Can be heard humming Chorus: Hums first line of "Nobody Knows i'he ··Trouble I See" Voice: in the night I saw my mate leap screaming ~o the sea and I/with these hands/cupped the lifebreath from my issue in the canebrake e:v I lost ·Nat 1 s swinging body in a rain of tears and I heard my son scream all the way from for Peace he never knew • • • • I learned Da Nang and Pork Chop Hill in anguish Now my nostrils know the gas and these triggered tire/d fingers seek the softness in;_iarrior 1 s beard I am a black woman tall as a cypress strong (over) ~~­ �( beyond all definition still defying place and · time and circumstance assailed , impervious --- ~ indestructible Look · on me and be renewed. Chorus: Look on me and be renewed. ----30---- � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context EBRWritings_09_33_04 Title A name given to the resource Fourth draft of Script Adaptation of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry (A Critical History), typed with handwritten edits, 1976 Description An account of the resource Fourth draft of Script Adaptation of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry (A Critical History), typed with handwritten edits, 1976. For presentation at book party on October 3, 1976: 3 p.m. to 6 p.m., Redwood Room, University Union, California State University, Sacramento. Relation A related resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Language A language of the resource English Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource For digital rights and permissions, see <a href="https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml">https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml</a> or contact <a href="mailto:library@siue.edu">library@siue.edu</a> for direct inquiries. In copyright. <a href="http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/">http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/</a> Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Redmond, Eugene B. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1976 https://digitallis.isg.siue.edu/files/original/34249206082416d41d672f3b9a379338.pdf a270a31735286520350f5a0ca7b619a9 PDF Text Text SCRIPT ADAPTATION OF DRUMVOICES: THE MISSION OF AFROAMERICAN POEI'RY ( 'cr{tical history) by Eugene B. Redmond For Presentation at Book Party October 3, 1976: 3 p.mo to 6 p.m., Redwood Room, University Union California State University Sacramento i �MOVEMENT If I Narrator: {'< I am the poemJ • . ,::::.:b: ::: ::: J ,..... r~•- -·- s ogrog :&oiGe 1 e 19e11 er peneil ill pc:pil' n led libs ntcJs prinbbtg pz saa, 16 tbs zdrdr in drum- bosoms of ecsta ,s7. ----- - - Chorus: DRUMFEET ON THE SOIL, ON THE SANDROADS OF THE MINDI FLESH-PISTONS PRANCING, THE EARTH'S ENGINE! IT IS A COMING FORTH, THE NIGH'r WITHIN US COMING FORI'H I Narrator: r I return to JQ", magnificent and reliable archives. Chorus: That love we can depend on! (over) -· ~~~~--=- . -----=---.... _,..._.__, -.... .. - �Voice(singing ): Onoborobol Chorus: Onoborobo I Voice: Onoborobol Chorus: Onoborobol Voice: Narrator: In my dependable cultural vault is t he I dea-gram of my totem-family, the living-dead, the breathing, the unborn. I am the poetio flesh-temple with many form.s f the poem in motion. Dancer: - Rudimentary movements and other ele"ments of traditional African and Afro-American dance: isolation, use of pelvis and torso, leaps, twirls, pulls, yanvalou, vigorous stretches and thrusts.(Drum accompaniment) Narrator: America put in two different directions at the 9 on a conveyer belt ame time. My African Jubilance turned .. to anger and a song of sabatage • • As a poem, I became part of what I di and dr amed on these shores (ove r) saw �Voice: (I_ /r' Did yer feed m.y cow? Qhorus: Ye Mamf Voice: Will yer tell me how? Chorus: Yes Maxnl Voice: Oh w'at did yer give 'er? 'lliorus: Cawn an hay I Voice: Oh w'at did yer gl.ve •er. Chorus: Cawn an hay I Voice: • 1. Evahwhu.q.. I, whuh ~look dis mawnin, C r Looks lak rain, looks lak rain. Voice: I gotta r,~inbow, tied all roun mah shouider, Ain gonna rain, ain gonna rain. Chorus: Dis is de hammer Kilt John Henry, (over) �Voice: Twon•t kill me, baby, Twon •t kill me. Take dis hammer, Carry it to de captain; Voice: Tell him I ' m gone, baby, I), Tell him I'm gone. Chorus: I got a rainbow Tied !roun my shoulder, Ain.tt gonna rain, baby, /in •t gonna rain. Voice: Dis ole hammer--huh, Ring lak silver--huh, Shine lak gold--huh. Chorus: Ain't gonna rain, Ain't gonna rain. Voiceffemale): I'm a big fat mamm.a, got the meat shaking on mah bones, Irma big fat m.a:mma, got the meat shaking on mah bones, And every time I shakes, some skimly tlrl loses huh home. Narrator: 1 l SJ J u Ifs cotton-picker, as ~anjo-player, as preacher . . Cl--< )(_41111iarebellion leader, I emerged (over) a · new part of the old. �Voice: r Go down, Moses, Way down in Egyptland; Tell old Pharaoh To let my people go. - - .- - ~- -- •• Deep River, my- home is over Jordan; Chorus: ~ Deep River, Lord; I want to crosa over into camp ground. Voice: And yes, I DREAMED I was riding in that chariot. Y}v Chorus: ~wing low, sweet chariot, Coming for to carry me home, Swing low, sweet chariot, i-t,, j., ,, --1· ~fl ror to carry me home. Comin Voice: Green trees a-bending, Po' sinner stands a-trembling The trumpet sounds within-a-my soul} Chorus: I ain•t got long to stay here. i (over) Q_ ~ �Voice: You naille & me: Lucy Te;rryL Voice : Gustavas Vassa . Voice : Britton & Jupiter Hammon. Voice: Coon 'ifwc!J:.! ' • ~ , , ~ Voice: Phyllis Wheatl ey . Aud I mastered · Gr,ee~, Lati;p,. &n.d ' English n my teens . A-fn;C{)M 'L Lonely ·- v gi r~whom the muses befri ended, " /, ., /'- x:' X Voice i Should you, my Lord, while you peruse my song , Wonder from whence my love C::: 2 or . : :SI fp: 1 : I : lt,reedom sprung, :::a::;:: zr -~~ f,'J ( I , young in l ife , by seeming crue l fate , Was snatchJ d f r om Afric 1 s fancy 1 d happy seat; What pangs excruciating mus t molest, What so rrows labour in my parents' breast? elhs 7 1 i 7193 tbet Tb et fr@z s c S?Iil end RX 3 l 11 no Wi 7577 as t & L 5 L 316 JI S: car I tb er t orer@ WHY P81I?P f 7 f f 13 tC I ; Ii § - Narra to r: I' You named me George Moses Horton. I did not like the i n ju s tice of t he double standard. (over) �called me "The S1ave. 11 Chorus: ll.11vr The Slave. Voice: Because the brood-sow 1 s left side pigs were black, 'Whose sable tincture was by nature struck, Were you by justice bound to pull them back And leave the sandy-colored pigs to suckY Chorus: Runagatef Runagatel Runagate! Rtmagatel Runagatel Narrator: / •I My mother cured ills andAfather worked roots. 1he poem became juju-man,- the lace hidden by the minstrel smile. Voice: We have fashioned laughter Out of tears and pain; Chorus: But the moment after-- W Voice: Pain and tears again. Voice:- -. : Forgive these erring people, Lord; ~JV Voice: Who lynch at home and love abroad. Narra.tor2 Still I yrote--this t· e just like I talkedI could only produce heart-rhythms. (over) Atnbi uous �t) Chorus: / ' _ o chillen, run, de Cunjuh manl r]!: Voice: Him mouf ez beeg ez fryin' pan; /1, f' Voice: Him yurs am small, him eyes am raid, Him ha.b no toof een him ol' haid, \ ,.,. Him ha\t him root"s, him wu'k him trick , Him roll him eye, him mek you sick-Chorus: O chillen, run, de Cunjah man I Narrator: I knew my rights, my rough-time~and my remedies. Voice: Blue-mass, laud-num, liver ~ills, "Sixty-six, fo I fever an1 chills, 11 fwv II Ready Relief, an' A. B. C., An' half a bottle of X.Y.z. Narrator: You named me Frances Ellen Watkin, Harper~ _James Edwin Campbell, James Weldon Johnson, Paul Lawrence Dunbar-- '/ in several kinds of English. Voice: I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, (Over) - . �9 When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore-When he beats his bars and he would be free; It is not a carol of joy or glee, But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core, But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings-I know why the caged bird singsl ,J .Ji v(_ Above~ / song Narrator: exudes from me. ~ - - -~- My song is my sword. Voice: / Lift every voice and sing! I I If-' er. Till ear hand heaven ring! Ring with the harmonies of libertyl Voice: 'l'ill our rejoicings· rls·e High as the listening skies, Narrator: I forge pure flames of rhythms without books. And I love to hear Malindy sing. Voice: G'way an' quit dat noise, Miss Lucy-Put dat music book away; What's de use to keep on tryin•? Ef you pra ctise twell you 1 re gray, You caintt sta't no notes a-flyin 1 Lak de ones dat rants and rings From de kitcheJl to de big woods When Malindy sings. (over) - - I �10 iWaey J 1uugh flJJ f0Jls11 to Mialih•.ft; _.. IcsliiiaRI a• ,h. lines an' dots a Wasn doy Ar' a.aan' :i 111 one J<i r serce it., 1 a eh aid.I Ebld@§ iii, ?ii spu.haJ But :fu' reel a s Jao jaua rnusi a - Pet jc1 1 e~rihea .Je11 • yea aCail, ant vo' - hee't eo4 g]jpgs, h.s cen wif :me ·dl'.1011 MS:llna:, slng1 s Ain•t you nevah hyeahd Malindy? Blessed soul, tek up de cross I Look hyeah, ain't you jokin 1 ,honey? Well, you don't know whut you los•. Y1 ought to hyeah dat gal a-wa 1 blin', Robbins, la 1 ks, an' all dem things, Heish dey moufs an 1 hides dey face When Malindy sings. n (over) �11 r~ ✓ Narx•ator: I "' Riverboats, river to-wns, chainganga~ bar-room toughs, hard-hearted Hanna, Stagolee, •• • they all knew me. Voice: IM/( Hard-hearted Hanna-- Voice: From ~avannah, ~ A. Voice: She was so cold, yall-Chorus: Wasn 1 t she-Voice: She'd poor water on a drawing man! ~ Voice: It was early one mornin 1 , When I heard my bulldog bark; I y../ L/ Stagolee and Billy Lyons Was aquablin 1 in the dark. Chorus: Shine, shine, shine, ••• save po' ijarrator: You heard me coming from the swollen lips of the bugle, French horn, trumpet, clarinet and saxophone. -H orn: A series or short riff·s exemplary of various forms of music played between the advent of the spirituals and the blues-ragtime period. (ov e r) �r arrator: Paris the "Qakewalk" the "poetry of motion. 