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