11 Dancer: Executes a series of movements representing such dances as the Ca~ewalk, -· . Charleston, Jitterbug and the Bop. Elements ~est Indian dances should I flavor the movements. · Narrator: ~ I blue horns, shot guns in your war, danced dances and came home to face the Ku: , Klux Klan, , Southern Sheriffs and Jim Orow. I got angry; And defiant. But I was relativelV cool. Voice: Into the furnace let me go alone; Stay you without in terror of the heat. i 300566 a Ji 37 gs ll&ked .{]Jto) tbs II@i rd lh--18£1 CHU§ IJf§ e I t1 r ; 11 :t H ,I t z rs ., )/v ( 5 Voice: , I ( I will come out, back to your world of tears, A stronger soul within a finer frame. Narrator: I lifted my voice into After race riots in several American cities a earing shaft of discontent. y O kinsmenl we must meet the common foe! / Ur· Voice: Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack, Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back! (over) --- --- . ---- ------ -- . - -- -~ I"" '- �Narrator: Still, aaiJJ my past pulled on me. • Some African sense kept tugging, tugging at my truncated roots. Voice: Pour O pour that parting soul in song, l' L t I Jg SI 7 1. L.A£ . ~ \¾Vv: pour it in the sawdust glow of night, 0 z Into the velvet pine-smoke air to-night, ••• !~ / ~ qhoruss • And let the valley carry it along. I/ Jal 7 I L Slfo J&±IGJ 02223 lb I & C $ Narrator: As the poem, I emerged convoluted and wholly new, only to retreat to a some-other-time refrain. Egypt, Ghana, Madagascar, the Pyramids-- • Voodoo Ceremonies--what did they all mean to me~ Voice: Come with a blast of trumpets, Jesusl Voice: And the beauty of Susanna Jones in red Burns in rrry heart a love-fire sharp like pain. Chorus a Sweet silver trumpets, Jesus I Voice: Well, son, I'll tell you: Life for me ain't been no crystal stair. (over) . �Narrator: The blur of the veil was always relieved ~y song, ax '7------ dance , II bo()fL looking forward t o t l\e day when Americans• would grow up. • • We grew stronger, and more beautiful, in the words of Langston Hughes , as we re-embraced our rituals. Chorus : Shake your .b rown feet , honey , Shake your brown feet, chile, r/, u Shake your brown feet, honey, Shake 'em swift and wil ' -- Voice: Get way back, honey, Do that low-down step. Walk on over , darling, Nowt Come out With your l eft . Narrator: I went t o wa r , y as £ 5 soldier and cook and shining knight of Democracy . The Swas t ika, The Rising Sun, The Hammer & iiekle,. ~ I was told , g ~;:1-- C '/\ real enemv ...., . Meanwhile you h~d nruned me O? Dofson and I bec8llle a witness to the na1;tie~~of neighborly enenu.es •Gho se who caused unnatural deaths : ) r Voice: ,, Wake up, boy , and tell me how you died: What sense was alert last, Wha; immediate intuition about us (over) } J ~ �You clutched like a bullet when your nails Dug red in your yellow palm. And that map the fortunetellers read Chorus: (this line for money, this for love) Voice: Childish again and smeared •••• Chorus: Wake up,boy, ••• Voice: •••Igo to death tomorrow, Tell me what road you took, ••• Chorus: What hour in the day is luckiest? Voice: Did your Adams apple explode? Who sewed stitches in your angry heart? Chorus: o wake ••• Narrator: '\I was sometiaes a tattered poem in the thirties, forties and fifites. But I was a poem anyway: gracious, noble, fundamental, fiery, ~ Voice: t r my peo-~le everywherV s_inging their slave songs Nlpeat- ) /~ heir dirges and their ditties and their blue~ ~ L and Jub~es praying their Pl'ffU• ni-ghti~ to an- un;) <J:t known god0bending their knees humbly (ov r) o an un/a ··power0 )~ _,1 / �Voice: and sand of . ~l,abama For my playmates in the clay and / ~, ~t::d:::=:p==r-e_a_o_hi _ n.. . .:. a n d ~ school and mama and and concert and store and hair and Miss Choomby and company; Voice: Let a new earth rise. -04'n'1".. e,•• t ~ ; ~ _ qpv f Chorus: Let another world be born. Let · a bloody peace be written in the sky. Voice: Let a race of mt~/ now rise and take control. Narrator: Frank Marshall Davis,l, Melvin Beaunorous Tolson, Sterling Brown, r II}',/]);· 1J10.. t ~ ' Robert Hayden, ~Gwendolyn lBrooks--these are names by which m:y ·voice is known. Some even call me by the name of HISTORY. Chorus: History, history, history, Runagate, RunagatelRunagate~ Voice: / Runs falls rises stumbles on from darkness into darlmess / and the darkness thicketed with shapes of terror and the hunters pursuing and the hounds pursuing and the blackness ahead and when shall I reach that somewhere morning and keep on going and never turn back and keep on going •••• Chorus: Runagatel Runagatel Runagatel ( ove-r) /h ~ �17 Narrator: I wormed into and won hearts and minds. In 1950, America · gave me the Pulitzer Prize. I talked about a jewel named Satin-Legs Smith. Voice: He wakes, unwinds, elaborately: a cat Tawny, reluctant, ·royal . He is fat And fine this morning. Definite. Reimbursed. He waits a momeat, he designs his reign, (_ That no perfom.ance may be plain or vain. ✓ Then rises in a clear delirium. Voice: Jiat 112 r 22 ➔ 1 zt t s tnsseeP, t95aphen • ¥1 ..b ht w 0IC&!Of!ft !Rd sef!lbd§ 16; s, , Tbn 1nrss 1 · st e!iiS lhtB~'f!. RH!&U !B fifil€ t!rAJone slow is rot ➔ - s, i1; I I aa? a Mot ei Jvar rl ate ad tb 1Bf1P:t ftPABib dpl J ?bi re •• Sarcastic green and zebra-striped cobalt . ~ith shoulder padding that is wide And cocky and determined as his pride; Ballooning pants that taper off to ends Scheduled to choke precisely. =--· ~ I - (vver) 7 �18 ap l I lmew the powe s: Amen! ator: Na I am the powe pl the /, ~~ us: Amenl Vo Bartender, e: ght a.nd make it two-- st ,, e(pointing): in me one • e (pointing): V n you . • • • and o Narrator: ot- s uiter; I put on I became the Be Bopper; I dark glasses and conked my hair I as I sped North to , • the Promised Land. ¢ Wright I and John Oliver Ki llens Heard the thunder and Baldwin cried for DB • ~llison called me Black, I left a white country , to fight yellow men in Korea. Ella, Miles, Monk, Billie, Prez,v.Chano Pozo, Ornette, Coltra.ne--they went to war with me. Chorus: Good morning heartache! ~~ ~ f.YV.....A/ How do you do? (over) - - -- - - - - - - - - ---~........,=-=----,,,=-,....--....,~- - - -"""" .. �19 Hom: Brief medley of sounds and tunes reminiscent of the period. Narrator: Beholdl The Stroll! The Kanaas City SJ.opt The Madison! The Twis~1 :· T_he Funky Chicken! The Karate-Boogalool They saw me poeting with my hips and my feet. Poet~ngl Poetingl Narrator: ,\ 1.t',: And took it all back to l'-!3andstand and other countries. j Voice: There's a thrill upon the hill. Chorus: Let's go, let's go, let's go~ -... ~ Narrator: I ee.m.eO rom knrea to they wouldn't let my mother sit down on a bus. ~· Chorus: Montgomery, Montgomery, I remember Montgomery. • Voice: And Birminghsm--the three little girls . Voice: And Selma.I Voice: And Philadelphia, Mississippi! Voice: I recollect Emmett Tilll Voice: And Watts I {over) ~~~ ~ · �20 Narrator: My name was Conrad Kent Rivers-. ~ ""Watts;"- --.-;...., . . ,, .__. . -· ~ ~ became a poem called . ....... "~.:. ·-~·---- ·-··----------1o--"'------··-- ~· . . - - . ~ --~ - Voice: ' Must I shoot the white man dea<!.__-----~ ~ to free the nigger in his head?~ - - -- - ~ f ✓~ to head? Voice: And Newarkl Voice: And Harlem! '-.__.... Narrator: My color felt good to me . y At a rally, I turned into a voice on the podium shouting. Chorus: WE ARE AN AFRICAN PEOPLE! Voice: For all things black and beautiful, ~ The brown faces you loved so well and long, the endless roads leading back to Harlem. (over) �21 Chorus: _Ku_l_u_S_'e_Mama_ ✓ j. _K_u_lu_S_e_M_ama_l /r.f-J.,. ~ .,,l.oll"'f Voice: Where the strin t point, as some umbil·cal jazz, , r perhaps, long lost b ody cross, steel aalva or whom do w • bleed, m some jazzm 's oken needle tears patter, rom lost dropping My My motherA,s Chorus: Is love, Is life. Narrator: • In the spit and dart of rrry new self, there (over) �22 were utterances I had to make , bl ood-thoughts I had to share . t01/vIV. /P • • I needed to take a hand and stand and speak t he truth -,all!!lp•---l!•IIXllll!IIZIIIZ,1• ...-lllliiii~iaii~ Voice: It is not necessary to green the heart Only to identify the enemy It is not necessary to blow the mind Only to free the mind ••• • Chorus: It is the total black! Voice: It is the total black, bein g spoken From the earth's inside. Chorus : Love is another kind of open-Voice: As a diamond comes into a lmot of flrune ~ . ~ _ A,t. ~o~ I am black because I come from the earth's i n ~ Take my word for jewe l in your open light. Narrator: I am the ecstasy of NOW. I return, even in the alarm; even in the shadow- body I am often forced to wear . But enough, enough; I beg you, my dear associates, look Now on our 1. 1 �oice(and Danaer): I am a bl ck woman the music or IfI'J song ome sweet arpeggio of t ears is written in a minor key and I ' can be heard humming in the nil?P,.:..---~ ~ Y-r---Hums ~ Chorus: first line or "Nobody Know a •'frouble I See Voice: I saw my mate leap sereaming .J;o the sea e- lo-st-·Nat • s swinging body in a -rain of tear. ) tor eace he never knew • lS§FD@d Pe f -.---· ! ·heard my son scream all the way from Anzio an na1g all& . .. Pork Chop Rill &b&ISII I am a bla ck woman tall as a cypress strong (over) s;? ~ �• I Rrumvoices, 24 beyond all definition still defying place and time and circumstance assailed impervious indestructible Look on me and be renewe. Chorus: Look on me and be renewed. ----30---- � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context EBRWritings_09_33_03 Title A name given to the resource Third draft of Script Adaptation of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry (A Critical History), typed with handwritten edits, 1976 Description An account of the resource Third draft of Script Adaptation of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry (A Critical History), typed with handwritten edits, 1976. For presentation at book party on October 3, 1976: 3 p.m. to 6 p.m., Redwood Room, University Union, California State University, Sacramento. Relation A related resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Language A language of the resource English Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource For digital rights and permissions, see <a href="https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml">https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml</a> or contact <a href="mailto:library@siue.edu">library@siue.edu</a> for direct inquiries. In copyright. <a href="http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/">http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/</a> Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Redmond, Eugene B. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1976 https://digitallis.isg.siue.edu/files/original/a2cd993d9e5b5d266f57e81ea45b247d.pdf 23d5c7db0b343b698e2ce714b6e60ae2 PDF Text Text SCRIPT ADAPTATION OF DRUMVOICES : THE MISSION OP AFROAMERI CAN POErRY (a' crftical history ) by Eugene B. Redmond For Presentation at Book Party October 3, 1976: 3 p.mo to 6 p .m., Redwood Room, University Uni on California State University Sacramento •'I ., / �MOVEMENT If I Narrator: the poemJ I Chorus: We are the poemi ½_,\ Narrator: And the poem is mei Chorus: And the poem is usi , o Narrator: ~ ma 1'110 pus• ans I ca.me before pen or pencil or paper or printing pressJ I cupped and cuddled the wisdom of the winds in drum-bosoms of ·ecstaJ7• ·, Chorus: DRUMFEET ON THE SOIL, ON THE SANDROADS OF THE MIND I FLESH-PISTONS PRANCING, THE EARI'H'S ENGINE! IT IS A COMING FORl'H, rrHE NIGHT WITHIN US COMING FORI'H I ~HE NIGHT WITHIN US COMING FORJ'HI) ~ -~ FEET BEATING, BEATING, BEATING SEEDS INTO THE SOILI Narrator: to Jll;J. magnificent and reliable archives. I return Chorus: ( "° That love we can depend on I (over) �Voice (singing): Chorus: Onoborobo I Vo i ce: OnoboroboJ Chorus: Onoborobo I Vo i ce: Onoborobo J Chorus : Onoborobol "'. Na rrato r : In my depen dable cultura l vault is th e Idea-gram of my totem-family, the living-dead, the breathing, the unborn. I run the poetic flesh-temple with many formJJf the poem in motion. Dancer: Rudimentary movements and other ele:)nents or traditional African and Afro-American dance: i solation, use of pelvis and torso, leaps, twirls, pulls, yanvalou, vigorous stretches and thrusts.(Drum accompaniment) Narrator: I am the Blaok and Unknown Barlf:!!:.erica put. on a conveyor belt lllOving in two different directions at the aame time. My African Jubilance turned 1 to anger and a song of sabatage. L-- • As a poem, I became part o!- what and dreamed on these shores (ove r) saw �Voice: . h· ( 7er f'eed m..y cow? Chorus: Ms.ml Ye Voice: y--'6) Will yer tell o..> me how? Chorus : Ye Ms.ml Voice: Oh w•at did yer give •er? ~orus: Calm an hay I Voice: \ ' , Oh w' at did yer give 'e r. Chorus: Cum. an hay I • Voice: 1. Bvahwh~. I , whuh.__look dis ma.wnin, Looks lak rain, looks lak rain. Voice: I gott ,, ~~inbow, tied all ro\lll mah shoulder, ~n gonna rain, ain gonna rain. Chorus: l>1 a is de hammer ) nlt John Henr,-1 1 , (over) �Voice: kill me, baby, Twon 1 t kill me. ho.:rus : Take dis ham.mer, ~" \_, Carry it to de captain; Voice: Tell him I'm gone, baby, Tell him I'm gone. Chorus: I got a rainbow ~ Tied )roun my shoulder, Ain~t gonna rain, baby, ) /in 1 t gonna rain. Voice: Dis ole hammer--huh, Ring lak silver- huh, Shine lak gold--huh • .J Chorus: Ain' t gonna rain, , A.in ' t gonna rain. Voice t female): M.--,~ I'm a big fat mamma , got the meat shaking on mah bones, I•m a big !at m.amma, got the meat shaking on mah bones, And evecy time I shakes, somo skinny &irl loses huh home. y es; Narrator : , .. A· cotton-picker, as lanjo-player, as preacher )l,aarebellion leader, I emerged -,I a· new part o! the old. (over) ~--- - - --- --- ---- - -------·---- ,.., . �Voice: p, Moses, ~ t " Way down in Egyptland; r r <. 1 •--> Chorus: Tell old Pharaoh let To my people go • •• 1 ---------home Deep River, my I...., \cY .,cPeep ( . Voice: is over Jordan; )~ Chorus: River, Lord; I want to cross over into camp ground. +cd Voice: And yes, I DREAMED I was riding in that chariot. Chorus: f?wing low, sweet chariot, Coming tor to carry me home, ) Swing low, sweet chariot, I\ tor to carry Comin me home. Voice: Green trees a-bending, I Po' sinner stands a-trembling I I The trumpet sounds within-a-my soul} Chorus: I ain 1 t got long to stay here. ~ (over) �Voice: You namea me: Lucy Terry i Voice: Gustavas Vassat W ~~ Voic e: Britton & Jupit er Hammon. Voice: Coon 'IB~t-.! ·,~ '"' ' fivf Voice: -~gi~ Phyllis Wheatleyt Juad I mastered ·G?Pee~, L&tip. &I\d ' English in my teens. ¼A-fri;cOM Lonely whom the muses befriended 6 ~ -;... • • • • • •~ • , •• ,. - - - - - ----- __)!_ • VoiceJ Should you, rrry Lord, while you peruse my song, Wonder from whence my love or Freedom sprung, Whence flow\ these wishes for the common good, ) By feeling hearts alone best understood, I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate, Was snatc.hJd from Afric•s fanoy 1 d happy seat; What pangs excruciating mus t molest, \ W};iat sorrows labour in my parents• br ast? Steel 1 d was that soul and by no misery mov 1 d That from a father seiz• d his babe belov.• d: \\ A Such, auch~my cas~ And can I then but pray - Others may never feel tyrannic sway? Narrator: YQu named me George Mose s Horton. I did not like the injustice of the double standard. (over) 1. �7 11 called me 'fue Slave." Chorus: The Slave. J- l\.., Voice: Because the brood-sow 1 s left side pigs were black, Whose sable tincture was by nature st ruck, We re you by justice bound to pull them back And leave the sandy-colored pigs to suckY Chorus: Runagatei Runagatel Runagatel Runagat e l Runagatel ~' ,,I Narrator : , \ l l\..\,A~'--' 1. " rIr;,'\ ,.. My mother cured ills andAfather worked roots. . • ----·- - .- ,,:, > ."' ,tiie poem became juju-man,· the lace hidden by the ✓ Amb;luous minstrel smile. Voice: We have fashioned laughter > c.., Out or u ~ tears and pain; Chorus: But the moment after-- Voice: Pain and tears again. Voice:.. . : Forgive these erring people, Lord; Voice: Who lynch at home and love abroad. _..,, Narrator a Still I yrote--this ~ just like I talked• I could only produce heart-rhythms. (over) - --·--·-- . ;;-.;;; ---- ··---- - ............... _ -- �Voice: D Cunjah man, de Cunjah man, 0 chillen, run, de Cunja.h man! Chorus: 0 chillen, run, de Cun'juh man l Voice: Him mouf ez beeg ez fryin' pan; Voice: Him yurs am small, him eyes am raid, Him hab no toof een him ol' haid, Him hab him roots, h im wu 'k him trick, Hi m roll him eye, him mek you sick-- De Cunjah man, de Cunjah man, O chillen, run, de Cunjah man ~ 0 t;; ~ 1 ' )v~ ' Narrator : j.._ I ~ I knew my ri ghts, my rough-timeiand my remedies. Voice: Blue-mass, laud-nwn, liver ~ills, ~ "Sixty-six, fo I fever an1 chills , ~ 11 l Ready Re lie f, an' A. B. C. , An' half a bottle of X.Y .Z. --~ Narrator•• I..., L' r-, You named me .Frances Ellen Watkin, Ha..rper~- James Edwin Campbell, James Weldon Johnson, Paul Lawrence Dunbar-- in several kinds of English. Voice: {;_,.n' .,,'--.__ I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, (Over) �wing is bruised and his bosom sore-bars and he would be free; It is not a carol of joy or glee, But a prayer that he sends from his h eart's deep core, But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings-I know why the caged bird singsl Narrator: .., :, . ·,; Above~ song exudes from me. My song is my sword. Voicez Lift every voice and singl Till ear t h and heaven ring! Ring with the harmonies of liberty! 0 Voice: i- 'T L c; Till our rejoicings · rls·e High as the listening skiesJ Narrator: )( f I forge pure flames of rhythms without books. And I love to hear Malindy sing. Voicez ~ "? O'way an• quit dat noise, Miss Lucy-- Put dat music book away; What's de use to keep on tryin•? Ef you practise twell you're gray, You cain•t sta 1 t no notes a-flyin 1 Lak de ones dat rants and rings From de kitchell to de big woods When Malindy sings. (over) �iWaa,. J 1u12gb fJJI foJ.1sa to aelil:M; _ Icc'6ii.R 1 a- do lines er! dots, Wtaen doy 8Ji.~ An' ;;.e,, eP£Lki n da alltaht, efflne§ aence in, :tu But fur reel molctt30,u1 wu:,ig, - Pet je&• eiJ:rilliefi Jee· 110a atM' an' i 57 spo.4'8 J m yo 1 bea't and clings, Iis cen 'dhen Mtt!lnd3 sln!!;o, W'if roe - - A1n 1 t you nevah hyeahd Malindy? Blessed soul, tek up de cross I Look hyeah, ain't you jokin 1 ,honey? Well, you don 1 t know -whut you los•. Y 1 ought to hyeah dat gal a-wa I blin·•, Robbins, la•ks, an 1 all dem things, Heish dey moufs an• hides dey face When Malindy sings. (over) �11 • . -y-Y~J\.\.' Narrator: ?- .' ✓ fr 'Y~ ~ Riverboats, river towns, chaingangs~ bar-room toughs, hard-hearted Hanna, Stagolee, ••• they all knew me. Voice: Hard-hearted Hanna-Voice: From ..Savannah, GEE A. ~ , Voice: She was so cold, yall-Chorus: Wasn't she-- ~ Voice: She'd poor water on a drowing manJ ~ ~ Voice: It was early one mornin', When I heard my bulldog bark; MI er Stagolee and Billy Lyons Was lquablin 1 in the dark. Chorus: Shine, shine, shine, ••• save po' Narrator: You heard me coming from the swollen lips of the bugle, French horn, trumpet, clarinet and saxophone • . Horn: A series or short riffs exemplary of various forms of music played bt,t\reen the advent of the spirituals and the blues-ragtime period. ( ovo r) -. -- ..... ....------~·----· ~ �12 rarrator: --•• the "Oakewalk" the "poetry of motion. 11 Dancer: Executes a series of movements representing such dances as the Ca~ewalk, ~.1 ... Charleston, Jitterbug and the Bop. Elements ~est Indian dances should flavor the movements. Narrator: ~ I blue horns, shot guns in your war, danced dances and came home to face the Iui:·, Kl ux IClan, , Southern Sheriffs and Jim Orow. I got angry; And defiant. But I was relativelV cool. Voice: Into the furnace let me go alone; Stay you without in terror of the heat. i will go naked in--for thus 'tis sweet-- H ,)! I r Into the weird depths o:f the hottest zone. Voice: , I will come out, back to your -world of tears, A stronger soul within a finer frame. ~ Narrator: ,~\.._.) After race riots in several American cities# I lifted my voice into a earing shaft of discontent. O kinsmenl we must meet the common foe! fe J.ku.__ 7 Voice: A Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack, Pr ssed to the wall, a;.ing, but .fighting backJ (3/P) (o ver) t,~J \VJv,r~y �Narrator: Still, still my past pulled on me. • Some Arri can sense kept tugging, tugging at my truncated roots ·. z b t lg Sf■ Voice: Pour O pour that parting soul in song, 0 pour it in the sawdust glow of night , Into the velvet pine-smoke air to-night, ••• qhoruss • And let the valley carry it along. And let the valley carcy it alorig. Narrator: As the poem, I emerged convoluted and wholly new, only to retreat to a• some-other-time refrain. Egypt , Ghana, Madagasoar, the Pyramids-Voodoo Ceremonies--what did they all mean to met Voice: Come with a blast of trumpets, Jesusl ~ Voice: And the beauty of Susanna Jones in red Burne in my heart a love-fire sharp like pain. Chorus a Sweet silver trumpets, Jesus I Voice: Well, son, I• 11 tell you: ~ Lit for me ain't been no crystal stair. (over) -r, " ) �Narrator: x blur of the veil was always relieved ~y song, • dance, ~ boolt..J--')._ , ill ill er C lX--- looking forward to t:t\e day when Americans• • would grow up. • We grew stronger, and DX>re beautiful, in the words of Langston Hughes, as we re-embraced our rituals. Chorus: Shake your .b rown feet, honey, Shake your brown feet, chile, Shake your brown feet, honey, Shake •em swift and wil' -- I Voice: Set way back, honey, Do that low-down step. Walk on over, darling, Nowl Come out ~i th your left. Narrator: y X )< - 1/-- I went to war, as$ soldier and cook and shining knight of Democracy• The Swastika, ~.7e 'A The Rising Sun, The Hammer & .iickle_,~ I was told, & a g eal enemy. e Do ♦son and I became a witness to the Meanwhile you had named me 0'1{ ..J:.!~l!t1e~~of neighborly enemies. Those who caused unnatural deaths. r Voice: l 1 Wake up, boy, and tell me how you died: I. What sense was alert last, Wha~ immediate intuition about us (over) -~· .•. ---- - - - - --------------~-- - - - - -- -· _ ______ .. .._, �clutched like a bullet when your nails Dug red in your yellow palm. And that map the fortunetellers read Chorus: (this line for money, this for love) ~ J "') Voice: Childish again and smeared •••• Chorus: Wake up,boy, ••• ~A...::. Voice : (' " ••• I go to death tomorrow, ,: Tell me what road you took, •• • {. Chorus: What hour in the day is luckiest? .' I''t f>s\ , c~.) \ I _I Voice: Did your Adams apple explode? Who sewed stitches in your angry heart? Chorus: O wake ••• Narrator: ._ sometiaes a tattered poem in the thirties, forties and fifites. But I was a poem anyway: gracious, noble, fundamental, fiery, ~ LJ, · Voice: For L my pe~~le everywhe:r~ singing their s ~ songs repeat- dly: heir dirges and their ditties and their blueaj.,s:L and jubilees\ mown J/~ rayin~- ~heir ~;,_;.,.. ,,~1gbt1y to ~ 1:,,., god_J)bending their knees humbly t o an (ov r) an:;_\~ ~ 1/ ' unl•••-: power0) 1 ) �Voice: my playmates in the ~ tor playhouse and concert and store and hair an d Miss Choomby and company; Vo ice: Let a new earth :{?.,e:~r-~,·•t , ri s e.~...__ ~ Chorus: Let another world be born. Let · a bloody peace be written in the sky. p,-1-~, 0) Voice: Let a race of m,~ / now rise and take control. Narrator: ~, I' Frank Marshall Davis, ,Melvin Beaunorous Tolson, Sterling Brown, ~ //'J/D ."" \J Jr , I (P 1\ t .Robert Hayden, ~Gwendolyn 1Brooks--these are names by which m:y · vo1ce is known. Some even call me by the name of HISTORY. Chorus: tii o(,tJ, r "- 11 ·History, history, history& Runagate, RunagatelRunagateJ Voice: ~ ~.t.-t.--. Runs falls rises stumbles on from darkness into darkness and the darlmese thicketed with shapes ot terror and the hunters pursuing and the hounds pursuing and the blackness ahead and when shall I reach that somewhere morning and keep on going and never turn back and keep on going •• •• Chorus: ~'\t . ) (. Runagatel Runagatel Runagatel (over) �Narrator: ~) (~ I wormed into and won hearts and minds. In 1950, A:iD.erica · gaT · me the Pulitzer Prize. I talked about a jewel named Satin-Legs Smith. Voice1 He wakes, unwinds, elaborately: a cat Tawny, reluctant, •royal. He is fat And fine this morning. Definite. Reimbursed. He waits a momeat, he designs his reign, That no performance may be plain or vain. Then rises in a clear delirium. Voice: Let us proceed. Let us inspect, together With his meticulous and serious love, The innards of this closet. Which is vault Whose glory is not diamonds, not pearls, Not silver plate with just) enough dull shine. But wonder-suits in yellow and in wine, Sarcastic green and zebra-striped cobalt. ~1th shoulder padding that is wide And cocky and determined as his pride; Ballooning pants that taper off to ends Scheduled to choke precisely•- - - - - - - - . 1 / y___ (vver) �tor: ap l s: Amenl I am t he the powe l /rG~ Amen t Vo - and make it two-- Ba rtender, e (pointing ): {_1 On e me • e (po inting ): V • • • and o the n you. Na rrator: I became the Be Bo pper; U!.efot-suiter; I put on dark gl a sses and conk ed my hair · -1-j.., a s I sped North to f Wright 'i---. AIIIP the Promised Land. I and Ii tf'Baldwin cried for ne. John Oliver Killens He a rd the thunder andllillllllir E111son called me Invisible. Black, I left a white country , to fight yellow men in Korea. Ella, Miles, Monk, Billie, Pr ~s,~Chano Pozo, Ornet t e, Coltrane--they went to war with me. Chorus : Good morning heartachel ~ ~~ How do you do? M (over) �Hom: Brier medley of sounds and tunes reminiscent of the period. ~.' . J Narrator: Or ,.' • Beholdl The Strolll The Ks.naas City 81opl The Madiaonl The Twia~1 ~·T.he Funky Chicken I The Karate-Boogalool They saw me poeting with my hips and my feet. Poetingl Poetingl Narrator: J\. I ~r,~ V And took it all back to ~~andstand and other countries. Voice: There's a thrill upon the hill. Chorus: Let's go, let's go, let•s go~ ~ I .;:;;-e~from kDrea to Narrator: ~ntgomerJ, ~ they wouldn't let my mother sit down on a bus. Chorus: d Montgomery, Montgomery, I remember Montgomery• . • Voice: And Birmingbam--the three 11 ttle girls. ~~~ ­ Voice: And Selma I (j?---,(, Voice: And Philadelphia, Mississippi! ~ e Voice: I recollect &nmett Tilll Voice: ~ And W ttsl (over) C --f- �' Narrator: My nan,.e was Conrad Kent Ri v e r s . ~ became a poem called -Watts~·•.hoping that in su ch disguise I could .ti~d --my ,w y out ot this daily nightmare. Voice : Must I shoot the white man dea<!,___---~ ~ to tree the nigger in his head?._ _ __ _ ----- to head? Voice: And Newark l Voice: And Harlem! Narrator: My color felt good to me. X- At rally, I tumed into a voice on the podium shouting. Chorus: WE ARE AN AFRICAN PEOPLE! Voice: For all things black and beautiful, The brown faces you loved so well and long, the endless roads leading back to Ha rlem. {over) " �Chorus: Kulu Se Mama I Kulu Se Mama I cere Voice: the strin as some umbil cal jazz, r perhaps, long lost b in som ody cross, steel aalva • bleed, m some jazzm tea.rs 's rom lost My My mother~.s Chorus a love, lite . Narrator: • In the spit and dart of my new self, there (over) �anoes I had to make, blood-thoughts I had to share. . • I needed to take a X hand and stand and speak the trut~ Ch.6rua: Speak the truth to the peopiel ~ Voice: It is not necessary to green the heart Only to identify the enemy It is not ne cessary to blow the mind Only to free the mind •••• Chorus: It is the total black! Voice: It is the total black, being spoken From the earth's inside. . _~ n There are many kinds of open.) I ~ How a diamond comes into a knot of flame)S~ How a sound comes into a word, colored By who pays what ·c~eit speaking ••• • Chorus: Love is another kind of open-- J Voice: As a diamond comes into a !mot of f l a m e ~ . ,,l/ ~o~ I am black because I come from the earth's i n ~ Take my word for jewel in your open light. Narrator: I am the ecstasy of NOW. I return, even in the alarm; even in the shadow-body I am often forced to wear. But enough, enough; I beg you, my dear associates, look Now on our,1~h~Sfny~:~__;nEF¼ 111<.,,., Jr•'-- • (over) ..... liiPiF • ...- - - - - -..... -::=..-=-: -::-.-=--=--··-' .. ---- ..· - - - ~. . ~-------•-•--:--~ ffil fJlr �Voice(and Dan~er): . I am a black woman the music of my song ome sweet arpeggio of tears is written in a minor key and I can be heard humming in the ni gp.~ ~ r""",yVCV ~~ · . -- Chorus: HUms first line of "Nobody luJ.ows fhe ::'frouble I See 11 Voioe: :: 1, I saw my mate leap screaming J;o the sea -. i-'. • · and Vwith .. ' ,-, .. ·. these hands/cupped the lifebreath ''. . trom my issue in the canebrake ·.-: -J'.i}o.-..t-liat s 1 swinging body in a rain _of tearJ ;:. ··,,t'b\t ·l ·heard my son aoream all the way from Atu~io ,. .... , . ., •· '. ·.( f'-or' Peace he never knew. • • ~ I '~:: ,-. ... ~ ' - • ' ' J ' .learned Da Nang and Pork Chop Hill in anguish N~~ ~-; r.rry nostrils know the gas · and these triggered tire/d fingers . __1.~, . , \ ~ seek the softness in;Garrior 1 s beard ' .I ' . am a black woman tall as a cypress a_trong (over) \ �still and time and circumstance assailed impervious indestructible Look on me and be renewed. Chorus: Look on me and be renewed. - - - -30- - -- ---- ----- - . - - ---··· -- - ------------ ----- � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context EBRWritings_09_33_02 Title A name given to the resource Second draft of Script Adaptation of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry (A Critical History), typed with handwritten edits, 1976 Description An account of the resource Second draft of Script Adaptation of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry (A Critical History), typed with handwritten edits, 1976. For presentation at book party on October 3, 1976: 3 p.m. to 6 p.m., Redwood Room, University Union, California State University, Sacramento. Relation A related resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Language A language of the resource English Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource For digital rights and permissions, see <a href="https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml">https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml</a> or contact <a href="mailto:library@siue.edu">library@siue.edu</a> for direct inquiries. In copyright. <a href="http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/">http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/</a> Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Redmond, Eugene B. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1976 https://digitallis.isg.siue.edu/files/original/d6db4aadc1fa30531adf79a5b3a4817f.pdf a9d3cdff8e2acdb544a999fb04a98fea PDF Text Text SCRIPT AD PTATION OF DRUMVOICES: THE MISSION OF AFROAMERICAN POE.rRY (a' cr{tical hist,o ry) by Eugene B. Redmond For Presentation at Book Party October 3, 1976: 3 p.m~ to 6 p.m., Redwood Room, University Union California State University Sacramento �MOVEMENT fl I Narrator: I am the poemJ Chorus: We are the poeml Narrator: And the poem is me l Ghorus: And the poem is us j Narrator: I am the poem and I came before pen or pencil or paper or printing press l I cupped and cuddled the wisdom of the winds in drum-bosoms of ,ecstap7. Drummer: A ·l d,de range or rhythms, m~vements, multiple movement-rhythms: African, - , West Indian, Afro-American. Narrator: I write in drum-language and converse with tomorrow, today and the here- tofore . Chorus: DRUMFEET ON THE SOIL, ON THE SAN:DROADS OF THE MINDI FLESH-PISTONS PRANCING, THE EARI1H 1 S ENGINE! IT IS A COMING FORTH, THE NIGHT WITHIN US COMING FORI1H I THE NIGHT WITHIN US COMING R> RTH I FEET BEATING, BEATING, BEATING SEEDS INTO THE SOIL! Narrator: I retum and return and return to JQ'., magni fi cent and reliable archives. Chorus: That love we can depend on! That love we can depend on! (over) �Voice (singing): Onoborobol Ghorus: Onobarobo I Voice: OnoboroboJ Chorus: Onoboro-boJ Voice: Onoborobol Chorus: Onoborobol Narrator: In my dependable cultural vault is the Idea-gram;: the natural cinema. tography landscaped by thudding thoughts of my totem-family, the living-dead, the breathing, the unborn. I am the poetie flesh-temple with many forms, earth-daughter and agil.e inundator of history. I am the poem in motion. Dancer: Rudimentary movements and other eleSnents or traditional African and Afro-American dance: isolation, use of pelvis and torso, leap, twirls, pqlls, yanvalou, vigorous stretches and thrusts.(Drum accompaniment) rrator: I am the Black and Unlolown Bard. America put me on a conveyer belt moving in two diffferent directions at the aame time. My African Jubilance turned to anger and a song of sabatage. My Indomitable E~ho end Idio flavored '41Y rndomi table press to be human. As a poem, I became part of-.. wh$.t .I ·did, saw and dr a.med on these shores: Field Holle~s, Vendors' Shouts, hants, Work Songs, Spirituals, Blues, Gospels, Jazz, Bhythm-and-Blues, (over) S0 ul Music~ �Voice: Did yer feed my cow? Chorus: Ye Mam! Voice: Will yer tell me how? Chorus: Voiee: Oh w' at did yer give 'er? Qhorus: Cawn an hay r Voice: Oh w'at did yer give •er. Chorus: Ca~ an hay! oice: 1. Evahwhull I, whuh ~look dis ma:wnin, Looks lak rain, looks lak rain. Voice: I gotta ~~inbow, tied all rol.m mah shouider, Ain gonna rain, ain gonna rain. horus:. Dis is de hammer Kilt John Henry a • (over) • �4 Voice: Twon•t kill me, baby, Tworl •t kill me. ho_rus: Take dis hammer, Carry it to de captain; Voice: Tell him I'm gone, baby, Tell him I'm gone. Chorus: I got a rainbow fl'ied "roun my shoulder, AinJt gonna rain, baby, Ain't gonna rain. Voice: Dis ole hammer--huh, Riµg lak silver--huh, Shine lak gold--huh. Chorus: Ain't gonna rain, Ain't gonna rain. Voiceffemale): I'm a big fat mamma, got the meat shaking on mah bones, I•m a big fat ma.mma, got the meat shaking on mah bones, And every time I s~,-kes, some skinny girl loses huh home. Narrator: Yes, as poem, as cotton-picker, as banjo-player, as preacher and slave-rebellion leader, I emerged as a new part of the old. My African song ushered forth in strange new Biblical language. (over) �Yoioe: Go down, Moses, Way down in Egyptland; Chorus: Tell old Pharaoh To let my people go. Voice= Deep River ••• Chorus: Deep Deep Deep River •••• • o:bce: Deep River, rrr, home is over Jordan; Chorus: Deap River, Lord; I want to crosa over into camp ground. Voice: And yes, I DREAMED I was riding in that chariot. Chorus: ~wing low, swe t chariot, Coming for to carry me home, Swing low, sweet chariot, Gomin for to carry me home. Voice: Green trees a-bending, Po' sinner stands a-trembling Tb.e trumpet sounds within-a-my soul l Qhorus: I ain't got long to stay here. (over) �Voice.: You ::: nalbee 111~: Lucy Terry! ,__ . Voice: Gustavas Vassa~ Voice: Britton & Jupiter Hammon. Voice: Voice: l?hyll.is WheatleyL .A.Jad I mli:s.t~red~{l11e:S¥, 1. ' t:i!.il- ·an,d 1 ,Englisli in my teens. Lonely Black girl 'Whom the muses friended, thousands and thousands ~ of· miles away fromA_·esp African home . I continued to emerge as the poem. Voice, Should you, my Lord, while you peruse my song, onder from whence my love or Freedom sprung, Whence flow these wishes for the common good, By feeling hearts alone best understood, I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate, Was snatch~d from Afric•s fancy 1 d happy seat; What pangs excruciating must molest, What sorrows labour in my parents' bre~st? steel'd was that soul and by no miijery mov•d That from a father seiz 1 d his babe belov~d: ·s Buch, auch\ my caa~ And can I then but pray Others may never feel t y rannic sway? Narrator: YQ~ named me G~orge Moses Horton. I did not lik the injustice of the double standard. And such resentment turned me into a poem. .... ' " _) (over) en though �some called me "The Slave," Chorus: The Slave. Voice: Because the brood-sow•s left side pigs were black, 'Whose sable tincture was by nature struck, Were you by justice bound to pull them back And leave the sandy-colored pigs to suck? Ch'ol?US: Runaga.tel Runagatel Runagatel Runagate! Runagatel Narrator: t.'(_ , My mother cured ills an Arather "'°rked roots. In the bi-cultural constriction the poem became juju-man, the lace hidden by the .,,.,,uocu minstrel smile. Voice: We have fashioned laughter out of tears and pain; Chorus: . But the moment after-Voice: Pain and tears again. Voice-., ,, : Forgive these erring people, Lord; Voice: Who lynch at home and love abroad. Narrator: Still I ~ote--this time just like I talked, though some made run of it. But, as maker of song, I could only produce heart-rhythms. (over) �Drumv· ices, 8 Voice: De Ounjah man, de Cunjah man, O chillen, run, de Cunjah man! Chorus : 0 chillen, run, de Cunjuh manl Voice: Him mouf ez beeg ez fryin' pan; Voice: Him yurs am small, him eyes am raid, Him hab no toof een him ol' haid, Him hab him roots, him wu'k him trick, Him roll him eye, him mek you sick-Chorus: De Cun.jab. man, de Cunjah man, o chillen, run, de Cunjah man I Narrator: I knew my rights, my rough-times and my remedies . for what ailed me. Voice: Blue -mass, laud-num, liver pills, "Sixty-six, fo' fever an' chills," Ready elief, an. 1 A. B. o., An' half a bottle of X.Y.Z. Narrator; You named James me Frances Elien Watkinp Ha.rper~~James Edwin Campbell, eldon Johnson, Paul La.wrence Dunbar--son of ex-slaves, ele- vator boy risen to brilliant bard of the race. As the poem I in several kinds of English. Voice: I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, (Over} 6.-&de..f.rth �9 ~en his wing is bruised and his bosom sore-When he beats his bars and he would be free; It is not a carol of joy or glee, But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core, But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings-I lmow why the caged bird sings& Narrator: o.Ll., Abov song exudes from me. I am song. Peruse -me. ~xamine Me. Watch Me. My birthright is my anthem. My song is my sword. oicei Lift evecy voice and sing! Till eart h and heaven ringl Ring with the harmonies of liberty! oice: Till our rejoioings: rise High as the listening skiesJ Narrator: As song-poem, I forge pure flames of rhythms without books. James on Johnson called eld- the Black and Unknown Bard, . And I love to hear Malindy sing. oice: G1 way an• quit dat noise, Miss Lucy-Put dat music book away; What's de use to keep on tryin•? Ef you practise twell you•re gray, You cain•t sta•t no notes a-flyin' Lak de ones dat rants and rings From de kitchell to de big woods When Malindy sings. (over) �10 You ain 1 t got de nachel o 1 gans Fu• to make ae soun• come right, You ain 1 t got de tu•ns an' twistin•s Fu• :, to make it sweet an• light. Tell you one thing now, Miss Lucy, An• I 1m tellin 1 you fut true, When hit comes to raal right singin 1 , 1 T. ain 1 t no easy thing to do. Easy ~ nough fu 1 folks to hollah, Lookin 1 at de lines an' dots, When dey ain 1 t no one kin sence it, An• :.. de t~uil.e ·._ mes in, in spo.ts; But fut real melojous music, Dat jes 1 strikes yo• hea•t and clings, J-es • you stan, an' listen wii' me 'When Malindy sings. Ain't you nevah hy,eahd Malindy? Blessed soul, tek up de cross I Look hyeah, ain't you jokin 1 ,honey? Well, you don't know whut you los•. Y1 ought to hyeah dat gal a-wa' blin'?, Robbins, la 1 ks, an• all dem things, Heish dey moufs an 1 hides dey face When Malindy sings. Narrator: Poem that I am and was, I traveled from "oasis to oasis." Voice: (over) �Drum.voices, 11 Man's Saharic up and do'Wll. Narrator: Riverboats, river towns, chaingangs, bar-room toughs, hard-hearted Hanna, Stagolee, ••• they all knew me. Voice: Hard-hearted Hanna-Voice : From·- :Savanm..ah, GEE A. Voice: She was so cold, yall-Chorus: Wasn•t she-oice= She'd poor water on- .a drowing man! Voice l It was eArly one morn.in', When I heard rrry bulldog bark; omee• ; Stagolee and Billy Lyons Was Squablin' in the dark. Chorus : Shine, shine, shine, ••• sa~e po' me. Narrator: You heard me coming from the swollen lips ot the bugle, French horn, trumpet, clarinet and saxophone. Horn: A series c,.:r short rif~·s exemplary of various forms of music played between the advent of the spirituals and the blues-ragtime period. (over) �Narrator: Iri Paris they called the akewalk" the "poetry of' motion. 11 ~1'h-_ e. crevices of ships I was transported to global points to make my splendid sound and dance my splendid poetry of motion. Dancer: Executes a series of' movements representing such dances as the Ca~ewalk, oP Charleston, Jitterbug and the Bop. Elements ~West Indian dances should flavor the movements. Narrator: As the poem. I blue homs, shot guns in your war, danced dances and came home to face the Ku '_,,Klux Klan, .:aouthern Sheriff's and Jim Grow. I got angry. And I got defiant . But I was relativelf cool. Voice: !~to the furnace let me go alone; Stay you w.i. thout in terror of the heat. I will go naked in-- for thus 1 tis sweet-- nto the weird depths of the hottest zone . Voice~ 'Si re destroy$, bonsumes-vm,:-r'ID.orta.[ !fears; , !rans~orming me into a shape of flame . I will come out, back to your world of tears, A stronger soul within a finer frame . Narrator: After race riots in several American cities. I lifted my voice into a searing shaft of' discontent. 0 kinsmenl we must meet the common foe! Voice: Like men we 1 ll face the murderous, cowardly pack, Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting baekl (over) �arrator: Still, till my past pulled on me. It was as if we were married to each other, glued, locked, welded togeth~r. It was as if those who left us here on this earth never really, really died. ome friean sense kept tugging. tugging at my truncated roots. The bridge of my past rested on two shores; Voice: Pour O pour that parting soul in song, 0 pour it in the sawdust glow of night, Into the velvet pine-smoke air to-night; ••• Choruss And let the valley carry it along. And let the valley carry it along. Narratori ometimes I was half there, fighting those who wanted to snatch away my hum.ani ty by day; and fighting hunger and confusion at home by night. As the poem, I emerged convoluted and 'Wholly new, only to retreat to a ome-other-time refrain. gypt, Ghana, Madagascar, the Pyramids-- Voodoo Ceremonies--what did they all mean to mei Voice: Come with a blast of trumpets, ijesusl Voice: And the beauty of Susanna Jones in red Bums in rrry heart a love-fire sharp like pain. Cb.o..l!us I Sweet silver trumpets, Jesust Voice: Well, son, ! 1 11 tell you: Life for me ain•t been no crystal stair. {over) �arrator: The blur of the veil was always relieved by song, by dance, by reading about foreign places and looking forward to the day when Americans would grow up. We were here--in America--but not or it. Simply worrJing without a plan to chftnge <i.things never helped ?l'nlcb.. We grew stronger, and more beautiful, in the words of Langston Hughes , as we re-embraced our rituals. Shake your ~l>rown feet, honey, Shake your brown feet, chile, Shake your brown. feet, honey, Shake 'em swift and wil'-- • Voice2 Get way back, honey, Do that low-down step. Walk on over, d~rling, Nowt Come out With your left. Narrator: During the watering years, after the Great Depression, I was terrified by lynching a.pd an atmosphere of intimidation. I went to war, as poem and soldier aµd cook and shining knight of Democracy. The Swastika, The Rising Sun, The Hamm:.er· &~ ickle, I was told, are your real ~nemy-. Meanwhile you had named me Own Do son and I became a witness to the ealjti~~.i,Of neighborly enemies. Those who caused unnatural :deaths. Voice: Wake up, boy, and tell me how you died: What sense was alert last, Wb,.$.; immediate intuition about us (over) �You clutched like a bulle t men your nails Dug red in your y ellow palmf. And that map the fortune tellers r ead Chorus: {this line for money, this for love) Voice : Childish again and smeared •••• Chorus: Wake up , boy, ••• Voice: i •• I go to death tomorrow, Tell me what road you took, ••• Chorus : What hour in the day is luckiest? Voice: Did your Adams apple explode? Who sewed stitches in your angry heart? Chorus: O wake ••• Narrator: Yee, yes ••• I was sometia es a tattered poem in the thirties, forties and fifites . But I was a poem anyway: gracious , noble, fundamental, fiery, ftrm, relating to Wtlk"" People . Someone called me Margare\- I became a t pestry of my many selves . For my people everywhere singing their slave songs repeatediy : their dirges and their ditties and their blues .and jubile s, praying their pr,J: 1'8'-nightly to an unwn god, bending their lmees humbly t o an (over} uni• 71 p er; �:voices, 16 · or my playmates in the clay and dust and and o:f labama backyards playing baptizing and preaching and doctor and jail and soldier and school and mama and cooking and playhouse and concert and store and hair and Miss Choomby and company; oice: Lt a new earth rise. Chorus 1 Let another. wori· ·,be born. ',Let.: bloody peace be written in the sky. Voice: Let a race of ~ / now rise and take control. Narrator: Prank Marshall Davis, Melvin Beauno:rous Tolson, Sterling Brown, Rebert ayden, Gwendolyn Brook --these are names by whiab. sy · oice is known. Some even call me by the name of HISTORY. Choriis: ·History, history, · history, agatel RunagateJRunagateJ Voice: Runs falls rises stumbles on :from darlmess into darkness and the darlmess thicketed w.i.th shapes or terror and the hun,te:rs pursuing and the hounds pursuing , and the night cold and the night long and the river · to cross and the jack-mull-lantems beckoning beckoning and the blaclmess ahead and when shall I reach that somewhere moming and keep on going and never turn back and keep on going •••• Chorus: Runagatel Runagate! Runagate! (over} 'la......;_ �17 Narrator: I worm~d into and won hearts and minds. In 1950, · erica · gave -me the Pulitzer Prize. My name was Annie Allen. I was jc, . ·fine'!.y cnl:,it- ed that no inflection was imprecise. I said what I had to say in a.· language that dazzled and blinded the world. I stood as a jewel; I talked about a jewel named Satin-Legs Smith. Voice: He wakes, unwinds, elaborately: a cat Tawny, reluctant, royal. He is fat And fine this morning. Definite. Reimbursed. He waits a momeat, he designs his reign, That no perfonnance may . be plain or vain. Then rises in a clear delirium. Voice: Let us proceed. Let us inspeet, together Wi his meticulous and serious love, The innards of this closet. rfu.ich is vault Whose glory is not diamonds, not pearls, Not silver plate with just enough dull shine. But wonder-suits in yellow and in wine, Sarcastic green and zebra-striped cobalt. With shoulder padding that is wide And cocky and determined as his pride; Ballooning pants that taper off to ends Scheduled to choke precisely. Voice: Here are hats J.ike bright umbrellas; and hysterical ties Like narrow banners for some gathering wap. (vver) �Narrator: I knew the power of the rap I Chorus: Am.enl Narrator: I am the power of the rap I Chorus: Amen I Voice: Bartender, make it straight and make it two-Voice(pointing): 6 One for the you in me ••• Voice (pointing): •• • and one for the me in you . Narrator• I beeame the Be Bopper; somebody called ark glasses and conked my hair. me the joot-suiter; I put on si. esman handed me some bleaching eream and a cadillac as I sped North to join my Brothers and Sisters in the Promised Land.. chard right and James Baldwin cried for na . John Oliver Killens Heard the thunder and Ralph Ellison called me Invisible, adding that once my leaders figured out tm.i riddle of my style and my rap they could help me save me. Black, I left a 'White country to fight yellow men in Korea. Ella, Miles, Monk, Billie, P~ez, Chano Pozo, Ornette, Coltrane--they went to war with me . Chorus: Good morning heartache! How do you do? (over) �19 Hom: Brief medley of sounds and tunes reminiscent of the period. Narrator: I returned to myself in motion. BeholdJ The Stroll! The Kanaas City B1opt The Madison! Th Twis~J :The Funky Chicken! The Karate-Boogaloo! They saw me poeting with my hips and my feet. Chorus: Poetingl Poetingl Narrator: Att.e.-.cut And took it all back toA13andstand and other countries. Voice: There 1 s a thrill upon the hill. Chorus: Let's go, let's go, let's go, Narrator: I came from knrea to me t the lflan in Cl rw.thief'. they wouldn't let my mother sit down on a bus. Chorus: Montgomery, Montgomery, I remember Montgomery. Voice: And Birminghsm--the three little girls. Voice: And elmaf Voice: And Philadelphia, Mississippif Voice: I recollect Emmett TillJ Voice: And WattsJ (over) i.· And, in MontgomerJI, �Ntlrrator: My na:me was Conrad Kent Rivers at that time. I became a poem called "Watts;,. : hoping that in such disguise I could ..i'i:gd···my iws:y out of this daily nightmare. Voice: Must I shoot the white man dead to free the nigger in his head? Voice: Must I shoot the white man dead to free the nigger in his head? Voice: And N(3warkt oice: And Harlem! Narrator: My color felt good to me. I stretched and yawned and walk ed around my neigh;borhood. Someon~ called me Black and I didn't hit him. At a rally, I turned into a voice on the podium shouting. Chorus: WE ARE AN AFRICAN PEOPLE! Voice: For all things black and beautiful, The brown faces you loved so well and long, the endless roads leading back to Harlem. (over) �Chorus: Kulu Se Mama J Kulu Se Mam.at Voice: Where the string At Some point, Was some umbilical jazz, Or perhaps, In memory, A long lost bloody cross, Buried in some steel calvary. In what time For whom do we bleed, Lost notes, from some jazzman•s Broken needle 0 Musical tears from lost Eyes, Broken drumsticks, 'Why? Pitter patter, boom dropping Bombs in the middle Of' rrry emotions My father's sound My mothe ,s sound•••• Chorus: Is love, Is life. Narrator: I turned to philosophy. In the spit and dart of rrry new self, there (over) �22 were utterances I had to make , blood-thoughts I had to share . I knew this was another sequel to the dream. I had not believed those fairy tales . I needed to take a hand and stand and speak the truth . 'Cho a: Sp ak the truth to the p eop*el Voice : It is not necessary to green the heart Only to identify the enemy It is not necessary to blow the mind Only to free the mind •••• Chorus: It is the total black! Voice: It is the total black, being spoken From the earth•s inside . There are many kinds of open. How a diamond comes into a knot of flame How a sound comes into a word, colored By who pays what i a~ sp eaking •••• Chorus : Love is another kind of open- Voice: As a diamond comes into a knot of flame I am black because I come from the earth's inside ~ Take my word for jewel in your open light . Narrator: I am the ecstasy of NOW. The fullest realization of my ancestors• wishes . I return, even in the alarm.; even in the shadow-body I am often forced to wear. But enough, enough; I beg you , my dear associates , look Now on ourf f0cMnir◄ ~~aen "fiieca.sva-c. • (over) �oice(and Dancrer): I am a blaek woman the music of my song some sweet arpeggio of t ears is written in a minor key and I can be heard humming in the night Can be heard humming Chorus: Hums first line of "Nobody Knows he -·1rouble I 3ee 11 Voice : in the night I saw my mate leap screaming a the sea and I/with these hands/cupped the lifebreath from my issue in the canebrake I lo1Jt-Nat's swinging body in a rain of tears and I heard my son scream all the way from Anzio for Peace he never knew • • • • I learned Da Nang and Pork Chop Hill in anguish Now my nostrils lmow the gas and these triggered tire/d fingers "'" seek the softness inf\. . ~ arrior'a beard I am a black woman tall as a cypress strong (over) �still defying place and time and circumstance assailed impervious indestructible Look on me and be renewe. Chorus: Look on me and be renewed. ----30---- �State of California Sacramento State College Memorandum To : , Date : Subject: \ From : \ � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context EBRWritings_09_33_01 Title A name given to the resource First draft of Script Adaptation of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry (A Critical History), typed with handwritten edits, 1976 Description An account of the resource First draft of Script Adaptation of Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry (A Critical History), typed with handwritten edits, 1976. For presentation at book party on October 3, 1976: 3 p.m. to 6 p.m., Redwood Room, University Union, California State University, Sacramento. Includes list of actors. Relation A related resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Language A language of the resource English Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource For digital rights and permissions, see <a href="https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml">https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml</a> or contact <a href="mailto:library@siue.edu">library@siue.edu</a> for direct inquiries. In copyright. <a href="http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/">http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/</a> Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Redmond, Eugene B. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1976 https://digitallis.isg.siue.edu/files/original/abd4ccaf9fb3928145e7b84794ce8285.pdf f3527d36397a5e16b9f9a7131612b22a PDF Text Text �~ ,,,, I ;;t~ ~ --z/~ ,, �~,19~~ // /.Au ';db /J~ i~, ~1~·-· -rc; ~ - /rtd:) ~ a/X./~. ~~ ~ ~~ ~-;J~ ~ 1 ~ tu~. 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G 1926 V STREET • 452-6854 �// ~ jktnxJ ~ . i : , ~ , , , ~ ~ h1:) ,,a:tuL) c)~ 4 ~- I/ ��w-£.iv ~ 9~ ~ 4~~~~~ "" . ~ - 4~dV Y14Y:J W ~~ ~ /j~ t1~ 19{};3.,) 57 -cr-g, l/6' lj; _yr_ /J.(!_ ; ��~r.p. ,v~,, y r ~ r'7'7 if""' .. ?"""""f (!, <~7 CREST PRINTERS, INC. ?- r:7r 4t; ¢J W ~ • ~ 1926 V STREET 'e..P-'rl • 452-6854 �~ /(J~ // --r.k . ~~ 1; ~ flau </ll..ld, .dv Ju_,,dJ ( 1) cX'..dJ~ ~ AMV ~~ ./J2if ~ a/2:,mdl, ' CV) ~.-&~ 0 ~ 0.-lM..R.-'U,, Ary~~., I D 80 ~ _!_ Yk~~~~~~~ -/~ ~ , ) ~ ----=~ ~ /971,, ...................- - - - - - ~ �I / .~,~ ~ 1 J}~ / J ~ 7 k -/JJ~' ~.,. ~9~;A-h , f?-1~ (i)~_) ~~ I /) 8/ o~, ~Qb.J.J~ VJ . y /__Av~~; d ~ 1111, . /J~ �.f) - 71:/ �I _lo ~ . ,J rj)~~ 6vnd LW) , , ,, ~~~k~, , 9~ < v ~ CJ~. 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J ~...7-. • 0 .. ~ lf(,l)u .,LJ.,o_J ~ _vx.J ~~ q~ 0 ~ ( ) ~ . ~~~~;lad-Jw \;ii-~,) ~ ~ 19 -16/ 9 ~,,) /03, 1) 79- Ro .. �I �~ w ~ ~~ dJ J{'~ ~ 1 r,- ,, ✓~ rkv h M.L:J~JtJ~ 0 di~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ /r a2 ~ ~~/ 9.,,,,,,..; u ) ~ bl,. . ~~~AA f ~ I/ : .fo_u,.; fl~/ ...hw',) 19~ 93. -;Jv . ~ ~ w~ . · �, f:o/~ 7f VJ6 J ( ,,mzA '7Y,J- rpv/jl4 "177 (, - ~ r"V/ ""ff 7m"llrllW(J ·rn "'11 (("X?llativt(J r,p7-ip@J ~ ? f l "fi?JI Pd);~ 4ryll'VT7f (u ~I l'l(rllk'f) h ( ~7 '-yNTERS, INC. f/:!771 • ("p"i'Q1/ ('CfWITf-77l 1926 V STREET • 452-6854 �~ ~ ~ , . , ,, - 1C ~ -r.1v 7:;~~1 tt.J.s . .i_ C Z ) ~ ~ ~ L.uu~ - ; ~ l.,,C/~l/4,,W'<( ~pn.!) ~ n~ ~~ ~ ~ // . ~:., w~,J ~-c.: I <J ~ o t,J . :nz:. . _...1 A. �_ / e---:._c;:- , (l' ( ~ff 1/~-:; Tv,-u,61Jll r1✓"lJlr?j •,.:,,::,"'Q: '7'WP , lJ :rPU? ;t.. rl:ry?P~y' ~~ . ::: ~ , :ERS, I NC. • l 926 V STREET • 452-6854 �~ ~yAf: Jq(p~ \3~0~ ~ / ll, ~ t/~, -;J.& ~ ~~~) �g ...»>, e~.a..,) Al~ ~JcX1~ / ~ • L, ~ 9-~'' Mb t ~... ~J.dnJ:f)~ l,i, Jl~~ ru ~ II~. ~ hf~ /J~ ~ /J--4t--k1, I 9 7 'Y~ -6-t:J,. �~~~ -'/ fkrnu ~ tt,c~ I/ ~-Av ? ~ ~ h c h d , ? i d ~ ~ ,,., ~~~ ~ �--r~~ // ~<17'n<V ~ ,,..,. . ~ 'I . ~ - - -;- ~ ~ I/ I~~~ v~~~- ~ifmtf~~~ ~ N-~ j , / - I'} 7 ,Y..J <if - IO. �--- --m:zuu.I N'~ "/l/4y ~ /4r ~,, r_tlu)~ i-' ffw~-,- ~ ±M ~ ~ti.), 7~ 0~ N-:::J, /14:t ~ 1/--fli~ ~ !<J7~ ~- -4-r~- �t)r.k, <Jhu~ ~ ~ ~ ,,, J ,tV,Y)U ~ ~- / (;? ~ ;/~,/f¥~/!ty~ 0~ ~ lrl~/ 197~ s-(p, �~ tJ./JUJU ~ .J~ fe,_u) /1.u.h ~~~ .,.2 d:J,~-" ~ 0.u~ Al~, hr ~~~r ~ ) / ~ 197-y./ 19, �- ------------~-----~-~ _,.,,~/ . /_ - - ;./~ r,-J~ II ~~ ~ -- 1 ~ ~ ;JV ,, ��, ~_Lvnw ~,) ~~ ~- ~ I~ tvn-eU --r~ /J.fl/>?UV. , t u ~ ,t) (!,_ ; ~ - / ~ ~~ /,.;} 3 0 /936] 1-i,7. llJ ·.JJJ: �~ #~1 ~ ./4.ut::I ~ t / h . L , ~ ~ ,,_ -~~ ~~- ~ ~~ ;/trn.clrv; ~~ /?~, /I/JA-UU ~ Jf.±dJ"J 19 76 0WUtrv.) ~ , ,,Yt7 II. �:Utaa¥L/,, .../J2aA.,u 't' W ~ ~ 4.L J ~ ~ ~~~,a,) ~ ~-- J~~~ w~ u)iL~ 19 7a:J 93 ., ~~ ~/ ~~ ���/(' ~ ,, ~--- ;;(n-fu ~ ~~- ,, ,,, ~~ , ~~ x;t~ ~ ) d~ ~?~~~ ~ J _ ; /, ~:12)_), If~?,; /~6- 7.5, U), 31- �~~ ~ // -I -_ . - -_ - / - 2 - ~ f // ' .;;;~ ~ ~dddw1±1w ~//o,, ~ ~ W~ l9!d~ �fl~-uk, ~ ~ ~ }r_vj)~ ~ ¼dJ--<AU ~ ~ .IF" '3~ q_~,/ ~~ ~ 1 d-# , ~ . ~Ad I Jlf_/4_J_ ~ - · ~ - I ~ ..t t �·>:'11:.lt"' • .. ----------111111111 ~~,I~ ~ cJj c f ~ I/ , v ~ 1 .:tJw ~ , , , ,, , r'ru/u ~ .,8~ /~~ <1~~,, ~: --;.<td!, / ~ ;dk-.e . ~ ,, ~.ubir, ~ ~ I'~ �~ fld"1,ULJ ~~ /lUll,lN , a ~ , , , ~ s- -1/.nu,,, , ,.__. ~ 9 ~ ~- ,63~ ~ ~ : d x:11~ r~ I 4 ~ ~~,,,,•'J//72..,C..J, x S ~ /JJ-u~ �= ·Ft.$/ 1 "''fT.'V>r7? /?WJ',r. 1 >tlr/3/Vp r~"?P'fi ~/!.fy mrJ- 7ff77?7 ·~ t7;:, --- ~ ~ NTE_RS, INC. "'?;::_; - ~ • 1926 V STREET • 452-6854 �,, , ~ --m.ux__, (I �?n?, "71 ( >r'Tf )fJlft 'f:Z/?I ,/( -i,,f'Y"'I r/rf C/l '1/Jlfa - ftr77>f7rR(Jl { 7 ~ S,INC. 4'-7 7;£ • 1926 V STREET - 1IVZJ • 452-6854 �// tr>u.i:lw k±J6/£u~~---- &(.tiv~ ~ -•,, I( 4:,~ 9~✓ ~-- -:@rll~ , ~J"' ~)~-..) 170 197,;i,/ w.~ . ~7. �c;~/ C 3 ~ ~/ -r-Av+~I/ ~ 1✓ ~ ~ .,,,.,~_.J,1,,/ ~ ~~ .:i7u.J ..,n~~-~ ~ ~.('·n..LJ~) , ~~ d~~-ttv~icJf'-",.03 ~ ) u _ ' '4jCqv 9~ //~ II~~~/ U; , J!L I 9~/ J<i , ��Iv~)~ ,,,o..uvu 9:-~) I; d (V 'u..Mf./U ~ II ¼ -rriv ~ ~ ? , , , p-z.u! ~ _ ) (l,I ~ ~ : ,. , 11 �~ / rr ~ . ,, -9~'' ~~ j _' i~ j ~ ~·, ~, ~ I ~ ~, - ) .• • • ,,;2 ~ ��-... #~ , 1:,,d- ~ ~ ~ k f-'-~µ,,t ~J . . ,. ., l.,W?~.>tLJ 1 ±ktN ~ '5S b 1.-v>'uv ~ 0 ~ ~ ~ ~ t r ) tJ... ~ . , t1-v ~ . _4;_- . ~~ If~~ / 51 0 /, �,.. #-<, J!'"cb ~ ~ ~ J u ; , /U~~ , ~j • • ,. ., .lW<j cvu:/J.m->4.J 7 ±kuv ~ '5r b .£v>1J..xU ~ 0.ufl- ~~:!,'Z=:Z-V1.:~ ;_ _n ____. .,, / /5 . tJ.-, �~;•v~ ~ // ;;;1~ /U-Uv ~ ,, -'/ Cl., ~ •/", ~ _Lf,a/ -/2,/) ~ A ,I . ' ? J.uw.J -, ~ - J ~~ ~- I I Jt)~ II~~~ ~1}: T ~ /9 70./ ~ - -3 /_ w~~:t:Au . { ) ~ Ir/~ ��i"<q Ji,~~,,_,~~ ~ • • .. ~ , , ~ AV<-nu ~ ~ a,x,, '~ ( ti/~ Q~ ~ w~ d :L_A_u !t!y:l~~~L7;;~ ~ / /9.S-~ /~~ -/~. ,1 �#~.1 f?(~ ~ "'/Y~ ✓ I/ w~ �/ -~ "2 -PE -Z .Ye 'Cll~b 6 ,twvrtW--? 1 ~ ?o/-tf, 7 ,;l A-wr~0 ~ ?"v9fl rllfo/' vrpw6 ·ot67 - cp1,,z 7 4:r-cr nyJ '0-f' -0 70<fw;zrv;0· rA?WyZ?' /;van1 ('?J;/'~;K CREST PRINTERS, INC. • o/izj 1926 V STREET 7P'iJF/I • 452-6854 �~~~ '/ 9 - ~ 'I ~ ~ ; ~ :/Ju» ! , . , ~ c:J--A.,) ~ ~ rl ±k) ~ I ~~ tJ 9~9~uf~. . -rkdn-ii ~~~~ , f l ~ . . )tfA.a.u) .;., u ) ~ ~~ j{j6-9,,I o<34,, �. ~ ~ , u , ~ ~ ~~ ''Jr!~'' LJ/w;J ~ .i ~ ~?,,. ()1t,,c:W..a;J:.J~? r-.dA.t,,~J) dJ ~~ ·J I ~ ; / ~ . ')f~J/~ I 97tJ,,; t:.2 t:, ?, ~_dutu)~ tllj~ ~ - k ~ ��MEMO FROM: DATE: _ _ _ _ _ __ TIME:_ _ _ _ _ __ TO: _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ �___ _ _ _ _ _ ___J �u~ /~ /#~ fnv/4d/ ~.vlvfj/U/U~_1J,✓~, , ~ I / (c/?lay ~XL✓m~ ~ ~~ w~ /}').e- ~~ ,r:f~/ ~ 1973, ~~,I .d,_ <;-~ v'/J~ - x~/./d-b~ ~ ) �~ 4 ~,, . ., , ~ . / , ~ . . . : ~ ) ~ I ., , ~ / )f~ //,;I. ; , , ~ -/J ~ / 9b3~ ~,, l/2 . .:JZZ: �9~ u-&b ,,,, 1../2.t., - 38' ,, �9~/ ~ ~~ ~ (Jd:J, o:;1S'W ,.,, al.v ~ ~""~; ,./J ~•• :, ?'~~~t;;;j~_ �9~ ~~ -'/ --r~ .L/uJ ~ = , f l wNWJu: I. n y Ol,v QAQ ~ :J ~ ~ ~ I 9 IP?_; ~/¥XJ) f64R : -;-k ~ 7o, . I/ .ul,, ~ -J~,, ~~ ~~; d �>1~0 9 ~ t::J~ (/8'8~ - 19/o~~ //-;-Au 0~1 . r k ) r ; ) ~ ,, /,' t2A.u ~ 1:/uJ:) Ju.pud}- ,,. ~ ~ .d7. ~ ,4 ~ , ,, ~~ /!_~/ ~ , / -R..cL ~~ , ~ftJkR.: / / ~ ~ ~ ~ _ ) /9:SSJ J<J~ 7,_; ?/, _ �9~ #~ ~/ ~ II . �\.9~ u . 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M--<.A..J I ~ I. .• ' ~U.lt.),~, ,,, .lu,; ~ ~ - I / I &, ~ �,,,, ~~ JI ,nU ~ rnvu -.- ~ ~ ~ - ;, 9~ s~ Jf~- Q?~/µlu.u . -;~Ju)~y1Ju,a:,.U,,) oc""J _ ":EL 197(),t ~~ ,.. _ _~ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ , �/ ( ~ Jt:-1,,fa // It, u)AQ_j ~ 'I ~ 1-Av~ ~~~,~~,,, ,,, Zrl ~~~ II ~~ ~4~9~~~ edf- c l ~ ~ 19~0 (o{), ' ~; fut~ ~~ ~ ca~/ /;) ~ .o1~ tA. -:izz:... ~~ . ~~,I ~- �r/ j h..-nv i ±Au -~ ' ;t:luJ I~~ I) �~ / --~~ /( Jr/~.....9 // . . . , /, m~ i ; ~ ~~ ~ ··#o ~ ~ ; I ~ , •I 0~ ~~,-~ /2~ , ,d~ ,,,~ 19~g;, /9, '.Ju-r>U �:;go ;ti., ~ kuno~:t-k~. ,... -~ h _ d _ ) ~ ~ -..., ' II ~ /I~ 9 ~ - Lu~T~v. d ~ -P~/ ~ : ,LJ~ ~MU- d,?Ub ;so W~ _b,u.,,) e.A . vr /97~ S-'j-. �~/~ r/ /I ~ <j'1-dvx,J ,, ~±Juy ~ t;no, '/ ±/2_~ ~ /,,J_ If ~ , ~rJ ~ /fA.ll-1 '? n Y - ~-- ~ J ~/ / ~ 9 7c) J ~~ ~/UW ~ rl �-~ C:CJ(?/ :A')I f/-''Vt7 t1Z6 0 ~ 0 1NTERS, INC. • (rn ~ f./171/77 1926 V STREET bCJ?::5 • 452-6854 �~ ~ ~~,, ~/~ad}~ ~ tJ-12-vv ..ii e:.2 );f~ ~ ....,/)7,.u , , , ~ I -Aw~ I ~ - 9.~- Nu.u / ~ ~t-C,,:; 197 ~/ t-3~,, �~~~~ VJ l/ ~ 1 1 "" rub1±/uJ ~-j~,,,,, cvru:b ~ ""I ~ I/ I ~~ ~~_uh_ , ,~* /4w,. ,± Ju) u/, ~;;i. _l,f_Lad, fu.uu u ) ~ ;qtll,,1 �x~/ c:k cbt.v --- ,, r,1illv ?) ,;, ~ - ~ .:t/2u ~ // 1:.-iu 4-1:J 1/2d:; ~~~ ~ ~ .,aa,) ~ • I I c::2~ ✓~ y?7~ ~~ : JU;b, >iJ/4xV ~ ~. --?~d~of.-t:d.J:; 19~~-'4., �,;, J ~ ./A-4-m 1/ rzv, .,, ~ ti~ ~ I I/ - \3 ~ Jf~_, ~/- ~ ~<Lb<,vnd,, ti)/2.,,w cm.w ,a~ c\r'~ - ~ ~~ , , 19 7...3,) / ~ _ �,:-0~, - ✓ -r, ~ ~ - ,, 0~ ~_) ~ ~~- f~ ~~ ~ , »~ ~ £uu /J~ 173 1173.,., .:2-'J'.9, �//!ck0 : ~ 'I'~~ I I ��!l!~kciy-1 ~ - ~~ ~ $e ¾, . ~I/~ ,. 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Redmond Digital Collection Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context EBRWritings_09_26 Title A name given to the resource Bibliographical index cards: Poetry Acknowledgements [sic] for Drumvoices: The Mission of Afro-American Poetry: A Critical History Relation A related resource Eugene B. Redmond Digital Collection Language A language of the resource English Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource For digital rights and permissions, see <a href="https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml">https://www.siue.edu/lovejoy-library/about/policies.shtml</a> or contact <a href="mailto:library@siue.edu">library@siue.edu</a> for direct inquiries. In copyright. <a href="http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/">http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/</a> Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Redmond, Eugene B.